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Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

The day Raphael began plotting his revenge was the same day he discovered Tav naked in his bed.

Oh, how quickly the thoughts of lust curdled the closer he stalked towards the bare creature sprawled on his sheets. Her body was slick with sweat, hand glistening from between her legs as she watched him approach with heat and mischief in her gaze. By the time Raphael reached the foot of his bed, his blood had grown hot with anger instead of desire, and he regarded the mewling incubi with derision.

This was not his little mouse; it was Haarlep. Haarlep, who was a poor imitation of the tad-poled mortal in all but body and voice.

The many questions that flooded his head eventually coalesced into the single question of: was his heart’s desire gone? Had his little mouse done the unthinkable?

The fact that she would even dare!

“How long was she here?” Raphael asked, bristling with barely concealed rage.

His fake little mouse purred as a finger traced circles around her clit, “Mmm, long enough for me to get a good taste.”

Raphael lunged towards the bed in a flash, eyes seeing red. His hands found Haarlep’s currently slender throat in the same instance. The incubi’s pulse thrummed against his palms and fingers as he squeezed. Haarlep made no motion to fight against the sudden attack. Instead, his fake little mouse moaned in pleasure.

“And no one thought to tell me that a well-known thief waltzed into my House of Hope uninvited? You just thought to fuck her and…”

Raphael paused to then look in the direction of the excessively grand and gilded portrait of his devil likeness. The artwork served two purposes; to be a permanent reminder of his own magnificence and to be the door to a hidden place of safekeeping for his private thoughts; a door which, not by his own doing, had been left open to reveal the safe behind it. Knowing who he was dealing with, it was either a careless afterthought or a purposeful breadcrumb.

“She’s a clever one,” Haarlep gasped, eyes rolling as they chased release.

Raphael snarled as he threw Haarlep from his hold. Swiftly he left the room, determined for answers.

Surely his debtors and those contracted to him and his House of Hope would not betray him so brazenly. Not a single alarm was sounded in his time away on business. Even Korrilla, who often fought to be the favored apple of his eye, had not thought to alert him to the rodent problem.

His rage spilled over as he shed his mortal visage. Leathery and large red wings spanned outwards from his back, casting darkness within the candlelit hallways. Debtors fled from the imposing horned-figure marching on the Archive, whimpering and mumbling to themselves.

The ornate doors of the Archive opened at his approach, as if welcoming the Archdevil Supreme, and his Archivist immediately humbled himself to the furiously approaching devil.

“T-the contract, my lord…”

Raphael ignored scorching his Archivist on the spot. He needed to see the missing contract himself…

How… curious. His mouse’s contract was still on display for all to see. The impervious sphere guarding the contract had been dispelled, yet the contract itself looked no different than when he placed it there himself. Upon reaching the pedestal fully, Raphael eyed the contract for signs of falsity. He innately knew his contracts like they were a part of him.

Yes, this all-too-important contract, this favorite contract, was his.

However, the small piece of crusty cheese placed underneath the contract was not.

Raphael plucked the cheese from the pedestal surface and studied it between a clawed finger and thumb.

“She said she was Verillius Receptor. The High Inquisitor had an appointment, you see…” His Archivist said, meekly stepping behind him.

The cheese crumbled easily in Raphael’s hand.

“And the others she traveled with? What names did they give?” Raphael replied, tone mocking.

“S-she came by herself.”

By herself?

How interesting.

Raphael turned to formally regard his retainer.

“And what did ‘Verillius Receptor’ say that she hoped to get out of her visit?”

The Archivist swallowed, “She seemed very keen to admire the achievements within the Archive. She… she lamented that you no longer had the Orphic Hammer in your collection.”

Raphael’s lip curled into a sneer.

How dare she play him for a fool? Oh, she was clever; that much had been evident in their first meeting. She had a glint in her eye that Haarlep could never replicate, and a strong will that guaranteed to him that his little mouse would end her journey as the victor. And a victory for her over the Elder Brain would bring about his victory in the Hells; Raphael saw to that as soon as she signed the contract at Sharess’ Caress.

How he had crooned over his own cleverness!

How easily she agreed to the contract and signed over the Crown of Karsus to him!

But there had been that glint in her eye… that maddening glint that made him question if she was even a mouse at all.

His Archivist watched, taught with fear and tension, as Raphael drifted in thought.

“M-my lord…”

The devil pinned his retainer with a glare.

“Yes? Is there another failure you have ready on your tongue?”

“Hope…”

Raphael stepped closer to his Archivist, his wings flexing.

“What of Hope?” he asked, voice treading a dangerous whisper.

“Hope is contained still within your House, my lord.”

“I shall be sure to thank Tav, your ‘Verillius Receptor’, for her kindness in LEAVING MY PROPERTY ALONE!”

His Archivist shriveled and cowered in the looming shadow of the devil himself, his voice small as he added a final insult.

“T-there is the matter of the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength…”

Raphael never made a point to drop in on his little mouse after her heist. She needed to focus on the goal at hand, and there would be time to demand answers for her roguery after the Elder Brain was dead.

It was thus that while she planned for the imminent battle ahead, Raphael schemed in the shadows, mapping his takeover as Archdevil Supreme…

He would bring the Nine Hells to order!

But afterwards, or perhaps during…

His mouse needed to be punished for her slight against him. The Gauntlets were of little consequence; they would be easy enough to retrieve again. But to all but spit in his face, in his own home, without invitation?

No! He would not stand for it!

He could only imagine the chaos she might have caused, had she not decided to toy with him…

Be it by accident or design, his little mouse left a piece of herself behind in his House of Hope on that day. Her body had become his toy, to do with whatever he desires, when he desires.

And how magnanimous of him to show restraint until her job was done! (Haarlep’s restraint however…)

It was her mind and soul he now dreamed of owning, along with her body. An incubi’s copy would not do. Raphael would make sure his little mouse knew she was his mouse and his plaything; it was not the other way around!

He will be all she knows…

Yes, he would get his Crown, and his Little Mouse, too.

Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

“I must – END.”

The platform on which they stood atop the Elder Brain shook as the final command of The Absolute rang out. 

Tav clutched her head in burning agony as the tadpole infecting her screamed in its death throes. She could imagine the tadpole burrowing deeper into her brain in a desperate attempt to escape eradication. Excruciating seconds stretched into eternity before a sudden silence filled her mind; it was a quiet Tav was no longer used to.

The tadpole was gone.

Unable to believe it, Tav spun to see the faces of her companions. Lae’zel's stoic demeanor was broken with a smile. Karlach hollered a cheer, fists pumping. And Astarion…

He only had eyes for her; they were eyes that held such warmth, love, and relief that Tav was sure her heart would seize in happiness. Astarion’s goal of celebrating beside her was apparent as he crossed the platform, but he slowed to a stop out of arm’s reach. His brow furrowed as his focus shifted past her shoulder.

Tav followed his concerned gaze, just in time to catch the pieces that made the Crown of Karsus tumble lifelessly downwards towards the River Chionthar. A surge of tremors came after, and Tav fought to keep balance against the shakes that threatened to send her skidding off the surface and after the Crown.

The situation was becoming very dire, very quickly.

“Orpheus? Do you happen to know of a way to safely bring us back down to the city?” Tav yelled over the thunderous hum of the dying Elder Brain.

Her new Illithid friend stared at her with dark eyes, and his voice touched her mind.

“I do not,” he said, and salt was rubbed into the wound as Orpheus flew into the air. “I have trust you will all make it safely from this brain. We shall speak below.”

Not helpful.

It was time for Plan B.

“Everyone get by me!” Tav shouted, spilling the contents of her pack onto the platform. Loose pieces of gold, jewelry, potion bottles filled with poisons or elixirs, scrolls, and an assortment of pouches in all sizes scattered across the teetering floor. Tav picked up and examined each scroll with a franticness she rarely liked to show.

Her companions navigated over to her as best they could, either being helped or hindered depending on the direction of the latest quake. Karlach in particular took a nasty spill, and in the attempt to catch herself, kicked a portion of Tav’s stolen goods away, including a scroll that had yet to be identified.

“I hope it wasn’t that one,” Karlach said, eyes wide.

“Faster, darling!” Astarion urged. 

Tav grabbed the next nearest scroll, “I know it’s here somewhe–”

One powerful lurch tossed the four of them into the air as if they weighed nothing. Tav’s grip on the scroll tightened as gravity quickly corrected itself from going up to going down.

The Elder Brain corpse descended upon the river like a meteor, hurtling in a diagonal trajectory that allowed Tav and her companions to better view Baldur’s Gate and the rapidly approaching Chionthar below them.

Her companions oriented themselves (or attempted to) at various distances away from her as they fell; Karlach yelled about feeling sick and gaining a newfound fear of heights, Lae’zel cursed in her mother tongue as she flipped in the air more than she mean to, and it didn’t take a tadpole to read Astarion’s mind.

His face said it all.

Save. Us. Now.

Deftly, Tav opened what she hoped to be the mass Scroll of Featherfall.

It was instead a Scroll of Fireball.

Lae’zel did not look impressed as Tav let the scroll loose to the winds.

It was up to the Chionthar to kill or save them.

“It was a scroll of Fireball,” Tav explained, wringing her hair out while her companions joined her on the docks from the dingy water. With the battle won, and death narrowly avoided more times than she could count in a single day, Tav could feel the adrenaline seeping out of her body. Muscles ached and burned, and her trembling legs threatened to give way underneath her.

Karlach appeared beside her, looking equally exhausted and pained. It was a specific pain that Tav knew she would never be able to understand; the teifling’s entire body radiated a great deal of heat, and small flames licked her skin.

“Yeah, that’s probably my fault… kicking that one scroll…” she said with labored breath.

“Ah, well, let’s all give Tav a round of applause for not blowing us up before we could smell and taste the Chionthar!” Astarion said, clearly disgusted with his current state. “Which smells and tastes like ass, I might add. But at least there’s no more tadpoles wriggling around in our heads. It’s refreshing to– Ow!” The vampire flinched. “What the–”

Tav watched, horrified, as Astarion’s skin began to split and smoke mere minutes after leaving the water.

Astarion was equally troubled by the reaction that was overtaking his body. “Oh, no. Oh, gods…”

Tav ran to him, shaking legs be damned, and held the cracking skin of his face. She kissed his drying lips and urged him with a gentle push towards the shadows that belonged to the nearby buildings of Baldur’s Gate. Astarion returned the kiss in kind and pulled away with angst in his eyes.

“I will find you at nightfall, at my grave,” he assured her. His fingers brushed hers before he swiftly fled to find darkness. Tav didn’t blink until she was sure Astarion made it to safety.

“I’m sorry, I can’t… hold on any longer. When you do see him, tell Astarion I said goodbye,” Karlach said, dropping to her knees.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

Tav rushed to the barbarian’s side, alarmed by the implications of Karlach’s words and of the way the tiefling clutched at the glowing area of her chest where her mortal heart used to beat. “You can’t die on me now, Karlach…” Everything was happening too soon. “Look at what we just survived!”

“Sorry, soldier… we knew… where this road would end for me. How’d I do?”

Lae’zel watched, her shoulders squared and chin raised. “You are one of the strongest warriors I have ever fought beside. You carry with you tl'a'ikith.”

“I… don’t know what that means,” Karlach said, mustering a small laugh. “But it sounds good. Real good.” Every word seemed to take a great amount of energy from her.

Tav swallowed down the lump in her throat that had formed somewhere between Astarion’s abrupt parting and the heart wrenching scene that played before her. “Is this truly what you want, Karlach?”

“I can’t go back to Avernus. I won’t.”

Tav nodded, resolved in her vow for her friends to decide their own fates. “You’re the best of us, Karlach.”

“Alright, one last… bit of sappiness,” Karlach bared her teeth in what was either a grin or a grimace. “Give everyone my love, yeah? It’s been an honor fighting beside you, and… we really kicked The Absolute’s fucking ass, didn’t we?”

A smile spread across Tav’s lips. “They never stood a chance.”

“Yeah…ah!” The glow of Karlach’s body burned brighter and a wave of heat hit Tav. “Get back! This… won’t be… pretty…”

It was not pretty at all. Lae’zel and Tav would do nothing, and could do nothing, but observe as Karlach was enveloped in a burst of flame and intense, scalding heat. The tiefling yelled a battle cry while the flames overtook her until, suddenly, Karlach disappeared amidst a flash of embers.

Tav and Lae’zel solemnly looked on until the last of the cinders burnt out and floated away.

After a further moment of silence passed, Lae’zel turned and began to walk towards the Illithid that stood waiting within the empty shipyard. “I must deal with Orpheus - the ghaik.”

Tav blinked away her tears, bolstered herself, and followed.

As with Karlach, Orpheus was certain that death was the answer for his ghaik transformation. Lae’zel accepted the promise that would see her take up his mantle and liberate the Githyanki people, and it was Tav to whom Orpheus presented his blade, with the wish that Tav be the one to end his life.

It ended quickly and quietly.

Everything was not going how Tav had imagined it, and she thought it likely that Lae’zel was thinking the same as the Githyanki warrior contemplated the skies.

Tav joined her, if only to avoid staring at the dead, bleeding Orpheus at her feet.

“What will you do now?” Tav asked after some time.

“I must go and do as promised,” Lae’zel said. “Quulos and Quuthos will come to me, and I will liberate my people.”

Tav smiled to herself, but it was thin and bitter; Lae’zel was leaving, too.

“Surely you don’t need both dragons…” Tav said, forcing levity into a day that proved to be a very depressing one.

Lae’zel’s head turned, and she regarded Tav with disapproval, but there was the beginnings of a true smile at the corner of her lips.

Tav wasn’t sure how much time had passed between granting Orpheus his wish to when the two red dragons broke the horizon line. She watched their wings beat against the setting sky and found herself envying their ability to somehow know where they were needed.

She could read a subtle nervousness on Lae’zel’s face as the draconic mounts approached.

“You’ll do it, Lae’zel.”

“I will.”

The dragons were close.

“I’ll miss you.”

Lae’zel turned to fully face Tav. “And I will miss you.”

Then Tav was alone.

She slowly walked her aching body down the dock and allowed exhaustion to overtake her once she reached the end. She collapsed onto her back, wondering if she'd ever be able to move again, and watched the dragons fly away with Lae'zel while fighting heavy eyelids.

Tav wished Lae'zel luck as her eyes closed.

Her eyelids fluttered open to the sight of fine leather boots lit by moonlight.

“Astarion?” Tav mumbled, groggy in her state of half-wakefulness. She rolled off of her bruised side and groaned uncomfortably as she settled onto her back. As her eyes began to adjust to the silver touched darkness, it became clear that it was not Astarion looming above her.

“Sleep well, Little Mouse?”

“It was unintentional, I assure you,” Tav replied, wincing in an attempt to sit upright. Pain ripped through every muscle and joint in her body, and she lamented the loss of her pack. The collection of countless items, many of them that could have offered her relief, were never to be seen again. “You wouldn’t happen to have a potion of healing on you by chance?”

The mortal-appearing Raphael arched an eyebrow and seemed to take a brief moment for internal debate. He eyed the space where she used to carry her pack of stolen goods, tutted in mock disapproval, and snapped his fingers. A plume of hellish smoke burst from his fingertips and in his hand appeared an ornate golden goblet. Raphael took a step closer. He proffered the goblet, only to pull it shy of Tav’s reach when she motioned to take it. “Not until I get what I am owed.”

“The Crown–”

Anger colored the devil’s features, “Not the Crown. Or the stones.”

Tav scoured her memories for what she could have done to anger him so.

 Oh.

“I…” She licked her lips, mouth feeling parched as she stared at the goblet. “Owe you an apology.”

The eyebrow raised again, expectant.

“For… breaking into your House of Hope. I, admittedly, got a little overzealous and made a bit of a game out of it.”

“Why were you there?”

A specific reason came to mind, but Tav favored another answer that was easier for her to digest and more of a half-truth.

“To see what magical items you had stashed away,” she said with a small shrug. “I am a thief… and we needed all of the help we could get.”

“Yes,” Raphael remarked dryly. His top lip verged on a sneer. “I am well aware of both facts.”

Tav wondered if it was somehow within Raphael’s power to make her pain feel worse the longer he held the goblet and its contents out of her reach. “I offer my humblest and sincerest apologies.”

The devil studied her with an intensity that sent gooseflesh up her arms.

He proffered the goblet again.

“For the Hero of Baldur’s Gate,” he said with a mix of drama and sarcasm. 

Tav peeked over the rim and could vaguely make out a disheveled version of herself staring back at her on top of a dark, reddish liquid. Trusting him to not poison her, and hoping he truly did accept her apology, Tav took the cup, half-heartedly raised it in toast, and greedily threw the liquid back.

It tasted like a potion of healing, and, within the minute, felt like one, too. A sigh of gratefulness escaped her as the relief she sought spread slowly from her throat to her toes. Tav put the goblet aside, gave a little stretch, and kicked her feet out. It was probably best to wait a bit longer for the potion to take full effect.

The last thing she wanted to do was fall on her face in front of Raphael.

“Thank you,” Tav said. Then a thought occurred to her. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to watch you toss and turn in your sleep,” Raphael replied smoothly.

Embarrassment crept up her face, and Tav forcefully looked out onto the Chionthar to avoid the devil’s gaze. “You could have woken me. I’d rather sleep elsewhere, and I’m sure a busy devil like yourself has better things to do than waste time watching a bloodied and broken mortal sleep…”

“My deepest apologies for thinking that the hero of the hour needed some well deserved rest!” Raphael said with fake affront. “But do not continue to flatter yourself, Little Mouse; I am waiting for those who serve me to fetch the Crown from the river and thought it best to wait with familiar company.”

Tav, feeling tired still, and not wanting to commence in banter, let silence come between them. She looked up to where the moon shone and calculated the time to be a little after midnight. Astarion had likely been waiting at his grave for a few hours, and Tav’s stomach knotted at the thought of making him worry.

It would be best to wrap up her business with Raphael soon, and once the potion of healing was in full swing, she would go meet with her beloved.

The feeling of having a devil’s eyes at her back made her restless.

“So, Little Mouse, you won your battle; you slayed the Illithid who stole itself into your mind, freed the Prince of the Comet from his shackles, defeated an Elder Brain and its fellow abominations, and saved the city from imminent death and destruction. How does it feel to be the Hero of Baldur’s Gate?”

Tav didn’t need much time to think about her response.

“Lonely.”

“Oh?”

“Today didn’t go how I imagined it would.” 

Bits and pieces of the day flashed in her mind, and before Tav knew it, emotions were bubbling to the surface and words poured from her lips like a waterfall. 

“Of course, some of it did go how I imagined; we stormed the Elder Brain and slaughtered the army of Illithid thralls in a battle that nearly cost my friends and allies their lives. But I wasn’t expecting for one of us to be asked to sacrifice our soul for the sake of commanding the brain to destroy itself…”

Karlach’s cheerful face swam to the forefront.

“And, fuck! Karlach offered to become a Mind Flayer! And she wanted to be one!” She twisted to look at Raphael. “At the beginning of this whole damned adventure I vowed to not influence my friends when it came to deciding their own fates… but I selfishly persuaded Karlach to not volunteer.”

Raphael watched impassively as she spoke. 

“Now Karlach is dead. No, not even dead. She’s just gone. Orpheus, who was to be the liberator of his people, ended up becoming something he hated, which I’m sure you saw how that turned out.” Tav gestured wryly to the dead Illithid some distance behind them. “Astarion, who is probably worried that I somehow died on my way over to him, can’t stand in sunlight for more than a few minutes before risking death by dust, and Lae’zel galavanted off with two dragons to do what Orpheus can’t.”

Tav unclenched her fists and sighed.

“So, yes, Raphael. Being a hero feels very lonely.” She stared out at the river and choked out a mirthless laugh. “The reality is, no one will know our names, know of what we did or of the sacrifices we took to get here. We’re nameless adventurers who only did what we did because we had to, or else we’d die and become soulless creatures for eternity. There will be no parades or grand balls in our honor, no golden statues…”

She could feel her mask of composure daring to slip. Tav closed her eyes in an effort to keep the mask from falling. She bottled the remains of her anguish and frustrations, and dared to look at Raphael again when she was positive everything was secured. 

“I imagined celebrating with my friends on this night. Instead I’m celebrating by talking the ear off of a devil who normally talks my ear off, and the only reason you’re here is because of the Netherstones.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction.

“Do you have the stones?”

Right. He was officially done listening to her wallow.

To business then.

Tav pressed both hands to her breastplate. Between breasts and armor she could feel the uncomfortable shape of at least one of the Netherstones pressing into her chest.

“Or are they, too, at the bottom of the Chionthar? Perhaps with the rest of your trinkets?”

There was a distinct edge to Raphael’s tone that Tav wasn’t used to hearing from the devil. Fleetingly, Tav wondered if he had yet to fully forgive her transgressions within his house, but told herself that the devil would surely get over it.

“They’re here!” Tav said. She threw him what she hoped was a confident smile as she worked to unfasten the breastplate. “I think…” she then mumbled to herself.

With the last buckle undone, Tav pulled the breastplate away and mentally cheered when three Netherstones clattered onto the dock floor. She quickly plucked them into a single hand and, careful of her better-but-still-not-all-better state, rose to stand in front of the waiting devil.

He smiled, devilishly (what else could she expect), and opened a palm to her.

Tav moved to place the stones in his offered hand, and Raphael curled his fingers to lock her hand between his and the stones.

Heat passed through his touch, and heat pooled within Tav.

“Little Mouse.”

Unsure of what to do, Tav stared back at him.

“Raphael.”

“The terms of your contract have been met, and I look forward to our future interactions.”

In classic Raphael fashion, there was something calculated behind his eyes and ominous in his words. At one point in time, Astarion had laughed when Tav admitted to him of liking the devil. Same as she saw with Astarion, Tav saw charm and humor in Raphael’s dramatics, too. He relished in his role as the devil that was there when you wanted him the least but needed him the most, and he played the part well.

His parting words were no different to a stage line he’d recited thousands of times before. Tav sincerely doubted she would ever see him again in her life. Her role was finished in his story and with the Crown of Karsus his, Raphael would conquer the Nine Hells as promised and spare nary a thought to the mortal who helped him get there.

Raphael released her hand and snapped his fingers once more. The stones disappeared with a burst of smoke and a parchment full of inked words hovered next to him.

It was her contract, and as she examined it closer, Tav could read at the bottom that it had been fulfilled. She nodded to Raphael, and he snapped the contract away with sparks and embers.

“Well, I’d say ‘give them Hell’, but I know it’s your goal to take them,” Tav said lightly.

“Indeed.”

“Goodbye, Raphael.”

She turned, feeling awkward with her goodbye, and headed towards the shipyard. It was when she passed the dead Illithid Orpheus that Tav stopped briefly to chance a look back at the devil.

Instead of watching her leave, as a small part of her wanted to happen, Raphael had closed himself off completely, his back to her as he overlooked the Chionthar.

Already she was nary a thought.

Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

In the days that followed their victory, Tav’s remaining friends and companions disbanded. 

Wyll was set to become the next Duke Ravengard. Many questioned whether or not the title of Marshal would be granted to Ulder’s son, given the devilish features that transformed both face and body, but a strong campaign was in the works to make the transition easier for the people of Baldur’s Gate to stomach. It was a boon for their efforts that Wyll could now speak on the sordid details of his pact.

Gale parted on less than friendly terms. It was difficult for him to come to grips with Tav’s decision of handing over the Crown of Karsus to a fiend rather than a friend in desperate need. His hand was forced to pursue other endeavors that would bring him closer to Mystra’s good graces. The hurtful words he spewed as he packed were peppered with truths, and Tav wondered if their friendship would ever mend.

Shadowheart, still grieving her parents and pieces of herself, embarked on a journey of self discovery. The cleric had become one of Tav’s closest confidants, though it had taken time to get there. They hugged each other tightly in their goodbye, and Shadowheart promised to visit once she felt more at peace.

Jaheira returned to her family’s home in the Lower City. There were relationships to mend between the druid and her children, and she would rebuild what she could until her duty to the Harpers summoned her elsewhere. Minsc (and Boo) followed, but the ranger let his intention be known that the call to adventure lay outside the city walls.

Halsin dedicated himself to helping those displaced by battle and war. He remained longer than the rest, gathering survivors and orphans who wished to start anew. Tav was there to wave him off as he led a caravan into Thaniel’s domain, nature framing his exit.

Astarion stayed, of course. He and Tav decided to make a home within Baldur’s Gate, at least for a time. 

They found a small home in the Lower City, given to them by a grateful citizen they had helped save somewhere along in their journey, and worked to shutter the windows from all amount of sunlight. It was quaint, cozy, and simply furnished, if not a little dirty. Tav did her best to make them feel at home by adding bits and pieces that had been left behind from their various makeshift camps. It pleased her to look upon Karlach’s old tarp that they used as a drape across the front windows, and happy to sleep on one of many pillows they had stolen from their time at the Elfsong.

Tav fell back into the rhythm of living an ordinary life somewhat easily. For Astarion, the struggle was a daily one. A life without a wriggling mind worm, and especially without Cazador, brought doubt and insecurities to the vampire she loved so dearly. He shared with Tav how grateful he was for the decision he made, and thanked her for her support in the matter, but it was clear to her that he often fantasized about the other choice.

It wasn’t the power he craved. It was the ability to feel the sun on his skin without worry or care; a gift he had received by way of being tadpole infected, and a gift stolen by being tadpole cured.

On more melancholy days, Tav gathered Astarion in her arms and swore to find a solution.

“I hope so,” was always his reply.

At nightfall, it became routine to explore the city; Astarion needed to find small animals to feed on, and Tav looked for honest work that involved less of her thieving nature. She strived to do more good in the world, inspired by the “hero” title that only few knew she wore, and felt her story lacked personal growth when compared to that of her friends. Where the better part of her companions had intimate chapters of their lives closed, Tav felt no different after the tadpole than before. There was no revelation for her to grapple with, or discoveries about herself that she needed to unfold…

Everything was the same.

In their freetime, when they weren’t in each other’s embrace, Tav and Astarion researched what they could in finding an answer for the vampire’s inability to daywalk. They poured over old tomes, researched all aspects of magic, and questioned every lead, but their efforts proved fruitless.

Tav remained hopeful and kissed the vampire until his disappointment fell away.

As time passed, the more their love for one another blossomed, and the more Tav knew she never wanted to leave Astarion’s side. It was there where she found purpose.

And so, after four months of relative domestic bliss, it came as a knife to her heart when Astarion abandoned her. 

The last Tav saw of him was when they separated with a kiss on a night like any other. Tav left for a hired task, which was to be followed by a late dinner at Jaheira's, and Astarion was set to arrive at the druid’s house sometime after he found a meal of his own. Worry twisted Tav’s insides the longer the night progressed, for her beloved never appeared at Jaheira’s door, and his side of their bed remained empty long after she returned home.

She searched for signs of him in the morning, desperate for answers. One witness, of the few she found, claimed to have watched Astarion follow a hooded figure of short stature into a home laid on the outskirts of the Lower City. Another swore that Astarion came out of the home after some time, looking troubled and clutching what looked to be an amulet to his chest. Tav’s hands itched for the daggers strapped to her thighs as she demanded further insight to the identity of the person, but the witness asserted it had been too dark to note any specific features.

Tav arrived at the house in question that night, ready to break in no matter the cost. 

It was a plain house of timber and stone that Tav would have assumed belonged to a family, if not for the knowledge that something suspicious happened behind its walls. Her head stayed low as she scouted around windows for sounds and signs of activity. Hearing nothing, she rounded to a back window and popped it open with a quick jostle of her knife.

The house was determined to be empty as Tav prowled around. Rooms were scarce, aside from the odd piece of furniture or two, and surfaces wore a thin covering of dust. She combed rooms thrice over, hopeful for any clue, yet there were little signs that anyone had been to the house in weeks, if not months.

Tav left empty handed, dread and sadness consuming her.

Resolve saw her return to the house for a fortnight. She took up a position on a nearby roof, journal in hand, and surveyed the property for any shady activity or hooded figures.

It hurt to admit that nothing came of it.

When hope finally crumbled, her home became a tomb for her heartbreak. Tav kept to the shrouded bedroom she once shared with the person who made her happiest and lamented the possibility that maybe he chose to leave. The mementos of her friends she had used as decorations began to turn into bitter reminders of her loneliness.

It was when Tav stopped her weekly visitations that Jaheira showed up at her door. The druid avoided pity in both demeanor and words as she sat on the bed next to a balled up “Cub”, and by Jaheira’s third consecutive and forceful drop in, Tav was roused enough to sit up and eat more than she had in a couple of weeks. Eventually, Tav was persuaded to leave her gloomy home in favor of the cramped and busy one Jaheira’s daughter Rion ran.

The Hero of Baldur’s Gate was welcomed warmly into the household. Fig and Jhessem, the youngest of Jaheira’s adopted brood, attacked Tav with questions about her adventures and she wove them tales that left out the sordid details of goblin massacres, Illithid invasions of her mind, and deals with devils. Rion and Jord appreciated having another sharp tongue in their merry band (teasing Jaheira had become a family tradition), and late night talks with the two siblings revealed what it was like growing up with Jaheira as a mother. Rion was still adjusting to having the druid around, but she was preparing her heart for the inevitability of Jaheira walking out the door at any moment.

Sure enough, the day came three weeks into Tav’s stay. There was a call to action for rebuilding the Harpers outside of Baldur’s Gate, and Jaheira intended to answer. Rion wouldn’t allow for the family to be deserted again and so the executive decision was made to travel alongside their mother. 

“You should come with us, Tav.” Jaheira said with a lilt of persuasion. “It would do you good to get out of the city again.”

“Yes, come with us!” Fig pleaded.

It was a tempting offer to take, to become an adventurer once more, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of Tav’s tadpole-free mind that the truth of Astarion’s disappearance still lay within the city.

She declined, much to the disappointment of the children.

Tav helped them shutter the house and load their wagon. After the final pack was aboard, Tav hugged each of them and pledged to write whenever there was a new and exciting story to tell Fig and Jhessem.

With one home too depressing to step foot in, and the other locked, empty, and not hers, Tav decided to fall back on the home she grew up in; the Undercity.

Primarily a network of thieves' dens (but also home to an abandoned Temple of Bhaal that Tav knew all too well), the Undercity was home to rogues, outcasts, and undead. Inhabitants, of the living variety, dwelled in a network of shanty towns found throughout the vast cave that housed the city. 

Tav’s Uncle Torrin had been one such inhabitant.

She was raised by her Uncle Torrin from the age of five after both parents passed due to illness. Her Uncle Torrin, rest his soul, was a mouthy charlatan who earned his livelihood selling “Specialty Items of the Week” he concocted in his basement of junk. He patrolled the streets of the Upper and Lower CIty, and preyed on the ignorance of his customers (mostly tourists) in order to earn his keep to the thieves guild of which he belonged. Whenever his hogwash became apparent, Torrin fled to his home in the Undercity, concocted his next batch of drivel, and was out on the streets a week later in a new disguise.

It was a natural occurrence that Tav followed in Torrin’s footsteps, at least in the beginning. Tav would happily watch Torrin toil in his basement, and her young mind assisted in giving him wonderful (terrible, really) ideas for the next “Specialty Item”. The next step in her assistance often involved taking Tav to the streets above, where her small hands picked the pockets of those who stood witness to Torrin’s latest spiel. She also, for better or worse, picked up Torrin’s knack for persuasion and deception.

As she grew into her teens, Tav’s talents were noticed by the few members of the Crimson Red, a guild known in their heyday for their penchant of stealing and fencing high priced items. Torrin had been especially proud for such a faction to notice her, and urged Tav to take up the offer to join immediately.

Thus, Torrin was left to work his trade alone as Tav prospered and flourished under the wing of the Crimson Red. 

The Crimson Red was small in number, composed of four members at the time of her initiation; the grizzled old dwarf leader, MacMillon, his brother Marvyn (a master of sleight-of-hand), a masked arcane trickster by the name of “Poppy”, and a dark-haired human girl named Solenne who had been initiated sixth months prior.

Being similar in age, and involved in the same line of work, Tav and Solenne got along like a house on fire. Solenne was Tav’s first true friend in a world that prioritized the relationships of employers, clients, and enemies. It was a foreign feeling for Tav, to find someone she could trust with her hopes, dreams, and secrets. She and Solenne were thick as thieves, in the most literal sense of the phrase; they executed jobs together, made quite the pair in a fight, and nursed each other's wounds.

However, amidst the wonderful memories Tav had of Solenne, it was an ill-fated heist that stained them all. A magical pair of Boots of Haste had been stored away in the depths of a tower in the Upper City. Rumors of the boots spread across the Undercity like wildfire, and all manner of thieves plotted fervently to be the claimant of such an item. Tav, who enjoyed risky and daring ventures, convinced Solenne to join her in an attempt to take the boots and the glory for themselves. The two of them stole away mere hours after news of the boots reached their ears, and they conceptualized plans and backup plans as they swiftly navigated the shadows of the Upper City. 

It was the third backup plan (with the use of cantrips, arrows of transposition, and stolen spell scrolls) that worked to get them to their destination, but alarms rang out at their intrusion, and guards closed in.

Being that Solenne had always been marginally slower than Tav when it came to running (fleeing), Tav suggested that her friend swap her unmagical boots for the much more magical Boots of Haste. After all, there were few better items to have at a person’s disposal when escape was necessary.

This proved to be a grave error of judgment.

Solenne pulled the first boot above her ankle and let loose a blood curdling scream. Black tendrils of mist snaked up her leg, and the magical boot she wore pulsated with a dark aura.

The tiny room they were in began to smell horrifyingly necrotic.

“Tav, it’s cursed! Get it off!”

With all of Tav’s strength, the boot didn’t come free.

“It won’t budge! They’ll be here soon, we have to go! ”

“I don’t think I can even stand,” Solenne managed between attempts to rise and guttural cries. “Get out of here yourself!”

That was never going to happen.

Only by sheer divine intervention (and rarely did Tav ever thank the gods) did Tav make it out of the tower that night with Solenne half-conscious at her side. Spells, potions, elixirs… everything was exhausted in the trial. The sole items that remained on Tav’s person were her knives and the cursed boot’s unworn sibling she shoved between her belt.

Their return to The Undercity saw Tav celebrated for her bravado, loyalty, and perseverance. Solenne came out of the ordeal with less praise and more pity; her lower leg would forever remain cursed and blackened, even after the boot’s removal. A limp plagued with pain was her reward, and her life as a working thief in the field was over.

Tav was thankful that Solenne never once put blame on her; either for the idea to pursue the boots or for the grievous injury that followed, but guilt told Tav otherwise. She doubled down on work in order to assist Solenne’s living situation and was a source of motivation as her friend acclimated to life with a disability. Ultimately, it was in Solenne’s best interest to leave the Undercity altogether in order to earn a wage that included a less stressful and more accessible job. They swore to meet again when their schedules allowed, but Tav could never find the time away from work, or so she told herself. In truth, she thought her face stirred memories and trauma that Solenne was far better without.

Tav’s own trauma pushed her into taking singular jobs that risked her life and hers alone. The outcomes, whether good, bad, or in-between, would be Tav’s to bear.

It was easier that way.

Uncle Torrin was all she had needed, and Torrin was happy to be the person she came back to at the end of a long day. She joined in his charades from time to time, and enjoyed playing the characters he wrote. It became escapism.

Torrin’s schemes caught up to him the summer of Tav’s twenty-seventh year. A knife in the back, ironically enough, delivered by a man angered at the discovery of his bunk purchase. Tav mourned his loss greatly, and, combined with Solenne’s misfortune and exit a few years prior, found it necessary to venture out from the nest that raised her.

It was Tav’s own misfortune that saw the Nautiloid abduct her the very day she stepped out with adventuring gear on.

But that adventure was over…

Earthy scents of must and sulfur filled Tav’s nose as she traversed down pathways of crumbled ruins into the depths of the cave. Her body tensed and senses heightened the deeper she walked. The Undercity was by no means lawless, but unpredictability, especially in matters where coin and ego were involved, was a constant factor at play for visitors and dwellers alike.

Innocuous conversation and hushed whispers swam in and out of earshot as she closed in on the central hub of the Undercity. While smaller thieves’ dens existed, it was The Guild who ruled over them all with an iron hand.

Tav needed to inform Nine-fingers of her intention to return.

By chance, a pair of familiar faces caught her eye as she passed a collection of traders and sellers. Two tiefling children, both similar in height and red skin, stood closely together. One child, who Tav recognized as Umi, pointed urgently at Tav’s approaching form as he whispered into the other’s ear. The receiver of the message looked to where Umi gestured, set her single eye on Tav, and immediately pushed little Umi away.

“Well look who it is!”

The ambitious Mol stood with chest puffed and arms posed at her hips. She grinned, showing fanged teeth as Tav landed at her shabby shop of wares.

“Come to check out my goods, have you? I don’t blame you, they are the best anyone has down here to offer!” Mol’s dark, devilish pupil eyed her studiously. “Where have you been anyways? Word down here was that you’d be returning once the brain stuff ended.”

“Hello, Mol.” Tav said. She took a moment to take in the crude booth before her and noted the variety of items on display. Stacks of books, ranging from like-new to falling apart, towered amongst an assortment of dye bottles, tools, jewels, jewelry, and weapons. “Your shop is growing. And I see you’re in a new corner.”

“Oh, yeah! This corner right here is a prime spot. I get all sorts of traffic.”

“Any magical rings for sale?” Tav asked. She smiled fondly at the memory of young Mattis at the Druid’s Grove.

“I do, but you wouldn’t fall for it, would you, Tav?” Mol said with a wink. “Anyways, you didn’t answer my question. Where have you been? I was hoping we could do business together. It’d be in your best interest, seeing as how I’m going to be running this entire place soon! Unless you’ve forgotten!”

Tav had not forgotten. She read Mol’s contract herself when she stole it from Raphael’s House of Hope. It had been returned to Mol with the hope the tiefling would destroy it…

“No, I haven’t forgotten. Sorry I haven’t stopped by, I’ve been… busy,” Tav replied lamely. It was an obvious evasion of the truth, but there was no reason to dive into personal business with a child who cared very little about things outside of coin and ambition. “I’m curious though, since it has been awhile… what did you end up doing with your contract?”

“I returned it to Raphael,” Mol answered, chuffed. She then glared at Tav. “It wasn’t your contract to take. I’ll take it when I’m ready.”

Tav wasn’t entirely surprised by the outcome. Mol had been peeved, albeit impressed, by Tav’s gift, and the child’s desire for wealth and power far outweighed whatever price she owed Raphael.

“But you should have seen his face, Tav!” Mol was grinning again. “He showed up in the middle of the night with a–” she snapped her fingers, “and scared the shit out of me! I’ve never seen him so angry. He was a little less angry when he saw I didn’t tear the contract to shreds…”

A fraction of pride swelled within Tav. Raphael was a devil who coveted control in all aspects of his being. Their first meeting introduced Tav to his theatrics, and their second introduced her to his emotional dial of control that never seemed to exceed past “mildly irritated”. It became a game to her, to sting the devil with playful barbs and an air of pure indifference, to push the dial more and more… but Raphael never took the bait. His composure remained as unflappable as ever, even in their last interaction.

Unflappable, until (as it’s sounding), the day she invited herself into the House of Hope (good thing she apologized).

It was a small victory to achieve in a time where personal victories were nearly non-existent.

Tav chewed on the inside of her cheek, wondering if she should ask the next question on her mind. “Has he asked about me?”

Mol froze for a fraction of a second but bounced back with a huff of air, “Pfft, no! Haven’t you heard? Good ol’ Raphael’s been conquering the Nine Hells. I hear he’s got four of ‘em under his belt already.” She moved to her table of goods and grabbed the nearest ring. She half donned it on her tiny finger and began to aggressively polish it with the frayed hem of her shirt. “ I rarely see him anymore, and I’m supposed to be his favorite...”

Tav tried not to be disappointed. “I’m sure he’ll be back to visit soon. After he’s Archdevil Supreme.”

Mol looked up excitedly from her polishing, “But you’ll be visiting, right Tav? Remember, we should be working together! I can get work for you!”

“I’ll be around,” Tav said with a laugh and smile. She gestured towards the nearby walls of the tavern in which the office of Nine-fingers dwelled. “Have to give Nine-fingers the heads up.”

Leaning in as if to tell a secret of her own, Mol whispered cheekily, “Won’t be her for long!”

“The Hero of Baldur’s Gate! Or is it just Tav these days?”

Tav mentally rolled her eyes. “Just Tav.”

“I thought I’d never see you down here again after you and Jaheira came ‘round askin’ about the Stone Lord. Figured you’d be too big and important to be seen with ilk like us. What can I do for you?” 

Nine-fingers Keene, guild leader and master rogue, barely regarded Tav as she picked through sheafs of ledgers and notes that lay strewn across the surface of a knife-scratched desk. It was a tactic to make Nine-fingers look busy and Tav unimportant.

“I’ve decided to come back.” Tav tried to ignore the bitterness on her tongue. “Full-time.”

Nine-fingers paused in her fake paper shuffling.

“Full-time again, eh?” There was slight doubt in the guildmaster’s voice, but her demeanor was warming now that Tav spoke of pledging herself back into the Undercity’s arms. “I’m sure old man MacMillon will be pleased to have you back in the Crimson Red.”

Tav shook her head. “No, I’ll represent myself as a freelancer.”

Nine-fingers sat down in her chair fully and tapped her desk with a gloved finger, considering. “You’ll owe me more as a freelancer, and I’m glad to take more, but are you sure you don’t want to rejoin your old crew? Not that there’s anyone left these days… Only MacMillon, Solenne, and some new guy who joined up a little bit ago.”

“Solenne?” Tav barely registered that she asked the name aloud. From what she last recalled, Solenne could barely walk without debilitating pain. “She can’t…”

“Oh, I assure you she can and is,” Nine-fingers said, pleased. “She’s far from where she used to be, mind you, leg still gets the best of her at times, but she manages.”

“But… how?”

“Ask her yourself, Tav.” Nine-fingers sighed with irritation and shifted her focus back to paperwork. She picked up a quill, dipped it into the inkwell, and pressed the point into one of the ledgers opened before her. “Are you freelancing or not?”

The Crimson Red’s hideout wasn’t so much a hideout as it was MacMillon’s rundown house that sat in a line of other rundown houses. There were no windows to look either inside or outside, apart from a covered metal peephole that was centered within a thick wooden door, and the sinking foundation gave the home a lean that appeared to get marginally worse each year. 

Anxiety ate at her nerves the longer Tav stared at the structure’s wood rotted walls. She debated turning around, but bit back her apprehension and rapped on the door with her knuckles.

After a minute, there was some shuffling heard behind the door, and the metal covering of the peephole slid open to reveal a dark furrowed brow and green eyes. “Yes?”

The eyes were not a pair she recognized.

“I’m here for MacMillon.”

“Gods, I know that voice from anywhere! Is that Tav?” Questioned a faint, feminine and excited voice from past the door. She could hear a mix of footsteps across hardwood and then a grunt as green eyes were replaced by a brown pair that barely reached the bottom of the peephole. “It is!”

Tav steeled herself as the shutter slammed over the peephole and the lock unbolted.

“I knew you’d come back!” Solenne exclaimed, throwing the door open wide.

Tav blinked, dumbfounded as she took in the sight of her friend. Solenne looked hale and whole, more so than Tav could recall at any time after the incident. She was standing upright, with full weight on both legs, and a boy looking no older than four years peered at Tav as he clutched the pant leg Tav knew belonged to Solenne’s curse.

Behind mother and son stood an elf that Tav assumed to be the boy’s father. He stared at Tav intently, though not unkindly. She could tell he was approximating her just as she was him, and his handsome features grew amused the longer she inspected his lithe frame.

Then it hit Tav that she had yet to say anything, when this was to be a joyous reunion.

She snapped out of her thoughts, beamed, and moved to envelope Solenne in a firm hug.

“I’m so sorry I never visited…” said the guilt that scratched at her insides.

Solenne pulled back and shook her head, “Don’t worry about it. I should have made more of an effort myself.” She gently jostled the leg that the boy clung to. “Aren’t you going to say hello to my good friend Tav?”

The boy shook his head and retreated further behind his mother.

“That’s the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, you know,” Solenne said.

Tav felt her cheeks warm at the pure manner of which her unofficial moniker was being used. She gave a small wave to the boy as he meekly showed his face.

“This is Oswynn,” Solenne explained. 

“Hello, Oswynn,” Tav said.

Solenne then gestured to the elf beside her, “And this is Kassius.”

Tav found the elf’s green eyes and politely held her hand out. He made note to wipe his hands on his worn trousers before he responded with a single shake and release.

“Hello, Tav. It’s nice to finally meet the person I’ve heard so much about.”

“Ah, good or bad?” She asked with a quirk of her lips.

Kassius feigned a deep thought process before he answered. “Both.”

Solenne laughed, light and lilting, and touched Tav’s elbow to draw her inside. “Come in and have some tea. There’s a lot we need to catch up on!”

Solenne was bright eyes and cheery smiles as she steered Tav and Kassius into the small kitchen of the hideaway, and Oswynn towards the back rooms where he was instructed to keep the napping MacMillon company.

Tav sat down at a splintered table she knew well and patiently watched Solenne prepare tea for three. Kassius propped himself against the doorway with a reassuring smile in Tav’s direction.

Both Kassius and Solenne asked about Tav’s adventure as the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Tav recited an abbreviated version that borderlined the same beats as her retelling to Fig and Jhessem. This version proved to still be awe-inspiring; Solenne ‘oo-ed’ and ‘ah-ed’ in all the right places, and Kassius clapped at the finale.

But Tav was far more interested in Solenne’s turn at playing “catch-up”, which came once everyone had a teacup in hand.

Solenne spoke at great length of what life was like for her outside of the Undercity. She found work at a charming boutique in the Lower City, met a nice man while tailoring his suit, married said nice man, learned nice man was a cheating bastard, gave birth to Oswynn (who turned out to not be Kassius’s child), nearly died in the attack on Baldur’s Gate, and finished with a curious tale about a masked potion seller.

Tav’s tea sat untouched as she worked to digest Solenne’s story. Specifically, that of the mysterious potion seller that picked Solenne out from a crowd one random evening. Solenne sat beside her with her pant leg rolled up, leg exposed. Her curse looked as bad as it always had; black and atrophied.

Kassius avoided eyeing the disfigured limb longer than necessary.

“So the potions aren’t removing the curse, they’re just… holding it in stasis?” Tav asked as she took a closer look. “What’s in these potions?”

“Honestly, I didn’t ask. I was too overwhelmed by what the sample bottle did to care.” Solenne rolled her pant leg back down and glanced at the doorway with a nervousness that Tav assumed was for her little boy. Oswynn could barrel into the kitchen at any moment and see something he likely didn’t know anything about. 

“Oh, Tav, it’s amazing . One potion alone insures me a painless twelve hours. I get to work again and can better support Oswynn. I earn considerably more down here than I ever did at the boutique...”

Tav smiled when Solenne met her eyes but the smile faded when Solenne focused on pouring herself a second cup of tea.

Like Astarion, Solenne sought answers to a curse. Unlike Astarion, she had found an answer.

“I’d like to meet this seller myself,” Tav said. She grabbed her own cup and raised the cooled liquid to her lips. ”You mentioned not seeing them since the sample potion? I bet the liaison you transact with will talk…”

The teapot rattled as Solenne set it down.

“Please, Tav. Don’t . I can’t have you risking this good thing I’ve got going for me. I don’t care who they are behind the mask or what they do. They’ve given me my life back.”

“How much do these potions run you?”

Solenne averted her eyes.

“Hundreds, if not thousands of gold, I imagine. What happens when they raise their price? And they will raise their price. Think about how many jobs you’ll have to apply for and commit to…”

The more Tav spoke, the more familiar it all sounded.

“What is their price, Solenne? What does this potion seller ask for in return?”

Solenne shifted in her seat.

“Gold, nothing more,” she said.

“They haven’t asked you to do anything you wouldn’t normally agree to, would you not be curse afflicted and hanging on the relief they dangle like a carrot?”

“Tav–” Kassius started, but Tav shut him down with a glare.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Tav snapped.

“This doesn't concern you either, Tav.” All of the cheer was gone from Solenne’s face. “You have no idea the amount of suffering I’ve felt all of these years, holding onto the hope that I would find a cure. It’s the only thing that’s kept me from not having a leg at all. If and when they raise their price, I will figure out how to pay it.”

The silence that hung in the air was suffocating.

Kassius examined his fingernails, Solenne stared into her lap, and Tav picked at the edge of the wooden table.

“I’m sorry, Solenne,” Tav said after a while. “I’m glad you’ve found an answer, I truly am.”

She placed her hand palm side up onto the table and offered it to her friend. Solenne took it and squeezed. “I’m glad to have you back, Tav.”

Needing fresh air, Tav left to ruminate outside the hideaway while Solenne put Oswynn to bed. She perched down in front of the house and softly tapped the back of her head upon the wall in thought.

Perhaps it was because Solenne mentioned hope (or because her story held similar themes to deals with devils) that Raphael’s words echoed in her mind.

When hope has been whittled down to the very marrow of despair, that’s when you’ll come knocking on my door.

Tav highly doubted a devil was involved with Solenne. There were strange sellers of all sorts that lived in and traveled through Baldur’s Gate. It was better business for a seller to cater to a specific market, and Solenne happened to fit the mold of a reliable (desperate) customer.

It was the cost Solenne beared that worried Tav. Surely it was unsustainable…

The door to the hideaway opened, and Kassius stepped out with a tobacco pipe between his lips.

“Ah, much cooler outside,” he said. “Was getting a little heated in there.”

Tav sighed as she poked at the dirt scrunched under her boot. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Kassius shrugged and lit his pipe. 

“It’s alright! I’m used to it. My old Captain used to snap at us all the time. An ugly, brutish fellow he was… I much prefer being yelled at by your pretty face.”

“How original; a thief who uses flattery as a tool,” Tav said, a mix of jest and sarcasm.

“But is it flattery if it’s true?” Kassius positioned himself next to her and leaned against the wall. Tav blushed despite herself. “And I’m more of a thief-in-training, if you will.”

“MacMillon was that desperate for members, huh? His age must be getting to him.”

“Tav, you wound me so grievously,” Kassius said, not looking wounded at all. “I’m not terrible. Solenne is a great teacher, and I’m sure to excel doubly now that the Hero of Baldur’s Gate is home.”

The over-the-top charm was achingly familiar, and Tav’s heart yearned for Astarion.

“What’s your story then?” She asked.

“Was a pira– er, smuggler.” Kassius took a puff. “To put it simply, I lost a bet and came down to the Undercity as a way of running away from my problems.”

“And how’d you meet Solenne?”

“Well, as it turns out, I’m much better at smuggling goods into the city than I am smuggling pieces of gold from a person’s pocket. Solenne watched my sorry attempt and watched my target give me quite the wallop. Sweet mother bird that she is, she took pity on me and brought me here.”

“Yes, that sounds like Solenne,” Tav said, smiling. “And you’ve been here for how long?”

“I’d say about two months, give or take.”

“What about Solenne? Do you know when she returned to roguery?”

“I reckon she picked it up a little while after you saved Baldur’s Gate. Maybe you inspired her?”

“Maybe.”

After a handful of quiet minutes, Tav stood up to head back inside.

“Tav?”

Tav stopped, her hand on the door’s handle, and turned her head to Kassius.

“Solenne knows what she’s doing. Have trust in her.”

“I know,” Tav said. She smirked as she popped the door open. “The question is, do you know what you’re doing?”

Kassius responded with a wink.

“You’ll have to show me how it’s done.”

In the months that followed, Tav slipped back into the swing of her old life. She nonetheless preferred to work alone when it came to heists involving bigger ticket items, but there was the occasional lower-stakes job that she contributed to with Solenne and Kassius.

On these jobs, Tav could behold the level at which Solenne currently worked. Nine-fingers had been correct in saying that Solenne was no longer the thief of her younger years; there was a sloppiness in her dodges and a lack of commitment in her eyes. Solenne doubted herself, though she hid it well. 

Still, Solenne managed to hold her own.

It was determined that Kassius was better at prepwork and plans than actively participating in jobs. Earlier on, Tav had attempted to improve his hand-to-hand combat (so he could better avoid wallops), but it became obvious that he was not meant for kicks and punches (whether giving or receiving). A wordsmith, Kassius negotiated deals with their coin and provided blueprints, intel, and items deemed necessary for success. Kassius also found most of their employment through the relationships he made.

Outside of work, Tav learned to accept Solenne’s mysterious potion seller as a background character to her friend’s life. The urge to shadow Solenne as she walked towards her weekly transactions was overwhelming. At times, when the impulse became too great, Kassius was there to gently remind Tav to trust.

Thus, they earned their coin, paid their dues, and revelled in each other’s company. Tav felt content (and even happy at times) as the days went on with her Crimson Red family. She found pleasure in taking care of old MacMillon and young Oswynn, and cherished the sisterhood she regained with Solenne.

As for Tav and Kassius, it was only natural that Tav would grow close to an elf with such a charming attitude. They officially crossed boundaries late one night after everyone had gone to bed. The two of them stood together in the cramped kitchen and reviewed Kassius’s plans for their latest assignment. Tav stood over the table, lit by candlelight as she traced paths over a blueprint drawn by quill and ink. Kassius, having thought of a superior path, stepped behind Tav and delicately grabbed her hand to help better guide her…

It was difficult to review plans when on top of them.

Tav couldn’t say for certain if it was love she felt for Kassius. Her love for Astarion beat endlessly within her breast, but the passage of time chipped away at her belief that the vampire might ever return to her. Thoughts in the darkest parts of her mind whispered he wanted to leave and not be found.

Overall, things were good - at least for a while.

But then work slowed as Kassius struggled to find work for the three of them. Tav managed to find opportunities for herself through other avenues and kept afloat while the rest of her Crimson Red family bled their coffers. She did what she could to wheedle simpler, easier tasks from her clients in order to put something in her friends’ coin bags, but it was pocket change compared to the dues everyone owed. 

Even Mol, who was always looking to do business with Tav, could pull no favors.

During this time of monetary hardship, Solenne’s mysterious potion seller raised her price. Solenne was devastated; in her current predicament, there was no way she could afford the updated amount for her treatment. Tav volunteered her own coin as a gift, but that too would run dry after so long.

Their luck was about to turn around, or so Kassius promised one day as he came in through the door of the hideaway with vigor in his voice and a bounce in his step.

“I have a client!” he shouted victoriously while rubbing his palms together. “For all three of us, I might add.”

Solenne appeared from the back rooms with Oswynn fussing in her arms. Dark circles sat under the woman’s eyes, and she regarded Kassius with skepticism as she sat on the edge of an old upholstered armchair.

Tav, having already been lounging across the opposing armchair at his entrance, peered at the elf from the top of the book she was reading and raised a brow.

“It’s all very straightforward sounding,” Kassius said. “The client is asking for three items. All three items, no more, no less, and the reward is ours. If this sounds agreeable, I will agree to the interview time.”

Tav thought nothing of Kassius’s clipped rundown. Interviews were a professional courtesy when dealing with potential employers. It was a process Tav normally skipped, for her name and reputation often preceded her, yet she was not immune to the odd employer or two who deemed it necessary to meet beforehand. Interviews allowed both parties to judge character before they signed contracts and addressed job details.

Solenne looked to Tav beseechingly (for heists were her specialty), and Tav nodded.

“Wonderful! I will give word to the client. We’re to meet with them in two days time, around noonish, at Sharess’ Caress in Rivington.”

A chill ran across Tav’s neck, and the devilish visage of Raphael struck her thoughts.

Kassius’s brow creased in her direction. “Tav?”

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?” 

“Yes, of course,” she said after a pause.

What was this knot in her stomach…

The elf chuckled nervously, “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

The only ghostlike characteristic of Raphael was his ability to haunt her mind (and her body). Tav never made it a point to think of him, but there were enough moments throughout the days, weeks, and months where she would be reminded (phantom fingers and shivers of pleasure) of the devil’s previous involvement in her life. If in public when these memories and feelings hit her, Tav would endure it with her lower lip between her teeth and let the instance come to pass. But, when in the safety of privacy, Tav let herself be consumed by the ghostly touches inflicted upon her.

With the insight she gleaned from the devil’s house, it was now obvious why Raphael had chosen Sharess’ Caress as the location for his soapbox speech of hope, hammers, and crowns. He enjoyed (his own) sexual gratification, and there was no better place to find it (aside from the incubus in his bed) than at a brothel.

It wasn’t Tav’s first choice for a job interview related to thieving goods, but she wasn’t about to judge this unknown client for their choice in atmosphere. It wasn’t a place she returned to after signing her contract with Raphael, and Tav reckoned it was nearing a year since her last visit.

“Tav, really, are you going to be alright?” Kassius whispered as he leaned towards her ear. They were walking side by side down Rivington’s busiest thoroughfare, and ahead of them, Solenne charged a path towards the brothel.  “We need this meeting to go well and can’t have you standing there with your head in the clouds.”

Kassius looked no less anxious than she must have to him. Sweat glistened at his temples and above his lip, and there was the slightest tremble to his hand when she grabbed it for comfort.

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Are you alright?” she asked. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen you like this.”

“I’m good. Don’t want to mess this up is all. I have a feeling this client will save our asses from this coinless mess we’re in.” Kassius glanced at her. “How are you feeling about it?”

“I don’t know…” Tav admitted. “You ever get that feeling that there’s a trap nearby?”

“Tav, I can’t detect my own feet in front of me sometimes, let alone a trap.”

She let out a small laugh and the knot in her stomach loosened a tiny fraction.

He squeezed her hand. “It’ll be fine, trust me.”

When they arrived at the brothel, Kassius reined Solenne in and took the lead. He pushed through a rowdy group of four and marched up to the hostess at the counter. Amongst the din of drunkenness and seductive propositions, Tav could make out the hostess’s voice as she verbalized Kassius’s assumed choices in bed partners. Kassius waved her off with agitation and drew the woman in with a finger so that he could speak into the hostess’s ear.

The place was busy enough, especially for being earlier in the day. Tav could make out the smell of hot food from the kitchen, amidst the more overpowering scents of alcohol and perfume (and sex), and all chairs, booths, and corners were claimed by people from all walks of life.

There was mild relief in not seeing the dark, curly-haired Korrilla lingering at the bar.

“Tav, Solenne, follow me.”

Kassius waved them over, and they followed as he led their little group upstairs and down a hallway to a closed door. He knocked thrice upon the door and stood back to allow whomever was behind to greet them.

The door opened to reveal a green dragonborn dressed in finery.

“Come in,” he said, opening the door wide to a bedroom decorated with rich tones and velvets. He gestured to a seating area within the middle of the room and explained to Tav, Kassius, and Solenne that he was not the client. The client they sought was in another room on the brothel’s premises and would meet each of them one at a time to appraise their character. The dragonborn summoned Solenne to be the first.

She left the room with determination in her eyes.

As the minutes passed, Tav became more aware of the pit in her stomach. Kassius said nothing from his spot on the settee, his breathing quick and shallow as he stared ahead at the door Solenne had exited. His leg bounced nervously beside Tav, and she calmly placed her hand on his thigh in hope to soothe his worry.

He smiled gratefully, but the sentiment was lost in his swimming thoughts.

The dragonborn came for Kassius after about twenty minutes, leaving Tav alone within the room with her growing disquiet. She stood, intent on distracting herself, and explored the bedroom. Books (including one that depicted a variety of sexual positions) were pulled from the shelves, items studied, and the bed was tested for its comfort and quality of its sheets.

This was where the dragonborn found Tav when he returned. She clambered down from the massive bed and swallowed thickly as she accompanied the liaison to the client’s chambers. “Where are my colleagues?”

“They are elsewhere until all three of you have been reviewed,” the dragonborn replied flatly. He guided her to the outside veranda that stretched above the lively street below, and Tav got a sickly feeling of deja vu when he stopped at a door she entered nearly a year ago.

There was a sharpness in the dragonborn’s eyes. “He awaits.”

Tav looked to the heavens and pushed the door open.

The breath left her lungs.

“Little Mouse.”

Bewilderment hit her, then vindication.

She knew it.

The mortal-appearing Raphael posed arms wide in the middle of the grand and opulent bedroom. His stare pierced Tav with such fire that she thought she might burst into flames.

A deluge of dread filled her heart; what did his appearance mean for Solenne and Kassius?

Tav tempered her flurry of emotions and raised her head in an act of poise.

Let the game begin.

“Raphael.”

The devil’s smile deepened.

“What is it we can provide for the Archdevil Supreme?”

“We will get to all of that shortly. But first…” Raphael moved to a nearby writing desk where a pre-opened bottle of red wine and two empty glasses sat. He took the bottle in hand, expertly filled both crystalline glasses without spilling a drop, and came before Tav with an offering of one of the glasses.

“What’s this for?” She asked, cautiously taking the glass.

“A celebratory drink for a momentous day.”

Tav put two and two together.

She decided to play dumb. “What momentous day is that?”

A muscle twitched in his cheek, but he performed on.

“The day you signed away the Crown of Karsus to me.” He took a stroll around the room. “The Blood War is almost at its end; I have done wonders to bring my enemies to heel with the artifact, and soon the entirety of the Nine Hells will fall under one single banner - mine.”

“Congratulations, Raphael,” Tav said. She sipped at the rich liquid in her glass and savored the taste of the best wine she’d had in years. “Forgive me, but do you truly need the services of my colleagues and I? Or was all of this some ploy to get me to reminisce with you? A simple invitation would have sufficed.”

Raphael took a sip of his own. “Your services are ardently requested.”

“Alright,” Tav lowered the glass. “What’s the brief?”

Raphael continued his slow turn about the room, and Tav felt like a mouse being encircled by a cat.

“As it happens, I have set the stage for three magical items to be seized from their current owners. Since there are three of you, I broke this play into three acts with individual risks and rewards. There will be roles to perform, and it is imperative that these performances be worthy of ovation.”

“Is this what you told Solenne and Kassius?”

“The very same. There are more… intricate details of course, but those will only come after the terms are agreed upon and the contract between you and I signed.” His free hand gestured dramatically as he spoke. “I believe these items should lift easily from the current hands that hold them, if the roles are performed to perfection. And I expect absolute perfection from you, Little Mouse.”

Tav stared at the floor in deliberation. Raphael was too distracting. “To be clear, my contract covers the single item I’m fetching?”

“No. You will be signing a guarantee that all three items will be delivered to me. A team effort, in a sense - everyone plays their part.”

“Did Solenne and Kassius sign?”

“They did! Quite eagerly with little persuasion on my part, I must say.”

“And should I not sign?”

“Their souls are immediately forfeit, for you are also needed on stage.”

Tav thought the glass might shatter in her grip as she glared at the devil. “An uncharacteristically steep price just for some item to collect dust on your shelf. You didn’t even make me wager my own soul for something as important as the Crown of Karsus.”

“I’ve found mortals tend to do their best work under pressure. Surely you aren’t underestimating the competency of your fellow thieves?”

Raphael quirked his brow. The doubt must have read on Tav’s face. 

“What did you offer them? What couldn’t they refuse?” She demanded.

“Unfortunately, the answers to those questions are between me and your friends. The terms were laid out clearly before them; the rewards and the risks.”

“Tell me.”

“Are you hard of hearing, Little Mouse? The full terms of their contracts are not for you to know.”

Tav stepped towards the devil, blood rushing in her veins.

“Then let’s negotiate the terms of my contract.” She was alight with fury. “I will get the items they promised to deliver. I will play their roles. Solenne and Kassius will have no part of it. When I deliver the items, you will fulfill their contracts as if they were the ones to complete it, rewards and all.”

Raphael’s eyes burned with interest. “That only accounts for two items; I require all three.”

“Then let’s discuss my reward for retrieving the third.”

“My dear, my agreeing to alter the contracts of your friends is to be your reward. If this isn’t satisfactory, then we can talk more of your desires and less of contracts that are not your business.”

“Fine. I will get all three items for you, alone. Upon delivery of the first item, you will fulfill Solenne’s contract, complete with reward. The same goes for Kassius upon delivery of the second item. Upon the delivery of the third item, I will walk away with the knowledge that you renegotiated the terms of my friend's contracts, and with any items I deem to fill my pockets with outside of your named item.”

Tav felt naked under his gaze.

“And what is to be the price for your failure?”

He wanted her to name her soul. The challenge was clear in his eyes.

She deliberated further.

“I will wager my soul.” Tav said after some time. “If you promise to do one thing for me before all of this is over.”

The cat crept closer to her, looking hungry. “And that is?”

“I need to know what happened to Astarion.”

The cat smiled deviously.

“Done,” was his immediate response. He snapped his fingers and an unfurled parchment appeared next to a burning quill with a burst of fire and smoke. It listed out the terms of their agreement with barely dried infernal ink.

He watched intently as Tav took the quill in hand and put it to the parchment, her name blazing as she finished her signature with a flourish.

She would play this game, and she would win.

Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

Her heart was racing.

The parchment and quill were gone with another snap from Raphael, and Tav cursorily wondered if the contract would be held in the same high regard as her previous deal; on a pedestal for all in his House of Hope to see.

“And the contracts of my friends?”

“Alterations are being made as we speak,” Raphael said with a small bow of his head. He raised his free hand again, thumb and middle finger together. “Unless you don’t trust me…”

“No, I do,” Tav replied. And she meant it, she realized with a sigh. She stared down at the wine in her glass, thankful to have a drink already in hand, and considered finishing the beverage off in one (undignified) fell swoop. ”Alright, Raphael. What’s this first item you need?”

Raphael smiled thinly.

“I have been in dealings with a mortal by the name of Rhys Lockholm. He is a collector of monsters and creatures, and he currently carries a devil within his pocket,” he said, resuming his turn about the room. His path was less encompassing (now that she was a mouse caught) and more of a leisurely back and forth. “This devil is to be of use to me in my continued conquering of the Nine Hells, and I need the iron flask he is trapped in. Of the three items, this should be the easiest to procure as the foundations for a trade have been established.”

Tav eyed the devil warily. “Continue.”

The devil had yet to look at her since rallying into his brief, but Tav was witness to every moment of drama on his face as he recounted his tale. After all, the rules of the stage demanded that an actor never turn their back to their audience.

“Being a collector of all manner of monsters and creatures, you can imagine Rhys being a man with certain… proclivities. He recently visited my House of Hope, and as he happened to roam past my boudoir, caught the eye of a bathing Haarlep...”

Her stomach dropped. 

“He came to me, urgently wanting to know who the ‘delicious looking creature’ was, and I let Haarlep’s identity as an incubus be known.” Raphael sharply turned towards her. ”’I must have one night with this creature, she must be mine,’ he had said. I assured him it was well worth the cost of an iron flask...”

Tav knew what was coming next, and she didn’t like it.

Raphael’s features were schooled back into placidity, but his eyes were enthused and unblinking as he delivered the final blow. “I must thank you, Little Mouse, for your body has become quite the bargaining chip.”

Tav was going to be sick. Her tongue felt leaden as she formed the question of which she already knew the answer. “You mentioned a role for me to play… What is it?”

“My dear, you will be playing the role of Haarlep!” Raphael exclaimed as though stating the obvious. “I did mention to Rhys that Haarlep had other forms, but the man was very adamant that it be your form and yours alone.”

For emphasis, the devil’s eyes roamed her face and down her body. 

“Why can’t Haarlep do it?” She asked, shifting uncomfortably.

“Only for special occasions do I allow Haarlep to leave my House of Hope,” Raphael stated firmly, eyes snapping back to hers. “Rhys has made the request that he enjoy such a fine meal within the walls of his home. I acquiesced.”

Tav raised the glass to her lips, gulped down what wine remained, and prayed that it wouldn’t come back up. At least now, if she did retch, she could aim for Raphael’s fine boots.

“There is a meeting late tomorrow evening at his home in the Upper City, where Rhys and I will negotiate final terms. Your attendance is also mandatory; Rhys requested a closer look at the incubus he entreats to bed, to see if it’s worthwhile.”

She was grimacing. His boots were right there.

It would push his dial…

Perhaps (somehow) reading her intentions, Raphael stepped further into her space, smelling of cherries, wine, and sulfur, and guided her chin upwards to force her eyes to his gaze. His fingers were warm on her skin.

A chill ran down her body as the devil’s eyes flicked to her mouth.

“Do put on a good pre-show, Little Mouse.”

Tav quickly used her empty glass as an excuse to pull away and flee to the writing desk. She surprised herself by refilling her glass with a steady hand.

“I can get in and out of Rhys’s house with little issue on my own,” Tav said, reforging composure. She swapped the bottle in her hand for a refilled glass she had no intention of drinking. “You wouldn’t have to waste your time trading anything. I will simply steal the iron flask for you.”

“No. These negotiations with Rhys existed before your contract, and I will honor them.” Raphael lazily swirled the wine in his glass as he bored holes into her. “I deign to remind you of the stipulations you agreed to not but moments ago: your role is of a performer first and a thief second. Fulfill your role, and once the terms of Rhys’s contract are met, you may loot and steal to your heart's content. Or kill him, if it comes to that.”

There was an insinuation in the devil’s last line that soured her stomach.

“Alright,” Tav said flatly. She glared openly at him.

Raphael was enjoying himself.

“Don’t look so displeased, Little Mouse!” Raphael exclaimed. “Make ‘a bit of a game of it’. You do like games, do you not?”

“I am displeased, you ass. You know exactly what you’re doing and– wait a minute…” Tav’s expression turned suspicious as she pointed at him accusingly with her glass. “You clearly designed this assignment around my involvement. Solenne or Kassius could have never done this, for Haarlep didn’t– nevermind, that isn’t the point. These supposed ‘acts’ you’ve written, were they written with each of us in mind?”

“Bravo,” Raphael congratulated, tone mocking. “Yes, these roles were written with a specific performer in mind.”

She eyed the devil for a moment, dubious. His former words about games suddenly sounded vaguely familiar.

“You’re not still mad about my House of Hope visit, are you?” Tav asked cautiously. “And this degrading assignment, parading around as Haarlep, wouldn’t be some strange form of retaliation, would it?”

Raphael threw back his head and let out a melody of rich, wry laughter.

“Oh, the arrogance of mortals!” When Raphael looked at her, she felt small and embarrassed. “I think of infernal machinations that will stamp out the Blood War and all future uprisings. I think of conquering devils, demons, and all manner of fiends with the Crown of Karsus. I think of my title as the Archdevil Supreme, and of my legend that is being written as my armies march across the Nine Hells, enforcing my dominion.”

His arrogant demeanor echoed the title he evoked.

“I do not think of little mice who creep around in my house,” Raphael said, punctuating each word. “You playing the role of Haarlep, while it does amuse me, is nothing more than the means to an end. I need items to be fetched - you will fetch them like the good little mouse you are.”

Message assuredly received, and his dial of control wavering, Tav gave Raphael a spiritless salute. It hadn’t been her intention to agitate him; if punishment was truly not on his mind, then it would do her no favors to nudge him towards those thoughts with her supposed night as Haarlep right around the corner.

“What is Rhys’s address, and what time am I to arrive?” Tav asked, ready to leave the opulent bedroom that was becoming increasingly more suffocating.

Her acceptance of her role instantly smoothed Raphael’s ruffled feathers. 

“When the sun sets tomorrow, I will come and deliver you to Rhys’s address myself.” He walked over to where Tav stood, gently took the glass from her hand, and moved to place both his and her glasses onto the writing desk.

The devil’s proximity suffocated further (cherries, wine, and sulfur).

“Where should I meet you?”

“It matters not where you will be; I will know where to find you,” Raphael replied evenly. “But, wherever you decide, I would… recommend somewhere away from prying eyes.”

Tav frowned. Someone was following her; likely Korrilla. “Why is that?”

There was a snap, a plume of smoke and embers, and Tav’s frown turned into a scowl.

It was not a contract that appeared, nor a goblet filled with a healing potion. It was Haarlep’s leather harness that Raphael held in a fist, and he offered it to Tav with barely concealed mirth burning in his eyes. “All actor’s require costumes, my dear.”

Tav sighed something so deep, her soul felt it.

What did she get herself into?

Somewhere in the background, Tav could hear the devil chuckle as she rushed out of the bedroom with the harness shoved into her pack. Her face was red from indignation ( her feathers were ruffled), and she nearly pushed the dragonborn liaison out of the way on her way to meet up with her friends, wherever they were.

Tav stormed down the stairs of the brothel. There, both sitting at the bar with tankards in hand, were Kassius and Solenne. They were silent amongst their lively neighbors; Solenne appeared deep in thought, and Kassius looked troubled as his cheek leaned heavily into his palm.

“Come on, we’re going,” Tav said, loud enough to shake them from their stupor. They scrambled to pay their tab and hurried out the door after her.

Matching her harried pace, Kassius landed on her left, and Solenne on her right. They promptly battered her with what was on their mind:

“Tav! What happened?”

“I can’t believe that was really a devil!”

“Please tell me you signed the contract…”

“He said he knew you, Tav!”

Tav deflected all questions and statements with a simple, “We’ll talk when we’re back home.”

Once in the door to the Crimson Red’s hideout, Tav slumped into her favorite chair and let her closed pack fall unceremoniously to the floor. Kassius took the opposing chair, while Solenne quickly went to check in on Oswynn and MacMillon.

“Tav! What happened?” Kassius whispered, leaning with elbows on knees.

“You know, I’m actually not sure what I can tell you,” Tav replied. She rubbed circles into her temple.

“For safety, I wouldn’t speak of your exact terms, but we can at least discuss the contract at hand; did you sign it?”

“Yes, I signed it.”

Kassius sat back. The relief on his face was palpable.

Tav leveled him with a look of airy suspicion. “You didn’t know the client was a devil?”

“I had no idea! I had never met him before that moment,” Kassius assured. “I got insight to the job from another contact of mine, who said a dwarf passed the information to him.”

Ah, Korrilla.

“Gotcha,” Tav said, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

She honestly thought she would never deal with Raphael again. Yet, the devil had come before her. He sought her out. It was not empty platitudes that he spoke to her nearly a year ago on the docks of the Chionthar; he truly intended to work with her again.

Tav wondered why he didn’t come to her alone in the first place.

Perhaps the devil knew of their downtrodden luck and thought to do Tav and her friends a favor? It was a very backwards way of doing them a favor, with their souls on the line, but no devil worked on charity. She also couldn’t blame her friends for signing the contracts; they were in a tough spot, and the pressure to sign was overwhelming when what was likely a life-altering reward dangled in front of their faces.

Tav opened her eyes at the sound of feet padding across the room.

“MacMillon said he’ll take Oswynn out so we can speak a bit more freely then,” Solenne said.

Not long after, MacMillon shuffled slowly towards the door with Oswynn’s hand in his. He gave Tav a supportive smile as he passed, and Tav could imagine the dwarf filling in the blanks when it came to the important matters of work about to be discussed. (Though she doubted work for MacMillon ever involved a leather harness and the impersonation of an incubus. Tav mused she would have to ask when all of this was over.)

Solenne’s eyes followed the pair as they made their leave. Her fingers picked anxiously at a frayed edge at the corner of Kassius’s chair.

“Tell us everything,” she said, the moment the door closed.

Tav closed her eyes again. A headache was forming.

“Yes, I’ve been… previously acquainted with Raphael. I helped him out not long ago with something he desired, and he helped me out with something I needed. It’s a story for another time. As for the current contract, he said you both were given the same brief I was?”

“Three items, three roles,” Kassius answered. “We would each take a role, get the item, and be rewarded. All three of us would have to sign our own contracts, independent of one another, confirming all three items would be delivered.”

“That’s the same I heard,” Solenne nodded.

Tav peered at them.

“Did he brief you of the items you were to retrieve?” She asked.

Kassius nodded, and as Solenne opened her mouth, Tav hushed her with a quick, raised hand.

“Don’t speak of it, lest it break your contract. I suppose I’ll learn of the other two items myself when it’s time for me to go after them.”

“You can’t go after our items!” Kassius said, incredulous. “You’d be damning all of us into breaking our contract!”

“I renegotiated the terms. You two are off the hook when it comes to the ‘playing roles and stealing items’ terms of your contracts,” Tav stood, grabbed her pack, and slung it around her shoulder. “It’s all on me whether or not we lose this devil’s game.”

Silence filled the space between them.

Solenne looked on the verge of tears. Kassius had his head in his hands.

“I’m so sorry, Tav. I had to sign,” Solenne confessed. “What he offered me…”

“I know. He can be very persuasive.” Tav hoped her smile was a comfort. “You’ll get what he offered you. Same for you, Kassius. I’ll do what I have to to make sure of it.”

The elf ran his hands down his face, and Tav could see a battle of emotions being waged behind his eyes. Anguish and remorse.

It hurt her to see him so tormented.

With a single step, Tav was before him.

“I couldn’t say no, Tav.” Kassius glanced up, and remorse overtook anguish.

It seemed to briefly ease him when Tav placed her hand on his cheek; he leaned into the touch as she ran a thumb across smooth skin.

“I know,” she said as she leaned in and kissed him. “Neither could I.”

With everything said that needed to be or could be said, Tav stepped back and crossed the room to the door.

“Where are you going?” Solenne asked.

“I need some space while this contract is active. Please don’t seek me out,” Tav answered. “I’ll see you both soon, I’m sure.”

“Goodbye, Tav,” said Kassius.

“Good luck, Tav,” said Solenne.

Tav knew it was homesickness the moment she stepped into the dark property she once shared with Astarion.

Home.

The room was pitch black from the boarded windows and veiled heavy curtains, and nostalgia joined Tav as she made the rounds, matches in hand, to light lanterns and candles placed around rooms that hadn’t seen life in months. When her eyes adjusted to the warm light, she was relieved to find everything as she remembered; not a crumb was out of place in the kitchen, the sitting room was still a disaster of books and keepsakes, and the sheets of Tav’s bed remained as untidy as they had the day she left for Jaheira’s.

It felt good to be home, Tav realized as she breathed in stale air and basked in fleeting memories. There was a brief thought to pull aside a curtain or two, to take down some of the boards in order to crack open a window for a breeze, but the word privacy and the harness in her pack stayed her hand.

When this first challenge of three was over, then she would bring light and life to the darkness that her heartache previously embedded into the spirit of the home.

Tav busied herself for the rest of the day with getting the house in order. It was well needed, and a clean home was to be a part of her plan for the events that would transpire the following evening. She emptied rotted food, picked through piles of clothes and armor, and even alphabetized books. Tav could imagine Astarion being proud that she finally managed to turn her wayward collection of chaos (hoarded items) into some semblance of organized chaos.

Come nightfall, Tav was worn from her effort. She laid on her back, starfished in pose, across a made bed that was to become the starting stage for her performance. There was a pit in her stomach, and anticipation in her nerves (in other places, too) as she imagined the possible scenarios that might play out. Tav pondered what Raphael’s expectations of her were. He requested perfection, especially from her, but did he think she would thrive or flounder when it came to playing Haarlep?

“Ass,” she muttered, covering her eyes with her arm.

Then her thoughts drifted to the incubus, the fiend who stole her body. Tav had not expected to see such a being when she crossed the threshold into Raphael’s boudoir. There had been a strange allure to Haarlep that drew her to him and caused her defenses to weaken, and it was unknown to Tav if the allure was a byproduct of the fiend’s nature, or because the incubus was glamoured to look like Raphael.

Regardless, she had surrendered.

She made her bed the moment she allowed Haarlep to take her form, and now she must lie in it.

Tomorrow, Raphael would join her.

Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

Tav felt as ridiculous as she presumed she looked.

It was difficult to get an accurate image of her appearance; there were no looking glasses in the home (with having had a vampire for a partner) and the reflections she resorted to warped her shape to a caricature. The best substitute for a mirror she could find was an etched platter made of sterling silver, yet the platter proved to be too tarnished to properly reflect the entirety of her figure.

Damn Raphael, damn Haarlep, and damn the stupid harness.

Tav ran her hands along the straps and chains that crossed her sternum and underneath her breasts. The straps were a quality leather, black and supple, and flattened silver rivets matched the shine of the pointed studs that ornamented the leather secured to her shoulders. Raphael, whether intentional or not, had forgone giving Tav proper undergarments. Her hands passed over her exposed breasts, then down to where the scant piece of clothing covered her sex.

There was little to nothing left to the imagination.

Luckily for her, embarrassment was a non-issue; Raphael was seeing nothing new (thank you, Haarlep).

Tav fetched the platter from where it leaned against a table lantern and brought it close to her face. She pulled expressions she thought ranged from virginal to temptress, and moaned and purred when it suited pouty lips and hooded eyes.

“Oh, Raphael, you’re so…”

Handsome. Devilish. Amusing. Tempting.

Tav frowned at her tarnished reflection, all sexiness wiped clean from her face. 

All were very real thoughts, and dangerous thoughts if she wasn’t careful. Already the attraction she felt towards the devil was being kindled by anticipation of what was to come, and the last thing Tav wanted was to go down a road where the end destination was unpredictable. Her heist on the House of Hope had been a clear example of going too far with the intent on satiating her curiosity of what’s the worst that could happen?

Tav had visited The Devil’s Fee with her companions (at first). It was discovered through a little bit of thievery that the dwarven shop owner Helsik ran a business model of trading infernal goods and trafficking people into and out of infernal places. Karlach had immediately wanted to bust down the doors to the House of Hope; the freshly signed contract of her friend was there, and the tiefling would not stand for its existence. Astarion was ready and willing, and Lae’zel, satisfied at having the Orphic Hammer in their possession, seemed content to follow regardless of the decision.

It had been Tav who declined such a venture… for Tav wanted to go alone.

There was a fondness Raphael had for her, for whatever reason, and snooping around his home was sure to offend the bridge of trust they built between one another. If she were caught, her friends needn’t take blame, and Tav assured herself that Raphael would pardon her indiscretion eventually. Especially if he understood that she had no intention of stealing her contract; she was to explore, see what else Raphael hid behind his walls (namely where he slept), give him a playful token of her visit, and get out…

Alone she had gone, nights later. Her party remained back at the Elfsong Tavern, nursing their wounds from the battles of the day, and Tav assured them of her return after she secured more healing potions and elixirs. It took her little time to purchase the items of her alibi, and Tav appeared before Halsik with a half-full pack, mischief in her eyes, and the offer of retrieving something for the shop owner in return for passage.

It just so happened that Helsik had something in mind: the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength.

With the deal struck, Tav completed the hellish ritual that transported her into Raphael’s den of debtors. His domain in Avernus had smelled strongly of sulfur, yet there were distinct notes of perfume that reminded her of the devil she treated with. The entrance hall was as every bit as showy as the devil himself, with towering marbled walls, golden accents, and luxurious swathes of velveteen.

She met Hope a few steps into her arrival. The dwarf’s tortured existence was unmistakable. The cleric could only compose herself for seconds at a time before returning to the skittish and slightly mad persona she had long been reduced to. Tav gave no false promises to Hope, but thanked her nonetheless when the dwarf granted a disguise to better fit amongst the toiling souls of the House. As Tav roamed the ostentatious halls, Hope joined her in frantic bursts, always imploring Tav to help her.

She did nothing for Hope; a mark of shame that marred her title of ‘hero ’.

Heroics weren’t the goal of the visit, and Tav had to remind herself that sometimes it’s best to leave well enough alone.

She traveled deeper into the House. The Archivist had appraised her as another lowly debtor, but Tav managed to successfully deceive the fellow into receiving her as High Inquisitor Verillius Receptor. From there, she learned more about the items on display behind impervious shield charms (her contract included), and was granted access into Raphael’s boudoir; quarters she was most enthused to see.

After swiping Mol’s contract from a heavily warded safe, Tav served her invitation to the shimmering screen of the boudoir and entered. She marveled at the resplendence of the room as she passed the grand bath that centralized the open space, and stepped carefully towards where a horned figure lay waiting on a bed of silk and velvet.

Arousal lanced Tav when the identity of the figure came fully into view; Raphael was waiting for her, displayed in a manner that was most unbecoming of the charming and dignified devil she knew. He eyed her like prey as he called out her thieving ambition, and the more he spoke, the more apparent it became that it was not Raphael who appealed to her desire.

But Tav wished it had been...

She presently thought herself daft; only a madwoman would conspire to recreate the scene she laid witness to that year or so ago, with the roles reversed and the actual Raphael in the same room...

The heat in her abdomen pooled, and for a split second, Tav caught genuine lust on her face as she stared into the silver platter. She grimaced at herself, stuck out her tongue, and placed the platter face down atop the table.

Now was not the time for that.

She stepped back with a sigh. Everything was in order; her costume was adorned, and the stage was set. The scent of melted wax imbued the stale air with lavender and vanilla as warm, glowing candlelight flickered across the walls and furnishings. Derision flavored her thoughts as Tav glanced at the doorway to her home; perhaps she should rush out to purchase flowers, if only to peel their petals and scatter them like breadcrumbs to her bed.

She crossed over to a covered window and peeled back the drape. Her fingers pried at a loose board and she pulled the plank open just enough to garner a peek outside. Hues of yellow and deep orange painted the sky; the sun had long since dipped out of sight behind neighboring properties. 

Late evening was closing in, and Raphael was likely to appear within the hour.

Tav refixed the board and let the heavy drape fall. She moved to the door, smoothed down the sides to clothes she clearly didn’t have on, and unlatched the two locks that kept unwanted visitors out. The pit in her abdomen sunk lower as Tav slowly walked from the sitting room into the bedroom. As she crossed the threshold, Tav humorously reflected that the bed she made invited a nap as much as it did arousing situations; her collection of plush pillows from the Elfsong laid against a thick wooden headboard, and the only sheet laid out was a heavy linen of deep royal blue. She climbed into bed and shoved a pillow behind her lower back as she leaned against the headboard, settling into the middle of the wide feather mattress.

Tav took a deep, steadying breath, arched her legs, and opened them.

It was time to get into character; Rhys and Raphael were expecting an incubus, and an incubus they would have.

She thought of Astarion; his beautiful eyes, debonair sharp-toothed smile, and his slender muscular body. She thought back to the night where she agreed to let him feed on her, of how he leaned over her form, carefully cradled her neck, and dug his teeth into her flesh. She thought of the night of the celebration, how they stole away into the woods and first tasted each other fully under moonlight. She thought of when their fucking became making love.

Tav let her hands explore her naked skin. She gently kneaded her breasts and pinched hardening nipples. The caresses continued across her abdomen and traveled languidly to her inner thighs. One hand inched closer to her wetting arousal, while the other journeyed upwards to attend further to flushed breasts.

She thought of Haarlep, the fiend she stripped naked in front of and slid into bed with. She thought of how the incubus fucked her wholly and raw, with pleasure Tav had ever yet to feel the likes of again. She thought of how close she had been to losing herself, body and mind. How quickly she unraveled into Haarlep’s hedonism…

Two fingers slipped past the cloth of her undergarment and between her folds, and Tav pushed into herself to claim her arousal. She fucked herself slowly before pulling out and swirling those same fingers around her clit. A moan escaped her parted lips.

She thought of Raphael, and how he would see her ready and wanting. Tav wanted him to want her. Arousal compounded as fantasies of lust and debauchery played out in her head, all spawning from his view of her as she is now.

Tav was close to becoming undone, and just as release called to her, she halted her ministrations with a hiss and withdrew her fingers from her throbbing clit.

She needed (wanted) to wait.

Tav let her head fall back against the headboard as the threat of climax subsided. Her eyes fluttered closed as she resumed unhurried touches across her body. She progressed into chasing her climax once more, knowing she would revoke herself until it was time. On and on this went, until her blood was on fire and sweat glistened her skin. How long would she need to torture herself until…

There were two succinct raps at the door.

Tav swallowed down the anxiety that suddenly choked her; she was Haarlep now.

She etched rapture onto her face, head still thrown back, and bit her lip as she grabbed a breast in hand, and further drove herself to madness with her touches. Her moans became soft and breathless.

The door opened slowly, then closed. 

If this wasn’t Raphael…

Steady, deliberately plodding bootsteps creaked across the wooden floor of the sitting room.

Tav kept her eyes closed, “too busy” wrapped up in her own pleasure…

The footsteps sounded as though they stopped at the threshold of the room, and seconds later Tav could smell the undeniable scent of sulfur amidst the smells of her sex and candlewax.

“Little Mouse,” Raphael purred in a tone that shot a chill of pleasure down her spine.

Her eyes blinked open, and the smug smile that pulled her lips was genuine as she took in the devil at her doorway. Wearing his usual finery, he stood tall and regal in the dancing candlelight. His mortal, aristocratic face held the expression of an unemotional statue, but it was the dark, smoldering expression in his eyes that told Tav all she wanted to know.

Raphael was feasting.

“Mm, forgive me Master Raphael,” Tav said, mustering up a sultry tone with a dash of Haarlep’s playfulness. “If I could request a few more minutes, I’m almost ready…”

Raphael’s head canted slightly. “Oh, is that so?”

Tav pinched a hardened nipple and groaned as she dipped her fingers inside herself.

She was soaked.

Raphael stalked towards the end of the bed. He took a moment to bask in this new view of her immodesty but then took a knee to the bed. Tav’s heart pounded in her chest as the bed dipped at the devil’s approach. He reached for her ankles, gripped each with a touch that burned, and tugged Tav’s body downwards to meet him. Raphael pulled himself from the mattress and further pulled Tav until the back of her knees met the end of the mattress. He released her, wearing his own smug smile, and beckoned her to sit upright with his pointer and middle finger.

Tav obeyed with a low hum of anticipation.

Now staring up at him, she could better see the desire that rooted itself behind the reddish-brown irises of his mortal disguise. Raphael brought a hand to her face and gripped her chin. He seemed to evaluate her features as he tilted her head this way and that, before parting her lips forcefully with the fingers he beckoned her with. Tav opened her mouth and invited the digits with a moan. Her tongue curled around the pair as the fingers fucked her mouth, and she let out a whine of displeasure when they vacated after more than a few thrusts.

“Lie down,” he commanded.

Tav flopped backwards, ever obedient, and let her arms land above her head. Her body raged with need, and Tav debated pleading with the devil, outside of her role as Haarlep.

The bed dipped again as Raphael took a knee next to her hip. The intoxicating scent of him drowned her senses as he leaned over her, pinning her eyes to his with an unblinking gaze. He supported himself with a hand by her head, while the other marked with her saliva made its way towards her sex with little to no preamble. She spread her legs, eager to be filled.

Tav moaned, her eyes rolling backwards as his fingers entered her.

“I dislike being late for appointments, Little Mouse,” he said darkly in her ear.

His hand fucked her roughly and quickly, and Tav, having been denying herself for too long, was growing taut like the string of a bow. There was a roaring in her ears and pins and needles pricked her skin. Her toes curled and back arched as Raphael angled his fingers to hit the spot that would see her fully undone. She grasped desperately at the sheet she laid upon.

“Look at me.”

Tav deliriously found him again, and Raphael consumed the pleasure in her eyes.

“Fuck, Raphael… I’m going to–”

Raphael stilled his thrusts, and withdrew his hand a  second later.

“We’re going to be late, Haarlep,” he said, extracting himself from her side with ease. He procured a square of fabric with a snap, proceeded to wipe her juices from his hand, and forced the red and gold kerchief away with another snap when all traces of her were wiped clean.

It took Tav a moment to gain her bearings, but once her head cleared, she gave Raphael a fierce glare.

“You truly are an ass,” Tav replied, voice husky.

The devil smiled, pleased with himself. He offered her a hand, but Tav waved him off as she rose from the bed on her own accord. A wave of lightheadedness washed over her as she stood, and Tav groaned as her body trembled and swayed like a newborn fawn. A warm hand firmly took hold of her elbow and only loosened marginally once she grounded herself.

“I will give you a minute to collect yourself, then we will be away to business.”

Tav nodded and gave her head a good shake to clear it.

Her body still craved release.

“I’m ready,” she said. “I just have to–”

Suddenly she was engulfed in sparks and embers, and, in a blink, had gone from her bedroom to the front door of a large imposing mansion. Startled by the change in scenery, Tav glanced around with suspicion. They appeared to be somewhere in the Upper City. Neighboring mansions overlooked the enclosed yard they stood in, though large trees yielded relative privacy that Tav was thankful for.

Tav was also grateful that the weather was mild enough to not bother her naked skin.

Raphael released her elbow, and Tav took initiative in stepping up to the door, ever aware of the uncomfortable wetness between her legs. It was hard to believe that only mere minutes ago she was on the cusp of orgasm. She threw an irritated look at Raphael as she reached for a brass door-knocker that resembled the face of a gargoyle.

“You can’t leave candles unattended, so you’d better hope my house doesn’t burn down,” Tav said, terse. She then shed all essence of herself, embraced Haarlep, gripped the heavy knocker and struck the door thrice. 

“It wouldn’t be such a loss if it did,” Raphael remarked.

Tav ignored the slight and turned to regard the devil with a sultry expression. She returned to his side and heard a small rumble of satisfaction as she tucked herself against his body and splayed a hand across the velvety material of his doublet.

“Rhys better be a delight,” she crooned.

There was a weighty lurch and the door to the mansion swung open. A man with pallid features and slick-backed hair greeted them with a polite bow of his head. Tav pegged him as a butler, if the white gloves and black suited uniform were anything to go by. Behind him, she could see a splendid foyer of black wood and rich teal.

“Lord Raphael,” the man stated.

“Oh, it’s even better decorated than the House of Hope!” Tav trilled, leaving Raphael’s side to saunter towards the servant. The man visibly swallowed at her approach, and he pulled his head away from her as she brought hers close. His eyes fell to her exposed breasts. “Is this to be my delectable meal?”

“N-no,” the man stuttered. “I am the house manager, Broome. I’m afraid Master Rhys is concluding other business of the day in his office. He apologizes sincerely for the delay, and will meet you in the parlor as soon as he can. If you would please follow me.”

Broome was visibly relieved to be out of her proximity as he led them indoors. Tav sauntered after with a sway of her hips, fully aware of the devil that followed behind. Her bare feet felt cool against the black-veined marble flooring and she admired the overly ornate candelabras of twisted brass that flickered with candlelight above their heads. She slowed to view the finely detailed oil paintings they passed; all portrayals of mortals in situations of sin and splendor framed by thick frames of gold.

A particular image caught her eye and she paused to stare at it further; a depiction of a beautiful woman engorging herself on pomegranates. The red of the fruit’s juice ran down her neck, chest, and the white robe that hung from her shoulders. Behind her, creatures in shadow looked on, hungry.

Tav nearly jumped from her skin as a warm hand she recognized touched her hip.

“Come along,” Raphael said low in her ear. She could feel his clothing at her back.

“I imagine those creatures got their fill eventually, as did she,” Tav said with fake flippancy. Something about the image stirred a feeling of danger within her as he drew her away.

She was a mouse being led to a trap.

“The parlor, Lord Raphael,” Broome said as they reached the threshold where he stood. He outstretched his arm, inviting them inside the room, and accompanied them to a seating arrangement composed of two large upholstered leather sofas and a pair of high back chairs that sat on a knotted rug in front of a roaring fire. Hanging above the fireplace was a collection of taxidermied trophies that ranged from dire wolves and bears to gnolls and displacer beasts. Tav was only slightly appeased to not see stuffed fiends and incubi.

“Master Rhys should be along shortly. Shall I bring you anything to drink?” Broome asked.

Tav turned where she stood, Raphael still at her back, and slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. She licked her lips.

“I have all I need,” she said, curling fingers into his brown locks. Tav glanced back at Broome. “Unless you’d like to stay as well? I would like to taste you…”

Raphael’s grip flexed at her hip.

Broome purposefully avoided looking into her eyes or at her body. “L-Lord Raphael? Would you care for a drink?”

The butler was dismissed with a glare.

“By your leave,” Broome bowed and his footsteps resounded across the marble floor as he departed.

With Broome gone, Tav hooked a finger underneath the thin rope-like loops that embellished the front of Raphael’s doublet and pulled him towards her. He complied as she escorted him to the couch, a hint of amusement on his face, and further let her push him down onto the center cushion.

She embodied lust incarnate, lower lip between her teeth, and the cushion sank further as Tav positioned herself to kneel above him. She stared down at him while combing her hands through his hair and across his shoulders, her movements fluid and graceful. His touch stoked a fire in her blood as his hands placed themselves on her thighs. 

“That was most diabolical of you, Master Raphael,” Tav dramatized, licking her lips. “Denying me my deserved climax…”

Fully intent on ruining his breeches, and seeking reactions from him, she lowered herself and ground her wetness against Raphael. A low keen escaped her as the fabric of her undergarment glided across her clit, igniting a ripple of pleasure.

Seemingly ever in control of himself, and apparently the consummate gentleman, Raphael made no move or sound that would indicate to Tav that she was affecting him (aside from the stirrings she could begin to feel underneath her). His eyes told a different story, however, and Tav swore she read a challenge in the devil’s gaze, as if he wanted to see how far she would take her act.

She had just the thing.

She rolled her hips, leaned inward to pepper kisses across his jaw, and whispered against his skin.

“Do you want to know the real reason I went to visit your House of Hope?”

There.

His hold on her thighs tightened and a growl rumbled in his throat.

She kissed and sucked at his neck before kissing upwards to the shell of his ear. Tav forced a note of huskiness into her voice. “I wanted to see if you fucked me as well as you did in my fantasies.”

It wasn’t the whole truth of her endeavor, but there was some honesty in the admission. She had gone to his House of Hope to explore, steal, and possibly see where her attraction to Raphael led.

“If only you had been home,” she purred with mischief.

Her hands slid down his front as Tav pulled her head away, and one of Raphael’s hands immediately rose up to clamp around the column of her neck. He gently squeezed, reminding her of his ability to punish, while his other hand held firmly to her thigh.

A shiver coursed through her as she stared into a blazing storm of fury and desire; Raphael was trying to detect if this was Haarlep speaking or his little thief of a mouse.

Feeling suddenly parched, Tav flicked her eyes to his lips and kissed him. Thirst got the best of her as she ran her tongue along his lower lip. He parted his lips in response, and Tav drank. The fingers around her neck tightened when she broke their mouths apart.

“Cat got your tongue?” she asked coyly.

His features darkened, and Tav grew impossibly wetter.

He drew her to him by her neck and kissed her harshly, tasting like fire and wine. She writhed against him as their lips and tongues clashed together with heated fervor. He relinquished her neck to trail downwards past the straps of her harness and greedily palmed a breast.

Tav moaned shamelessly into his mouth. Raphael himself became more vocal, with deep hums and growls of approval as his hands freely roamed her body.

The hardness Tav grinded against was undeniable and she chased release with each drive of her hips. She relished in the mess she was making atop his clothed lap.

“Make me come, Master,” she pleaded whilst formally pushing aside the soaked fabric that covered her sex.

It was an offer.

“Or perhaps Rhys will…”

And a challenge.

The devil’s eyes narrowed, loathing apparent on his face. The expression was only half for her.

“Cheeky little mouse,” he said, voice low and rich.

None too pleased with the image Tav conjured, Raphael gripped her ass with a sneer, swiftly picked her up, and laid her horizontally across the couch. She grinned with delight as he positioned himself above her, just as he had on her bed.

“I ought to delay you further,” Raphael said. “But time is of the essence.”

A flash of heat, sparks, and smoke burst before her as the devil took his true form. He flexed his wings, radiating dark allure and menacing power, and stared at her possessively with bright eyes of infernal orange and yellow.

Amidst the want and need, Tav felt fear at the intensity of Raphael’s expression.

She gasped at the rough pinch he gave her nipple as his hand traveled to her opened legs. He stuffed her with clawed fingers, and Tav moaned loudly through pain and pleasure as he thrusted unforgivingly into her. His other hand gripped her roughly by the hair and forced Tav’s head aside to allow his mouth access to her neck. She cried out as teeth and fangs seared her skin. It was a bite that contrasted greatly to the caring and (and almost embarrassed) nature of how Astarion fed from her.

Raphael meant to punish and mark.

She reactively dug her fingers into his locks as he sucked, and her other hand sought her aching clit.

Tav squirmed underneath him, back arching, as she was built up to a crescendo.

His tongue branded her.

“Raphael! Fuck!”

Her cries of bliss resounded throughout the room as she clenched around his hand. Tingling dizziness filled her head as waves of rapture overtook her mind and body. Her muscles spasmed, fingers tightening around the softness of Raphael’s hair as her toes curled uncomfortably. He hummed in approval as the effects ran their course through moans and breathlessness.

Then there was clapping, and it came not from the devil who kept his fingers inside her and mouth locked to her neck.

With how close her ear was to Raphael’s head, Tav could pick up the deep bass of an inhuman growl. He released his bite (her blood trickled down his chin), and his contemptuous gaze passed over her face before it snapped to the source of the clapping.

“She sounded wonderful, Lord Raphael! Truly wonderful!”

Raphael slowly pulled his hand from her and uprighted himself. “Rhys.”

Tav listened to the clack of footsteps as they moved from hard marble to the rug, and in her peripheral she could see a meticulously groomed man of medium stature and slight build. She let her head fall to the side to assess him more fully. There was a slyness to his facial features that Tav disliked, mostly due to the beady, hungry look he openly gave her.

“That show was enough on its own, but now that I see Haarlep in person…” Rhys remarked. “Where do I sign? Aha!”

At the sight and sound of him laughing at his own joke, Tav fought back a curling lip.

She could see Raphael was doing the same.

The devil’s wings arched slightly as he removed himself from the couch, and he offered Tav a clawed hand that she gladly accepted (what a gentleman). He peeled her from the couch with a small amount of force and Tav instinctually posed herself at his side with the momentum. She clung to the back of his doublet while sensually guiding her hand up and down his front.

Raphael’s hand, still wet with her essence, found her hip.

“Ah, so this is the Rhys I’ve heard so much about,” Tav purred. It was difficult to focus on her role when her neck and body throbbed.

“And you are the delicious Haarlep!” Rhys said excitedly. “I have quite the fun night in store!”

Tav fisted the fabric at Raphael’s back.

“Delightful,” she replied through nearly gritted teeth.

“So, Lord Raphael, shall we discuss terms?”

Raphael nodded curtly.

“Fantastic, fantastic!” Rhys clapped his hands once and kept them together as he moved to the fireplace and deliberated terms he already had in mind. He leered at Tav’s scantily clad form as he turned away from the flames, specifically where her wetness had smeared across her inner thighs. “I should like one night with Haarlep, to do with as I please, and it would please me greatly to have tonight be that very night.”

“In return I expect you to hand over the iron flask, come morning light. The flask with my commander,” Raphael replied.

Tav’s ears piqued at the specificity of which Raphael spoke. Did Rhys carry more than one iron flask?

“Yes, I shall gladly hand it over. I have it on my person as we speak!” Rhys forced another light laugh. “So it’s a deal then? Haarlep for the flask?”

Raphael’s fingers were close to bruising the skin at her hip as his other hand raised and snapped.

A contract appeared in the space between devil and man. Rhys, ravenous to sign, stepped with straightforward intention to take the quill that floated next to the infernal parchment. Tav’s hands fell away from the devil as Raphael moved to intercept him.

In the blink of an eye, Raphael’s hand was clamped between Rhys’s neck and shoulder. Red wings expanded to shield Tav from view, and vaguely she could make out the sounds of additional business being discussed, at least from Raphael’s side.

“Oh, o-of course, Lord Raphael!” Came Rhys’s whispered and nervous response.

Raphael’s wings folded one more, and he kept his back to Tav as Rhys took quill to parchment and signed.

Rhys smiled at her with a grin that spoiled all of the feelings felt moments ago.

She would kill him if he touched her.

The contract disappeared with a snap, and with business completed, Tav waited with her heart in her throat for Raphael to take his leave.

After a moment of lingering longer than expected, fire and embers began to swirl around his form.

At least this time he looked back.

Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

Wearing a lecherous expression, along with a fashionable robe of black and dark plum brocade, Rhys looked every bit the picture of a storybook villain as he stood backlit by fire.

The mark at her neck burned, and Tav found herself wishing for the devil she knew.

Mental pistons fired on all cylinders as thoughts formed themselves into half-baked plans. By her assumptions, Rhys was expecting obedience and eroticism from the incubus she portrayed, and Tav needed to be tactful if the night was to proceed on her terms. It would be unwise to follow him anywhere; there was no telling what lay dormant within the other rooms of the mansion, and being cornered was never a good feeling.

Yes, it would be best to knock him out cold here and now. She would then search (loot) the place, knock out Broome and anyone else in her way, find something sharp, return to Rhys and keep the point aimed to his throat until sunrise.

Half baked plan, indeed.

Tav’s eyes flicked from Rhys’s to the fire poker that gleamed at the opposite end of the fireplace. She mustered a mask of flirtatious eyes and a sensual smile.

“Come to me, sweet Haarlep!” Rhys summoned her with a voice dripping in saccharine.

Haarlep wouldn’t need a fire poker.

Tav’s hands traveled across the soft mounds of her breasts and down swaying hips as she sauntered over to Rhys. As she had with Raphael, Tav brought her hand to Rhys’s front and skimmed her fingers along embroidered spider-silk. Her tongue ran along her lower lip in anticipation to feed.

The pupils of her prey were blown wide.

“It’s not often I get to leave the House of Hope. I shall have to thank Master Raphael for letting me out of my gilded cage for you,” Tav said, her voice as smooth as the material she touched. She stepped around him, her hand trailing after, and raised her other hand onto his shoulder. The tip of her tongue flicked Rhys’s ear, and she could feel the shiver that ran up his body. “I will unleash pleasure upon you that you will never know again after tonight.”

Tav stepped onto the tips of her toes as she snaked her arm over Rhys’s chest and around his neck from behind. She locked her other forearm around the back of his neck, winding fingers into his hair.

“Pleasure that will take your breath away,” Tav purred.

She squeezed and stabilized her positioning as she forced Rhys backwards with a step. Rhys made a strangled sound of surprise and flailed wildly to grab at the arm constricted around his neck. His body grew limper and limper, and soon his attempt to free himself ceased completely as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Tav lowered the limp Rhys to the marble floor, and confusion scrunched her features as the body transformed from presumed flesh and blood to cold packed snow that chilled her fingertips.

“What the–” Tav murmured as she watched snow quickly melt into water in front of the blazing fireplace.

A simulacrum? A spell she only knew of due to a drunken night at camp that involved testing Gale’s encyclopedic knowledge of magic.

~

“Okay, then! Mmlet’s say I want to make a really grand entrance, right? Say I want Karlach to throw me into a second floor window. It’s a stained-glass window, too. More picturesque tha’ way. But it’s not actually me, because I’m runnin’up the stairs to be there at the same moment I crash through the window. T-then the enemy will realize there’s twooo of me, and they’ll give up then an’ there. Can’t be a major image, because that’s an obvious illusion. I need to actually break the glass, Gale!”

“Oh, this is a verrrry easy one. A simulacrum is what we’ll need. It’s a one-to-one copy of you, complete with sounds, smells, and even your body temperature. Can even use objects! Though, with a twelve hour casting time, it seems rather impractical to waste all of that time to only throw the copy into a window, however picturesque it might look. Did I also mention we’d need lots of snow or ice?”

~

Tav was in trouble. Rhys was not an ordinary man if he had cast the spell himself.

A slow clap rang out from a distant, darkened corner of the room, and Tav turned towards the sound with Haarlep’s guise flawlessly in place. She could not hear footsteps as the noise of applause came closer.

Damn her not having the ability to see through invisibility.

“You are a thrilling little fiend, aren’t you?” said a voice that matched what she’d heard of Rhys’s light tone and timbre.

Tav straightened to a confident stance in the puddle of his copy.

“And you’re a mysterious little voyeur, hiding in the shadows. I was going to let go, I promise.” Tav let her fingers absently trace along the edge of fabric that lined her inner thighs as she calculated next steps. Rhys had either cast invisibility on himself or drank a potion that granted the effect on his person. To end such a status, she would need to lure the man into casting another spell or into attacking her. A delicate situation when the opponent was unknown and unpredictable...

“I hope my over excitement didn’t scare you off!” she said impishly.

“Hardly! It’s not like you’re the first monster I’ve had in my home to try and kill me,” the voice replied. “You must think of the copy as insurance. Besides, I like to watch, and it was quite the turn on, watching a copy of myself get asphyxiated by a beautiful and dangerous thing like yourself.”

Tav set her focus into pinpointing the direction of Rhys’s voice. It would be to her advantage if she kept him talking.

“And my showing on the couch? I hope it pleased you as much as Master Raphael pleased me.”

“Why, it was an absolute treat that I will surely remember for nights to come, along with what memories we make tonight.”

Tav followed the voice around the set of high back chairs, slow and steady.

“I’m sure you’re curious as to what I have planned for you…”

His voice was moving.

“I am soaked in anticipation,” Tav said. “Do tell.”

“And spoil the surprise?” the invisible Rhys exclaimed with faux offense. “That will not do! Though, I would like to think that you have never experienced what I have in store. If you have, then I shall have to be more original next time!”

Tav realized she was being led out of the parlor.

Not good.

“I will have to find another highly prized devil to capture, but I will manage. I have my ways, sweet Haarlep!”

Tav followed the voice into the entrance hall and slowed to a stop in the middle of the long, wide corridor. She cast a passing, sidelong glance at the front door she and Raphael had entered within the last hour, wishing that it could be so easy to leave her current duty. Her wistful gaze checked itself into a smoldering stare as her attention shifted to the other end of the hall, towards a grand curling staircase of ebony wood.

“Yes, let’s go upstairs,” Rhys said. “And make ourselves comfortable.”

If it weren’t for the wayward creak or two in the wooden tread, Rhys’s presence would have become nearly undetectable as he ascended the stairs. Tav presumed the invisible man to be barefoot like her and would have commended his stealth were it not a dilemma she had to strategize around. Her fingers caressed the sleek surface of the winding bannister as she pursued her prey upwards, and Tav let her eyes wander in search of anything useful as the lavishly decorated corridor of the second story approached.

Her breath hitched; a phantom touch skated up her skin and left a path of gooseflesh in its wake.

Shit.

“How long have you been in service to Lord Raphael?” the voice asked as it stepped onto an additional flight of stairs. “One more floor to go, sweet Haarlep!”

She found herself bristling at the pet name Rhys freely evoked and missing the nickname said by another.

An involuntary moan sprang from Tav’s mouth. The phantom fingers were at the skin of her inner thighs and briefly ghosted a few rough swipes across her clit before lowering to insert themselves into her slick folds. The mark at her throat suddenly seared as familiar fingers pumped inside her.

It had to be Raphael recreating their earlier scene with Haarlep.

The impeccably poor timing of such strokes and sensations incensed her; Tav was going to maim both devil and incubus at the next opportune moment she had.

Somewhere in front of her, Rhys made a sound of delight. “The song of your anticipation is music to my ears.”

She gripped the bannister tightly and bit back a whimper as her body quivered.

“Mmm, I’ve been with Lord Raphael for a number of years. Admittedly, he’s a bit of a narcissistic bore,” Tav prayed to any and all the gods that somehow Raphael heard her. “Makes me do all of the work while taking his form. He’s not as good of a lay as one might fantasize about…”

“Bores you, does he? That will not do in my home. I daresay you will enjoy yourself tonight!” the disembodied Rhys asserted.

Her vision was blurring, unfocused. With concentrated steadiness, Tav climbed the remaining steps and reached the landing. Her fingers clawed at a post cap that marked the end of the stairs (a carved demonic head that grinned at her with its forked tongue poking between sharp teeth) and assessed her surroundings through gritted teeth. They were in a slightly shorter corridor than that of the previous floors below, and this hall was also emptier in comparison, save for a pair of lit candelabras that dripped pools of wax onto a marred sideboard table.

“Here we are! Come right this way…”

Her body was in conflict with itself; her stomach churned with unease as pleasure wracked her dripping sex.

Briefly, the phantom thrusts of phantom fingers ceased, and Tav’s eyes fluttered closed in appreciation for the moment of respite. She was being led before the only destination possible within the hall; a single set of heavy oaken doors that appeared to close off an entire section of the manor’s upper floor.

Tav needed to strike now, before she became further trapped behind the walls of the unknown. Mental acuity and control of her body was imperative...

She could hear Rhys unlocking the door with a key, and, under the assumption that his back was to her, Tav pushed forward with a confident stride, intent to pounce.

What penetrated her next did not feel like phantom fingers.

“HALT,” Rhys ordered.

And halt she did, nearly doubling over at the sensation of ghostly fullness that entered her with slow and powerful thrusts. Her feet were glued to the cold marble as the magic of Rhys’s command spell held her, and Tav forced herself to look at the man who stood before her, his invisibility dispelled, with lust and hunger.

But the anger she felt…

She was going to kill Raphael at the end of her contract if she made it out of the night alive.

“You are not to have me yet, sweet Haarlep!” Rhys wagged his finger at her, his face disapproving. He would have been an identical match to his melted simulacrum if it were not for the belt of vials that sat at his hips (likely holding potions of invisibility) and the bare toes that peeked out from underneath his robes. “However, I greatly appreciate your salacious candor. Truly what I expected from an incubus! Now, I will release you after I explain how this night will go...”

Tav moaned as her body coiled in on itself, release looming. She prayed to Raphael and Haarlep, begged for their finish– she needed the willpower to break the spell, needed to get her hands on Rhys…

Rhys turned around, cracked his knuckles, and pushed open one half of the lofty door into the room.

She could only wait, her vision going sideways, as Rhys spun around to regard her with a smile.

“Follow,” he commanded.

Tav obeyed (she had to) and crossed the threshold on shaking legs. Her eyes widened at the expansive disaster of a room she beheld. High walls of dark teal were decorated with scorch and claw marks that went beyond simple surface damage. Piles of books were laid to waste beneath built-in bookcases that lined the back half of the room, their shelves broken and collapsed. Black swathes of torn fabric hung over heavily-fortified windows, and a poorly repaired iron and chain candle-lit chandelier hung crookedly from the stained ceiling. Satirically, the only element in the room in a state of wholeness were the clean white linens that were spread across a massive mattress. All other furniture had been removed, and Tav lamented her limited options when it came to improvising a weapon.

The phantom thrusts were becoming quick and urgent.

Rhys stood in front of the bed (it truly was just a mattress), and he ceased her wobbly advancement with a hand and another command spell.

“Halt, that’s close enough.”

Tav leered at the man before her.

“But the bed is right there; how about less talking and more fucking…” she said through her teeth, voice throaty with need.

Gods, just be done with it, Raphael!

“We’ll be getting to that, but you won’t be fucking me, my sweet,” Rhys replied excitedly. He clapped his hands together whilst swaying on the balls of his feet. “I am itching to see how an incubus takes to being fucked by a variety of monsters I’ve collected over the last year. They get their fun, you get yours, and I get mine! As I mentioned before; I like to watch.”

Tav fell to a knee at the spot where she was planted. There was a strong urge to wretch at the same time her orgasm shuddered across the entirety of her body. Out of pettiness for the devil and incubus, Tav choked on her orgasm and let it pass over her with the faintest of sounds.

Thankfully, what disgust she felt for Rhys’s words must have construed itself as pleasure on her face, for his eyes lit up. “Yes, my thoughts exactly!”

A handful of seconds later, she could feel a final, deep and snapping thrust that signified the (hopeful) end to her ghostly lover’s fucking.

She stared up at Rhys with a groan, her expression a dark cloud of anger. “I want nothing else but you; you’re mine.”

A line from the character she played and a declaration from her true self.

The phantom sensation pulled out from her throbbing cunt.

“Well, I’m afraid you can’t have me, Haarlep,” Rhys said, reaching a hand into his robe. “I will add that a few of these monsters will likely try to kill you the moment they are free from the iron flask, but don’t worry! I have assured Lord Raphael that you will, come morning, look right as rain! No worse for wear! I will use the spell of suggestion to get the monsters to bend to my wishes.”

Tav slowly raised to stand and shook out the numbness in her arms. Her mind was clearing, though her body needed more time to recover. At least she would have the mental focus to break Rhys’s spell soon.

Perhaps sensing a difference in her aura, and danger, Rhys began to back away from the bed and shuffled backwards into the right half of the room. The hand in his robe hastened as it looked for items within hidden pockets.

Tav’s willpower shattered the spell and its hold on her body. She pushed strength and anger into her feet as she shakily sprung towards Rhys.

He would not command her again!

“We’ll go with the luck of the draw!” he said. Desperation edged itself into his voice as he continued to back away from her. He withdrew his hand from his robe, an iron flask in his grasp, and removed the brass stopper with a panicked tug. Ruby colored, flaming energy released forth and with it a mighty roar.

A flash of red illuminated the dwindling space between her and Rhys, and a hulking minotaur blocked her path with bared teeth and a body primed for bloodshed. A breeze passed over Tav’s head as she narrowly dodged a swipe from the monster. Eyes the color of onyx regarded her with a savage rage, and the sharp ends of curled horns angled further upwards as the minotaur threw its head back and released another deafening roar.

Tav winced at the battle cry as she skirted around the beast. She could see Rhys reaching for a vial from his belt some distance behind.

“You should have sexual intercourse with the woman you see before you,” he said, looking at the minotaur. Rhys then popped the vial open with a thumb and threw the liquid back with a smile and a glance to Tav.

His form vanished.

All she felt was air when she reached the spot where his body disappeared.

“I’ll find you, Rhys!” Tav swore.

Heavy hooved footsteps shook the floor as the minotaur turned to face her. Rhys’s suggestion had taken hold of the monster; its bloodthirst was replaced by a cloudy expression of desire, and there was a growing erection underneath the mix of clothing and armor that the minotaur wore on its lower half.

It was Tav’s turn to back away.

Rhys had a limited amount of vials, about four more by her guess. It would be best to use the minotaur for advantage; get the monster dangerously close to where Rhys might be hiding and the man might use a spell to protect himself, or alert her of his presence with a sound. If she took out the minotaur too quickly, Rhys was likely to pull out another iron flask, and Tav was unsure how well she’d fare in a gauntlet of monsters in her current state of naked and unarmed fatigue.

She severely hoped that her body would remain hers for the remainder of the night, unless it was actually Raphael’s intention to kill her.

“You’ll have to catch me first; I like to play hard to get.” Tav threw a sarcastic wink at the towering beast whose shadow she bathed in. Successfully taunted, the minotaur reached for her again. Another breeze passed above as Tav ducked then rolled to the side. She sprang to her feet, broke out into a jog, and threw a suggestion of her own over her shoulder. “Let’s take a tour of the room, get a real good look at everything.”

The minotaur’s features grew inflamed. He wanted Tav and he wanted her now.

The floor quaked as the minotaur paced itself to match her. She kept to the perimeter at first and made it to the door that Rhys had apparently passed by, shut, and locked.

Surely he was still in the room with her; he would not want to miss out on the fucking he wanted so desperately.

She could hear and feel the minotaur increase speed to catch her, and Tav continued around the room in a serpentine path on high alert to Rhys’s possible presence.

Nothing; he was being clever.

Then she would be clever, too.

Tav led the minotaur to one end of the room, dodged another swipe, and cast invisibility on herself (invisibilis!). The monster roared in tantrum at her disappearance and swung its muscled upper body around in hope of snatching Tav from the air. Already she was gone, having navigated around the minotaur, and made her way quickly and silently to the bed. She twisted the top sheet in a hand, ripped the linen away with a flourish, and quickly spun it into a long whip on her way to the opposing wall.

She popped out of invisibility, gripped each end of her improvised rope, and yelled. “Over here, Horny!”

The minotaur charged at her, enraged.

“Halt!” shouted Rhys just as the minotaur closed in.

The command rang out and Tav acted as though she couldn’t move. The monster sought to impale her, now that Rhys’s concentration for suggestion had been replaced, and at the last possible second, Tav evaded the attempt with a graceful leap and twist whilst throwing the spun sheet around the minotaur’s neck. There was a resounding crash as the horned and hulking body dove headfirst into the wall, imprinting its head and shoulders into cracked plaster. Chunks of the wall rained down on the dazed beast, coating its brown fur and the floor underneath as Tav climbed onto its back. She crossed the sheet, wound a small section of the twisted fabric around both hands, and turned to strangle the minotaur with all of her might.

She stared daggers into Rhys as the monster struggled for breath amidst attempts to grab her.

“Ardere!”

Four rays of fire shot at her, and four rays of fire hit her strategically in her right leg. Tav hissed through the burn that inflamed her muscles and smoked her skin. She squeezed the sheet harder against a strength that greatly outmatched her own, needing to win, and grimaced in pain as the minotaur reached behind to clench the flesh and bone of her leg in its large fingers. The monster extracted her with a powerful yank, and Tav was violently pulled from its back onto the floor.

“You are a strange incubus,” Rhys said, petulant anger written on his face. “Avoiding getting a good fucking? Most peculiar. My research did not prepare me for such stubbornness.”

Tav’s head throbbed and her lungs felt winded at the impact. Her moan was distinctly one of pain as she crawled to her knees.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” Rhys turned to the recovering minotaur. “You should have sexual intercourse with the woman you see before you.”

Tav growled as she watched Rhys down another vial of invisibility.

“Try and run now, sweet Haarlep,” said his disembodied voice.

She clambered to her feet and did try; Tav recast invisibility on herself, and limped away from the minotaur with uncontrollable tears brimming in her eyes. Tears of frustration, anger, and aching pain. She then watched in horror as the monster stood to full height some distance behind her, closed its eyes and sniffed the air.

Invisibility would not save her when she smelled of burning skin, sweat, and her own slick cum.

Fuck.

Fear turned her blood cold. Tav had nothing up her naked, non-existent sleeve; she knew no other magic, there were no weapons, tools, or items at her disposal. The minotaur would catch up to her and then…

Tav grunted in determination as she pushed herself to stay ahead of the minotaur that stalked her scent. 

“Give up already, Haarlep!”

She made attempts to zig and zag, but eventually found herself being herded into a corner. Her body curled in on itself, shrinking small and tight as hope withered with each approaching and quaking step the minotaur took. The bull drew nearer, and its onyx eyes seemed to find her amongst invisibility. The monster assured itself of her presence; with each inhalation of her essence, the minotaur’s erection bobbed against the cloth that spared it from view.

Tav could feel the heated breath that exhaled harshly from flared nostrils.

“Get the fuck away from me,” she threatened, baring teeth.

The minotaur pried her forearm away from her chest with pervasive strength. Its superior grip threatened to break her limb, and Tav cried out as she fought to wrench it free, clawing wildly at its skin with her free hand.

Desperation, fear, rage: all bubbled under the surface of her skin.

And a foreign sensation never felt before toiled amongst her emotions.

Power.

The minotaur motioned to grab the arm that scratched and tore, and Tav instinctively threw her arm forward as though to shield herself.

“I said GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! ”

Crackling energy shot forth into the bovine head of her attacker, splitting the air with an otherworldly thunderous echo. The dazed minotaur made a guttural sound as it stumbled backwards, releasing her in favor of clutching its head.

Tav was equally dazed, and she stared at her hand, baffled. It was easy to recognize the cantrip; it had been one of Wyll’s go to attacks. But to be able to use eldritch blast meant entering a pact with a patron, of which she could not remember doing…

Fucking Raphael.

Tav got to her feet, her breath and body spiked with adrenaline. Her awoken warlock powers craved to be used.

Yes, she would use them to turn the tables into her favor.

She relinquished her Haarlep role, and Tav repossessed herself.

Time to kill. Time to survive. 

With a yell, she dashed from the corner to where the minotaur stood and threw a hand up behind her head. Crackling green energy gathered above her hand, and Tav mimicked Wyll in bringing the ball of energy to her chest and pushing it outward in partnership with her other hand. Words she remembered erupted from her throat.

“DOLOR!”

The eldritch blast aimed not for the minotaur, but for one of its horns. Her aim was true; the force of her cantrip broke the ivory protrusion in two, and the fractured, pointed end of the horn shot into the air whilst spinning like a top. Tav let adrenaline drive her body forward, past the minotaur. Her limp fell away, swallowed by determination to run after her weapon.

The minotaur chased after her with a roar, and Tav claimed the ivory in her grasp with a deft slide. She stood her ground in a battle stance, ready to face the monster, horn raised.

PHWOOM! One swipe dodged.

PHWOOM! Another dodged.

Tav found an opening, twirled inwards into the monster’s chest and released rage as she jammed the horn upwards into its throat. A horrible gurgle arose from the minotaur’s throat as dark, thick blood trickled down the piece of ivory and onto her hands. Blood began to flood from the wound as Tav pulled the horn out and stabbed again and again. It was only when the minotaur began to sway, threatening to topple onto her, that she withdrew herself from its path.

The minotaur collapsed, dead. Tav stared at its body, breathing heavily, horn at her side, bathed in crimson.

“You are no incubus! ” Rhys shouted from some place within the room.

Tav did not respond. She strode with purpose to the white sheet she had used earlier as an improvised garotte, ripped the sheet in half with her teeth and hands (horn still secured in her grip), and re-twisted a thick whip that would better suit as an offhand weapon.

She walked back to the dead minotaur and the growing pool of blood that surrounded it.

“I’m going to find you, Rhys!” Tav shouted, letting her white whip turn deep red as it soaked up the minotaur’s blood.

She would paint the walls red. Rhys could not hide from her; what flecks of blood attached itself to his body would disappear, making him easier to spot against bold crimson streaks.

A flash of red, indicating another iron flask, illuminated a corner and Tav rushed Rhys’s position.

This time, it was not a minotaur but a starved Mind Flayer.

Oh, the memories.

“You should have sexual intercourse with the woman you see before you! ” Rhys yelled, frantically getting another potion ready.

Tav snapped her whip, and a stripe of red splashed across the tentacled Ceramorph like a mask, temporarily blinding it. At an advantage due to the creature’s weakened and blinded state, and well experienced with the enemy type, Tav was fearless as she rounded to the creature’s back and leapt, driving the minotaur horn into its bulbous and fleshy head. She landed on her feet (Mind Flayer felled) and swiftly spun around, cracking her bloody whip where she suspected Rhys hid.

There! She could see a clean silhouette against the streak of red against the wall. He was moving.

Another crack, with much less blood, but still effective.

“Fuck!” Rhys shouted.

Tav sought another bloody lash, this time to strike him, but Rhys caught the thick makeshift rope, twisted it around his hand, and pulled her into his invisible body. He held her violently to him.

She raised her horn, intent to stab.

“You should fuck me, you should enjoy it, and you should tell me who you really are as I do all that I want to your body. ” Rhys was visible once more, wet crimson smattered across his robes, his face wrathful and voice venom. “Alas I cannot kill you, but I will get something out of tonight.”

Lust washed over Tav as she dropped her weapons and pressed her bloodied, naked front into him. One half of his lips curled in disdain for her while the other smiled at satisfaction that his spell took hold. Her hands further stained his clothes as she let her fingers roam across his body. She leaned in to kiss him.

Rhys responded greedily. His grip relaxed from imprisoning her and changed course into claiming her body.

She moaned loudly whilst tugging at his belt to lead him to the unused bed, navigating around the mass of liquid that spread from the minotaur’s corpse. His belt gone, whether or not he cared or even realized it, Tav slipped both hands under his robe to explore skin (and his pockets), urging him to a state of undress.

“I really am an incubus, you know,” Tav whispered into his ear once they reached the foot of the bed. She found his erection amongst layers of fabric and pumped his length slowly. “All I wanted was you to begin with, so I could fuck you how you deserve to be fucked.”

Rhys closed his eyes with a shuddered breath.

Her hands left him, and in a blink Tav sprung onto the bed, wrapped herself around Rhys’s back, and drew him backwards with her arms around his neck. She fell into the mattress and grit her teeth as Rhys, the real Rhys, began to lose consciousness from her chokehold.

She was shaking by the time his body sunk fully into a state of comatose. As much as she wanted to kill him, a part of her felt sympathetic, that it wasn’t her judgment to make; it was not Rhys’s fault that he did not get the incubus he desired. Haarlep, from what she theorized, would have enjoyed his lineup.

Tav rolled Rhys’s body off of her, sat up, and she let a guttural cry of emotion ring out.

She ran filthy fingers through matted hair of sweat and blood and breathed a trembling sigh of relief that her job was done. All she needed to do, for what hours remained, was to ensure that Rhys stayed knocked out and harmless.

Tav found the clean, unused half of the sheet and wiped her body down as best she could. She returned to the mattress, stripped Rhys of his sullied robe, and changed into it before sluggishly moving to collect the items she had removed from the robe’s pockets on the way to the bed.

There were three iron flasks with brass stoppers in place, and one was sure to be the devil that Raphael needed. She carefully placed them back into their pockets, picked up the key to the room, and then equipped the belt with two vials of invisibility waiting to be used. Next to be plucked was the bloodied horn, and Tav wedged the weapon between the belt and her pelvis.

At least if Rhys did awaken, he no longer held control.

Tav thought to inspect the room closer, and moved to rummage around in the pile of books that lay in a disorganized mess at the base of their broken shelves. She sifted through the mass with little interest in reading titles or pages; what she was looking for were hidden or forgotten items amongst the wreckage.

Spotting something, Tav pushed aside a leather bound book with her foot and noticed a squashed bit of parchment beneath. She picked it up, unfurled the roll, and grimaced.

A Scroll of Hold Monster.

Of course.

Tav stuck the scroll between her belt; useful for another day.

Nothing else of use was found throughout her inspection of the room, and the longer she stayed within its confines, the more she itched to leave. The scent of blood and death permeated her nose. She felt as disgusting as she knew she appeared, and her gut roiled with sickness at the display of carnage that marked the experience. 

She was tapped out across the board… wanted to sleep and forget…

The more Tav thought about it, the more she determined she’d be in the right if she were to up and leave; her end of the contract was filled, at least for this first task. She played her role and would walk away with the loot secured. When it came to possible fallout of not staying with Rhys all night, it wasn’t her problem.

Then again, if Rhys stayed unconscious for longer than expected, who was to say that she hadn’t been here until morning light?

Fuck this place.

Resolved, Tav procured the key and unlocked the door. She locked Rhys inside once more, pocketed the key with a practiced and automatic flourish, and made her way downstairs with little care for stealth or an alibi.

Broome was there to greet her when she reached the first floor, his face horrified at the sight she made.

She kept her eyes on the front door as she passed. “He’s still alive. Goodbye, Broome.”

Panicked footsteps ran up the staircase behind her.

Tav limped home under a cloudy night sky. Her feet matched the ache the rest of her body felt, and she was positive she would pass out the moment she arrived at her bed.

The late night souls she passed while journeying from the Upper City to the Lower City regarded her with expressions of puzzlement, fear, and disgust. She paid no mind to anyone, barely even registering their presence as she instinctively navigated the roads to home. Her thoughts were blessedly quiet (except for the stray whisper that urged her to routinely check and recheck that all iron flasks were on her person).

Tav arrived at her front door a while later (her house had not burned down, luckily for Raphael), and she cared not that the door was already unlocked from when she invited the devil inside. She listlessly bolted the door behind her, made her rounds to blow out burning candles, and groaned like the undead as she limped to the bedroom.

Before she succumbed to exhaustion, Tav dug around for a heavy blanket she previously shared with Astarion. She wrapped the blanket snugly around herself and felt mollified by the faintest scent of him that still clung to its weave. The minotaur horn poked her uncomfortably as she flopped onto the mattress, and Tav undid her belt to carelessly throw everything aside.

The knife under her many pillows would do.

Sleep came to her quickly.

Someone was in the room.

Cherries and sulfur.

Feral instinct took over; Tav had her knife out and pointed in the direction of the intruder in an instant.

As her eyes adjusted, Tav could recognize Raphael’s mortal form in the dim light.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said derisively, sagging backwards into the cushions while tucking away her knife. She readjusted her blanket cocoon and buried her grimy face deep into her favorite pillow. “Mfmmk omff.”

“Excuse me?”

Tav exposed her mouth a bit more. “I said go away.”

“Yes, I rather thought that’s what you said,” Raphael replied, his doubt apparent. She could hear the sneer he was liable to be wearing.

“What do you want, Raphael?” Tav groaned.

“Many things.”

Annoyed by his ambiguity and presence, Tav sat up again. She fumbled around her robe for the iron flasks and pulled the three out one by one, tossing them unceremoniously to the foot of the mattress.

“I’m not sure which one carries your devil commander. Take all three, I don’t care. Perhaps the other two can pull the devil’s flaming chariot.” She nodded harshly towards the items. “I fulfilled my role, you have your flask, and more than you bargained for, please go away.”

For a second time, she fixed her cocoon and settled into her mattress and pillows.

“You will get up and hand them to me yourself.”

He was becoming irate.

“Will you go away if I do?”

“No.”

Tav growled into plush fabric. She rolled off the bed, cocoon intact, and glowered at the devil as she stood. A grunt of pain left her as she limped over to where the flasks lay. She loaded the flasks into the crook of a blanket covered arm, and delivered them, one by one, into Raphael’s open and waiting palm.

The displeasure on his face was palpable.

“What?” Tav asked waspishly, as she handed over the last flask. “You have something to say? If you wouldn’t mind, I’m a bit of a mess right now, so it would be better if we talked, say, tomorrow, after I’ve downed a barrel full of healing potions.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek.

She turned to get back in bed. Tears she couldn’t control were beginning to prick her eyes, and Tav fought to blink them away before the devil noticed.

A snap.

“Little Mouse.”

Her head turned, glare set, and her lips parted at the sight of a familiar goblet that was offered to her.

“Drink. We will discuss matters about Rhys elsewhere. We also have further business to attend to in regards to our contract; business that requires decorum, standards of which you currently do not meet. Only after the above will you be allowed to sleep away your mortal existence. That is, until your second role is called to the stage.”

Tav narrowed her eyes at him but nonetheless took the goblet and drank every drop of the healing potion within.

She made a point to not say “thank-you”, even as the potion’s effects refreshed her.

The goblet passed back to him, and Raphael returned it to the Hells.

“Is ‘elsewhere’ Rhys’s manor?”

“No,” the devil answered.

He held out his hand.

Tav sighed and reluctantly placed hers in his.

A swirl of fire and embers enveloped them.

Tav scowled as the entrance hall to Raphael’s House of Hope came into view. She immediately slipped her hand from the devil to hastily convert her blanket from cocoon to cloak, seeking to hide her identity and condition from debtors and others who might be visiting (please don’t let Hope see).

Raphael wasted no time in urging her forward with a nudge at the small of her back.

“Where am I going?” She groused, limping towards the dining hall that awaited ahead.

“To my boudoir.”

“What the fuck, Raphael!” Tav hissed while spinning on her heel. She bumped face first into him. “Take me home.”

“And here I was expecting excitement, seeing as how, according to you, my boudoir was somewhere of note on your last visit. As you can also see, the Master of the House is home this time.”

“Take me home,” she said again.

“Don’t be a child; either walk or I will carry you.”

He meant it.

Tav greatly disliked the idea of being brought into the devil’s boudoir being carried either like a bride or a disobedient child, so she stuck her tongue out at him in response and unhappily resumed heading to where she knew his boudoir to be.

Thankfully, the muttering debtors did not acknowledge her. They scurried like terrified rodents as she and Raphael walked through the halls, and Hope did not dare to appear with the devil at Tav’s back. He was close enough to touch as the two of them proceeded in silence to the destination; the warden with the thief, the cat with the mouse.

Tav stopped at the shimmering aura that shielded the boudoir from the uninvited. She glowered at Raphael, expectant, and the devil waved the barrier away to then gesture a formal invitation for her to enter.

She crossed the threshold and immediately stepped to the side, not wanting to proceed further than necessary. Raphael strode past her whilst resetting the barrier with a flourish, and he snapped a bottle and a glass of wine into existence on top of an exquisite vanity.

Looking around, Tav’s temper flared as she could make out a recognizable form from beyond the decorative ironwork and hot steam of the bath; an incubus that stretched their red limbs and wings as if waking from a nap. They slid off the bed gracefully.

At least Haarlep was wearing Raphael and not her.

“What is this thing you have brought back with you, Master?” the incubus asked, sauntering towards her with fixated curiosity.

Tav tightened her makeshift cloak and lowered her head, peering at the fiends from underneath her security blanket.

Raphael ignored Haarlep and swirled a fresh glass of wine as he regarded Tav from his position at the edge of the bath.

“Get in the bath.”

“No,” Tav said.

The devil opened his mouth, but Tav cut him off.

“Not unless I’m allowed privacy.”

Haarlep came closer and bent sideways to peek at her hidden face.

“Is this our little thief?” the incubus asked, eyes brightening. “I have so many questions about your time as me! Well, me as you… And I need to prepare for–”

“Haarlep,” Raphael snapped. “Leave us.”

Haarlep flashed a glare to Raphael that the devil couldn’t see.

“I must express my gratitude, Little Mouse; our recent roleplay session was the most fun I’ve had with Master Raphael in a long while,” Haarlep said in a hushed tone that was designed to still reach their master’s ears. They smiled seductively at Tav before disappearing from within their own distinct flurry of embers.

Yes, she and Raphael would be speaking about that, amongst other things.

“Get in the bath,” Raphael repeated.

“Not until I have privacy.”

Tav’s head motioned to the shimmering, semi-translucent barrier. She would not have another Rhys walking by as she bathed.

Raphael’s lip curled marginally, but he obliged her with a quick flick of his fingers, and the aura morphed into a dense, opaque fog.

Tav raised her head and stared at the devil.

“Full privacy.”

Raphael started towards her, his features dark.

“Alright, alright! Gods…” Tav relented. She stepped towards the bath whilst shedding her cloak. No longer veiled by her blanket and the dim setting of her bedroom, Raphael could better scrutinize her haggard appearance, and he did so with barely concealed contempt. From her brief glance, Tav wondered if the devil was more insulted by the robe she wore rather than the fact that she was so bloodied and bruised.

Tav forced her eyes on the steaming bathwater as she disrobed further. Without the role of Haarlep to egg her on, her confidence wavered when she let the robe drop to her feet. Nimble fingers then worked to quickly unfasten the harness, and soon the strips of leather and chain were discarded.

Everything was too hot; the dry heated air of the boudoir, the scalding water she entered, and the burning gaze from the devil that watched her every move.

Tav closed her eyes and held a breath as she sunk fully into the bathwater. Her goal being to clean (and hide), she ran her hands along her body to loosen the stains of blood and grime and scrubbed hard at her matted scalp. Only when her lungs hurt did she break the surface.

“Better than ‘a barrel full of healing potions’, hm?” Raphael asked the moment air reached her. "A bath of restoration."

Yes, yes it was. She was feeling better already, at least physically.

“Yes,” Tav replied, turning away to wade over to one of two golden faucets that endlessly ran water. She paused and glanced at him from over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

It was after about five minutes of scrubbing and soaking in relative quiet, that Raphael deemed her clean enough for conversation.

“What happened at the manor?”

Somehow his question came out more as a demand.

Tav barked a laugh.

“I like that you act as though you had no idea,” she said as she ran fingers along her body in inspection for what injuries remained; bruises had gone, her leg was nearly healed fully, and the punctures at her neck…

Smooth skin met her fingertips.

Raphael’s eyes narrowed at her sigh of relief; perhaps his bath of restoration was too good for his liking.

“I had an idea, but am eager to hear your side of the events. Rhys feels himself cheated of the contract he signed and has demanded reparations for the ‘duplicitous cunt’ I brought into his home. Did you fail in your role, Little Mouse?”

Tav picked at caked blood under her fingernails.

“I was Haarlep to the very end.”

“Did any fucking occur?” He asked pointedly, staring at her with narrowed eyes from over the glass raised to his mouth.

“Did he not show you his upstairs fun-room?”

“Answer the question.”

Tav glared daggers at him, “No.”

The devil hummed in response as he sipped, and she couldn’t tell if it was a positive or negative reaction to her answer.

“Speaking of fucking,” Tav said, kindling her spark of (restored) anger. “You really couldn’t wait, could you? All you had to do was keep it in your pants for…” She sarcastically counted hours on her hand, but gave up to throw all ten fingers towards him. “However many hours! I fucking had him, I had Rhys’s invisible ass in my sights and you, very literally, fucked me up.”

“And yet you survived the night, so all is right in the end,” Raphael said sardonically, walking to the vanity to set his glass down. “You get no say in when or how I use your body; you forfeited that right the moment you permitted Haarlep to your form.”

“Look, I’ve dealt with it for a while now; all I’m asking is that you don’t use it when you know I need my wits about me.” Tav watched the devil return to the bath. He stopped at the discarded pile of clothes. “You knew exactly where I was and what I was there for, and I think you know me well enough to predict that I was going to try and take Rhys out as soon as possible.”

Raphael raised a brow, “Ah, but we’ve clarified that I only had an idea about what was to transpire. I knew nothing, including what you planned on doing with Rhys. Unless you’d like to enlighten me about what all happened last night?”

“I’d really rather not,” Tav said, lowering her head to where the water level covered her mouth.

The devil picked up the harness, and threw a devilish smirk at her.

“You looked fetching, by the way.”

Tav instinctively brought an arm to shield her breasts as she glowered at him.

He chuckled and snapped his fingers, vanishing the harness.

“I don’t want them,” she said suddenly.

“You do not want what?” Raphael asked, his attention drawn to lazily poking Rhys’s robe with his boot as though it were a dead animal. He raised his hand, poised to snap.

“The powers you gave me.”

He paused for a split second, then snapped. The robe began to flame.

“Were they not useful in your endeavors?” Raphael faced her and regarded her intently. He sounded as if he knew she would use them.

Tav would not tell him that they saved her life.

“I don’t remember asking for them, or even signing for them in our contract.”

Raphael nodded in acknowledgement, “They were not part of the… original deal. I made an addendum when I arrived here after I left the manor.”

“Why?”

As if not wanting to allow her to read him, the devil sauntered over to her blanket and picked it up between thumb and forefinger.

“Raphael, don’t…” Tav said, rushing to exit the bath. She begged him with her eyes. “Please.”

The devil made a show of twisting the blanket around to get a good look at it, and it was clear he did not understand its importance. It was filthy, now that she had slept with it after her ordeal, but it was hers (used to be theirs) and she greatly cherished its sentimental value.

“Pray tell, why does this soiled blanket matter so?” He asked, lip curled.

“It’s what Astarion and I slept with. Before he left.”

Tav’s heartbeat quickened.

Jealousy was leaking onto Raphael’s face as he stared at the comforter.

She smelled something burning.

Tav looked down and saw the bottom of the blanket aflame. It was a slow burn, but one that was catching quickly. She growled with irritation, snatched the blanket from the devil, and hurriedly walked back into the bath to douse it. After a minute, she climbed out and threw the sopping bunch of fabric onto the floor at his feet.

“Thanks,” Tav said, dripping with water and sarcasm.

Raphael had, by this point, checked his emotions.

“Accidents happen.”

“You mean convenience,” she responded drolly.

He smiled, shrugged, and changed the subject of conversation.

“Looks like you need something to wear.”

Anything would do, as long as it wasn’t a harness.

“How about something red?”

Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

Raphael unabashedly admired her naked figure. There was a thirst in the way he followed the beads of water down her body, and Tav could feel her skin, already scalded by bathwater, redden further.

She motioned to grab the wet mound of her blanket that she had carelessly thrown down.

“Don’t,” Raphael warned at the smallest movement. “Lest you want me to banish it.”

“Then hurry up and snap an outfit into existence, will you?” Tav retorted as she shifted awkwardly to cover herself. “I’ve had enough people, devils, and monsters leering at me for the night. Please afford me some dignity.”

The devil bowed slightly in apology; it was a toss of the coin whether or not he actually meant it.

“But of course, Little Mouse,” he said dramatically, snapping his fingers. With a flash of smoke and embers, scraps of dark burgundy cloth materialized in his grip. At a second glance, Tav peevishly realized they were smallclothes. Raphael’s face betrayed nothing as he stepped over her soggy blanket to bestow the outfit.

She felt fine silk at her fingertips.

“You really are something else, Raphael,” Tav said, her tone acerbic. Nonetheless, happy to have something, she was quick to dress herself after wiping away what she could of the bathwater.

In the middle of adjusting the brassiere around her chest, there was the sound of another snap, and her eyes flicked back to Raphael. A sweep of magical flame burst from his fist and trailed down to the marble at their feet. In Raphael’s grasp was a fabric of luxurious samite (a heavier silk than what she presently wore), and threads of deep reds and golds illustrated devils at war within the Hells.

It looked large enough to be a blanket (and large enough to be his blanket, if he ever thought to use one at all).

Forlornly, Tav glanced past the devil to her beloved, sopping keepsake. Raphael waited patiently, and smugness crept into his features when Tav finally reached for the temporary replacement. Once fully in her hands, she wrapped the fabric around her shoulders and closed the edges in towards her chest.

A new cocoon; one that strongly smelled of Raphael.

Feeling the urge to get back at the devil in some way, pettiness be damned, Tav raised a blanketed fist to her nose, inhaled, and made a marginal face of disgust. If she were to be perfectly honest, she quite enjoyed his scent; it was oddly inviting, strangely seductive, and uniquely intoxicating.

How just like Raphael.

Raphael’s vanity curdled at her reaction.

A small point, but a point nonetheless.

“Is it not to your liking? Too clean? Too dry?” He asked, mocking.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you,” Tav replied while looking down at it more fully. “Though, I’m noticing a trend; how silly of me to expect actual clothes from you.”

“It’s only a temporary measure...”

The devil hummed to himself, as if pleased by his own cleverness, and steadily made his way back towards the vanity. He topped off his glass of wine and casually settled against the furnishing with his free hand tucked under his elbow.

“The next item of business is to have your measurements taken,” he stated, swirling the contents of the glass under his nose.

Another snap, another summon, though there was nothing that appeared in the hand at his elbow or around his form.

Tav looked at him with open suspicion.

“Measurements for what, exactly?”

“The second act, a scene anew, a costume is needed for all to view,” Raphael professed with a smile. “And before you fret about your honor being further slighted, I assure you your modesty will be preserved. Yet you will catch eyes for other reasons…”

He was being cryptic, and it was successfully riling her.

“What’s the occasion this time?”

Raphael tutted. “In due time, Little Mouse.”

How predictable; more secrets, more surprises.

Tav hugged the blanket tighter to her body, and the devil flooded her nose as they stood in silent assessment of one another.

“Tell me the occasion, and I’ll give you something in return,” she blurted, discontented with the lack of information that seemed determined to plague the entirety of her contract. It was a spontaneous offer, and it left her mouth before logic could explain why any proposal to a devil was a bad idea.

Raphael straightened by the smallest degree. His eyes seemed to glow, even in disguise. “If only you didn’t owe me already...”

Feeling cheated somehow, Tav bristled.

“‘Owe you already’? For what?” She asked, face scrunching in confusion as she carefully approached his position.

He drank his wine, entertained, and his brown eyes drifted to the bath, then to the blanket. Tav suspected that if he could peer through fabric, he would also have referenced the undergarments she wore.

“Oh, no you don’t; you owed me a blanket and still owe me clothes.” 

“Fair enough,” Raphael conceded with an amused quirk of his lips and the shrug of a shoulder. “But the bath was not free; I do not act on charity.”

“Ah, yes, the bath you demanded that I enter, and ‘you do not act on charity’ except when it comes to granting warlock powers,” Tav countered sharply.

His expression soured, and they returned to staring in silence.

Tav wondered how such a fiery and hellish place could feel so electric.

Then, a muffled voice from beyond the opaque, shimmering veil.

“My lord?”  

The devil motioned a wave, his eyes unblinking at Tav.

“You summoned me?” a meek feminine voice asked as soft footsteps crossed over from the hall into the boudoir.

Tav broke the connection between mortal and devil first in order to identify the stranger that appeared.

Pity swelled within her; a timid tiefling in her older years with pale gray skin and wild hair the color of ink stopped to stand a few feet past the doorway. She never met their gaze as her eyes flicked nervously from Raphael, to Tav, then back again as she scratched at her frayed and ragged debtor’s uniform. Uniquely to her attire was a pouch at her hip that had an assortment of needles in all lengths pinned through the front flap.

“Innai, you are to take this woman’s measurements for that garment we spoke of earlier.”

Innai bowed and immediately set to poking around her pouch. She pulled out a soft measuring tape and let the tool unravel to the floor as she ambled over to Tav.

Tav pulled back when the tiefling reached her.

“The barrier, Raphael,” she reminded the devil.

“But of course, Little Mouse,” came the smooth yet sarcastic reply he parroted from earlier, and the opaque barrier rematerialized.

Innai waited, eyes to the floor, for the blanket cocoon she stood before to crack. Strategically, Tav (perhaps unwisely) turned her back to the devil and let the blanket slip down and gather at her shoulders. The tiefling adjusted her positioning and gave Tav the tiniest smile of gratitude when the blanket opened enough to allow the seamstress to do her job.

There was a faint sound of disapproval behind her.

“If you would like to watch, then it can be payment for the bath,” said Tav, flinching slightly at the shockingly cold fingers of the woman measuring her bust. She had assumed everyone in the Hells had as warm of a touch as Raphael.

The devil said nothing in response, likely meaning he had something else he had in mind as payment, and Tav sighed. Thoughts of what Raphael might ask for came and went as Innai worked, and inevitably, the requests in her mind turned intimate in nature.

She did what she could to stamp them out; arousal was threatening to take root.

“You know, this seems rather a waste of time when you have Haarlep around to stand in for me,” Tav remarked dryly as Innai brought the measuring tape snugly around her waist. The tiefling was muttering to herself, but it was not the pleas for salvation that cycled through the other voices within the House of Hope. Innai was taking mental notes, murmuring numbers and the occasional mention of hypothetical fabrics that would best suit her vision. 

“True, but Haarlep is not you, and I find your company refreshing in comparison,” Raphael replied. His confession, and how easily it came from him, made Tav flush.

Charming ass.

At Innai’s quiet mention of boning and tulle, Tav focused on the tiefling as she rearranged the blanket to give the tailor her arm.

“Are you making a dress, Innai?”

The tiefling opened her mouth then clamped it shut as she anxiously peeked around Tav’s blanket to the devil who watched them. She shook her head rapidly, eyes wide.

Which meant ‘yes’ in the language of cowering debtors. Meaning the occasion was likely important if this much effort was being applied to an outfit.

Perhaps a courtly dinner, or a political event…

“You’ll find that Innai is the best of seamstresses, on any plane of existence,” Raphael expressed behind them. “Most of my wardrobe is due to her, since being in my service, and I am lucky to have secured her in my House.”

Tav threw a scowl at the devil from over her shoulder. Luck likely had nothing to do with it. “I’m surprised you don’t have her sitting on a pedestal in your Archive.”

“Why else do you think it took time for her to arrive at my boudoir?” Raphael riposted. At Tav’s visible repulsion, he continued. “Oh, I jest, Little Mouse; Innai gets treated very well in comparison to others.”

Tav looked to the seamstress, her face gentler. “Is that true, Innai? Does Raphael treat you well?”

“Y-yes! It’s been some time since Lord Raphael has had to punish me!” She squeaked in-between a measurement.

“‘Some time’?” Tav repeated softly, hoping to encourage a more definitive answer.

“Yes, I’m afraid I can’t tell how long it’s been exactly…” the tiefling’s hands at work slowed to stillness as her wide eyes and expression turned vacant. “I don’t know what time is anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Innai,” said Tav, pity and sympathy spilling over.

Innai, having likely never heard an apology in some time, hung her head in embarrassment. She hurried back to finishing up her measurements as though the severe heat of Raphael’s stare reached her through the shield of the blanket.

A minute later, Innai withdrew her hands and shrunk away, leaving Tav to fix and close her cocoon.

“I’ve finished, my lord.”

“Very good, Innai. We will speak later,” Raphael said. He dismissed her with the dispelling of the barrier.

The tiefling bowed, stowed her measuring tape, and cast a final parting glimpse at Tav.

“You’re going to look beautiful,” she said before scurrying out the boudoir.

Tav faced Raphael the moment the boudoir was sealed and again theirs. He hadn’t yet moved from against the vanity.

“I won’t ask how long it’s actually been since Innai’s last punishment.”

“Currently eleven days, eight hours, sixteen minutes, and forty-four seconds,” Raphael answered slyly. “Which is a remarkable record in recent years.”

Tav did nothing but blink at him, her mouth a thin line. She didn’t think he was jesting this time.

“I suppose, if anything, Innai has further stressed the importance of not losing my soul at the end of all this,” she said eventually.

Raphael’s eyes narrowed by a fraction. “Indeed.”

Silence.

The contract swam in Tav’s head and questions floated to the surface of her mind; she wanted to inquire further about the costume and the upcoming act but knew Raphael would rebuff her in favor of the dramatic anticipation he desired.

Above all, there was one question most important to her.

”Have you learned anything about Astarion?” she asked, hopeful but expecting nothing.

“Have patience; you will have your answers soon.” Raphael’s face was a controlled mask of composure. He set his glass down and gracefully pulled away from the vanity as he wandered towards her. “Now that your measurements have been taken, business here has concluded. However, before I leave you, there is the fulfillment of your friend Solenne’s contract that is to be formally acknowledged, and we will do so elsewhere and with her present.”

Tav opened her mouth.

“As for the attire I promised…” The devil snapped his fingers and a simple tunic the color of red merlot emerged from the smoke, bunched together with a pair of dark linen breeches.

Tav reached for them, but Raphael held them from her as he had long ago with the healing potion.

“Not until I get what I am owed.”

Tav closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, then opened them as she spoke measuredly through her teeth. “What does the Archdevil Supreme want in return for the bath he all but forced me into?”

“Your neck,” he stated simply as his brown irises, alight with interest, fixated themselves at the area of skin that lay hidden underneath the blanket; the area where his mark had been erased. “And this time it is to stay, for the entirety of our time together.”

Tav swallowed thickly and tensed her grip on the blanket, feeling danger amidst waking arousal.

Betrayal also let itself be known, stirring itself in her stomach while she considered the request; to allow Raphael to mark her twice, when not even Astarion’s fangs lingered…

But it would only be temporary, until the contract was fulfilled…

“That’s all?” she asked with a quickened heartbeat and blood racing.

“That’s all,” the devil answered as he brazenly stepped closer.

Why was his scent so damned suffocating? She couldn’t think clearly.

“Alright,” she said cautiously, guard raising as she met his gaze. “But afterwards you’re to remove the powers you bestowed; the powers I didn’t ask for.”

“Are you so quick to cast them aside? Thinking that you don’t want them, or need them, Little Mouse?” He questioned with a curling lip and thread of seriousness leveling his tone. “Seems unwise to throw away that which could help you in your remaining tasks.”

“They did help, and I’m grateful, but if I need your help in the future, I’ll ask for it.” Tav affirmed. Not wanting to appear or sound unappreciative she gave him a small smile. “But, thank you.”

“So be it.”

She allowed the blanket to fall round her shoulders once more.

Raphael’s cordial demeanor altered into something considerably more fiendish as he looked from her face, to her lips, and to the exposed, delicate skin she presented him. In the time it took her to blink, the mortal disguise of Raphael was discarded in a burst of flame. The predatory eyes he affixed on her glowed like molten fire amongst dark scleras. The devil’s wings spanned outwards in a brief stretch before they settled at his back, and Raphael stood intimidatingly proud before her with curled horns and a flash of fangs.

Tav’s breathing turned unsteady as he wasted no time in invading her space, dropping the outfit he summoned to the floor. He was close enough now to where she could touch him if she dared her hands to move from their pinned position against her chest.

She would not dare.

“No addendums, please,” Tav said, glaring, fighting the impulse to step back. “Don’t try anything extra.”

“Of course, Little Mouse,” Raphael crooned.

His hands moved to encircle her; one gripped at the blanket around the area of her hip while the other came to cradle the line of her jaw as Tav tilted her head to the side. She was drowning in his scent and burning at his touch as Raphael’s own head leaned in and slanted to nose the length of pristine skin that lay in offer to him.

He was smelling her, which presumably meant smelling the scent of himself that saturated her pores thanks to the blanket.

Tav could feel his hold on her tighten, and she was sure he could hear her pounding heartbeat as the tip of his tongue tasted her.

She would not move, could not move as he hummed deeply and then sunk his teeth into her flesh, a sharp inhale and gasp of pain leaving her at the contact. Thumb pad and claw caressed the skin of her cheek, and Tav leaned into it, eyes closed while the devil branded her with bite and tongue a second time.

She desperately swallowed a moan, arousal triggered, heat pooling, and Tav’s thoughts became erratic. She felt no different to Innai at this moment; a debtor giving what was owed with no sense of time as Raphael sucked and savored.

How long would she permit this to last?

There was pressure at her back as the devil drew her into him further…

“Enough,” Tav choked out.

A growl of displeasure left Raphael, but he paused, withdrew his teeth from her skin and pulled his head away whilst forcing her head up. Tav found herself momentarily petrified; it was not Raphael who she saw before her with her blood trickling from his lips and fangs, it was the Archdevil Supreme whose glowing, fierce stare bored into her, seeking her very soul.

“You are to leave it,” the Archdevil reminded with overwhelming authority. “Or I will replace it, however many times necessary.”

Tav, struck dumb, could do nothing but nod.

“Good little mouse.”

He stepped back, freeing her, and Tav felt like she could breathe again. She raised trembling fingertips to the throbbing punctures at her neck and they came away bloody. Frowning at her stupidity, Tav grabbed the blanket and applied pressure against the wound to slow the bleeding.

“Ass,” she mumbled, coming back to herself.

If Rapahel heard, he ignored her as he turned his back on her and snapped to reveal her contract. He gestured across the bottom of the parchment, where a few lines of ink blazed to life before a clean line ran them through.

Tav could vaguely sense the power that came to her in her time of need diminish into nothingness.

The devil was swift in sending the contract away and turned again to impassively watch her.

She found herself missing the more friendly appearance of his human disguise. The silence was edging into uncomfortable territory.

“That’s the last time I let you bully me into anything,” Tav remarked, dabbing at her neck to see how freely her blood ran. It had clogged enough to satisfy her, and she flung the blanket off of her shoulders in favor of collecting the clothes at her feet. She dressed with haste, feeling uneasy in the devil’s presence.

Raphael next brought a simple pair of boots into existence, and soon Tav was comfortably dressed aside from what decorated her neck. Almost ready to leave, she walked over to her blanket, picked it up and wrung out what water she could. She was upset by the blackened, deteriorated ends but was thankful to have anything left of the blanket as she folded the weighted fabric into her arms.

“I’m ready.”

Raphael headed towards her before pausing at the blanket that lay abandoned on the floor; his blanket. He was unreadable as his gaze flicked from the blanket she held to the blanket at his feet before finally landing at the fresh mark emblazing her neck.

He raised his hand in preparation to snap, eyes finding hers with a hint of a smile playing on his lips…

Tav instinctually clutched at her damp keepsake.

Snap!

A sigh of relief escaped her when it was his blanket that was banished from the room.

He resumed his way, and Tav was relieved once more as a flash of fire returned Raphael to his mortal disguise. He was readable again, with the warmth and familiarity she favored to the devil that seemed to only think of her as prey.

“To the entrance hall,” he said amiably with a gesture of his arm.

Again he was so close as they walked through the halls…

“What are you going to do about Rhys?” she asked. Her fingers picked absently at the blackened strands of the blanket.

“Nothing; let him whine and leave him to his flasks, assuming he has any left,” Raphael glanced at her, and Tav believed she saw pride somewhere behind his eyes. “The contract was worded in a manner that permitted a certain level of flexibility on your behalf. Haarlep’s identity was in name only; there were no guarantees of incubi to be had. It is on Rhys to be so quick to sign.”

“Here I thought devils were above trickery in regards to contracts,” Tav said. She looked at him impishly as they rounded the corner into the dining hall. “And the addendum? Dare I ask if the Archdevil Supreme is going rogue?”

“Be careful where you step, Little Mouse,” the Archdevil Supreme warned darkly.

Pleased with the reaction she got, Tav secretly smiled to herself and said nothing more. Her feet stopped once arriving at the center of the entrance hall and she turned to Raphael, poised to complete the next piece of agenda.

“We will be returning to my room at Sharess’ Caress,” he said with a graceful offer of his hand. “I will have Korrilla fetch your friend.”

Her hand slipped in his and off they went in fire.

The state of the room they appeared in was no different than that of two days ago, and Tav fleetingly compared the gaudy decorations of Sharess’ Caress to the more refined elegance of the House of Hope.

“Do you just keep this room on standby?” Tav asked offhandedly while walking over to the closest chair. She sat down and cared not when her body sagged into a posture that was most unladylike. The front of her clothes were becoming increasingly damp due to the blanket that rested upon her stomach, and she longed to wrap herself in another warm (much less wet) blanket and return to the comfort of her bed.

Raphael chided her posture with a look, then snapped his fingers.

Korrilla materialized before him in under a minute. She bowed before the devil in respectful greeting, but her eyes were magnetically drawn to where Tav was seated. The dwarf looked at her, evaluating.

Tav gave the dwarf an awkward smile and her cheeks reddened when Korrilla focused attention to the dried blood and punctures at her neck. Tav sank further into the chair and resolved to be more presentable come Solenne’s arrival.

“Bring Solenne here,” Raphael ordered.

Korrilla nodded and promptly left in a swirl of embers.

The moment of the dwarf’s disappearance, Tav corrected her posture whilst swiftly adorning the blanket around her neck like a thick scarf.

“My dear, you are the epitome of sophistication,” Raphael said dryly in observation.

Tav gave him her signature glower.

The devil smiled in amusement.

She ignored him for what little time they had. She flexed her hands and took steadying breaths, feeling suddenly nervous to see her friend after all that had recently transpired. Solenne would ask questions she would never be given the answer to; Tav did not want to spoil whatever reward her friend was set to receive, and the developing nuances of her relationship with Raphael was something to keep infinitely private. 

Tav looked up at the sound of fiery teleportation. Korrilla returned and with her was the welcoming sight of Solenne.

“Tav!” her friend yelled, immediately crossing the room.

Foreseeing a hug, and needing one, Tav rose from her chair and met her friend halfway, arms opened in wide reception. They hugged each other fiercely. 

“Gods, I had no idea your first task would happen so soon!” Solenne exclaimed.

“I’m alright,” Tav said, voice muffled as she buried her head into Solenne’s shoulder. She glanced up and met Raphael’s gaze.

They swayed momentarily before her friend pulled away with a smile, “I’m so glad.”

“Wait outside,” Raphael directed Korrilla. “You’ll be needed to return Solenne once we are finished.”

“Of course,” the dwarf replied.

Solenne situated herself next to Tav as Korrilla left the room. Sensing her friend’s growing apprehension, Tav reached down and gripped her friend’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

The door shut.

Snap!

A contract revealed itself aside Raphael from smoke and flame.

The devil stared at Solenne with none of the sentiment he held for Tav; this was purely business.

“With the sought item in my possession, and Tav’s contract upheld, I deem the terms of your contract fulfilled.”

Tav could sense the weight that lifted from Solenne’s shoulders.

“Be that as it may, your soul remains mine to claim, should Tav fail in securing the remaining two items.”

It was Solenne’s turn to give a touch of reassurance.

“For now, be content with your reward.”

Raphael snapped and a satin pouch with red velvet ribbon sat in the palm of his hand. He walked over to where they stood and proffered the gift to Solenne. The devil seemed uninterested in Solenne’s reaction as she slowly worked to open her reward; he was much more keen to watch Tav.

And she could not look away.

A minute or two later (what was time) and Solenne cried out in happiness. “Gods, Tav! It works! ”

Snapping out of her brief stupor, Tav turned to her friend. Tears were streaming down Solenne’s cheeks as she regarded a simple looking silver ring that adorned the middle finger of her left hand.

“The pain, it’s gone.”

“Is your leg healed?” Tav asked, awestruck.

“The curse has existed for too long and cannot be rid of. What Solenne has in her possession is magical in nature; the curse’s effects, specifically the pain she feels in her leg, will no longer befall her for as long as she wears the ring," Raphael stated evenly.

An item powerful enough to halt a curse?

Tav froze. Her eyes snapped to Raphael.

“Where did this ring come from?” She asked, her voice treading a whisper. “I’ve never heard of such a thing existing.”

“I had it made; you’ll find that ruling the Hells has its perks,” he replied.

Why was the damned devil looking at her so intently?

Something felt wrong.

Astarion had last been seen clutching an amulet.

Was Raphael involved?

No. That wouldn’t make sense. Why would he…

She needed to leave.

Did Astarion ask him? Seek him out?

No! Something was wrong!

There was a trap nearby!

LEAVE.

“Tav? Tav! Are you alright?”

Her head was swimming...

Cherries and sulfur.

Tav sprang up and yelled into darkness.

She clutched her heart, breathing heavily. Panic iced her veins. 

But she was also warm and… in her bed?

Her eyes adjusted to the dim setting of her bedroom, lit by a single candle at her bedside.

How did she? When did she?

Then she saw the blanket that lay on top of her, threads of red and gold depicting devils.

Not wanting to think, wanting to sleep and forget, Tav curled around the fabric and wept.

Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

It was the umpteenth rumble from her stomach that finally roused Tav from slumber.

The delicate, smooth edge of the infernal blanket grazed her nose, and the scent she inhaled had yet to wane in strength. It distressed her to think of how long she’d steeped herself and her bed with Raphael, and she reflexively kicked the blanket away from her whilst immediately missing what warmth it provided.

She felt exhausted. It was less of a physical exhaustion and more of an everything else exhaustion; she was tired of feeling heartbroken, tired of feeling paranoid, and tired of Raphael being such a devil.

Nausea churned at the thought of him carrying her unconscious body home and putting her to bed like a child.

Tav groaned.

Her thoughts unraveled from there, and she lamented her wakeful state as she grabbed the closest pillow, rolled onto her side, and hugged the cushion tightly.

She stared into the dark expanse of her room, and darkness stared back as she thought. 

Raphael had something to do with Astarion’s disappearance, that much was certain. The extent of his role in the matter was speculative, but at least some of the missing lanceboard pieces were returned to the board with the reveal of Solenne’s magical ring.

Korrilla was the person who led Astarion into the house, and it was Raphael who had given her beloved the amulet - an amulet that Tav inferred would grant the vampire the ability to walk in the sun. 

She clawed at the pillow, making a fist into fabric at the consideration that Astarion had traded his life with her for sunlight. It was difficult to swallow that he had given up on her so quickly, when they had promised to find a solution together. Tav knew Astarion had been frustrated by their lack of findings, but not once did he express that he was discouraged to the point of seeking deals with devils…

Then again…

Raphael was more than he was a year ago. Each passing day he inched closer to fully claiming his title as Archdevil Supreme, and he did so with the Crown of Karsus in his possession (thanks to her). Even before owning the artifact, Raphael had been well-versed when it came to knowledge about the Crown, and there was no telling what more he learned since getting his hands on it. If the Netherese power didn’t somehow help Raphael himself in crafting magical items, then the devil surely sought and compelled a formidable spellcaster into somehow imbuing anti-curse magic into jewelry.

What wasn’t making sense was the idea that Raphael would go out of his way to present himself to Astarion like he had to their merry troupe so long ago. The devil’s conquering of the Hells was an ongoing effort, and Tav couldn’t envision a practical use for Astarion when it came to the early efforts of war. Maybe she was wrong; Raphael saw potential in others, and perhaps her beloved was needed somehow, in some grand scheme behind the curtain.

Or Astarion had gone knocking on doors (unhappy with his curse, unhappy with the home they’ve made, unhappy with her) and the devil was there to greet him with solace in the form of parchment and amulet…

Fuck!

She needed to get her answers from Raphael, and she would get them today.

As if on cue, Tav’s stomach lurched uncomfortably. She punched the pillow, frustrated by everything, and sat up to swing her legs around to the edge of the bed. The room was black, lone lit candle having long since been blown out, and Tav felt blindly around her bedside table for her tinderbox. Once the metal box was in hand, she quickly struck a sulfer-tipped match and walked to her dresser.

Candlelight flickered as Tav lit a small candelabra, and her heart leapt at the sight of her blanket sitting at the corner of the dresser, folded neatly into a thick (partially blackened) square. Tav extinguished her match with a puff of air and affectionately rested her hand against its slightly-damp softness.

Raphael had not banished it after all.

Tav looked behind her to the devil’s blanket that messily decorated the end of her bed. She walked over to the luxurious fabric and held it like Raphael had to her blanket before he burned it.

She should burn his, out of spite.

Instead, after concocting a myriad of ways to ruin it and return it back to him, Tav threw it back onto her bed and swore to deal with it later. She glanced down at the clothes she wore, the same tunic and breeches Raphael had given her, and determined the outfit to be suitable enough for the outing she envisioned.

Tav gathered her assorted belts from where they lay at the foot of the dresser and donned her tools while also holstering her combat daggers in case a surprise encounter unfolded. Feeling anxious still by the mark at her neck (what would others think), Tav rummaged around the room and pulled out a wayward ribbon. She tied it around her neck like a fashionable collar.

She lightly touched the fabric at the spot where the punctures dully throbbed.

What a fool she was.

Almost ready to leave, Tav moved to the sitting room and pulled aside the drape from the main window. Having avowed to not drown in darkness after the first of Raphael’s acts, she ripped up half of the wooden planks and tossed them into the corner.

Afternoon sunlight shone through and a smile ghosted her lips.

Tav found her thoughts straying to Astarion; did he remain in Baldur's Gate? Was he enjoying the rays that now reached the interior of their home?

Did he miss her as much as she missed him?

She sighed miserably as she re-positioned the drape (allowing a sliver of sun to stay in the room) and went to blow out the bedroom candles before wrapping her feet and throwing her favorite pair of boots on.

Tav’s stomach growled.

She would find answers, but first: food.

Tav knew she was being followed the moment she stepped out.

Intuition and past experience told her it was Korrilla who slunk in the shadows of seller’s stalls and amongst the bustling crowds. It bothered her little, but Tav was resolved to ask the dwarf questions if the warlock slipped up and got too close.

Tav walked with purpose to her destination; a small hole in the wall eatery, further north than where she resided, that sold the best meals of spiced meats and roasted vegetables.

It also helped that the business was not too far from the Devil’s Fee.

She kept her eyes peeled and ears alert for anything of note as she made her way along her route. An older dwarf loudly lamented the loss of Gortash’s Steel-Watch, the Circus of the Last Days would be returning soon according to a group of excited children who ran past, a young half-orc soothed his betrothed as she expressed her indignation at not being either wealthy or important enough for an upcoming ball in the Upper City…

That was it!  

The upcoming occasion of which she would play a part!

Tav slowed and approached the young couple with a hand up in apology. “I’m so sorry to intrude, but what’s this about a ball?”

The elf woman appeared visibly offended by Tav’s lack of insight to socialite gossip.

“Ugh, how have you not heard? It’s rumored to be the largest and most extravagant ball of the year!” Her expression turned bitter. “It’s a waste to even tell you about it; the event is invitation only and the likes of us are too insignificant to be seen amongst their pretty gowns and tailored surcoats!”

“Do you happen to know the occasion for the ball?” Tav asked. “They must be celebrating something.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the elf huffed. “Do the politicians and nobility ever need a reason? I don’t care either way! I just want to go and dance and bask in all of the splendor!”

The half-orc patted her shoulder. “There, there, my love…”

“Don’t ‘my love’ me! Figure out a way to sneak us inside!”

Tav, no longer being acknowledged, threw her thanks into the ether and resumed her journey. While uninformative overall, there was now an inkling of context to what Innai’s dress was for. Balls tended to mean drinking, dancing, and rubbing shoulders with Everyone who was Someone.

Were Tav’s soul not on the line, she had the absurd thought to send the elf woman in her stead. What Raphael’s face would look like then…

Not long after her brief interaction with the couple, Tav landed at the stoop of The Nook of Nourishment, and she smiled fondly at the weathered sign that hung crookedly above the door; it had been awhile. She stepped inside, gladly inhaled the perfumes of herbs and spices, and was first in line within the empty, cozy space.

Her food was delivered with little wait, and Tav forced the meal down whilst ignoring the nausea that continued to agitate her stomach. By the time she left, her plate had nearly been licked clean.

The Devil’s Fee (and Raphael) were waiting.

One hand fidgeted with the handle of a dagger as Tav closed in on the stone and iron wall that fenced the diabolist’s establishment. Its spiked gates were open, entreating her arrival, and two stone devils stared down at her from their pillared perch as she passed and swiftly moved up the stairs.

She opened the door and could see Helsik standing behind her diamond patterned counter.

And Korrilla in front of it.

Both dwarves regarded Tav with blank expressions, and, by the looks of things, had anticipated her coming.

Tav pointedly ignored Raphael’s warlock as she stepped up to the counter.

She would start with sweetness and a smile.

“Helsik, lovely to see you again!”

Ever-shrewd, Helsik smiled in return, but it did not reach her eyes. “Tav.”

“I think you know why I’m here.”

“Raphael will not see you,” Korrilla responded from against the counter. “And because Raphael will not see you, I am to make sure that there are no uninvited visits for the little mouse. His next scheduled appointment with you is in the evening, under two weeks from now and two days before your next task.”

Tav raised a brow as she looked at the warlock. Two fingers unconsciously drummed against the end of a dagger handle.

“How convenient,” she said flatly. “Then, would you like to answer my questions, Korrilla?”

“I know next to nothing about your contract, and even if I knew more, I could not speak on it unless instructed.”

Tav turned to fully face Korrilla, her eyes dark. “It’s not about my contract; it’s about Astarion.”

Korrilla didn’t flinch. “I can’t help you.”

The dagger came out in a flash, and Tav held it in a grip that treaded on threatening. “Funny, because I think you can.”

“Tav! Not in my shop,” Helsik counseled from the side. “I guarantee you will not survive what I summon if you push further.”

Tav scowled but slowly sheathed her blade.

“It’d be best if you stay in your shadows as you follow me,” she warned Korrilla. She then looked to Helsik. “Are you also leashed by a master, ordered to keep me out of where I wish to go, or shall we talk business?”

Tav meant to honey her words but they instead came out biting.

“Thirty-thousand gold pieces, and I will walk you upstairs myself,” Helsik stated plainly as Tav choked on the steep price. “And before you try, there’s nothing you can offer to sweeten the deal. Items within the House of Hope are no longer of interest to me. Not that you’d get away with stealing anything from there again…”

It was true; Tav could not steal from the House of Hope again, not while bound to her contract and not with Raphael watching her every move (and breathing down her marked neck). As for the thirty-thousand gold pieces, Tav would think herself lucky if she could count five-thousand amongst her split stash…

Tav was stewing.

“Be on your way, little mouse,” Korrilla said. “There’s nothing for you here.”

“I know you led him into that house here in the Lower City,” Tav said, her tone dipping into emotions she didn’t like. “And if I find out you manipulated Astarion into taking a deal, when I am free of my contract, I will find you no matter what shadow you hide in.”

Korrilla blinked at her, unphased aside from the nearly indiscernible frown that passed over her lips.

Tav gave the dwarves a peevish glare before she backed away from the counter and turned to leave.

“Raphael recommends you brush up on your dancing skills,” Korrilla voiced from behind, a parting gift.

Tav didn’t look back. “Tell Raphael if he ever tries to dance with me, I’ll break his toes.”

The darkness within her was dispelled the moment she entered fresh air; anger and sorrow retreating back into a corner of her heart. Tav was relieved to no longer hear their whispering, their words that demanded retribution for wrongs she had yet to entirely understand.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Tav muttered, determined as she walked past the stone devils and away from the property. There was a chance that Helsik was being particularly unfair due to Korrilla’s presence, and she was sure she could get the shop owner to change her tune somehow…

Unsure of where to go or what to do next, Tav aimlessly wandered the streets (aware of the eyes that followed her) with her thoughts as her ever-present-will-never-abandon-you companion. 

She would need to brush up on her dancing, and thankfully a specific face came to mind when it came to conjuring an instructor.

It was marking close to a year from when Tav had last seen Wyll, but she had heard through city chatter that he was doing quite well in his occupation as the new Duke Ravengard. 

He never called on her, and never she on him, and it must have been assumed that they were each too busy to make time to visit and catch up; Wyll with his political duties, and Tav with… thieving, heartache, and contracts with devils…

What a life she led.

Regardless, Wyll was needed, and she would call on him for assistance. Perhaps he could also shed more light on the nuances of the ball.

Before anxiety could take hold at the imagining of their reunion, Tav realized she had instinctively walked to one of the many entrances to the Undercity - a passageway through the sewer. She chewed at the inner flesh of her cheek momentarily and slipped inside; if she could not gain insight from Raphael or Korrilla, maybe Solenne would help her.

Tav rapped on the door to the hideout and waited with fidgeting hands, already feeling on edge from what she might learn. When no one answered after a minute, Tav knocked again and brought an ear to the thick wood. There was someone inside.

“Solenne? Kassius? It’s Tav…” she yelled.

“Tav?” said a muffled yet familiar voice.

The footsteps no longer delayed their approach, and the door was thrown open to reveal Solenne wearing relief mixed with mild concern.

“I didn’t think you’d come back until everything was done with…well, your contract,” Solenne smiled and moved aside. “But come in! I’m glad to see you, I was so worried when you collapsed the other day…”

Tav crossed the threshold and passed Solenne with a knitted brow. “How long has it been?”

“At least a day and a half.”

Oh.

“You’re looking much better though! And you smell… interesting.”

Tav winced internally and mentally crossed her fingers that there were no insinuations tucked between her friend’s words; Solenne had been close enough in proximity to Raphael to know what scent she detected.

“Ah… uh, thank you. Sorry for the sudden intrusion. I’m not planning on staying long, but I wanted to ask you a few questions.” Tav examined the room and her first question formed. “Where’s Kassius?”

Solenne shut the door and stepped towards the kitchen.

“He’s been gone for a few days now, but I’ll be sure to let him know you stopped by! He’ll be equally relieved to know you’re alright. Should I make some tea?”

“No, don’t trouble yourself,” Tav said with a polite smile. She sat down in her favorite chair and sagged. “Where’s he gone off to?”

Solenne found the opposite chair.

“From what he told me, that old Captain of his has been giving him trouble and he’s trying to make good on some of those debts. Should be back in a few days, if there are no hiccups.”

Tav sighed and glumly scratched at the wooden chair arm. “I’m sorry I’m not around to help.”

“We know you’re dealing with something important,” Solenne said kindly. “Won’t you at least return here? To your home with us? We could act as moral support.”

Tav thought back to what had already taken place in her home; her harnessed and naked body luring Raphael as Haarlep, her disheveled and bloodied return from the manor, her crying into the devil’s blanket…

“I… it’s best if I don’t.”

“I understand.”

Silence hung between them for a moment and Tav quashed it before it erred into uncomfortable territory. “How are Oswynn and MacMillon?”

“They’re fine, as usual. Napping right now, so you have me at a good time,” replied Solenne with a friendly wink. “Oswynn is excited for when you do return to us.”

“I’m sure I’ll be back soon.” Tav couldn’t help but scrutinize the silver band on her friend’s finger. “How’s your leg? Or, rather, how are you finding the ring?”

“It’s a life changer, that’s for certain. I’m without pain, and I’m no longer indebted to the potion seller.” Solenne answered evenly. Her hands suddenly turned to fists in her lap. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. I’m honestly unsure if I could have achieved whatever it was you did and will continue to do.”

Tav sat upright and urged her friend to look at her. “I would sign the contract all over again knowing that the reward has brought you relief.”

“I’ll pay you back somehow…”

“No. There’s nothing to pay back,” Tav replied adamantly. “I have no reason as to why, but I strangely feel as though it was never yours or Kassius’s business to begin with.”

She regretted not having a cup of tea to sip and occupy her attention with when it became quiet.

“Is…” Solenne paused, appearing nervous as she glanced in Tav’s direction.

“What is it?”

Her friend seemed to chew on her words.

“Is there something more going on between you and him? You and Raphael.”

Tav wished for the floor to open up and swallow her whole. The desire to leave itched under her skin as she shifted awkwardly in her seat.

The earlier remark about how she smelled had not been innocent.

“Absolutely not,” she answered with as much calmness as she could muster. “Why would you ask that?”

“I’m not blind, Tav. I saw the way you were both looking at each other, and that’s aside from the moment when you fainted…”

“What happened when I fainted?” Tav asked, feigning indifference while continuing to scratch at wood. She hoped she didn’t inquire too quickly.

Solenne was eyeing her peculiarly. “Raphael stepped in and caught you before I could even react to what was happening. He had me look over my contract, to assure me that it had been fulfilled, and once it was confirmed, he took you away. There was… intimacy in the way he held you.”

Tav’s hands were sweating as they now gripped the arms of the chair. She was awash with embarrassment, and her stomach was in turmoil; a jumble of nausea and dread that Raphael was so damned obvious with his favoritism.

(What was between them? What was the extent of his fondness for her?)

“I know you mentioned you both had history with one another.”

“There’s nothing between us aside from that history,” Tav said, hoping she looked and sounded believable (the floor could swallow her up any second now). “And I feel it’s important to stress that it was a strictly platonic history of a couple business transactions.”

She could read that Solenne was not thoroughly convinced.

“Well… apart from your contract, be careful will you?”

“I will,” said Tav, nodding. She hurried to pivot the topic to one that kept the devil the subject of conversation but reduced her involvement. “Can I ask you about when you initially signed? We should be safe to speak on it since you are out of the picture, more or less. If we ignore the predicament about our souls…”

Solenne stood, her smile comforting. “Why don’t I make us some tea? Then I’ll answer what I can.”

Tav nearly kissed Solenne for her willingness to help. She settled into her chair in her favorite position while she waited, leg hung over the arm as she nestled against the corner of the chairback, and was grateful for the steaming teacup that Solenne handed over after spending a short amount of time in the kitchen.

“How did Raphael introduce himself? Did he recite any poetry in a way that was profoundly over-rehearsed?” Tav asked, recalling her own introduction to the devil on the bridge.

Solenne snorted into her drink.

“Oh, gods. If only.” Her friend then shrugged. “He was straightforward, if not a bit theatrical. He announced himself as ‘Raphael’, expressed that he knew of our situation by way of Kassius, and offered to help if I agreed to the terms of an infernal contract. Didn’t seem like he wanted to draw the process out.”

Solenne stared guiltily into her cup.

“I’d never dealt with a devil before, but I knew of them to be honest in their business. So when he mentioned having a solution to my curse as payment for our services, I became desperate and no longer cared what the rules and risks he listed were. It all happened so fast…” Solenne slowly shook her head. “I’m ashamed to say that, as we sit here, I can’t recall what the rules and risks entirely were. I just knew by the end of it, if I failed, our souls would be his.”

“Hey,” Tav said lightly, and Solenne met her eyes. “One task down. Two more to go. We’ll get through this.”

“We don’t deserve you, Tav.”

“Stop it, and stop feeling bad. I know how tempting Raphael can be.”

Solenne didn’t need to say anything as she sipped from her cup; her eyes and the quirk of a brow spoke volumes.

“Solenne!” Tav shouted. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Then why do you smell like him?”

The unexpectedness of the question caused a visceral reaction that sent tea sloshing out of Tav’s cup and into her lap. She hissed a curse and rose abruptly as the hot liquid soaked through her breeches and hit the skin of her thigh.

“Thank you for the tea,” she said, mechanically setting her cup down on a nearby stack of books, face burning. “But I really must be leaving. I suddenly have to prepare for the second task.”

While it was nice to hear Solenne laughing, it was not nice to know it was at the expense of Tav all but acknowledging that there was a complexity to her relationship with Raphael.

“No, wait!” Solenne was making an effort to stifle her laughter. “Please stay! I’m sorry.”

Tav dragged her hands down her face and let out a long, exasperated and existential groan.

“It’s fine,” she said finally, more into the ether than to anyone in the room, including herself. “I’m fine.”

“Truthfully? Are you?”

“No,” came the quick and honest reply. She threw Solenne a false smile as she headed towards the door. “But past experience has told me it’s all for the sake of growth, right? To become better, stronger people than what we were before?”

“I suppose,” Solenne replied ruefully.

“I love you, and give Kassius my love when you see him. Tell him I hope his Captain problem is resolved soon, and if not, then I’ll be back sometime to help him out.” Tav opened the door and genuinely meant her next words. “Enjoy the ring, Solenne.”

“To everything, I will.”

With a hand raised in farewell, Tav was gone.

Not yet wanting to return home, Tav decided to make her way to Wyrm’s Rock to see Wyll, or at least get an appointment in.

She hummed and sang a number of her favorite bard songs under her breath as she walked, and it was in no way meant to be a distraction from dwelling on the image of Raphael holding her unconscious body intimately in his arms. 

The devil did not deserve to be imagined in any other fashion than with a dagger pointed to his throat and with answers about Astarion on his tongue.

However…

What should happen if Raphael were to reveal that Astarion truly had left of his own free will? She would believe the devil, for he had yet to outright lie to her, and as devastating as the revelation would be to her emotional and mental psyche, it would be significantly easier to digest rather than knowing her beloved had been manipulated after everything with Cazador. Astarion’s choice would mean he wanted to forsake her, and therefore she should respect the decision, get over it, and move on completely.

Why not then willingly fall into Raphael’s arms?

She was already in Kassius’s, and their relationship never progressed into anything beyond two friends (and colleagues) who enjoyed the touch and comfort of each other when nights were lonely and tension high. It certainly wasn’t the heart-wrenching, intimate love she felt (feels) for Astarion.

Yes, maybe all she and Raphael needed to do was fuck; that would surely end the song and dance they were doing with one another, and they both would move on afterwards. Gods knew how many men, women, and incubi Raphael had entreated to bed in his centuries of existence, and Tav suspected she was to be another notch on the devil’s bedpost. After all, she was the famed ‘Hero of Baldur’s Gate’, or one of them, at least.

No. She would not (could not) allow herself to cross that line; not until Raphael mended the trust he fractured with the revelation of curse-halting pieces of jewelry.

Damned devil. 

By the time Tav arrived at Wyrm’s Rock, it was determined her songs had not been a good enough distraction.

A personal quest to attend to, she found the closest Flaming Fist who looked intelligent, inquired about where to make an appointment with the younger Duke Ravengard, and was pointed inside. From there, a second Flaming Fist gave her a whirlwind of directions, and after passing the Great Hall, walking up some stairs, down a long stone corridor, and another left, Tav knocked at the first door on the right.

“Enter,” a deep voice bellowed from behind thick wood.

Before doing so, Tav deftly found a small potion bottle from her pouch, took a swig, and swallowed.

She opened the door and entered into a medium-sized room of stone walls, bookshelves, embroidered tapestries, and warm candlelight. In the center sat a large desk stacked with books and pieces of written parchment, and behind it sat a surly middle-aged man who was in the process of scrawling a note.

Behind him was a decorated door that Tav assumed led to Wyll’s office.

“What’s your business?” the man asked gruffly, barely glancing at her.

“I’d like to see Duke Ravengard,” Tav replied, pitching her voice and taking on a shy demeanor.

Well, of course you want to see Duke Ravengard! Why else would you come to this office?

The man looked over a small book with his quill ready on the page.

“Do you have an appointment?”

I doubt this one has an appointment… looks more like an assassin. Perhaps I should have the guards on stand-by. Let’s see… who remains for the day? Boone Tarwick, Filan Goldsmyth, Emeline Selfridge…

“Well?” He inquired again. “Do you have an appointment?”

“I’m sorry!” Tav pretended to look sheepish. “I was trying to remember if my appointment was today or tomorrow? Emeline Selfridge?”

“It’s today, and you are early.”

Too early. I hope she doesn’t think she’s going to wait around here , in this office! I’ve had to entertain enough small-talk today!

“Oh…” Tav frowned.

“You’ll have to wait another two hours. Elsewhere.”

That would not do; the real Emeline would possibly show by then.

“I’ll make it quick! Oh, please, saer! I wish to see if he’ll take my hand to the ball… I know I don’t look like I’m even invited, but I know Wyll, er, Duke Ravengard was a brave adventurer! I’m dressed like one because he might like to see that I’m not like other girls! We can adventure together after we’re married…” She sighed wistfully. “You must understand, wearing pretty dresses all day gets awfully exhausting. They—”

“Alright!” the man yelled in annoyance. He pushed his chair back with a screech as he stood and moved to pound his heavy fist against the door. “You have another lady who beseeches your hand, Duke Ravengard!”

Tav could hear a groan and a hard thud against wood as she made her way around the desk and waited.

The door opened after a minute, and Tav grinned when Wyll met her eyes.

“Tav?” he asked, shocked.

Tav pushed past his secretary and launched herself at her fiendish looking friend. Wyll crushed her within his hug, his joy apparent.

“'Tav? ” questioned the secretary.

“It’s fine, Gallott. She’s a friend.”

“A friend who doesn’t have an appointment!”

The door shut in Gallott’s face.

“Wyll, I’ve missed you so much! I’m a horrible friend! Forgive me for not seeing you, I assumed you were too busy…”

Tav wasn’t sure he could hear her mumbling; her head was buried deep into Wyll’s shoulder and the soft material of his doublet.

She didn’t want him to see her tears.

Wyll said nothing in response, but he didn’t need to. He held her tightly, his hand soothing at the back of her head as he gently rocked her.

“I feel so lost about everything,” she continued, inadvertently flowing into the river of thoughts and emotions that have eaten away at her. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing or how to exist anymore after all we’ve been through. And Astarion left, did you know?”

“No, I didn’t,” Wyll murmured.

“Gone, without saying goodbye! I would have taken a fucking note! Something! Anything!”

Her grip clawed at his clothes.

“Paranoia follows me, making me think there’s a trap everywhere I step, but I can’t see anything; everything is dark. And I can’t stop this feeling… like I’m… I don’t know. I’m on this precipice of something, or maybe losing myself? It’s difficult to explain... There’s so much I want to tell you, but I can’t…”

Tav’s breath shook as she sighed.

She calmed herself as best she could before mumbling into him again.

“Is any of this making sense?”

“I could only make out a few words at a time, but I didn’t want to stop you.”

Tav could feel Wyll kiss the top of her head before he pulled away to look at her.

“Ugh, this is not how I wanted our reunion to go,” she said, sniffling.

“Oh, come on, Tav. I thought you knew by now that nothing ever goes as we plan it,” Wyll replied, voice warm with compassion.

“Yeah, well, it stinks.” They released each other, and she wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic. “He was right; I’m the epitome of sophistication...”

“Who said that?” Wyll asked, amused. “I find you to be very sophisticated! What other gentlewoman would drunkenly walk around camp, waving meat on a stick while doing impressions of all the villains and knaves we met on our journey?”

“That was one time,” Tav grumbled, but a smile was sprouting.

“But it was enchanting!” Wyll was recalling the memory with a smile of his own. “What was that rhyme you made for Raphael?”

Tav’s heart seized.

“I don’t remember,” she lied.

“Ah, damn. I don’t either, we were all pretty out of it…” Wyll said with a chuckle.

Time to pivot.

“Wyll, can you help me with something? It actually has to do with my sophistication. Specifically with dancing.”

Another rich chuckle left him.

“Dancing? What for?”

“The ball…” she answered with a wince.

“The ball?” Wyll looked befuddled. “Which ball? The upcoming ball in two weeks time?”

“The very same.”

“No offense, Tav, but who invited you? It’s nothing more than a gala for the upper crust to get together and spend taxpayer coin.”

“None taken, and I can’t tell you. My appearance is to be a surprise for someone.”

Wyll raised a brow.

“Should I be more concerned for you or the person who is being surprised?”

Tav smirked.

“We’ll both take your prayers.”

Wyll rubbed the back of his neck, and his mismatched eyes squinted in thought.

“I’ve got a lot on my plate for the next two weeks, but for you, I’ll carve some time out in the evenings for us both to eat dinner and get some dancing lessons in.”

Tav threw herself around him a second time.

“Thank you, Wyll! I promise not to step on your toes!”

Wyll laughed.

“Yes, well you’re not half bad already from what I remember. We’ll just get you up to speed with the rest of the snobs of Balder’s Gate,” he said, patting her back.

When she released him, she was happy to see him happy.

“Come back tomorrow evening and we’ll make sure you’re the belle of the ball.”

“I’ve missed you so much, Wyll.”

She melted at his smile.

“Likewise.”

At the uncompromising urging of Gallott, Tav was shooed away, and she stepped outside to a setting sky feeling lighter.

Though she was somewhat embarrassed by dumping her emotions on him, it had been unavoidable the second she was within his arms. To see Wyll’s handsome face and hear his voice reminded her of the family she had a year ago and of a place where emotional dams came down one way or another. 

They all had their moments, and during each trial and tribulation that her companions faced, Tav had been a pillar of unwavering motivation and empathy.

She would have her turn, and unfortunately for Wyll, he would bear the brunt of it.

The songs she hummed and sang as she traveled home helped guide her dancing feet as she imagined the next two weeks of lessons.

Once home, Tav waltzed through the door, and was pleased to not be greeted by pitch darkness as the last of evening rays peeked through the sliver of open drapery. She continued her dance to the bedroom, tossed Raphael’s blanket aside with a twirl and a bow, and gathered her (their) blanket from the dresser.

She would not lose herself.

Tav awoke late the next morning (a little colder than the day before) and rose with intention. She dressed in fresh clothes, donned her boots and belts (ribbon secured around her neck), and prepared a small pack with her favorite book and a change of shoes for the evening lesson before stepping out the door.

After getting a bite to eat and purchasing some fruit to hold her out for the day, Tav made her way to the cemetery and set herself up against a headstone she knew very well. Tav pulled out her well-read book, got comfortable, and read until the afternoon sun reached a specific point in the partly cloudy sky.

Her book closed with a snap.

It was time to return to the Devil’s Fee.

She was greatly annoyed to find Helsik and Korrilla waiting for her as she opened the door.

Tav stood at the threshold and glowered.

“Thirty-thousand gold,” Helsik shouted.

She turned around to leave.

“Would you like to know Raphael’s response?” Korrilla asked, a hint of mirth in her voice.

“Enlighten me,” Tav threw back scathingly.

“‘Tell the little mouse: if she breaks my toes, I will break her hope of ever seeing Astarion again.’”

Darkness spilled from her heart. She seethed at the devil’s gall, her grip crushing at the handle of a sheathed dagger. She slowly turned once more, hatred in her eyes as her glare swept the room, landing on Korrilla and then drifting upwards… upwards to where she knew the portal to the Hells sat waiting.

When she turned heel and left, a new plan of attack had been drawn.

Tav bought the best healing salve on the market on her way to her first lesson.

“Tav? You alright? You’ve barely touched the food, and honestly, the food is one of the best parts of being a Duke.”

They were in Wyll’s expansive, overly decorated office and already he had arranged the furniture (likely with Gallott’s help) to give them as much floor space as possible. Tav was poking at the greens on her plate as she sat on the floor, leaned against a bookcase.

“No,” she said morosely.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I think I said enough yesterday.”

Wyll, who had finished his food a bit ago, walked over with a sigh, grabbed her plate and set it atop of his at the corner of his desk. He came back and offered her his hand with an inviting smile.

“How about we make a promise? When you enter this room for the next two weeks, you forget about whatever’s bothering you, and we focus on the present.”

Tav looked at his hand, and after a moment, slipped hers in his.

“No promises, but I’ll try.”

He pulled her up and didn’t let go of her hand as he drew her closer.

“Good,” he nodded. “Now, put your hand on my shoulder.”

Tav did what was asked, and her heartbeat quickened when Wyll’s other hand reached around and found a place underneath her shoulder blade.

The last time they danced together…

“Ready?”

She had denied him.

“I think so.”

“I’m going to put my right foot forward, then I’m going to go to the left. You will step back and go to the right...”

Wyll led, such warmth in his gaze, and she followed. 

“While you didn’t promise to focus on the present, we’re off to a good start on your promise to not step on my toes,” Wyll said cheekily. “Let’s repeat the move…”

After around twenty minutes of speaking dance steps, Tav counted she had managed to step on his toes three times (purely accidental), but she was becoming adept at the simple introductory moves they continued to practice.

“Have you heard from anyone else?” Tav asked as they gracefully turned.

“Only Gale, who coincidentally sent word just last week that he’d be in the city, coinciding with the ball. We should get together; he’d love to see you.”

It was comforting to have Wyll so close, unlike a certain devil...

“Of that, I’m not so sure…” she replied, looking away. “I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for giving the Crown to Raphael…”

“I think we were all a little surprised that you followed through with it,” Wyll confessed.

Tav slowed and forced them to a stop, her eyes narrowing.

“It was a fair trade; we got the Orphic Hammer without fighting, a weapon which helped us get away from the Emperor, and Raphael got the Crown, an artifact he promised to not use on any mortal,” she reasoned, calm. “I signed the contract; there were to be no repercussions for the rest of you if I didn’t follow through with it.”

“He’s a devil, Tav! I’m walking proof that you don’t deal with devils,” Wyll said, face dismayed as he pointed to his reddened skin and gnarled, twisting horns. “Look at me! Not an hour passes where I don’t worry about someone in this keep trying to kill the new Duke Ravengard, Servant to the Hells. Even Gallott can’t bear to look at me some days…”

Tav stared at him with sympathy.

“I’m sorry.”

Wyll shook his head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for; these are the consequences of my own choices. You got lucky with Raphael. Just, Tav, please… if any devil in the future comes to you with a contract, think about the consequences before you sign.”

It was too late for that.

“I have to go,” Tav said, going for her pack.

“What? Already?” Regretfulness etched itself into Wyll’s face. “There’s still more time to practice!”

“There’s something I have to do at home,” Tav muttered, replacing her shoes with her boots. She stood and situated her pack. “I’ll have to skip tomorrow's lesson, but I’ll be back the following day. Same time?”

Wyll nodded, his cheerful mood entirely deflated.

“Yes, same time.”

Tav walked up to him, gently placed her hand against the side of his face, and kissed his scarred cheek.

“You’re still handsome enough for ladies to beseech your hand, horns and all,” she said sweetly. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

Duke Wyll Ravengard, Servant to Nothing and No One, brightened.

Tav threw her pack at the foot of her dresser the moment she arrived in her bedroom and found the salve she purchased in a pouch at her belt. She untied and let loose the ribbon at her neck and popped the small container open, dipping two fingers inside the smooth, cool ointment.

Tav smeared and rubbed the salve over the punctures at her neck whilst recalling the poem she had dramatically (drunkenly) recited as Raphael long ago.

“‘Tis I, the cat, witty and humble,

So sure-footed, I never stumble,

There is no mouse more clever than I,

But, hark! A squeak? A rallying cry?”

Tav’s knees hit the dirt, a stick of meat “stabbed” over her stomach.

“Into my belly a sharpness digs,

Down I fall, into leaves and twigs,

How could I lose? No win or draw,

For the mouse hath ended me,

with mine own claw!”

She sat back and relished in the tingling (healing) sensation that spread across her skin.

Tav awoke late the next morning (just as cold as the day before) and rose with intention. She dressed in fresh clothes, donned her boots and belts, and stepped out the door with an empty pack.

After getting a bite to eat and purchasing some fruit to hold her out for the day, Tav made her way to the Devil’s Fee with a slight spring in her step.

She waved to the stone devils, skipped up the stairs, and walked through the door with performed cheer.

“Hello, Helsik,” Tav said, strolling to the counter. She then nodded to the warlock who seemed to now live within the diabolist’s shop. “Korrilla.”

“My, you’ve changed your tune from the past two days. Should I expect thirty-thousand gold pieces to litter this counter?” Helsik peered at Tav’s assorted belts where a medium sized coin pouch hung half-full. “Or am I getting myself excited for nothing?”

“I’m here for some imp patagium,” Tav stated simply. She reached into her pouch, pulled out more than enough coin for the purchase, and slid the payment across the surface towards the shop owner.

Helsik accepted what was offered and went to fetch the essence from a nearby cabinet.

A few feet away, Korrilla impassively watched Tav.

That was all the warlock needed to do; stand there and lay witness to the visible, unmarred skin where her patron’s bite had existed.

Helsik handed over the imp patagium, her expression dubious, and Tav carelessly tossed the essence into her pack.

“Thank you.” Tav nodded curtly and set to leave.

She stopped after a few steps, turned her head, and glanced at Korrilla.

“Oh, please tell Raphael that if it’s his goal to keep Astarion away from me, then I must find a new vampire to claim my neck each night. Shouldn’t be too hard to find with some seven-thousand vampire spawn in the city…”

Tav tossed a wave behind her.

For the rest of the day, Tav kept to her bed. 

She was stationed against the headboard, surrounded by her many pillows, a small collection of fruit, and the book that she was halfway through reading. When she wasn’t plucking grapes from the clutch that sat beside her, Tav was expertly twirling her knife between fingers while her other hand flipped from one page to the next.

She was expecting Raphael to show, if his jealousy meant something, and she mused that he would be sorely disappointed that she was not waiting for him, naked and wanting, as when she played Haarlep.

No, she did want something, but it was not that.

This time, instead of being dressed in a leather harness, or wrapped in a blanket cocoon, Tav was relaxing in her tunic and breeches, belts cast aside, with her partially burned blanket across her lap and book on top of it.

Every so often, the lit candles on her dresser would flicker wildly, and Tav would freeze while glancing at the area where Raphael tended to make his appearance.

Tav hated that she felt disappointment each time it proved to be nothing.

Her imagination (and anticipation) was surely getting the best of her. 

Hours passed, and Tav found herself nearing the end of her book. She stretched in place, bones popping, and glared at the spot where Raphael should be.

Had she over-estimated?

The knife flipped casually in her hand.

There, the candles flickered.

Flames and embers burst forth from where she looked.

Tav nearly yelped in surprise and rushed to mask her panic as she composed herself to appear relaxed and disinterested by his arrival.

She turned to the next page of her book, and glanced up to meet the burning orange and yellow irises of a furious Raphael.

“Raphael.”

“Little Mouse.” His eyes scorched her neck. “Perhaps something more permanent is needed…”

Raphael strode towards her imposingly, batlike wings rustling behind him, and Tav discarded her book and blanket to the side as she quickly rolled off the bed and stood with her knife pointed directly at the devil.

She saw red, literally.

“No, you’re going to give me my answers,” she demanded, knife tight in her grip. With her free hand, Tav reached behind for the potion vial that sat on her bedside table, flicked the stopper open with a thumb, and downed the liquid. She tossed the glass bottle aside. “And you won’t touch me until I have them.”

There was a low growl from Raphael and he slowly stalked towards her, seemingly unbothered by the weapon that was close enough to cut.

“Then ask your questions quickly. I have important appointments to keep, and this impromptu meeting is not one of them.”

A pit formed in her stomach at the realization that she could not detect his thoughts.

No matter.

“What the fuck did you do with Astarion?”

She filled the gap between them; she could smell him, touch him, stab him with the knife that quivered in anger from within her hand…

“I offered him what he desired,” Raphael replied with narrowed eyes. 

He inched towards her, Tav inched back.

Venom coated her tongue.

“How do you know what he desired?”

“You told me yourself that he could not walk in sunlight. With the Crown of Karsus, I was able to have an amulet crafted and waiting in the wings so to speak, for the day when he would lose hope of finding a solution.”

“What does it matter to you? I thought you were done with these petty deals, Archdevil Supreme,” she spat the title. “Why does a vampire spawn matter to you, to the point where you’re waiting for him with bait instead of focusing on your stupid fucking war?”

Raphael’s lip curled.

“Do not think that I am waiting in the wings, mouse. Others send word of the desperate, and it’s when these lost, hopeless souls call on me that I appear and offer succor.”

“Astarion wasn’t lost or hopeless! He had me!”

Raphael laughed sharply, cutting Tav.

“Oh? Did you help him walk in the sunlight? The warm rays of the sun he missed so dearly…”

“No,” she admitted through gritted teeth. “Because you came in and stole that possibility away from me.”

“I stole nothing.”

“If that’s true, then why is Astarion not here with me?” Tav viciously accused. 

“Because the terms of his contract state he can never return to your side.”

Tav’s resolve wavered as breath left her lungs.

“Why? Why would you do that?” she asked in a distressed whisper.

“I was… admittedly curious about the depths of his love for you.”

Tav blinked rapidly.

“Not as deep as I expected,” he said, cutting her again.

“He still signed… knowing the consequences…” she said, voice weak. 

The devil smirked, but Tav ignored it amongst the cripping feeling of not being good enough .

“Your anger is misplaced, Little Mouse. You cannot fault me for doing as I’ve always done,” Raphael said smoothly.

Something wasn’t right.

Tav bolstered her resolve and breathed.

“No, you manipulated him somehow. I know it!”

“You are making absurd accusations. Is it so out of the realm of possibility to think that your beloved Astarion, of his own free will, called on me? How the two of you have toiled away at finding a cure, to find nothing? Or will you continue to stand here delusional? That I have wasted away scheming to take your beloved away from you? Again with this mortal arrogance!”

Tav brought the knife to Raphael’s throat, blade edge grazing red skin. Blood would seep if pressed further…

She stared into the devil’s eyes, searching.

“Swear to it. Swear to me that you did not manipulate Astarion into signing the contract!”

Raphael’s fiery irises flared.

“I swear.”

Tav choked down the despair that climbed up her throat. 

“If you’re lying to me, Raphael…”

But what would he be gaining by lying to her?

It was not in his devilish nature to lie…

She had to believe him.

Tav nodded roughly to herself as she forcefully swallowed the devil’s answers that rang hollow in her bones. She could not afford to show weakness with Raphael near, and her eyes remained dry by sheer force of will.

Besides, why spill more tears for someone who did not love her as much as she had him?

Tav fed her sorrow to the anger in her veins.

Raphael’s gaze found her neck, and Tav felt it was in her best interest if she kept the knife raised.

“You have that other appointment to get to, one more important than little old me,” she attested with a glare, backing away. “You know where the door is.”

Raphael filled the distance she sought to put between them, his steps measured and calculating. 

“I’m curious to see if you have any intention of using the knife you wield,” Raphael voiced, low and dark. “And we have a correction to make.”

Tav felt the bedside table hit the back of her legs.

Raphael’s wings spanned outward, curling around the space at her sides, caging her. The devil was calling her bluff, and Tav hated that she was affirming it by unconsciously retracting her knife arm inwards towards her chest.

“Well, my dear?”

Feeling bitter, Tav swiftly pushed the knife against his neck once more.

“Don’t tempt me,” she whispered harshly. 

“But I want to.”

A jolt of arousal shot through her as a red, clawed hand gripped the wrist that held her knife in an instant.

Tav jerked with a growl but restrained herself from slicing skin.

He would not have stopped her. 

They did nothing but stare at each other, until, slowly, Raphael withdrew her hand and blade from his neck. Safely away from them, he applied gentle but firm pressure at her wrist, and Tav hated herself further as she let the knife clatter to the hardwood at their feet.

“I thought not,” he murmured with smug satisfaction.

Raphael kicked the knife away with a boot, his eyes never leaving hers.

His hand glided up from her wrist to capture her hand fully in his, and a flaming arrow pierced Tav’s core, gooseflesh dancing across her skin as the devil caressed her palm with thumb and claw.

Tingling heat radiated from his skin into hers.

“As for your disobedience… How shall I punish thee? If my bite is not to stay, shall I inscribe infernal words into your back, Little Mouse? Words that will not be so easy to remove?”

“No,” she declared, trying to remain defiant in spite of becoming breathless.

“No? And with such adamance…” Raphael tutted, coming closer. “Then what are we to do with you?”

He continued to caress her palm… with intimacy.

This was bad.

She needed to leave…

But there was nowhere to go.

She felt it in the air (and in her blood) when the thread of tension snapped.

Tav was reeling, a storm of electricity and fire within her as the devil drew her towards him with the slightest tug.

And she went to him, a moth to flame, seeking to close the space between their bodies completely as she kissed him with lust and fury. Raphael released his grip on her with a groan, his mouth opening in eager reception, and his hands wasted no time in grabbing, touching her body.

It was a whirlwind of hunger, thirst, and need that overtook them both; an unexplainable urge that had been sewn within Tav minutes after their introduction to one another on the bridge.

They were going to fuck, and they were going to do it now.

Raphael’s hand slipped underneath the back of her tunic as the other urgently dipped past the top of her breeches, and Tav moaned into his mouth, feeling drunk at the taste of wine on his tongue, as his fingers swiped between her slick folds.

The devil thrummed in approval and her arousal bloomed. 

Tav nearly begged as Raphael coated his fingers with her desire, and she thanked the gods as he greedily pushed inside her. 

Tav’s knees threatened to buckle. She retaliated by palming his hardened cock between fabric, earning a rumbling groan from the devil.

Her delirium escalating, Tav’s other hand hooked into the loops his doublet, and she pulled him back with her as she shifted to blindly push aside items from the bedside table behind her. The devil growled as Tav then hastily pushed her breeches and smallclothes down, the garments gathering at her feet before being kicked aside like a knife to a boot.

Their mouths connected by way of passionate bites and clashes of tongue, and Raphael removed his hand from her cunt, if only to momentarily pick her up and roughly set her upon the table's edge.

Tav’s heart was pounding, threatening to burst from her chest as the devil worked to free his cock from his breeches.

Her cunt ached, throbbed, needing him (wanting him).

She shivered as the head of his cock came to rest between her folds, teasing her entrance.

Raphael broke their kiss (she was high on cherries and sulfur) and another chill, one much less pleasurable and much more a warning of danger, shot up Tav’s spine as she gazed into a yellow fire of dark desire. 

Raphael descended upon her lips again, another searing, bruising kiss, and his claws dug into the skin of her thighs as he drew her forward and pushed his cock wholly into her wet and waiting cunt.

The devil shuddered against her with another groan, his claws sinking deeper, and Tav gasped in pain and pleasure as he began to pump into her with the need that consumed them both. 

She was dizzy, disorientated, and clutched at him to ground herself.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, a hand fisting his hair as he fucked her…

She couldn’t see, breathe, THINK of anything but Raphael.

A sudden spike of panic coursed through Tav, and she froze at the distinct sound of fiery teleportation that materialized somewhere behind them.

The devil snarled, a feral and foreboding sound. He pulled his lips from hers whilst stilling his hips, and turned to regard who it was who dared to disturb them with murder in his eyes.

“I… beg your pardon, but your father is waiting.”

Korrilla.

Reality came crashing down.

Tav was panting between lips that stung, and embarrassment crept up her already flushed cheeks when imagining the indecent picture the dwarf looked upon; Tav’s bare legs wrapped around the warlock’s patron.

Scandalous image aside, Tav woozily thought to thank Korrilla if she returned within the week to the Devil’s Fee; the warlock had unintentionally put a stop to something that Tav was not in the frame of mind to stop herself, and Raphael would surely leave on business, allowing Tav to pick up the pieces of her poorly executed plan.

The Archdevil Supreme said nothing beyond a commanding glare, and the sound of bursting fire signified Korrilla’s brisk departure.

His commanding stare moved to focus on her, petrifying Tav in place, and she blinked at him, mouth parted, chest heaving.

“Where were we?” the Archdevil Supreme asked, voice rough.

He leaned in as if to whisper a secret in her ear.

“Ah, yes. I remember now.”

Before Tav could fully comprehend that he intended to stay, the devil’s cock resumed in fucking her at the same moment he yanked her head aside with his fingers in her hair. 

Tav cried out, clawing at his back, arching hers, as his mouth branded her neck a third time, fangs breaking skin. 

“Gods, you’re such a bastard,” she ground out between her teeth, pain and pleasure tearing her body asunder. 

She could hear and feel him chuckle. 

“Fuck,” Tav hissed as Raphael thrusted, his mouth indulging in the taste of her flesh and blood.

She clung to him, feeling her release building, and amidst his sucking, the devil took the opportunity to cradle the back of her head while his other hand snaked around to splay across her lower back. Raphael suddenly pulled her upwards off of the bedside table and pivoted to carry her to the bed. He lowered Tav onto the mattress, softness at her back, and he removed his mouth from her neck whilst returning to fuck her with languid pumps.

Her blood coated his fanged teeth and lips, and the devil's red tongue swiped at the drop that gathered at the corner of his mouth.

Tav’s hand moved, desperate to touch her clit but clawed fingers wrapped around her wrist once more.

Raphael drew the hand upwards above her head and pinned it with his weight against the mattress.

“Such a pretty, disobedient thing you are,” he rumbled.

His eyes drank the expression of lust she wore, as his free hand dug into the naked skin at her hip as he thrusted.

“Let me come…” she moaned, predicting a punishment in the from of denial.

“I think not. I think this moment will be just for me. ” Raphael grunted with a quickened, rough pace.

Tav arched and she dared to find her clit again with her loose hand as the other twisted in his grip…

Raphael snatched it and restrained it at her side.

“Raphael, please…”

His eyes glazed over (and she swore she felt a shudder) at the wanton use of his name.

His hold around her hands tightened.

“My most treasured client,” he said darkly. “My sweet, delicious Little Mouse…”

The devil kissed her with a slow tenderness that was unbecoming of him, and Tav could no longer taste wine amongst the coppery tang of her own blood.

He withdrew his lips after a handful of seconds, and Tav wanted more. 

“Very well,” he said, surprising her. “I will allow you your release, but you are to give me mine as well. Is that understood?”

She nodded.

Raphael pulled away and his cock slipped from her as he drew her up to stand. He swapped their positions and sat before her at the edge of the bed.

His cock beckoned, stiff and slick with her essence.

Raphael stared at her with narrowed, expectant eyes.

Tav was determined to make a further mess of his breeches.

She gracefully pulled her tunic and brasserie off and relished in the way Raphael’s bloodied lips parted at the full sight of her. She was smirking as she straddled his lap and her hands smoothed over the fabric at his shoulders. The devil’s hands reverently glided along the expanse of her naked skin, down her sides and up her stomach to palm her breasts.

A groan of pleasure left her throat as she lowered her cunt onto his cock.

Raphael approved.

Tav urged him to lie down with slight pressure and he acquiesced, his wings spanning out across the mattress, and she set to work in desperately rocking her hips upon him, relishing in ecstasy when her fingers found her clit.

She rubbed circles, and her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of her approaching climax.

Raphael’s chest rumbled with displeasure, and Tav immediately knew her mistake.

Her eyes found his, and bliss contorted her face as Raphael’s cock repeatedly hit the spot within her cunt that would throw her over the brink. Her body tensed…

“Fuck, Raphael! ” she gasped.

Raphael did not blink for a moment, and Tav did not look away as she came upon him, cunt pulsating while she shuddered with white-hot pleasure. The electricity she had felt between them now coursed through her body, and Tav fell forward, her hand sinking into the mattress at the side of the devil’s head as it held her from collapsing upon him fully.

Breathless, she set to moving her hips again as she rode out the rest of her climax, and Raphael’s hand raised to land at the side of her jaw as they drowned in the intensity of each other’s gaze. Tav could tell it would not be long for the devil to climax himself, and she steadily bounced on his cock, enjoying him, before increasing speed.

Raphael’s breath grew unsteady and his body tensed beneath her…

Tav brought her lips to his pointed ear.

“You feel as good as I imagined,” she purred.

The growl in his throat gave Tav pause, and her blood ran cold when she raised her head to meet the possessive gaze of the Archdevil Supreme.

Hands appeared at her hips, his claws claiming her flesh, and the Archdevil Supreme pulled her down sharply upon him, driving her pace with renewed hunger, his hips bucking upwards.

“There is no soul that I desire more than yours.”

Tav felt lightheaded at the words that strangely sounded like a promise, and she kissed him with heat and vigor.

He came with a final drive of her hips, holding her down and humming deeply as his spend shot inside her.

Tav took it all with a moan.

Their lips parted when the effects of his climax began to wane, breaths matching in shallowness, and Tav was relieved to see Raphael again when she sat upright.

His thumbs absently caressed circles atop her thighs as their heads cleared.

“I thought you didn’t like being late for appointments,” Tav remarked wryly.

Raphael shifted to lean on his elbows, appreciating the view.

“Yes, however it’s becoming increasingly difficult when there’s such a tempting meal to be had,” he murmured, his eyes feasting. Raphael gestured his head upwards, and Tav, understanding the meaning, carefully climbed off of him whilst being aware of his spend that dripped out of her.

Her legs quivered as her feet touched the floor, and she hurried to lean against the edge of the bedside table lest she faint in the devil’s arms again.

“This did not go how I thought it would,” Tav groaned, taking in the sight of a discarded knife amongst discarded clothes. Her neck ached, and she swore it hurt worse than the previous two marks the devil had given her.

“Oh, don’t sound so pleased on my account,” Raphael said, sarcasm apparent as he rose from the bed and tucked his softening cock back into his stained breeches.

He was in no way dressed for a meeting with anyone, let alone his father.

“I think you heard me sounding ‘pleased on your account’ enough tonight,” Tav countered.

His eyes greedily raked over her body once more, and yellow irises lingered at the mess between her thighs.

“There will never be ‘enough’ when it comes to you, Little Mouse.”

At his words, her heart fluttered and desire stoked a new flame.

Raphael smirked in awareness of the reaction he earned. He moved to stand before her and snapped his fingers.

He proffered a small vial to her.

It was not a healing potion.

Tav took it.

“Thanks.”

“I must take my leave,” he said, glancing at her lips.

She blinked at him, ready for him to begone, and then…

“When will I see you again?”

Raphael looked very much like the cat who caught the mouse, and Tav instantly regretted giving him the satisfaction that she wanted to see him again.

“You will not see me for a week and a half’s time, until right before the Act is set to begin. Do not force my hand into seeing you sooner. I will not be as lenient next time. Do you understand, Little Mouse?”

“Yes.”

Swirling embers formed at his feet.

“Raphael.”

He raised a brow.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

She couldn’t read the flame in his eyes.

“Never.”

Tav nodded, and the devil left in a burst. 

Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

By all accounts, Tav was failing in her promise to not step on Wyll’s toes. He was being far too kind than what her mistakes or lack of attention deserved, but, even so, he was not above teasing.

“At this rate, I might have to pull out of the ball; I won’t have a foot left, let alone any toes…” Wyll said, resigned to his fate of never being able to dance again. The humor in the infernal red of his eye softened the jab, and Tav replied with a fake glare instead of responding with another, less accidental, attack against his toes.

If only she could concentrate…

If only she could stop reliving the previous night in her head (of her and Raphael together)…

If only she put up more of a fight (how easily she succumbed)…

The words he said…

What if Wyll found out?

Tav winced as her foot slipped, and Wyll halted their dancing as he braced her upright.

Her arms fell from their position with a frustrated sigh, and she let her forehead fall against his shoulder with a soft thump. “This is a waste of your time...”

Not having it, Wyll kissed the top of her head and gave her shoulder a hearty pat as he pulled away. “You’re doing fine, Tav. Let’s take a break and hydrate ourselves.”

She was not thirsty and Wyll didn’t look particularly parched himself, but Tav accepted the suggestion for what it was; a chance for her to gain focus. She followed him to his desk where two glasses remained from dinner and mimed a sip from her drink to give the appearance that water is what she needed after all.

Wyll had been able to tell from the moment she arrived that she was plagued by thoughts, but due to her lack of opening up the previous lesson, he had not asked again how she was and had not pressed into her business.

Tav would talk about her troubles if she wanted, and if Wyll was patient, she was bound to leak something when her frustrations inevitably overran their brim. And so, instead of having to hear false platitudes about how ‘everything was going to be alright’ and ‘Tav, you’ll get through whatever it is’, Wyll raised her spirits through easy smiles and affable dancing instruction.

Which helped her more than he knew on a day where all she could think about was one thing.

She fucked Raphael.

More than that, she fucked the devil who, one way or another, assisted in Astarion’s abandonment…

Tav grimaced into her cup and spontaneously drank the remaining water.

She wished it was wine (the wine on his tongue).

His bite felt hot under the ribbon she had wrapped around her neck…

Fuck.

“Feeling hydrated? Ready to get back to it?” Wyll asked as he passively looked over documents laid across his desk. There was a thread of concern in his voice, and Tav suspected her curse had not been only said in her head.

“Yes,” she said, smiling as she placed her drink down. “I’m feeling much better.”

Wyll seemed doubtful, but he nodded, straightened his papers and made his way back to the center of the room. Tav joined him, took his hand and positioned herself accordingly.

She needed to get a grip on herself. 

“It might be best if we converse while we dance,” she proposed as she readied her feet. “It would certainly be good practice for the night of the ball. Well, more for me and less for you; you will lose both feet tonight if you agree.”

Happy to hear the mischief in her voice, Wyll beamed in a way that would win over the heart of anyone he vied for, regardless of his fiendish appearance.

“It’s a good thing I’m friends with the resident healer who can patch me right up,” he replied, taking his first step and prompting hers.

It was a shame her heart was in pieces, and it was even more a shame that Raphael had pocketed a piece before he left.

Perhaps it was payback; she had gone to his house and made off with valuables, why should he not come to hers and make off with something of value in return.

Or was the piece he had worthess to him?

“So, Wyll, how is being a duke?” Tav asked suddenly. “Aside from the food, that is.”

She was not a fool; she was a godsdamned idiot.

“It’s admittedly different from anything I’ve done before; I miss being the Blade of Frontiers, I miss adventuring and helping others in need, I miss our family of misfits.” It was evident by his expression that Wyll shared her longing for days past, and the remaining pieces of her heart beat for him. “But… I’m doing what my Father wanted, and it’s not all bad. There are good things about the job. Like… well. Did I mention the food?”

Tav laughed, earning a pleased look from the duke she danced with. “Yes, Wyll. You mentioned the food, but aside from the food?”

“I have women lining up to be on my arm at the ball.” Wyll said with fake conceit. “Alright, go for a spin here in a second…”

He raised their hands, drawing her outwards, and she spun, a tad clumsy.

“Not bad,” he commented, bringing her back to him.

“Intelligent women with taste!” Tav remarked, grinning. “Have you accepted anyone’s hand? How about that Emeline Selfridge? I hear she wanted to whisk you away on adventures after you were married…”

She regretted her thoughtless cheek the moment it left her mouth. Gallott had no doubt informed Wyll of her deception, including the story she paired with it, and her friend’s face fell with bittersweet emotion.

He forced a laugh as his gaze drifted past her shoulder..

“Ah, she was not interested,” came his soft reply. 

Tav gently squeezed her hand from within his, and his mismatched eyes came back to her.

“She was…” Tav meant it. “Another got to her first, is all.”

(It was time she got over Astarion. He wasn’t coming back…)

Wyll’s lips twitched in acceptance.

Tav needed to see him smile.

“Would you save a dance for me? The night of the ball, to be more specific. I’m not sure if I’ll have time for it, but I would love to be seen in your arms, Wyll.”

“I would love that,” he said, and he led her into another spin.

On her way home, a phantom lover laid claim to her body, and once inside her bedroom, Tav dropped her pack, kicked off her boots, and got in bed with a blanket of red and gold.

She sang for Him in an empty room.

The next day, ten days until the ball and eight until seeing Raphael again, Tav changed up her routine. She dressed, ensured her dancing shoes were in her pack, and left to find a meal before she’d spend time hunting down a new book to read.

With a full stomach, Tav entered the local bookshop. The smell of parchment and dust were welcomed, and Tav inhaled deeply as she stepped further inside the business that had likely been around for a century or two, if not longer. Not quite knowing what she was in the mood for, Tav’s fingers grazed the spines of leather bound books as she roamed down aisles of towering shelves. She smiled at the occasional fellow-browser and declined the assistance that was offered to her from an employee after about an hour of pulling books down, opening them, and putting them away.

Eventually, Tav decided on three titles, having figured she would read them all as she passed time before the second act; an adventure novel that seemed promising in its premise of swashbuckling fun and romance, the sequel, and a heavier book that detailed the recent history of Baldur’s Gate (excluding the most recent history of Mind Flayers and the Absolute). She paid for the books, slipped the weighty additions into her pack, and went off to a bathhouse to settle in, relax, and think of nothing but the words on the page.

She would not return to the grave.

After soaking in steaming waters for far longer than anyone else who came and went, Tav dressed once more and read her adventure novel along the way as she headed to Wyrm’s Rock.

She halted when she felt the ghost of a touch at the small of her back and a chill along her spine.

Her eyes narrowed, the current paragraph she read non-existent as she waited for another stroke and the inevitability of sensual desire that would creep into her body whether she liked it or not.

A minute passed, and Tav hesitatingly resumed her walk, her novel now secondary to the fear that she would have to endure her phantom while in the middle of her dance lesson.

Should it happen, it wouldn’t be the first time for Wyll to bear witness to the “sickness” that inflicted her. Of course, it was no sickness, per say, it was forced sexual pleasure, but her companions had not been privy to her little stint within the House of Hope and a lie was needed to explain the stray sounds she bit back, the dizziness, and the expressions of euphoria she played off as pain.

Her heist was a secret she intended to take with her into her next life, and the entanglement with Haarlep especially so.

Not even Astarion knew… she felt too guilty…

The thought of dancing with Wyll while experiencing what was assumed to be Raphael disgusted her.

Tav prayed to the gods as she returned to her book.

She spun with grace.

“Getting fancy now, eh?” Wyll asked with an amused brow.

“I’ve been practicing at home.”

“Have you?”

“No, but I’m trying to be modest,” Tav said with a laugh as the two of them breezed across the floor.

“Well, I daresay you won’t need anymore lessons after another few days,” Wyll remarked, leading her into another spin.

Tav pretended to be affronted. “Trying to get rid of me, Duke Ravengard?”

“Trying to save my feet, my lady Tav, remember? But it looks like you are more… hydrated today so I might not have to worry as much.”

Her face scrunched in thought. “I did soak in a bathhouse for a bit too long today,” she replied. “By the time I climbed out, I looked at my feet and was scared I was turning into Withers…

Wyll’s hearty laugh was music to her ears in a room where none played.

She was enjoying herself as they waltzed, and she happily focused on his voice when Wyll corrected her in between quietly counting their steps.

“I think tomorrow I’ll teach you a slightly more complicated dance,” he said after a few minutes. He winked. “Nothing a quick learner like yourself can’t handle.”

“We’ll see how–”

A phantom’s touch skated along the skin of a hip.

Startled, Tav removed herself from Wyll’s arms.

“Tav? What’s wrong?” He asked, his brow knit in concern.

Hands were on her body, moving up her abdomen.

“N-nothing, I’m suddenly not feeling well.” The back of her neck prickled as a shiver of pleasure kick-started her arousal. She could feel her nipples hardening as the phantom grabbed and pinched. “Forgive me, Wyll. It must be something I ate earlier…”

She moved for her pack, abandoning Wyll in the center of the room, and repressed a moan as she gathered the strap and threw the weight around her shoulder.

“Tav.”

A phantom was sucking her breast.

Her eyelids fluttered. “Hmmm?”

Wyll was staring at her with worry, and a beat passed between them. “Nevermind. I hope you feel better.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” she replied, then beelining for the door with wetness between her legs.

Minutes later, after hustling down corridors, Tav managed to find a dark isolated corner, and she waited, seated against cool stone, tense and clenched as her phantom took their time in devouring and fucking her body.

It was as though her phantom was free to satiate himself upon her without a pressing engagement looming over him…

Tav groaned in pleasure and irritation.

She’d speak to Korrilla tomorrow.

The next day, nine days until the ball and seven until seeing Raphael again, Tav pushed into the Devil’s Fee with her sights set on the curly, dark haired dwarf that stood at the counter across from the diabolist.

“Need more imp patagium?” A skeptic Helsik asked as Tav strode up to join them. The shop owner was wearing an amused smirk that suggested she was aware of something that was none of her business.

“Not today, thank you,” Tav responded with a glare. To Korrilla, she pointed a finger straight into the air and launched into a list of demands. “One: never enter my house uninvited again. Yes, I understand the irony but, at this point, everyone should be even; we’ve all been to one another’s houses uninvited.”

She thought to sprinkle in a threat.

“Actually, except yours, but there’s still time.”

Her middle finger joined the first.

“Two: tell Raphael that I humbly request that he, politely, fucks himself until I’m done with this next task.” Her jaw tightened. “In return, I’ll stop wearing the ribbon around my neck.”

Korrilla’s entertained expression was matching Helsik’s.

Tav pressed on.

“If I… don’t feel anything tonight, I will take that as acceptance of the terms.” She added her thumb to the count. “Three: assuming you know what I speak of, and assuming you haven’t told Helsik already; if she would like to pry into personal business that isn’t hers, do us both a favor and demand she pay at least twenty-thousand gold before you say anything.”

Helsik’s smirk deepened. “I’ll drop the cost to use the portal to twenty-seven thousand if you tell me how good Raphael is in bed.”

Tav lowered her hand before her fingers could create an insulting gesture.

“Make it fifteen, and I’ll write you a detailed poem worthy of the devil’s voice himself,” She replied, voice coated with sugared sarcasm.

The diabolist laughed. “Oh, I like you Tav.”

Korrilla groaned. “Not you, too…”

“Make it ten, and I’ll get you to like me more in the back room,” Tav quipped.

Helsik’s face lost all humor.

“I don’t think so,” she deadpanned. “Somehow I don’t think Raphael would appreciate that very much, and the last thing I need is for the devil to give me more hell.”

There was a look caught from Korrilla to Helsik.

“What did Raphael want with you, Helsik? Hm?” Tav purred, injecting spiced charm into her veins as she leaned on the counter, interest piqued. “You can tell me… what’s the price? ”

“I’ll throw you a bone, Tav.”

“Helsik…” Korrilla warned.

“Forty-thousand.”

Tav grimaced. “I know where your house is, Helsik.”

She turned to leave and threw an insulting gesture behind her.

That evening for her hour lesson, Tav became familiar with a series of new steps, and she and Wyll discussed favorite books when not working through dance instruction.

Her phantom did not call.

When she arrived home, Tav untied the ribbon, loosely wrapped it around her fingers and placed it onto her dresser.

She would not put it away until the morning.

The next evening, eight evenings before the ball and six until seeing Raphael again, Tav showed up to her lesson, and Wyll noticed the days-old mark on her neck as soon as she dropped her pack.

She could tell he wanted to ask about it, and she didn’t fault him when he eventually did roughly a quarter into their practice of previously learned moves.

“Astarion come back?”

“No, he didn’t,” she replied, cheeks reddening. She pretended to be interested in the way Wyll’s hand held hers above the floor.

“A new vampire beau then?” He was teasing, but there was a hint of something in the word ‘new’ that made Tav’s stomach lurch uncomfortably.

Having prepped an excuse earlier in the day amidst reading, she readied a tale that would be believable to anyone else outside the group of companions of whom she had spent many weeks journeying with.

Her friends knew her too well.

Still, even a bold-faced lie was better than saying, ‘Raphael bit me, but don’t worry, this was only the third time!’

“Not a beau,” Tav started, roping conviction into her voice. “But you know the seven thousand vampire spawn we released after dealing with Cazador? I came across one a few days ago in the Undercity, and the poor thing hadn’t eaten in weeks! A young man, who I was devastated to see looking so frail and on death’s door! Having fed Astarion earlier in our adventure, I invited him to a meal. A way of giving back…”

Wyll’s brow was furrowed with mild worry; he did not believe her, and she prayed to the gods that he would let it go.

“I haven’t gotten around to healing it yet…” she added. “I like that it reminds me of Astarion.”

She did not want to be reminded of Astarion.

“It doesn’t look like vampire fangs, Tav,” he said gently.

“Good thing no one asked what it looks like!” Tav snapped.

Their feet naturally stopped, their hands falling away from one another. Wyll looked visibly stung, and not knowing where that came from, feeling shame, Tav flung her arms around his neck and embraced him tightly.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, ” she whispered. “I’m being secretive, and I know how frustrating that is, but I can’t tell you what’s going on and, frankly, I don’t want to. You’ll hate me, and I don’t want you to hate me…”

“Tav, I could never hate you…” He said, holding her.

After what he experienced with Mizora… after their talk the other night…

He would.

She needed fresh air.

“I can’t risk it,” she began to pull away and turned to lea-

Wyll grabbed her hand.

“Don’t go,” he said, releasing her hand all the same. She stared into his mismatched eyes, waiting, heart beating. “We don’t have to talk about it after this, but I’m going to say my piece. When we were tadpole-infected, there was a reason you were our leader; the rest of us just had too much shit following us, too many biases to make competent decisions that would lead to the best outcome possible. There’s no doubt in my mind that we’d all be dead, or mind flayers, if it wasn’t for you.”

Tav realized she was holding her breath.

“But aside from the tadpoles, each of us had our shit biting at our heels. You were there to help us stop and think about what we truly wanted for ourselves, and you gave us the push we needed to really confront our demons and devils. So stop running away from your problems, Tav. Run towards them and conquer.”

He offered his hand and continued. 

“I want to help you, in any way I can. If all I can do to help right now are these dance lessons and talking about books and the weather, then I’ll accept that. But just know that I’ll always be here, ready to join your battle when you say the word.”

Tav placed her hand in his, and her heart yearned to stitch itself together.

“Then dance with me,” she said softly. “And know that your words mean everything.”

The next few days passed, and Tav regaled Wyll with tidbits about Baldur’s Gate’s history as she and him waltzed with style and sophistication (ignoring the occasional mistake here and there).

At the mention of Gale being in the city, and at Wyll’s suggestion that they dine out together, Tav deeply regretted that her (very empty) schedule was full and promised to make time when the wizard next visited. 

Two days before Raphael was set to show, Wyll coached her on the manners and etiquette of the upper class, and Tav thought to practice her curtsy.

“That’s a little, er, dramatic, Tav. Might want to reign it in; you’re at a ball, not on stage.”

“Ah, how silly of me. How’s this?” she asked, attempting again with more refinement and less theater.

“That’s better, but try and be… dainty.”

“Dainty,” Tav repeated, tasting the word. “I can be dainty.”

She turned on an internal switch and batted her eyelashes in Wyll’s direction, suddenly demure.

The duke shook his head, chuckling. He stepped up to her and bowed, extending his hand out to her.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

Tav gave him a faux timid smile and curtsied with proper technique.

“Of course, saer,” she answered, giving her hand. “I’m honored.”

Wyll pulled her close.

“Is it forward of me to say that I was hoping you’d ask?” Tav said in character.

The duke smiled, and she would assert that there was adoration in the red of his eye and in how he looked upon her. “My eye landed on you the moment you stepped into the crowd.”

Now they were both pretending; the room was empty, save them, and the sound of strings was solely in her head as he led them into a dance slower than any previous night.

“Wait until Poppy Fancypants hears that I danced with Duke Ravengard!” Tav exclaimed, her tone suddenly haughty. “Oh, how jealous she’ll be! Payback from when she stole my gown design for my sixth nameday party!”

“So much for dainty,” Wyll laughed.

Tav grinned and let her role disappear. They swayed in silence as they stepped to imaginary music, and her cheek eventually came to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss these lessons,” she murmured.

“Me, too.”

“We could always go to the Circus of the Last Days together. I hear it’s coming back into town…”

“Not a chance.”

“We could always join the Circus of the Last Days together. Run away from Baldur’s Gate…”

She liked hearing and feeling him laugh. She liked how she felt in his arms; protected and safe.

Loved. 

“My duty is here, Tav.” Wyll’s head shifted to look down at her. “And no more running away.”

“I know,” she said, sighing. Then, wryly, “But maybe my duty is to be a clown.”

“Your duty is to do whatever it is you want to do.”

“I want to be a clown,” she muttered petulantly, not wanting to be a clown at all.

Their dancing came to a stop at Wyll’s lead, and her arms wrapped around his middle when he let her go.

“Hey, look at me,” he said gently.

Raphael demanded…

Tav pulled away to stare into eyes that were not brown or the color of fire.

Wyll placed his hand against her jaw, his touch tender, and she hated that she compared the feeling of thumb and claw to that of another.

“You’ll figure it out.”

She gave him a weak but grateful smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Wyll.”

His other hand brushed a hair from her face, and he looked at her with such affection…

“You’d have figured it out,” he affirmed.

The earnest faith in the words he spoke almost persuaded Tav to believe him.

Wyll’s eyes glanced to her lips, and she felt them unconsciously part.

He wanted to kiss her, was going to kiss her…

His head slanted as he moved in.

Tav’s eyes closed with anguish and regret.

Her arms fell away from him. 

It was easier this way.

The pieces of her heart shriveled as she averted her head and denied him a second time, his lips on her cheek, her fists clenched next to her.

“I want to,” she said immediately, hoping to ease the torture she inflicted. “But… I can’t.”

His presence pulled away.

Fuck!

She dared herself to open her eyes, dared herself to look at him, dared herself to stay.

Wyll removed himself even more, his face contorted with embarrassment and dejection.

“I, uh… think that’s enough dancing for tonight,” he said, not meeting her pained gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Tav nodded and moved to gather her pack.

She was a foolish, idiotic clown.

“Try not to hate me, Wyll,” she said at the door to the duke who vacantly occupied himself with papers.

The day before Raphael was expected to appear, Tav put on a brave face and went to her final lesson with Wyll.

And it was as excruciatingly awkward as she imagined it would be.

“I won’t be back for another lesson after tonight,” she reminded softly, filling in the uncomfortable void of silence. He would not look at her for longer than brief periods while they danced, and those within the imaginary crowd that watched them could tell he was spurned and smarting. “Thank you again for everything. As far as last night goes…”

“No, Tav, we don’t need to talk about it…” Wyll replied, sheepish. “I… got caught up in the moment. Please forget it happened.”

“But I’m glad it happened, and I don’t want to forget that it happened. I care for you Wyll, so bloody much. I’m not… in a place right now to accept the love you offer me. It wouldn’t be fair or right to you. But when I’m ready, and I will be one day, I can only hope you will accept both me and my apology after making you wait so long. If you aren’t already taken, of course…”

Wyll let her words hang in the air for a moment but he no longer had trouble holding eye contact.

“Make sure you make an appointment with Gallott when you are ready,” Wyll said with a quirk of his lips, cracking the tension.

Tav was desperate to break it.

”On that day, I will be the only appointment you have.”

“Oh, ah,” Wyll missed a step, flustered. “Let’s, uh, start over and go through all of the dances one more time…”

She laughed and the cloud that hung over his office disappeared.

On the day Raphael was expected to appear, Tav went out for food, purchased a small collection of fruit, and made her way back home.

Not wanting to give the devil any more excuse to laud his smugness over her, she folded the red and gold blanket and draped it across a chair in the corner and set herself up for reading in bed.

The knife would remain under her pillow.

Raphael showed in the late evening, and Tav didn’t bat an eyelash at the sudden burst of fire that lit up the room.

“Raphael,” Tav said, meeting the gaze of his mortal disguise before taking a bite out of the mostly eaten peach she held.

“Little Mouse.”

His eyes checked the status of her marked neck then drifted to her mouth to watch her chew. 

“How is the younger Duke Ravengard? Were your visits time well spent? Fruitful?” Raphael asked, smiling thinly with a cant of his head.

“He’s good; I won’t let him know you asked,” Tav replied as she shut her history book and pulled the dense read away from her lap to land beside her. She was glad they were glossing over their previous encounter. “Wyll is a wonderful dance partner, and we’ve saved a dance for one another at the ball, if I have the time.”

She took another bite to hide her smile as Raphael’s nose scrunched with muted jealousy. 

“How unfortunate, then, that the hapless duke will have to make due with finding another partner; how disappointed he will be that it is not you who is attending…” he remarked, not sounding at all apologetic.

“What’s the role, Raphael?” Tav asked dryly.

He snapped, and she could not see what small item he clutched in his fist after the embers disappeared. The fist lowered before him and Raphael beckoned her over with a finger.

Tav sighed, maneuvered off the bed and again bit into her fruit as she walked over to him. She made a point to stop just shy of his arm’s reach, but Raphael was swift in shortening the distance between them with a step. She ignored the thrum of want that stirred within her as the intoxicating source of cherries and sulfur pervaded her nose. 

Tav glanced from him to the fist at his side, curious about what he held. Wanting to free up her hands to accept and study whatever it was, she motioned to finish off the last of her fruit–

Raphael promptly caught her wrist with his other hand.

“I much prefer the peach to the knife,” he murmured.

Tav held her breath, their eyes transfixed on one another as the devil slowly drew her hand towards him. Raphael smirked, bent to meet her hand halfway, and his lips parted in preparation of stealing what remained of her peach…

Not wanting him to get the better of her, Tav gave what he aimed to take.

Heat shot into her core as she provocatively pushed the morsel into his mouth, the pads of her fingers grazing tongue and teeth as they then moved to settle against the softness of Raphael’s lips. The devil chewed with deliberate slowness, seemingly savoring the sweet, mildly acidic taste that now coated his tongue. He swallowed with a low hum, and opened his mouth once more to wrap his lips around the base of Tav’s sugared fingers, brown eyes blazing. Want whispered, urging her to taste the peach upon the tongue that wetly ran along and swirled between her digits, and she imagined where else he might put the muscle to use…

She needed to stop enabling him.

After a number of seconds (or an eternity), Raphael blinked, gradually removed her fingers as he straightened and gently twisted her wrist to expose her palm.

His fist raised, and he gingerly pressed the unknown, tiny item into her open hand before his heated touch left her. Tav, addled from what just happened, dumbly stared down to register what she had been bestowed.

A simple silver ring, one similar to what Solenne possessed.

An easy one-liner about marriage and proposals was late in getting to her. Tav decided against the joke; she did not want to entertain that sort of talk with him, wisecrack or not.

“A ring,” she stated. 

“Your powers of observation never cease to amaze, my dear,” Raphael replied, pouncing at the opportunity to needle her. “While what you hold is, indeed, ‘a ring’, it is enchanted - affixed with a disguise spell. Your guise has been predetermined, and you are to take the role of the, very much real, Celeste Lori-Ripvur. She is a fresh addition to Baldur’s Gate’s nobility.”

“What a name,” Tav remarked.

Amusement spread across his features.

“Isn’t it just?” He continued with theatrical gestures. “I will caution you to not get too close to anyone at this event; anyone closely acquainted with Celeste, or anyone with better observation skills than you for that matter, will be able to tell that you are not her.”

“Where is the real Celeste?” she asked.

“Elsewhere.”

“That’s not ominous sounding at all…”

The devil smiled. “It will be expected of you to experience the ball and all of its pleasantries. You will drink, dance, and mingle whilst keeping the aforementioned recommendation in mind.”

“And my target?”

“A messenger will inform you of the item I seek when the target arrives. I imagine some hours into the event.”

“Alright…”

Raphael’s expression turned serious, and Tav recognized hints of the Archdevil Supreme bleeding into his mortal form.

“Hear me now, Little Mouse, loud and clear; you are not, for any reason, to remove your disguise or admit to your true identity for the duration of this act. There will be many present who will not take kindly to a mouse sneaking around their ballroom, and the event is not to be disturbed. If you fail in this element of your role, I will deem it a failure of your contract and your soul will be mine. Do you understand?”

Her paranoia rattled in reaction to his words and the severity of how he spoke.

Tav stared at him, suspicious, and she attempted to read his mind without the ability to detect thoughts.

“I understand,” she said cautiously.

“You are also to take your friend Kassius with you as your guest.”

Tav bristled and jabbed a sticky finger at him (a finger he had in his mouth not long ago). “Kassius, is to have no part in this, remember? This being an ‘individual effort’?”

“The contract states that it is you who is to play The Role and you who is to capture and deliver the item. Your friend is to be nothing but a stagehand who lingers in the wings while you take the stage. By all means, escape from him once you are in the door, but it is expected for Celeste to show up with her flavor of the week , and I will not deny the nobility of their gossip. Were this Kassius’s task, either you or Solenne would have joined him had his role demanded it.”

“Fine,” Tav spat, feeling helpless.

“I thought this would please you?” he asked. His tone somehow wavered between sarcasm and sincerity.

“I didn’t, and don’t, want him getting caught up in this...” she said.

The devil before her was forgotten as Tav’s worry pulled focus; her thoughts went to Kassius and the unpredictable outcomes that might befall him due to his involvement.

“What is he to you?” Raphael asked as if inquiring about the weather.

Tav met his stare, confused by his question. “That’s none of your business.”

“Would it be Kassius’s business to know you recently came on my cock, in the secret home you shared with your previous lover?”

“Don’t you fucking dare…”

How dare he!

“Answer the question.”

“He’s…” Tav glared at him as she worked to formulate an answer. “He’s Kassius, I don’t know. I care for him…”

“Do you love him, Little Mouse?”

What an absurd question to hear from Raphael, and Tav almost thought to laugh if it wasn’t for the way his brown eyes burned her and for how the subject of love conjured longing and the image of a specific, special face.

“No…” she answered, her mind elsewhere.

White curly hair, a fanged and roguish smile…

Her irritation at the devil gave way to memories of a pale elf.  

“Because I love Astarion.” Fondness caused her to smile. “I think I always will…”

Raphael’s laugh was full of scorn. “A childish notion; why love someone who abandoned you?”

“I don’t expect a devil who tortures souls to understand the finer points of love, let alone grasp the concept,” Tav scoffed.

She would continue to disregard the human part of his blood.

Raphael was staring at her, upper lip frozen at the beginning stage of a curl, and Tav, feeling uncomfortable, capitalized on the opportunity to pivot.

She shoved the ring onto a finger, and magic washed over her as she passed Raphael to enter the sitting room.

“Where’s this dress that Innai prepared?” Tav called back, grumbling as she snatched the tarnished platter from where it sat. She returned to the bedroom while holding the item this way and that to see her reflection and grumbled further when she could only vaguely make out her new appearance. “It doesn’t make sense that she would take my measurements if I’m to be playing Celeste.”

“I can attest that the measurements between you and Celeste are similar enough,” the devil said, watching her. Humored by her struggle to see herself, and always seeing room to swoop in and ‘help’, Raphael snapped and proffered a golden hand mirror that she recalled seeing on the vanity within his boudoir.

Tav barked a laugh.

“I’ve learned to not take things from you, and my platter works fine. Just needs a bit of buffing…” For emphasis, she huffed a breath onto the silver and rubbed at a corner with her sleeve.

“Think of it as payment for the sumptuous peach,” Raphael replied, and he patiently held the handle out for her to take when her efforts proved a waste.

Tentatively, and with a grimace, Tav put the platter on her dresser and retrieved the mirror.

“Am I to assume then, that Celeste has been in your boudoir and also subjugated to baths and measurements?” She asked, examining her pristine reflection and the delicate, refined features that looked unlike her.

Tav did not mean to sound jealous, but she must have, for when she flicked her eyes to the devil, he was further humored and raised a brow that said ‘yes, look in the mirror, pot, and see that you are as black as I, the kettle’.

He avoided responding, wanting to bask in her hypocrisy, and snapped his fingers seconds later. Magical flame burst forth and a mass of silken emerald appeared in his hand, trailing to the floor. Raphael walked to her bed, casually laid her ‘costume’ at the foot of the mattress, and next summoned a pair of flat, pointed shoes with green ribbon that he tossed on top.

Tav was antsy to try on the dress but was intent on waiting for when Raphael was not present to watch her change.

She stared back at herself (no, back at Celeste) in the mirror and thought of how disconcerting it was for her to play the copy of a person she knew nothing about. Mannerisms, speech patterns, and overall background knowledge would be helpful to have, but it seemed as though Raphael was keen to throw her into a den of gnolls without any additional insight. Unless he was waiting for her to ask…

“Tell me about Celeste; how should I act? Where's the piece of parchment detailing her information? Thoroughness goes a long way.”

“Have charm, grace, and sophistication; qualities you already exude so… magnificently. There is no parchment for you to read, therefore you will have to utilize your impeccable improvisational skills. I have no doubt in your ability to successfully divert topics of conversation if they threaten your knowledge of Celeste’s backstory.”

Raphael crept closer to her. He inspected her new face, and the neck that disguised his bite, and the flame behind his eyes flickered dully. “Be a dear and remove the ring.” 

“Say ‘please’.”

“Oh, pretty please, Little Mouse,” he said, sarcasm coating each word.

Tav lowered the mirror, also missing her face, and slipped the ring from her finger. The magical facade dispelled instantly.

The devil’s flame roared to life, and arousal soaked her sex at the realization that Raphael did not find the beautiful Celeste anywhere near as attractive as he found her.

“I will have Korrilla supply Kassius with a suitable outfit. As for the rest of your ensemble, you are to wear the ring to an appointment at Aura’s Sanctum of Style in the Upper City mid afternoon the day of the ball. Return here to dress, and you will meet Kassius at the entrance to Wyrm’s Rock at the scheduled time listed on your invitation.”

Snap!

Raphael handed her an envelope with a broken wax seal and no address, and Tav gathered it in the same hand as the ring and hand mirror.

“Anything else I need to know?” she asked, scrutinizing her small collection of ‘gifts’.

“Yes, my little thief,” Raphael said, stepping closer, eyes lured to her lips. “You’re going to steal the show.”

A hand encircled her waist, and he pulled her in, kissing her suddenly with the sweetness of the peach saturating both of their tongues. The desire to drop what she held and cling to him was set to overtake her…

A hand caught itself in her hair, and there was the barest growl from him as he withdrew his mouth from hers and backed away with purpose.

He extinguished the conflict of emotion she briefly caught behind his eyes.

She was faint, breathless…

“If you have no further questions, I must take my leave for another appointment,” he stated, his face a blank mask of control. 

“Just one, I suppose,” Tav said blinking, regaining her bearings. “Am I right in assuming that you will come to me again when it comes time to deliver the item?”

He smiled fiendishly. “No, for this act, you will come to me.”

Her paranoia spiked.

“Remember, your soul is on the line,” he said with flair and a dramatic wave of his hand. “We will see each other soon, Little Mouse. For now, adieu.”

He was gone with a swirl of fire, and Tav was unhappy at the discovery that the devil somehow made off with another piece of her heart.

The day before the ball, Tav paired her disguise with the dress, and she couldn’t refrain from staring at the reflection she had propped up against her bedside table.

She marveled at Innai’s work as her hands ran along emerald silken fabric and up the fitted, embroidered bodice of darker green. The neckline framed her collarbones, and sheer, bell-shaped sleeves hung from her shoulders. Her skirts were full and flowing, and twirling made her giddy.

Tav imagined how even more beautiful Celeste would be the following evening, and she enviously wished to go as herself to see and dance with Wyll.

Later that night, Tav awoke to the blistering sensation of fangs claiming her neck and phantom claws digging into the flesh of her hip.

She rolled onto her back and thought of the peach as her hands went between her thighs.

The day of the ball, Tav’s stomach was a knot of anxiety.

She avoided finding a lunchtime meal and kept to her room where she practiced dance steps until it was time to head to her appointment in the Upper City. When it came time to leave, she scrambled around to find her finest set of outerwear and hoisted her pack around her shoulder, donning the ring of Celeste Lori-Ripvur before departing. 

Curiously, Tav did not feel eyes on her back as she traveled northwards, but she kept herself on high alert as she strolled through busy streets. The further she walked, the more businesses and homes morphed from quaint sizes and run down structures to lavish, well-kept exteriors that promised wealth and extravagance within their walls. The crowds and types of seller stalls, too, subtly changed, and Tav looked out of place in her wrinkled excuse for finery amongst those she passed on her way to the prestigious Aura’s Sanctum of Style.

She entered the door of the parlor, and her muddied boots looked unsightly against the white marble at her feet. A red-haired receptionist, wearing a velvet uniform the color of amethyst, glanced up at Tav’s arrival, eyeing her from head to toe. Beyond her, walls of deep purple were lit by orbs of floating light, and stylists busied themselves with clients in front of mirrors framed in silver.

“Yes?” the young woman asked, posture straightening when Tav arrived at the counter.

“I’m here for my appointment. Celeste Lori-Ripvur,” Tav said, taking the airs of a noblewoman.

“Yes, Lady Lori-Ripvur!” the receptionist exclaimed, ignoring the preconceived judgment about Tav she had in mind. She scribbled a mark in the open book before her with a striped quill. “And your appointment has been well paid for in advance by your husband.”

“Husband?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Raphael had said Celeste had flavors of the week; he did not mention a husband. A fact that could easily have been on a parchment of information…

Ass.

“At least he’s good for something,” Tav remarked, not doing well in curbing her annoyance.

“Yes, my lady. If you would please wait over here, we will have a stylist with you shortly.”

Tav sat down in a plush chair (with sophistication) and sighed, feeling altogether unprepared for the night ahead.

Tav returned home already feeling drained from the hours-long, fish out of water experience of being fussed over. She had felt obligated to converse extensively with the stylist while her hair had been tugged and face battered with brushes. They spoke in length of the ball, Celeste’s expectations, and from there delved into topics of fashion that Tav had no right to convincingly bullshit her way through.

Beyond the social aspects of the appointment, Tav walked away feeling very pretty indeed, and she was quick to admire herself within the hand mirror. 

The stylist had taken into consideration Tav’s instruction to not stand out; her hair followed the current seasonal trend, and her makeup was sure to be seen as understated when compared to the other, much more competitive attendees.

Still, it was the most glamorous Tav ever felt, and she eagerly stepped into the dress to continue the high.

After parading around and posing playfully, she grabbed one of her two combat daggers, along with her most discreet belt, and hiked up her skirts in order to fasten a holster around her waist and thigh. There was no boot to hide her weapon, nor would it do well to be seen with a dagger against her calf as she spun on a ballroom floor, and Tav did not want to be without means for defense as she had during the first act.

Her pack stared at her from the floor, and Tav frowned in debate on whether or not to bring and hide backup items, or at least a pair of comfortable boots for when it was time to leave.

In the end, paranoia won, and Celeste Lori-Ripvur journeyed to Wyrm’s Rock with the invitations, a hidden dagger, a set of thieves' tools, and footwraps paired with boots in the pack at her side.

As Wyrm’s Rock neared, Tav’s knot of anxiety grew tenfold, and the exciting high of attending a ball had long since drowned in nausea and paranoia. Mental warnings continued to berate her about unseen traps, screaming at her with each step she took in her fancy shoes, but Tav could do nothing but forge ahead.

The contract was signed, and three souls hung in the balance. 

She must follow through, even if it meant falling from the precipice she felt she walked towards.

At the bridge between the Lower City and Wyrm’s Rock, and under a fastly setting sky, Tav saw Kassius pacing in a circle among a smattering of well-dressed guests who thought to titter at the squalor beyond her shoulder.

She smiled at the handsome picture he made, tall and lithe, adorned in a tailored, patterned burgundy doublet and polished leather boots, and Tav picked up her pace, excited to see him.

“Ah, my ‘flavor of the week’,” she said at his back, grinning.

Kassius turned, his face one of confusion as he beheld her.

“Tav? ” he asked, sounding unsure.

“Celeste Lori-Ripvur,” she corrected loftily, bringing a hand to cup his face to play her role when all she truly wanted to was hold him tight. “But, yes, it’s Tav.”

He bowed slightly, relief on his face, and Tav noted how tense he felt when she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He admired her and smiled before offering his arm. “You look… well, she looks beautiful.”

“And you look dashing!” Tav said, looping her arm through. She tipped her head against his shoulder. “I didn’t intend on you being here, and I’m sorry that you are, but I’m glad to see you, Kass. I’ve missed you.”

He placed a reassuring hand over hers.

“I’ve missed you, Tav. More than you know.” Kassius gave her another smile, one more apologetic than the last, and led them onwards. “Let’s at least enjoy ourselves while we can.”

Tav wanted to leave the moment they presented their invitations and stepped within the walls of Wyrm’s Rock. They were on time, according to the invitation, but it appeared as if the event had already begun; it was a cacophony of chatter, laughter, and distant music as Kassius navigated her through throngs of men and women in their expensive finery. Tav was as tense as Kassius as they followed behind others who also sought to head to the Great Hall in order to drink, dance, and be merry, and nothing sounded better than being home snuggled up in her (infernal) blanket with a good book.

Wanting to keep her wits about her, Tav avoided the glasses of wine and champagne that passed by on trays carried by black robed staff, but Kassius snagged a drink for himself and was swift in downing the contents.

“It’s going to be a night,” he said after catching her raised brow.

“You have that feeling, too, huh?” she replied.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

When the maw of the hall was in sight, Tav excused herself and had Kassius wait while she rushed off to stealthily stash her pack underneath an empty, covered table within a mostly vacant corridor.

She returned, winded herself around the arm offered to her once more, and took a deep breath. As much as she truly disliked Kassius being involved, it was a comfort to have him at her side.

The music grew louder, a band of strings, woodwinds, and percussions, as the crowd funneled through massive doors and up stairs to reach the expansive room that Tav had last seen on her way to confront Gortash a year ago.

Up the stairs they climbed, Tav’s heart beating against her bodice, and the Great Hall accepted them with banners of scarlet red and gold, grand candelabras, and sweeping music that matched the steps of couples who danced in tandem across flagstone. It was overwhelming to be surrounded by such splendor and boisterous din, and Tav loudly mentioned to Kassius that it would be good to walk along the perimeter of the room.

It was important to familiarize oneself with entrances and exits.

They walked with pleasant smiles on their faces, waving when it seemed apt as Tav made mental notes of people and outfits, and her eyes scoped the few sets of wide open doors that led to spacious and romantic candlelit verandas.

A perfect place to dance with a duke.

“Is that Celeste?! Celeste! Over here!”

Tav’s grip tightened on Kassius’s arm as she worked to pinpoint who it was who called her amongst the crowd.

“Celeste!”

A middle aged woman draped in shimmering ivory was waving at her with a radiant smile and a glass of champagne, and Tav embraced her role as she pulled her flavor of the week along to meet the stranger who stood underneath a stained glass window.

“It’s so lovely to see you!” the woman chirped with a limp gesture of her hand.

“Oh, it’s good to see you!’ Tav exclaimed, having never seen the woman before in her life. 

She mentally cursed Raphael; he wanted her to make a fool of herself on this night, of that she was certain. 

“And who is this strapping gentleman you’ve brought with you, hm?” the woman asked, complete with a wink.

“This is Cordin Allero, but if my husband asks, he’s a very distant relative who has come to visit.”

Tav gave a saucy wink of her own, and the stranger giggled.

“Good thing Phalare is always out on business then, isn’t it?” The woman regarded ‘Cordin’ and offered her hand while Tav fought a grimace and a groan.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Kassius said, bowing as he lightly gripped the stranger’s fingers and kissed her knuckles. “Lady…”

“Sylvia Tatterhorn.”

“And how have the days been treating you lately, Sylvia?” Tav asked politely.

“Not well, I’m afraid,” Sylvia said, frowning.

“Yes, Phalare said you had been going through rough times,” Tav reached out and touched the woman’s arm and gave a sympathetic smile. “But I hope you enjoy your time tonight. There’s no better place to be than at the grandest ball of the season.”

“Right you are, Celeste! Perhaps Cordin wouldn’t mind a dance or two with me once you’ve had your fill of him?”

“Oh, no, I can’t–” Kassius started.

“He would love to,” Tav finished.

They left Sylvia to her champagne, not wanting to linger and risk Celeste’s disguise being found out, and Kassius bemoaned the prospect of dancing with anyone, including Tav herself.

“Didn’t you know you were coming to the ball with me?” she asked as they made another turn about the hall; a smart choice when wanting to avoid unnecessary social interactions.

“Not until the night before,” Kassius replied. “Otherwise I would have found someone to practice with.”

“We can remedy that,” Tav said with a grin. “Let’s practice!”

“What? Now? ”

“Yes! Well, not now. After this next song ends!” She laughed at his repugnant expression. “Oh, come on, Kass! A little dancing in front of the public nobility never hurt anyone. You’ll catch on as quickly as I did, I’m sure, and it’ll help you prepare for Sylvia.”

“I’m not dancing with Sylvia…”

“Then at least dance with me.” She excitedly pecked his cheek. “When’s the next time we’ll be at a ball together? Besides, we’re to enjoy ourselves while we can, aren’t we?”

There was melancholy in the way he looked at her, and the knot in her stomach twisted.

“Alright, Tav.” He bent and kissed her on the lips. “I’ll do it for you.”

Tav beamed and began to pull him towards the front of the hall where the wide expanse that made up the dancefloor waited. They gathered on the outskirts, joining the crowd of admirers who observed the graceful movements of the current dance, and Tav lit up at the sight of Wyll dancing in an ensemble of dark blue and silver. He was enjoying himself, his expression glowing while he held fast to a pretty dark-haired elf in teal.

“That’s my friend Wyll,” Tav said, proud of the man she saw.

“He’s very good, isn’t he?” Kassius replied.

“Yes, he is,” she smiled through a pang of sadness, and her eyes naturally veered away from the duke she rebuffed to the onlookers who lined the perimeter.

They widened at the sight of a wizard dressed in an ornate, deep purple robe that was not unlike the color of the favored one he had traveled in on their adventure.

Gale.

Gale of Waterdeep, attending a ball? Surely he didn’t travel to Baldur’s Gate for this event alone…

Distracted by his appearance, and studying the group he spoke animatedly to, Tav did not hear the song come to a close. Dance pairs jostled her as they swapped places from the sidelines to the dancefloor, and she felt a touch on her arm.

“Are we doing this, Tav?” Kassius asked, nervous.

“Yes… oh! Yes!”

“Gods…” muttered her reluctant partner as he led them after another pair.

“I only somewhat recall some dance lessons from my youth,” Kassius said, looking around and mimicking the positioning of how the other leads held their partners. “This is going to be a disaster.”

She gave him a wink.

“You’re leading, remember? So if you lead us into disaster, I’m to follow.”

“Right…” Kassius frowned.

Some partners down, she could spot Wyll poised with the same woman, and Tav plotted to introduce herself to the duke, if only to try and sneak a dance with him as Celeste.

The music began, and the pieces of her heart uplifted at the sound.

The hand she held was damp with sweat, and, unsure of himself, Kassius was glancing repeatedly to the fellow next to them for his cue to move.

His feet moved clumsily, and Tav navigated to compensate while she smiled and softly counted timing to the music to guide them both.

While they were by no means the best pair on the floor (a title that belonged to Wyll and his partner) they steadily became not the worst as the band progressed in their dramatic song. Around they all went, gowns flowing as they simultaneously stepped and floated across the flagstone at their feet, and Kassius, full of concentration, was fit to be an adequate dance partner after all. 

She was merry, reveling in the moment, paranoia almost forgotten…

And then she saw him in the crowd, spectating the dance.

Spectating her.

Raphael.

Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

Tav stumbled, and the devil smirked.

“Ignore him, Tav,” Kassius said in her ear as she nimbly recovered. 

“I can’t,” she hissed.

She had meant to speak in her head.

“You have to try. Focus on me, alright?”

Easier said than done; she could sense and feel Raphael’s eyes on her, and everytime their position allowed it, Tav compulsively glanced in his direction.

He was captivating, dressed in finery that was tailored to perfection (no doubt thanks to Innai). Gold ornamented deep reds, a reminder of the blanket she slept with, and the accent of black was most notable in the silk cravat worn around his neck. He was not alone where he stood; a collection of pretty women warred for his attention on the cusp of the dancefloor, and the prettiest of the brood, with sharp features and pouty lips, hung from Raphael’s shoulder with his arm around her waist.

The woman scowled at Tav from down her nose, and Tav scowled back at woman and devil both, all gaiety having evaporated.

“Remember your role, Celeste,” Kassius advised, following his own advice to ignore their sideline spectators.

She turned her scowl on him before morphing it into an overly exaggerated smile.

“I know nothing about Celeste,” Tav retorted through grit teeth as they maneuvered down the floor, granting her a moment’s reprieve from Raphael.

“You can’t let him get under your skin. Not tonight.”

Another four steps and Tav could see him again from over Kassius’s shoulder.

Why was he at the ball? Why did he have to keep staring at her?

And that woman! Her hand on Raphael’s face, her mouth moving at his ear…

The devil’s interest shifted...

“Ouch, Celeste, please, get it together. Let’s get through this dance, then we can keep our distance the rest of the night…”

Somehow, perhaps due to a boon from gods she did not follow, Tav mustered enough willpower to bring her focus back to the task at hand. By the time the orchestra commenced into a crescendo, her smile had relaxed, the rigidity in her bones dissolved, and she embodied grace as she stared into Kassius’s eyes and lost herself to the music. When the song entered the final stretch, Tav could read her partner was anxious for the end. When it arrived, Tav ended with a flourish, Kassius less so, and he quickly escorted them off the floor, away from Raphael, to the sound of clapping.

She then hastily grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

Tav tugged him through the crowd, continuing to add distance between them and the devil as they strode towards the back of the hall. Her eyes scanned the sea of heads, intent on finding a freshly familiar face, and Tav found who she was looking for chatting away within a dignified looking group of three.

“Celeste…” Kassius protested from her side.

“Sylvia, darling!” Tav shouted with a winsome smile.

Sylvia’s eyes lit up at their approach, and she grazed the arm of the gentleman on her right. “Oh, Celeste! Let me introduce you to–”

“Celeste Lori-Ripvur, pleased to meet you all,” Tav said with a quick curtsy to the group. Then to Sylvia, “We have just come from the most exhilarating dance, and while I am not quite up to another so soon, Cordin wished to return to the floor at your earliest convenience.”

“Celeste,” Kassius implored, and Tav silenced him with a look of authority.

He sighed, turned to regard Sylvia, and bowed. “If you would have me, Lady Tatterhorn…”

Sylvia clapped her hands together. “Why, yes! What fun!”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Tav smiled, bowed her head, and turned with a quest in mind.

“Please excuse me briefly,” Kassius said from behind, and she felt his hand lightly wrap around her forearm as he pulled her aside from the group.

“Where are you going? Forget about Raphael, and stay here until it’s time for you to do whatever it is you need to do,” he whispered.

Raphael was here for a reason.

She would not hide.

“No,” came Tav’s hushed, testy reply. “You’re going to stay here and stay out of my way. You shouldn’t even be here…” Her features softened somewhat at the remorse in his eyes, and she kissed his cheek. “Please, Kass. I’ll be fine, and I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

He let her go with a small nod, and Tav swiftly disappeared amongst a passing, rollicking flock of attendees.

Although she knew nothing about the woman she played, Tav inhaled as herself, and exhaled as Celeste. A cordial smile played on her lips, her overall expression soft and inviting as she elegantly weaved between those who moved too slowly than what her patience would allow.

A server crossed her path with drinks, and Tav plucked a glass of red wine from the tray in order to show Raphael that she was doing all that was asked of her; she was drinking, dancing, and on her way to mingle.

The dance floor came into view and another eye-catching dance was in motion. Wyll’s gnarled horns could be spotted above the heads of everyone else, and she could partially make out that he was giving himself a rest as he conversed with guests along the outskirts, his elf partner lingering at his side. Tav wished to go to him, to introduce herself and attain the dance she coveted, but the duke fell second to her main objective of introducing herself to the devil that already knew her.

Raphael was unseen at the spot where she last saw him, and Tav wandered, ensuring that she did not look lost as her eyes scoured the area for the devil’s distinguished visage.

After a brief search, she spotted his profile some distance away, outside on the veranda standing close to the same pouty woman who seemed determined to claim and paw at him so desperately like a…

FUCK.

She was jealous.

Her warnings blared, urging her to go back to Kassius and wait, urging her to not acknowledge how warped and wrong her feelings for the devil were becoming, urging her to not put herself in a situation to have them possibly evolve...

But, her want…

(Don’t be a fool!)

What she wanted…

(Don’t be an idiot!)

She wanted Raphael.

( Clown! )

Tav wanted to go to him and realized her desire had unconsciously made the decision for her; her feet were already carrying her to him…

Moth to the flame.

(To BURN.)

As if acutely sensing her, Raphael’s eyes found hers, and he flashed a subtle smirk before returning his interest to the woman draped upon him, her arms around his neck…

He knows…

Asshole.

Tav took a swig from her glass and began to lightly step to the music that poured into the night. She proceeded over the threshold and onto the veranda, joining couples and small groupings who also sought fresh air and respite from the sweltering and stuffy setting of the indoors. A waxing moon shone within a cloudless, starry sky, and Tav couldn’t help but again note the romantic atmosphere as she plotted her next steps.

A perfect place to dance with a devil.

Another crescendo from the orchestra was surmounting, and Tav played into it, letting her movements build with the song. The cool breeze felt refreshing against her skin as she spun, and her eyes closed, her persona edging into tipsy and free, her glass raised in one hand, skirts in another…

She perfectly timed a second, blind spin around a duo returning inside and then sightlessly drifted towards a couple who just so happened to be standing in the way within the middle of the veranda…

Her shoulder made rough contact with another’s, and Tav’s eyes blinked open as she fumbled. Wine sloshed, perilously close to splashing over the rim, and she held her glass away from anyone’s expensive garments as her feet worked to find balance.

A firm hand gripped her elbow to support her.

She glanced up to meet familiar, amused brown irises.

“Oh! Please pardon me, saer!” Tav said with a lilt of a laugh as she straightened. “I once again let the music get the better of me!”

The woman, posed still with an arm around Raphael’s neck, did not look amused, and her expression verged into dislike at the recognition of who had so gracelessly disrupted them.

If it wasn’t Tav’s imagination, the devil’s thumb secretly stroked her arm through the thin material of her sleeve before he let her go.

“Yes, you’re very lucky to have not made a mess of yourself, let alone us,” the woman snipped, eyeing the red liquid within Tav’s glass before glancing at the ground where not a single drop of wasted wine was present.

“Lucky indeed,” Raphael said, having also taken notice.

Tav disregarded the woman and her comment, and she offered an apologetic smile to the man who was not a man at all.

“Perhaps it was fate that I was to bump into you, saer. I very much recognize you from when I was dancing and hoped to find you, if only to apologize for the mean looks I was giving earlier. You see, I had received news moments before taking the floor that my poor-excuse-for-a-husband was coming home sooner than I hoped, and I must say you bear a striking resemblance to my Phalare.”

“Is that so?” he asked with an entertained raise of his brow.

“It is!” Tav tilted her head, squinting while she analyzed his features. “But now that I am closer, please forgive me further, it is the wine when I say that you are not as handsome as he.”

His eyes narrowed.

“What a rude thing you are,” said the woman. “Do you not know to whom you speak and insult?”

“I do not,” Tav said, formally regarding the woman. “I am, quite regrettably, ignorant and still learning the members of Baldur’s Gate society, having recently moved here from Elsewhere.” She curtsied. “Celeste Lori-Ripvur.”

The woman unhappily slid her arm away from Raphael to properly return the greeting with an uptight curtsy of her own. “Hestia Strum.”

Tav then held her hand out palm down to Raphael.

“The gall!” Hestia said under her breath, not knowing it was a hand that once held a knife to his throat and gave a taste of peach and fingers to his mouth.

“Raphael,” The devil supplied, voice rich and warm as ever. Raphael clutched the hand offered to him, radiating tingling heat, and grazed her knuckles with lips that hid a smile.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Raphael.” Tav said, her personal mischief continuing to weasel its way through her facade.

Like Solenne, Hestia was regarding her peculiarly; it was becoming increasingly apparent that there was something in the air between Raphael and Celeste, supposed strangers, when they were so… arrested by one another.

“Leave us,” Raphael ordered abruptly.

From Tav’s peripheral, she could see Hestia smile as though she had been just declared the victor of an imaginary battle.

When no one motioned to leave, Raphael’s head turned to Hestia.

“Leave us,” he repeated. 

Taking seconds to sink in, and understanding who the true victor was, Hestia’s smugness shrunk back into a pout, and she curtsied with a ‘harrumph’ along with a nasty glare directed at Tav before she slunk away.

Tav batted her eyelashes at the devil.

“Am I allowed to speak freely with you, or must I keep up Celeste’s role with the director of this play?” she asked sweetly.

“What a joy it is to bear witness to you at work,” came Raphael’s dry reply. “But give me a moment and I will ease your burden.” 

He lifted her drink from her hand as he strode past, and Tav watched the devil saunter up to a black-robed usher who stood at the interior of the door to the veranda. He spoke into the young man’s ear whilst handing over her confiscated prop, and the usher bowed in understanding before stepping onto the veranda.

“If I could request that everyone return inside in preparation for the main event!” the young man shouted.

While most of the surrounding parties were quick in doing what was bid of them, stragglers lingered for a few moments before eventually following suit, and Tav, not wanting to appear as an outlier, motioned to head in as well.

Predictably, she was swiftly intercepted by Raphael who moved to block her path. He watched her with a glint in his eye as they both waited for the setting to clear. Once empty, save them, the solid grand doors sealed shut, leaving Tav alone with the devil.

“Little Mouse.”

“Phalare.”

His lips quirked in acknowledgment. 

“What a surprise,” she said drolly, fully dropping character. “Why are you here?”

“I was invited, same as you,” Raphael replied, nonchalant. “There is enjoyment to be found from these events; beyond the decadence and revelry, it is a vast collection of names and faces, their hopes to learn and archive, souls to harvest for another day.”

Raphael stepped closer, as was his wont.

“However, tonight is a special occasion…” he purred.

Tav did not move and kept her chin raised.

“‘Special’ how so?” she asked with a lift of her brow.

“You are here.”

Tav’s stomach fluttered.

“And you are a distraction,” she retorted.

“A distraction you were free to ignore, and yet you made quite the display to stand before me.” He smiled with a theatrical gesture of his hand. “What an entertaining performance it was… lacking the grace and sophistication requested of Celeste, but I could see the charm in your efforts, unlike dear Hestia.”

She glowered.

“Remove the ring so that I may see that expression on the face where it rightfully belongs,” Raphael said, before adding a humored, “Pretty please.”

“I don’t think so; I don’t feel like risking my soul anymore than I already am.”

“I’m allowing it, Little Mouse. You are to be for my eyes only, and on the off-chance that anyone recognizes you from the opposing terrace or barges in, I will not count it against you.”

Tav debated briefly, and, trusting him, slipped the ring from her finger and carefully nudged it between breast and bodice. The feeling of magic washed away and she simultaneously wondered how her hair and make-up transitioned with the change in appearance.

It must have been deemed suitable enough, for even in candlelight and a starry night sky she could make out the blown wide state of Raphael’s pupils.

“What a shame to have to hide such a vision,” he said.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Phalare,” Tav replied, blushing nonetheless.

But it was getting him somewhere; her heart was sewing itself together against intuition’s better judgment…

“Another shame, then.” Raphael’s eyes roamed across her face at his leisure. “It seems Duke Ravengard’s dance instruction was a great benefit to you. On which night was the lesson that instructed improvised interruptions?” 

“An accident, I assure you, and as you know, accidents happen,” Tav said, recalling the devil’s flimsy excuse for burning her blanket.

“Don’t they just?” Raphael responded with a devilish smile. He offered his hand to her, no different to when he wished to transport her alongside him. “Would you indulge me with a dance, my dear?”

Tav eyed his hand, her heart thumping, and beyond the closed doors, a concerto was beginning.

“I said I would break your toes should you dance with me.”

“Yes, I remember Korrilla mentioning your threat, and I would advise you not to try,” Raphael said dangerously.

There was a flicker of a smile across her lips as she placed her hand in his, and his other hand quickly found her waist to draw her against him. The fingers of her opposing hand trailed up his doublet and came to rest at the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

The song that flowed through the door was soft and dreamlike, and Raphael began to lead them into a slow moving dance that erred on intimate if only due to their incredibly close proximity.

She liked how her hand felt in his (nice, like it belon- no, you fool), and Tav was mesmerized by the fire in his eyes much like how he seemed mesmerized by whatever it was he saw in hers. 

“Admittedly, I’m not as angry at you as I was when I made that declaration to break your toes,” she said after a minute, now admiring his aristocratic features. He was exceedingly more handsome than the husband that didn’t exist. “And while I don’t think you’re completely blameless in Astarion’s leaving, for better or worse, I no longer believe you orchestrated it.”

Raphael hummed. “Pleased as I am to hear it, I request that we refrain from muddying this scene we’re painting by delving into talk of previous lovers.”

Unable to help herself, Tav prepared to poke the devil. “Ah, I see. Then is the talk of current lovers on the table?”

Raphael hummed again and somehow pulled her tighter against him. 

“I’m curious who it is you have in your thoughts,” he said, a hint of warning in his tone.

He wanted her to say him.

“With whom should I begin…”

The devil’s lip began to curl alongside a low growl.

“Really, Raphael, what do you expect me to say?” she said coolly, averting her gaze. “That we’re lovers because of one night where our baser urges got the best of us? Or because you use my body without my consent and at your beck and call?”

“Do you not think we pair well together, Little Mouse?” he replied, sidestepping her two points as they danced.

“This is unhealthy, whatever this is, and, honestly, it’s unwise of me to have come. You’re a devil.”

“That I am, and you did not answer the question.”

“And neither did you for mine, so I suppose we’re even,” Tav retorted with a glare.

“I would have you naked and on top of me for all eternity if that sheds some light.”

Her cheeks flamed. “I have my own addendum to make; you’re an ass of a devil.”

Raphael chuckled. 

“Oh, how endearing you are! How I crave these little battles and desire your reactions! No doubt the same as you enjoy your efforts in prodding me for mine,” he crooned. “I reiterate; we make a well-matched pair…”

“I reiterate; this is unhealthy,” Tav countered. It was difficult to scowl when fighting a smile. “So please stop trying to sweep me off my feet.” 

There was silence, aside from the escalating symphony spilling from beyond the doors, and Raphael delicately released her hand in order to bring his own to her face, thumb brushing across her cheek as his fingers curled underneath her jaw and chin. Buried somewhere in the depths of his eyes was the emotion from the other day that Tav could not decipher.

“My dear, it’s far too late for either of us to stop what’s long been in motion.”

And to her horror (as she swayed, dancing with the devil), Tav knew he was right; she could not stop the feeling that she was on the precipice of…

Of…

(BURNING)

Falling in love.

Raphael pushed her from the edge with a kiss.

Into the flames she fell, mouth and body pliable against him as her arms snaked around his neck, her fingers entangling themselves in his brown locks. His kiss was as tender and slow as the dance he led, Raphael holding her to him, the grip around her waist firm and punishing as though he would never relinquish her. Tav drowned in cherries and sulfer and the taste of sweet fire…

He pulled away after what felt like an eternity, his eyes smoldering in a way never before seen.

“I will have all of you, Tav.”

She was rendered speechless, breath gone from her lungs, her name an echo, foreign sounding on his tongue…

He spoke a promise, a vow.

(donotBURN)

It was her intuition that had enough wits to reply.

“Nothing is guaranteed.”

His fiendish nature was leaking by way of his smile, and Raphael kissed her again, tenderness being trampled over by bruising possession. 

A leg pushed between hers, and in response, Tav dexterously wrapped her calf up and around it. Raphael groaned, his hand moving from her waist to drag itself along her curves to reach her thigh.

When he felt the dagger underneath the fabric of her dress, he broke the kiss and smirked against her lips. “How naughty.”

Arousal shot through her, and she mirrored his smirk before pushing her lips against his to resume her descent. Raphael worked to gather her skirts and the warmth of his hand soon hooked itself in the ditch of her exposed knee. His thumb caressed her while the hand at her neck smoothed down Tav’s front and adjusted to glide back up her spine. His palm settled between her shoulder blades and their kiss broke once more when he elegantly dipped her body backwards.

There was a headiness to his gaze, and Tav could tell by the way his hand trembled ever so slightly against her skin that the devil was struggling to keep control. She recognized the danger that their dance was verging into territory that would see her naked and on top of him if neither one of them put a stop to it.

They straightened, albeit more leaned with Raphael above her, and his hand left her knee to travel up the skin of her thigh, over her holstered dagger to grip a cheek of her backside. His lips trailed across her jaw to land at the shell of her ear as her hand dug itself further up and into his hair.

“Just how wet are you for me, my Tav?” he asked, voice rough with desire.

She shuddered with her name, and to answer his question, she was frightfully soaked, but Tav knew his control was set to break if she didn’t stop this now. 

“Raphael,” she half moaned.

His rumble was deep.

“We have to stop… my task…”

Raphael growled, stilling after a moment.

Tav unwrapped her leg as they righted themselves, his hold loosening around her, skirts falling into place, dance over.

“Yes… your act continues…” he muttered gruffly.

The unreadable emotion was back as he drew away to look at her, brown engulfed by the black of dilated pupils. The makeup that stained her lips colored his…

“What is it?” Tav asked after more than a moment passed, her heart pounding.

“Nothing of importance,” Raphael said matter-of-factly, burying the emotion as he took a step back, hands peeling away from her. He gestured to the door with a nod. “Go on, Little Mouse. Don your disguise; it’s nearing time for you to take the stage.”

She frowned slightly but slowly fished for the ring as she stepped for the door. She paused when he did not follow.

“Are you not coming?”

“You will see me again before the night ends, of that I guarantee.” Fire swirled at his feet, and he smiled. “I thank you for the dance, my dear. It was a treat.”

The devil bowed as flames overtook him.

Once her ring was back in place, Tav pulled open the door wide enough to slip inside. The usher gave her a knowing glance, and she strolled up to the young man who looked no older than twenty.

“How do I look?” she asked.

Unsure of what kind of answer she was seeking, the usher looked at her quizzically. “Uh… my lady?”

“How is my hair? Do I look like I kissed anyone?”

“You mean Lord Raphael?”

Tav winced internally and was glad for the devil’s name to quickly be consumed by the noise of the hall.

“Yes, do I look like I kissed Lord Raphael?” she hurriedly whispered.

The usher pointed to his lips, and Tav raised a finger to hers to wipe at what must have been a smear of her makeup. After a minute of preening, the usher gave her a small smile.

“You look less like you kissed Lord Raphael now, my lady.”

She did not want to look like she kissed Lor– Raphael at all.

“Thank you,” Tav said with a small curtsy. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

The usher bowed after wishing her the same, and she left to find Kassius.

Tav did not need to wander far, for the elf was spotted on the dance floor with Sylvia Tatterhorn. He wore a strained grin along with an expression in his eyes that pleaded for help, and Tav stifled a laugh as she politely pushed her way into the crowd of onlookers. She regretted having forced Kassius into a situation he wasn’t comfortable with, but, then again, he signed a contract that forced her into signing her soul away…

Tav’s smile fell.

When did she start thinking her dear friend needed to pay a price? An ‘eye for an eye’?

Raphael’s influence, surely…

She should rescue Kassius at the first opportunity.

Tav made her way to the front of the viewing party in order to discreetly flag his attention as he and Sylvia neared in their dance. He caught her eye not long after she settled, and he visibly sighed in relief before Sylvia entered an impromptu spin and stole his attention. Tav chuckled behind a hand and contemplated the odd pair the two made; their differences in heights and age, the demeanor in how they carried themselves… There was limited elegance to their dance, however that did not dissuade Sylvia from having her fun, much to Kassius’s chagrin.

Tav found herself wondering how others would have judged her, had she and Raphael taken the floor together without her disguise. Would they have thought that she and him looked as ‘well-matched’ as Raphael liked to make her believe?

Not that she would want anyone seeing her dance with the devil. Especially not Wyll or Gale…

She shuddered at the nauseating scenario.

Thankfully, the song was coming to a close, and Tav escaped her hypotheticals just as swiftly as Kassius escaped Sylvia after escorting her off the floor.

“Gods above and below, that was a travesty,” he groaned once he reached sanctuary by way of Tav. Kassius offered his arm. “Quickly, please! I think I will leap from the balcony if she tries to dance with me again…”

Tav laughed and complied, letting Kassius lead them away to post up in a more secluded area within the hall. As soon as a server was in radius with drinks, Kassius went and fetched two glasses. When Tav declined, he threw both back, one after the other.

“I’m sure Sylvia wasn’t that bad,” she remarked after the second drink disappeared.

“I’m prepping for…” he paused and stared into an empty glass, his expression souring. “When she makes her inevitable return. She couldn’t keep her hands off me.”

“Well, don’t drink too much,” Tav said with mild concern. “I don’t think I can carry you all the way back to the hideout if you pass out. Drag, maybe.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine, Celeste…” Kassius replied, sounding marginally bitter. He leaned against the wall. “How was your chat with Lord Raphael?”

The title was said with increased bitterness, and Tav felt additional concern that he somehow knew of the complexities between her and the devil.

She would not mention the dance, the kiss, or the fact that he had shown up just to see her. Or so he claimed.

“It was fine, I suppose,” Tav said with an offhanded shrug. “I shouldn’t have been as surprised by his appearance. He does seem like the type to stalk grand balls.”

“Well, I’ll be glad when we’re rid of him after this whole contract business is sorted and done.”

She could not say the same for the former half of Kassius’s response, but, yes, the latter would be welcomed.

Tav did not feel like mingling, to Kassius’s further relief, and so the two of them stood in place watching people pass and overhearing conversations. If anyone wanted to socialize with Celeste and Cordin, they were free to come and seek engagement at their leisure.

“How did your business with your Captain go?” Tav asked after some time. “I wish I could have helped.”

Kassius grimaced into another glass, his face flushed with alcohol.

“Nearly sorted, thank the Gods. The man is truly a bastard.”

“I can appreciate those sentiments,” Tav replied with a sympathetic smile.

He frowned, opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it once more.

“You know I care for you, Ta-er, Celeste. Don’t you?”

“Yes, Cordin, I know,” she said, placating. She gingerly pried the half empty glass of champagne away from Kassius’s fingers.

“But do you know how much?”

Tav froze momentarily; she did not know how much, and she did not think here and now was the best time to learn. 

“Why don’t I go and try to find you some water? Stay put, don’t grab anymore drinks, and I’ll come right back.”

“Alright,” Kassius replied. His frown deepened.

She gave him another smile and moved past him, back out into the sea of glamor. As she navigated the waters, Tav’s ears unavoidably eavesdropped; there was talk of an announcement being made soon, Lady Edith had apparently thrown wine in the face of a suspected mistress, murmurings of jealousy from a number of women about a new arrival who ‘dared to show everyone up’ in manner of dress and overall styling, a pair of twins argued over who would get to dance with the man in the moss colored brocade…

Meanwhile, Tav could not spot a server who carried water, and she hoped she would not have to leave the hall in order to find some. She needed to stay, as Raphael mentioned her time on stage was nearing…

“ATTENTION EVERYONE!”

The booming, spell-enhanced voice rang out and Tav and a number of nearby others jumped in surprise. Chatter quieted, and heads and bodies turned to where the voice sounded towards the back center of the hall.

“If everyone could please gather at the edges, we can make headway with what this night truly is about!”

Tav’s eyes narrowed, anxiety catching fire under her skin.

This was it; the stage.

Intuition had her follow the flow of people, and Tav could see a handful of black robed ushers steering groups away from the center section of the hall, leaving a wide column of open space. It reminded her of when she and her adventuring party had arrived for Enver Gortash’s proclamation as Archduke. When they had walked down the aisle as though they were guests of honor…

The crowd soon lined either side of the hall. Tav gently nudged her way through to get as close to the front as possible in order to better view whatever the announcement entailed. Standing at the top of the cleared aisle (where Gortash once stood) was Wyll’s well-respected father, Duke Ulder Ravengard, and next to him a jolly looking man Tav guessed to be the master of ceremonies.

Her eyes scanned the crowd opposite of her; she could see Wyll talking to a man on his left, Gale’s head hidden behind a row of people some ways down, and further down than that…

Tav’s stomach flipped, and she unconsciously tightened her grip on the glass of champagne she held.

Raphael. 

Her hands felt sweaty, mouth dry.

Why had he returned?

(To watch the folly unfold, fool.)

If he knew where she stood (which he likely did ), the devil made no effort to glance in her direction. He was playing the role of the attentive guest, his face a mask of composure as he focused on Duke Ulder and the host on stage. Regardless, Tav was certain Raphael could feel the intensity of her perplexed gaze, and she diverted her estimation of him only when the voice resounded again.

“Welcome! Welcome, everyone!” shouted the host with a wide wave of his arms. “Thank you all for coming! As some of you know, tonight marks a very special occasion; it has been a year since this illustrious city was attacked by the Absolute. During that time, many fought for the humanity of Baldur’s Gate, no, for all of Faerûn! The battle was grisly, costing us the lives of beloved friends, family members, and citizens. However, the cost would have been far greater were it not for the heroic sacrifices of a select few adventurers. Duke Ulder Ravengard, if you would take the reins!”

Her blood went cold, and her eyes drifted back to the devil, anger beginning to cloud her vision.

“Tonight, we honor these adventurers, these Heroes of Baldur’s Gate! We hope to immortalize them within your hearts, and wish that you will remember their names. While we will honor them all, only a few could join us tonight, and we should like to formally award those in attendance so that they know their efforts will no longer go unofficially recognized.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Tav could vaguely recall venting on the dock of the Chionthar after a climactic battle.

A devil as her confidant.

Everything clicked into place as Raphael’s eyes slowly found hers.

She was sure Duke Ulder was speaking, but his words were lost as understanding swarmed in her head and roared in her ears.

Who this event was for, and why she wore the disguise of a person who likely didn't exist. Why she couldn’t reveal herself. The phantom bite that had taken place on her neck the day earlier. Who was taking the stage in the dress Innai specifically made for her...

Just as the first act had been written, the second act, this second act at this godsdamned ball, thrown in honor of her and her companions, was never meant for Kassius or anyone else.

The specific actor he had in mind for all three acts…

Was her.

She’d been a mouse in the trap the moment she walked into the Devil’s Den.

A new Grand Design, one that would see the devil own her soul.

The bastard devil did nothing but stare at her, his face devoid of emotion as his eyes burned her.

Tav burned him in return with budding hatred.

In the middle of applause, the glass she held cracked and shattered. Shards scattered to the floor with a splash of champagne, blood turning to ice in her veins at the additional realization that Wyll and Gale would see and interact with what was turning into the biggest mistake of her life. The consequence of her heist on the House of Hope; fucking Haarlep.

All because of her idiotic fascination with Raphael.

Raphael’s eyes flicked down to what must have been the hand that stung and felt warm, and he soon after disappeared within the crowd behind him.

Which was fortunate because Tav no longer felt the ability to stomach looking at him. Her concern returned to the scene she had to helplessly watch unfold, the pain in her hand barely registering when the pain of being deceived sawed at the newly sewn seams of her heart.

Her paranoia whispered: this is only the beginning.

“-could not attend tonight, Astarion Ancunín!” Duke Ulder shouted amidst the sound of polite applause.

Her poor heart spasmed, and Tav thanked the gods that her beloved had not appeared to ruin her completely. No companion had yet to emerge from the gathered crowd, and it sounded as though Astarion’s name was the last on the list of those who hadn’t shown or couldn’t. Gale appeared to be dreading his name being called, same as she dreaded hers, and Wyll’s brow was knit in confusion as he scoped the collection of faces on her side of the aisle, looking for her.

It was obvious she wasn’t the only one who had been left in the dark in regards to the true nature of this event.

“I know it was difficult for many of you to understand my son’s transformation, but I am relieved that you all have looked past the physical differences and have accepted Wyll for the hero he is. I am a proud father and grow prouder by the day of my son’s accomplishments. Duke Wyll Ravengard!”

Wyll’s smile was part grimace, reddened skin turning redder. He tentatively stepped out into the empty aisle to louder applause than what was given for the members of their party who were not in attendance. He kept his father’s gaze as he walked to claim his mark of achievement, horned head held high.

“Excuse me, pardon me– Celeste! ” a hushed, slightly slurred voice said from behind, and Tav felt a light touch on her arm. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you since this thing began!”

She turned her head to see Kassius sidling up to her with worried features. He glanced down.

“You’re bleeding,” he commented, pulling out a red and gold kerchief.

Tav ignored him, her attention on Wyll as Kassius grabbed her hand and tightly wound the fabric around whatever cuts she sustained.

“I am honored to bestow this medal upon you,” father said to son.

Wyll’s medal was pinned on the chest of his finery, and the host gestured for him to then stand to the side for all to formally gawk at.

What a nightmare scenario for them all.

“Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep, a wizard of masterful skill whose assistance was an utmost factor in the accomplishments of this heroic group.”

More applause.

Gale’s hands were together as if in prayer, fingers to his lips, his eyes wide. She could vaguely see him mutter something before he began to pardon himself through the rows of people blocking his path. He awkwardly smiled and waved while speaking barely audible ‘hello’s’ as he strolled up to Duke Ulder.

“Celeste, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Kassius whispered.

“You’ll see,” Tav muttered darkly.

Gale’s medal was glinting from where it perched on his robe, and he nervously rocked back and forth on his heels beside Wyll.

“And, lastly, the valiant, clever leader who led the charge against the Absolute and against the villains who lurked in the shadows that we may never know of. It was a great pleasure to get to know her, the little time I stayed in their camp, and without her, I believe many of us in this hall would have perished, myself included.”

Tav’s freshly wrapped, injured hand blindly found Kassius’s, and she squeezed in trepidation, all pain insignificant in the moment.

“Tav, local resident and Hero of Baldur’s Gate!” Duke Ulder announced, a hand motioning to the opposite end from where he and the others stood.

There were gasps from surrounding women within the applause, and Tav herself gasped with them.

Innai was right.

She was a painting of breathtaking beauty, regal in a gown of deep red flowing silk and tulle. The design of the bodice and shoulders called back to armor she wore that year ago, adorned with embroidered accents of gold, bone white and elements of chainwork. Ornate cuffs of lustrous gold covered her forearms, and it did not seem out of the question that Tav appeared dressed and ready for both ball and battle. Her make-up was seductive and dramatic, Raphael’s mark at her neck on full display, and there was mischief in her eyes as Tav elegantly paraded down the aisle.

She looked like she came from the Hells.

Which was alarmingly appropriate given that the creature glamored in her form was a fucking fiend.

Tav, the real Tav, could somewhat hear Kassius murmur her name with astonishment as everyone continued to applaud.

She searched the crowd for Raphael, expecting to catch him smirking as he watched the folly unfold, but the devil could not be found. Her eyes then flew to Gale and Kassius, who were staring at ‘Tav’ with mouths agape as she curtsied with perfection in front of Duke Ulder.

The duke smiled as he carefully pinned the medal to her, and ‘Tav’ had the fucking audacity to then turn and bow sweepingly before the entire audience, her eyes finding Celeste’s for the slightest sliver of a second.

“Thank you all for this honor,” ‘Tav’ voiced. “For myself and for my dear friends and companions. But it was not only us; many unseen allies were there to lend aid in times of need, so please do not forget their sacrifices. We who were awarded medals tonight are but a small few to a heroic collective.”

Applause broke out, and the master of ceremonies took a step forward.

“Yes, thank you all! I invite everyone to please share your gratitude with these heroes before the night is over.”

The applause continued, and when it ended, the crowd was allowed to break apart to resume the drinking, dancing, and merriment that existed previous to the announcement.

Tav’s feet moved on their own accord, aiming to come face to face with the ‘Tav’ who had stolen hers.

The chatter was an additional reminder. 

“Oh, she is stunning!”

“Where did she get a dress like that?”

“I think it was a bit overdone for my tastes–”

“Think I can ask her for a dance?”

“As if someone that beautiful would dance with you!”

A small line had formed to congratulate the heroes, and Tav rudely cut in line a handful of people away from the front.

Kassius rudely slotted himself to be next to her.

“Queue up properly!” someone shouted.

“Oh, bugger off will you!” Kassius shouted back before his voice lowered. “Celeste, this probably isn’t the best idea…”

“Go back to Sylvia if you don’t like it,” Tav snapped, tone hushed.

The line was thinning quickly, and her nerves simmered as the guests of honor crept closer.

“Well, if you were thinking of doing any hand shaking, maybe don’t,” Kassius muttered.

The tight fist Tav held throbbed, and she glanced down at the improvised wrapping that was currently less red and gold and more red and bloodied. Crimson lines and drops stained the green skirts of her dress, and she fleetingly felt sorry that Innai’s lovely creation was now tarnished due to a lapse of fury.

Hearing Gale’s voice made her heart ache in the way of having long missed a friend. Her stomach churned as she came before him, and she masked the storm within her with a cheerful disposition as she curtsied.

She opened her mouth to speak when the wizard cut her off.

“You are most welcome,” Gale said with a bow, undeniably done with meeting people. “And thank you.”

“Might I kiss your cheek?” Tav asked, intent on finding his ear instead. Her terms stated that she could not admit to her true identity, not that she couldn’t alert her friends that there was an imposter in their midst…

“Can’t say I’m one to deny the advances of a beautiful woman!”

Tav smiled and moved in…

But perhaps her friends would do something unpredictable, something that would disrupt the event in an effort to find out what happened to the real Tav. They would come to Celeste, demanding answers, maybe Gale would cast a spell to reveal her true self…

She kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, for everything,” she said, the words coming easily from her.

Tav stuffed down the apology for her mistakes, lodging them in her throat.

Her heart ached again when she met Wyll.

Tav curtsied (daintily), and he bowed politely in return.

“Thank you for your sacrifices,” she said sincerely. “You are the hero I pictured in the stories I read when I was young, and the hero I’ll picture for all future tales.”

“Oh, that is… very kind of you to say,” Wyll replied with a blush.

She kissed his cheek, too, and suddenly felt sorrow in her bottled storm of wild emotion… almost like she was saying goodbye.

Sorrow again fed anger when it came time to meet herself.

Tav’s smile was beguiling as she held her hand out, palm down, for Celeste to take. A greeting that was unlike how she had met the previous others who passed through the line.

Celeste gripped it with her uninjured hand and crushed fingers as she kissed the back of what was offered.

“Harder,” Tav murmured with a smirk.

“Thank you for your service,” Celeste ground out.

“It was my absolute pleasure to service you,” came the sultry reply that only she could hear.

“May I kiss your cheek?”

“You can kiss more, if you’d like.”

Anger vibrated in its bottle as she grazed Tav’s cheek with her lips, and Celeste moved her mouth towards the hero’s ear.

“How I yearn to be rid of you, Haarlep. The hardest I’ll ever come will be the day when I know you’re dead.”

The incubus shuddered, and when Celeste withdrew, she could see Tav was not intimidated but instead aroused.

“You’re welcome,” came Tav’s simple, smiling response. She held her hand out again to the next person in line.

Kassius.

“Oh, uh,” he nervously took her hand and kissed it. He could not meet her gaze. “Thanks for saving our asses, I guess.”

“My pleasure,” Tav purred, eyeing prey. “And who might you be, you pretty thing?”

“Cordin Allero.”

“Would you like to dance with me, Cordin Allero?”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Celeste snapped, snatching Kassius’s hand. “Come on, Cordin…”

She wanted to find Raphael.

(Fool.)

She wanted to yell at him with her dagger out.

(Idiot.)

She wanted to spill blood that wasn’t hers .

(Clown.)

(Burn.)

Tav marched to the veranda with Kassius in tow close behind, and while it was reopened and occupied, there was no devil to bait her. She turned to go back inside, to continue her hunt…

Kassius grasped her arm. 

“Hey, let’s stay here for a moment; cool off and get some fresh air.”

“No, Kassius! He deceived me! And you!”

“You have to calm down and focus.”

“Easy for you to say; you don’t have an incubus using your body!” Tav spat, pointing a finger at him with her bandaged hand. “You’re just a pawn he used to get to me!”

“My soul is on the line, same as yours, Tav.”

She was shaking.

“Yes, well, sorry to tell you; your soul isn’t the one he wants!”

Kassius sighed and ran harried fingers through his hair.

“What item do you think he wants you to grab?” he asked.

“Hells if I know! Gale’s smallclothes?!” Tav replied, throwing her hands in the air. “The messenger hasn’t shown their stupid face yet...”

Glancing back inside, she could see people assembling at the edge of the dance floor and her eyes narrowed at the sight of the three newly decorated heroes being guided to stand within its middle.

Dread roiled in her gut.

“Oh, no,” she said, her feet moving automatically towards the next scene of the act.

The host’s voice was making a follow-up announcement to a hall filled with low, excited chatter.

“And, should our heroes choose to participate, a dance with their heart’s desire!”

“No!” Celeste breathed, rushing to witness the folly she built with her own hands. She aggressively pressed herself through people to land a spot in the front row at the side of the ‘stage’, and her heart broke at the expression of longing that Wyll fleetingly gave to a Tav that did not look at him in return.

“Why don’t you choose first, Gale?” Tav prompted sweetly.

“Ohhh, I only dance when it’s around traps, I’m afraid,” he replied, already stiffly stepping away. “So I think I will maneuver myself this way and watch while you two have a ball…”

There were many disappointed sounds from men and women alike as the wizard walked to view from the sidelines.

Tav smiled fondly and then glanced at the other friend and companion at her side.

“Surely you won’t disappoint the crowd, will you, Wyll?” she asked playfully. “You dance so masterfully.”

Celeste prayed that she would not have to watch herself reject Wyll a third time, the promise to save a dance for him another mistake on her growing list, another foolish thing she told the devil that he could have filed away to use against her…

Seemingly fearful of a more public rejection, Wyll did the smart thing and went to offer his hand before the elf he had already, and safely, danced with so often.

A second ripple of disappointment from the crowd.

“I suppose that leaves me then,” Tav said, tapping her lip with a manicured finger in deliberately slow consideration. “Who shall I choose…”

Celeste's jaw tightened; she knew, fucking knew who would take the hand of the 'hero'...

Tav’s roving eyes found their target.

“You there, ravishing gentleman in the back.”

Heads turned and her chosen stepped forward, guests parting instantly as though protocol demanded it, as if he were a king.

No, as if he were the Archdevil Supreme.

The worst mistake of her life…

Raphael.

Celeste itched to claw her face and scream to the heavens at the despair that distorted Wyll’s face, the disgust that curdled Gale’s as the devil bowed before Tav, kissed the offered hand and pulled her against him…

There would be no denying to Wyll who owned the mark at her neck.

She wanted to cry.

(Fool.)

She wanted to vomit.

(Idiot.)

She wanted to die.

(Clown.)

The song began, and so did the dance.

Celeste dizzyingly did not need to wonder any longer; she could judge herself as Tav swept the floor with the devil, and they looked as well-matched as Raphael wanted her to believe. They were made for each other, their attire especially so; red and golds with opposing accents of black and bone white.

Two sides of the lance board, good versus evil, hero and villain…

But she wasn’t good, and she didn’t feel like a hero.

Good people weren’t thieves like her.

Good people didn’t hurt their friends.

Good people didn’t want to fuck evil devils who maimed and tortured.

Celeste forced herself to look away from the pairing that made her sick, her eyes going to the crowd to see how they judged what they did not understand.

Expressions of awe, jealousy, enrapturement, and… heartbreak.

The pieces of Celeste’s heart fragmented further.

Her legs buckled and she silently crumpled to the floor.

Astarion was watching, betrayal and woe written plain across his features.

He turned away after a handful of seconds, the scene unbearable to him, and left...

Her world spun; she could hear nothing, see nothing, feel nothing.

Astarion!

Everything was numb.

(My love!)

A body suddenly crouched next to hers, one hand on her shoulder, the other gripping her arm.

“The amulet!” the voice declared amid swelling music.

She couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to…

“What?”

“The amulet!” Kassius urged with a shake of her shoulder. “You have to take the amulet from Astarion!”

“W-what are you talking about?” Panic was setting in, her chest heaving as short, pained breaths returned to her. “I can’t do that, he needs it, signed for it-“

“You have to if you want to save our souls!”

Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked rapidly, not understanding.

“What… why… you knew…”

“Go, Tav! ”

Kassius forcibly drew her up, and she clumsily rose with him, stumbling forwards onto the dance floor as though the concept of legs was foreign to her. Tav unconsciously ambled past the two sets of dancers, her face ugly, twisted in agony with tears spilling from her eyes. Aghast onlookers made space as she oafishly tore through the crowd and started to give chase after her beloved. 

Tav hurried down the stairs while searching for the shock of curly white hair that she missed so much. She could see him some ways away, quickly heading for the hall’s exit that would eventually lead him out towards Rivington.

She could not stop him here and now; there would be no privacy afforded to them, regardless of where they were to stop and confront one another, but the streets of Rivington were far better suited than in the hall surrounded by gossiping, peacocking nobles. Tav was not blind to their nosy looks or deaf to the whispers she ignited as she followed Astarion with tears falling freely down her cheeks.

She hoped that there would be none left by the time he would be directed to turn and see the stranger in disguise.

The air seemed colder, the night darker as Tav tailed Astarion out of Wyrm’s Rock and onto the main thoroughfare. The guests of the ball were thinning as they walked further along, and eventually she came to be an overly-dressed anomaly amongst the casual nighttime city dwellers they passed. Where her other companions had dressed up for the event, the vampire spawn was dressed down in simple clothing that informed either he had not intended on going to the ball and later changed his mind, or that he had perhaps been plucked from wherever and dropped at Wyrm’s Rock by way of fiery teleportation.

Tav could see the chain of the amulet around his neck.

Astarion slowed to a stop, his back to her, and it was painfully ironic that their confrontation was to seemingly take at the stoop of Sharess’ Caress.

Paranoia told her someone else was watching or listening in from the shadows…

“I’m not interested,” Astarion said peevishly as he turned to regard her. His eyebrows raised as he took in her distressed appearance, and he gestured to the brothel with a spiteful grimace. “And, no offense, darling, but I’m not sure anyone inside has a thing for… damsels in emotional distress either. Unless they’re a devil, of course… in which case, try the room upstairs. I believe it’s given the beloved moniker of the Devil’s Den. A fucking favorite for certain people.”

Tav suffered to see him after so long, and she suffered further to see the hurt her love carried with him, as if she had been the one to abandon him…

She would not fight him for Raphael’s fucking item!

“Tav needs your help,” Celeste said, voice breaking.

“Tav doesn’t need my bloody help when she has Raphael’s!”

“She needs the amulet you carry.”

“Oh, you must be joking!” Astarion raised a hand to his face and began to laugh, a mocking sound that split her in two. “Tav practically begs me to sign the contract for the godsforsaken thing, and now she’s having a change of thought? Well, it’s too late for that!”

Celeste swayed. “That… that wasn’t her…”

Astarion froze, his beautiful eyes unfocusing as he pieced something together in his mind, brow dancing between anger and confusion. He suddenly charged her and painfully gripped her shoulders.

“What do you mean ‘that wasn’t her’?”

“It… it was an incubus in her form,” Celeste answered weakly, staring into the red of his eyes, fresh tears welling as her biggest mistake left her lips.

“An incubus?” He questioned, confusion again on his face. “How do you know that?”

Celeste swallowed thickly.

“Tav went to the House of Hope by herself, to scope out what else Raphael owned.”

Astarion’s face fell.

“Her curiosity got the better of her, as you know, and she went exploring. She gained access to the devil’s boudoir and…” Her eyes closed as she struggled to say the next string of words. “An incubus was waiting in his bed, wearing the form of their master, Raphael. Tav was… further curious, and she chose to fuck the incubus, who then permitted itself to use her form whenever they or their master desire it.”

The hands at her shoulder loosened, and Celeste’s eyes opened to the distraught face of her beloved.

“How… how do you know this?” Astarion asked.

Celeste let him search her eyes.

“...Tav?” he asked breathlessly.

“No,” She vehemently shook her head, tears cascading. “No, I’m not Tav.”

Astarion crushed her in a hug, and Celeste collapsed into him.

It was working in their favor that she wore a disguise, for he could never otherwise return to her side…

“She misses you, thinks about you every day! She loves you so fucking much!” she instantly wailed, raking her fingers across his back. “She’s been so lost without you! Why did you sign? How could you fucking leave her?”

He carefully lowered them to the ground while holding her tightly, his hand against the back of her head as she wept openly into his shoulder.

“I was convinced it was her at the time, but it all happened so quickly…” his hold tensed. “In the end, she made it sound like she would be happier living a life without me, knowing that I had the amulet and ‘true freedom’, rather than struggling in vain to find a cure with a partner who seemingly bemoaned his existence without the sun. I felt sold out, hurt… angry…”

“She never wanted to live without you…”

“I never wanted to live without her!” He pulled away and Celeste dared to look at him with red, puffy eyes. “Hearing those words from her mouth was like throwing me in direct sunlight. I… signed out of bitterness, and regret it every godsdamned day.”

Astarion lovingly brushed hair away from her face.

“She loves you,” she breathed, throat aching.

“I love her,” he replied. “And… I suspected after the deal was done that something was wrong, that maybe it wasn’t her, but I didn’t know for certain until now… Why didn’t yo– she tell me about the House of Hope? She knows I would have been more than happy to have gone with her?”

“She knows…”

“Then why the secrecy?”

“She was ashamed.”

“About the incubus? About wanting to get off with Raphael?”

Presently ashamed, Celeste nestled against his shoulder and nodded roughly.

“I don’t care about her dabbling with an incubus, and I’ve always known of her fascination with Raphael. What I care about is that her body is being used against her will…”

She whimpered; she could have – should have told him sooner …

Celeste trembled, she had to ask, was nervous to ask…

“Did Raphael… coax you into signing the contract?”

“Ha! Trust me, darling, I wish he had!” Astarion said ruefully. “It would have hurt substantially less.”

Astarion’s features grew concerned as a fresh wave of guilt and tears wracked her body.

Everything was her fault.

She was the catalyst, the manipulator behind Astarion’s leaving…

FOOL!

She was the root cause that would see Gale and Wyll hate her forevermore…

IDIOT!

She was the lynchpin for the three act play that risked her soul and the souls of her friends…

CLOWN!

Tav clawed her face, going mad.

Astarion held her wrists, his eyes pleading.

“Love, what’s going on?” he asked desperately.

“Raphael has his claws in me, and I don’t think they’ll ever come out,” she choked out, eyes wide as she peered at him from between fingers.

“Are you in danger?”

“My very being.”

“How can I help you?” he asked, voice fraught. “The amulet?”

Celeste’s eyes squeezed shut as she nodded.

A hand let her go and she opened her eyes to watch Astarion, her beloved, sweet Astarion, hastily pull the amulet from around his neck, a golden, jeweled sunburst, and offer it to her.

“Take it. It doesn’t mean anything without you by my side.”

Her heart… her fucking heart…

Tav grasped it, fisting it tightly in her bandaged hand. She shakily motioned to stand, and Astarion helped her rise.

Her chest heaved as she stared down at the amulet, its sharp points poking into her shaking fingers.

“I’ll find your contract, Astarion. I swear I’ll destroy it.”

A vow of her own.

He surprised her with a brief kiss, and for a sliver of a second, Tav went to the celestial heavens.

“I know you will,” he said with a fanged, albeit sad, roguish smile. “Go and do what needs to be done.”

Tav wobbled as she stepped backwards, towards Wyrm’s Rock. She didn’t want to leave him…

“Give that devil Hell for me, darling.”

“I promise.” She gave him a faltering smile in parting before she mechanically turned around.

Tav did not look back as she marched on the fortress feeling like a husk of herself. She wiped her cheeks, positive that her makeup was a mess, uncaring that her makeup was a mess, and she continued to ignore the glances and stares that met her when she returned to the entrance hall. 

It wasn’t until she found her stashed pack that emotion flickered like a match beneath her breast. She sat against the corridor wall and unwrapped the green ribbon around her ankles before prying off her pointed, pretty shoes. Her hands then found and swathed her feet in footwraps, and Tav pulled her boots on, ready to run.

And run she did, knowing where she needed to go, the amulet held in her bleeding fist…

Hark!

She ran out of Wyrm’s Rock fueled by sorrow for Astarion and her friends.

A squeak?

She threw the ring aside and ran through the Lower City fueled by hate for herself.

A rallying cry!

She ran to the Devil’s Fee fueled by rage for the incubus and devil.

Up the stairs Tav went and past the stone devils, her body exhausted, legs sore, lungs burning. She reached inside her pack, swapped the amulet for her thieves' tools, and was astonished to find the door already unlocked at the unexpected nightly hour. Away her tools went in favor of the next useful item, and she opened the door.

Helsik blinked at her from the counter, Korrilla not present.

“I’m seeing him,” Tav panted, her dagger ready. “Try to fucking stop me.”

The diabolist smiled, appraising her feral appearance.

“There’s no need; your way has been paid. Go on.”

Tav replied with a sneer and made her way to the second floor, where the portal was fired up and ready for her arrival.

In a flash of fire, she appeared in the grandiose, hellish entrance hall, and Tav fumed at the sight that awaited her. She strode with purpose to the dining hall where a feast of magnificent proportions was laid out on the octagonal table in the middle of the room.

Where it would normally sit eight, on this night, only three chairs were present, with Kassius seated at the center.

The devilish visage of Raphael, still handsome in his ballroom finery, regarded her from the seat that would oppose hers.

“Little Mouse.”

Tav raised and pointed her dagger.

“You.”

Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

“Sit,” Raphael said, unperturbed by her bared teeth, the bloodlust in her eyes, or the dagger blade she held some manner of feet away from him. He gestured with a clawed hand to take the chair that all but had her name engraved into it. “Pretty please.”

It was a courteous request.

And one she would refuse.

“You’re not a mouse, a cat, or a fox; you’re a rat-fucking-bastard!” Tav spat at the director and playwright of her own personal hell.

The rat-fucking-bastard’s entire face darkened.

“I will remind you of manners and decorum while you are in my House. Now sit.”

“Fuck you, Raphael.”

"SIT. DOWN!” commanded the Archdevil Supreme.

While Kassius flinched in her peripheral, Tav did not, and as she resolutely stood, glaring daggers with an actual one in hand, time seemed to freeze as she mulled over her choices.

She could sit, or she could disobey and continue to take a literal stand. The former was the simpler option but would come at some cost to her hot-blooded pride, whereas the latter would test Archdevil Supreme’s level of control, and, furthermore, would answer a question that wriggled in the back of her mind like a tadpole…

Would Raphael inflict physical pain upon her, be it magical or otherwise?

He was certainly not above hurting her mentally or emotionally; he poisoned her reputation, razed her relationships, played a hand in severing the spirits of her and Astarion, used her body without remorse, used her without remorse, and drove a knife between her shoulders…

Why wouldn’t Raphael maim his ‘favorite client’?

He was an open book in regards to the subject of Punishment; an appalling novel that detailed the horrors of debtors and other unfortunate souls imprisoned to him, Hope being one of the very worst cases (that she knew of). He wasn’t above threats, and Tav never thought them to be empty; right after signing the initial contract of Hammer and Crown, she had been laden with a string of graphic depictions that ended with how he would flay her alive should she even think to betray him.

But… she was not yet a debtor, and she had not betrayed him like he had her…

It was amongst her rage and boiling hatred where her burned and blackened heart of ash wondered, (foolishly, idiotically, clownishly) hoped even, that he…

Cared.

Her contemplation ended thus: Tav was not afraid of Raphael, but she was afraid of learning the extent of how insignificant she might be to him.

Just another pawn, another trophy, another debtor to bring home, another soul to devour...

“As the Archdevil Supreme demands,” Tav said, mocking as she curtsied in her emerald dress, her mouth curving in a lopsided smile. She walked to her high-back, ornately carved seat, stabbed her blade into the pristine wood surface of the table, swung her pack around and sat down.

The dining hall was nearly quiet aside from the winded breathing that sharply left Tav’s nostrils and the roaring, unnecessary fire that crackled behind Kassius. There were no distant mutterings or sounds of footsteps in the hall behind her, and, with a brief glance past Raphael’s shoulder, there were no visible signs of tortured debtors and souls roaming the halls behind him.

There were to be no interruptions, not for this special dinner.

Laid out before them all was a mouth-watering spread that called back to her first meeting with Raphael, when he had whisked her party away from the bridge and into his home. A succulent, perfectly roasted boar (complete with apple stuffed in its mouth) sat as the centerpiece to bowls of gravy and gleaming platters that offered seasoned vegetables and the ripest fruits (peaches included). Flaky pastries and buttered rolls overflowed their stands and spilled onto a lace tablecloth that touched place settings of polished cutlery and plating; all of it silver that was untarnished and flawless.

What a shame everything would go to waste.

Raphael’s gaze was piercing her.

“You must be hungry,” he said eventually, as though he had any right to polite conversation.

“Surely you jest,” Tav replied, lip curling. “But command me to eat, Archdevil Supreme, and I shall engorge myself, if only so that I might have the honor of retching all over your House of Hope.”

A muscle moved in his red cheek.

Tav looked to the slouching Kassius and her anger ebbed to temporarily make room for sympathy. His plate was empty, but his goblet was not; a bottle of the delectable wine Tav had tasted in the Devil’s Den sat open and used close by, and Kassius’s downcast face was rosy with inebriation.

“I’m sorry you were at the ball, but I’m more sorry to see you in this garish place, Kass.”

After a few seconds, his green eyes slowly met hers. “Tav-”

“Do you have the item I desire?” Raphael interjected, voice calm, maddeningly level.

Tav took a moment to sneer at him before she rummaged in her pack for the amulet. It didn’t take long to reveal the ill-gotten prize from within her bandaged fist.

Raphael leaned against the arm of his chair and held out a hand, awaiting personal delivery.

The wooden legs of her chair scraped against the marble as she rose, but Tav did not move from where she stood. She eyed his expectant palm while she wrapped the chain around the golden sunburst, and once the end was neatly tucked, she flicked her wrist as one would when throwing a playing card. In the blink of an eye, with precise aim and speed, the amulet traveled from her hand–

–into a boat of gravy.

Flecks of brown splattered across Raphael’s poised expression and fancy attire as gravy splashed over the edge of a silver rim and spilled, the boat skidding inches with the force.

The Archdevil growled, irises igniting, fingers twitching…

Tav held her breath.

Seconds passed and his waiting hand calmly traveled over to grab the folded napkin of his place setting.

It annoyed Tav that Raphael could look dignified even when wiping away gravy from his cheeks and jaw.

“For your sake, Little Mouse, I will pretend that was an accident,” he said, nose scrunching with a flash of fangs.

(Were she a debtor, would he have disfigured her, sent her screaming with a snap and a spell?)

Tav did not reply, chin held high and back straight. She anticipated a request (order) to retrieve the sunk amulet, but the degrading aftermath of fixing her (purposeful) accident was worth the small triumph.

Raphael frowned slightly as he dabbed his napkin at a string of splotches across his shoulder.

“Kassius, fetch the amulet.”

“Leave him out of this!” Tav immediately snarled. She stepped to the side and moved around the table to where the boat sat. Her hand motioned for the points of a gravy covered sun that poked above the sauce…

Snap!

The boat both disappeared and reappeared in a plume of smoke and embers, vanishing from reach of Tav’s outstretched fingers and materializing across the table from within the center of Kassius’s plate.

“Kassius has nothing to do with this, Raphael,” Tav said, sending a thousand daggers in his direction. “This is between you and me, as you always intended.”

Raphael hummed as he set down his napkin.

“While one of those statements is undeniably true, the other is undoubtedly false; I think you’ll find that Kassius, in the most literal sense, has everything to do with ‘this’.”

A bolt of dread ripped through her tired body.

“What are you talking about?” Tav asked with another sneer, voice wavering alongside her angry bravado. Her eyes went to Kassius, and the elf seemed to refuse looking at her in return. “Kass, what is he talking about? ”

“Do not say a word, Kassius, until our guest sits down,” the Archdevil Supreme bade. “In the meantime, do be a good boy and clean the amulet off for Tav to deliver. Come time for her second delivery attempt, do your best to hope that she does not accidentally throw it in the fire.”

“You’re such a bastard,” Tav seethed.

“Oh, no, my dear, I am worse than that; I am a devil, as you recently reminded me,” he replied fiendishly.

There was movement from Kassius as he straightened in his chair and pinched the top point of the amulet between forefinger and thumb. Raphael watched Tav watch her friend, her expression somewhere between distraught and revolted as Kassius let the sun drip gravy back into the boat. His eyes were glassy and absent as he gave the amulet a little shake before he brought his napkin to it and began to clean.

“Kassius, talk to me.”

“He won’t, my dear. Not until you sit,” Raphael stated. “Which, by the looks of things, your body will do for you if you continue to be stubborn.”

She scowled and went to her chair to sit , only so that she may hear Kassius’s voice.

“Good little mouse.”

“Fuck you.”

He smirked.

“Kassius…” she started.

“Yes, Kassius. Speak freely,” Raphael said. The devil leaned forward and rested his chin upon intertwined fingers, eyes alight with interest and glee.

There was a stiltedness to the way Kassius dug at the bits of gravy stuck between the crevices of the sun’s design.

His mouth was a thin line that did not open.

The devil spoke instead.

“How impolite of you to clam up in the presence of our esteemed guest!” he said, sitting back, displeased. He then sighed as one would when carrying a heavy burden. “I suppose that leaves me to be the Bringer of Truth…”

“Enough dramatic build up, Raphael,” Tav muttered, baring teeth. “Lest you fail your own standards of decorum and come in your breeches at the table.”

The Archdevil Supreme smiled, and she felt sick.

It was a smile that transformed his handsome features into something she herself had not yet witnessed, something hellish and cruel. 

“Of course, Little Mouse,” he crooned, a red glow appearing behind the fire in his eyes. “Let me introduce another actor, the other who has been performing on a different stage, one in tandem to yours…”

Tav’s bandaged hand found her dagger, and just as her grip painfully tightened around the handle, she could somehow feel Raphael grasp the handle planted in her back.

“Kassius, tell dear Tav the identity of the potion seller Solenne met on that fateful day.”

Her eyes snapped to Kassius, her body taut. Her friend’s mouth skewed as he crumpled the gravy covered napkin in his hand.

“I'm the potion seller.”

Raphael would not physically harm her because he did not need to.

Expression and emotion were instantly extinguished, Tav’s breath hitching as the knife in her back moved downwards, the blade agonizing as it sliced through skin and bone, splitting her spine…

“Kassius, tell dear Tav who infiltrated her little thieving group.”

“I did.”

Raphael gave the knife for Kassius to wield; the weapon was redundant when the devil could cut her with his tongue and rake her mistake of trusting across the coals.

“Kassius, tell dear Tav who machinated the loss of work and sewed the seeds of desperation.”

“I did.”

Tav’s empty hand slammed against the table as she fell forward, rattling silverware. She stared, trembling, her head hovering a handful of inches over the silver of her empty plate. Her grip impossibly tensed around her dagger, and she twisted her blade, gouging it further into the table’s surface.

“Kassius, tell dear Tav who lured her and Solenne into my waiting hands.”

“I did.”

She could feel the warmth of her blood seeping from her wound, dripping past the loosened kerchief that made up her bandage.

“Kassius, tell dear Tav who has been spying on her night and day.”

“I have.”

The food at the table would never compare to the feast Raphael supped from her, bleeding her dry, leaving her weak, leaving her with nothing…

The devil touted his dislike of chaos, hated it… but for her?

He did not care.

Let chaos reign!

Hope handed her a tinderbox before sanity was swallowed in darkness.

“Kassius, tell dear Tav who is the informant for every piece of information about her that I ask for.”

“I am.”

Their voices were garbled, no longer registering.

A corner of her lip twitched.

“Kassius, tell dear Tav who trained Haarlep in how to better replicate her being for this second act.”

“I did.”

She smiled.

“Kassius, tell dear Tav who knew, from the very beginning, all that would come to pass?”

“I knew.”

Her smile grew.

“Kassius, tell dear Tav who already owns your soul?”

“You, Lord Raphael.”

Kassius’s last admission entered the air and what followed was deathly silence and stillness between the three of them. 

Tav steadily breathed, her lips pulled in a grin.

And a chuckle escaped her…

And her chuckle grew into a laugh that shook her bones and clenched her stomach as her fingers jerked against the dagger handle.

She laughed at herself, her breath hot and condensing across the crazed reflection that stared back at her. 

The biggest idiot clown and joke in all of Faerûn!

She was a tale for the bards! Raphael would surely gather minstrels from across the planes and recite them a ballad! He would dramatically weave them the tale of Tav, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, Destroyer of the Absolute, Ender of Mind Flayers, and Foolish Mortal who dove head first into a game of a devil’s design and performed on stage, a puppet who thought she could somehow come out unscathed and with her soul intact…

As if she was better than those who had come before!

How the bards would sing!

They would soon embellish his words and regale a more tragic and much truer tale; Tav, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, Destroyer of the Absolute, Ender of Mind Flayers, and the Fucking Idiot Pawn who danced with a devil and fell in love, her moth of a heart burning to ash all while her foot twisted ‘round and ‘round in a trap that reaped CHAOS.

A trap of the devil’s making…

Of her own making…

I will have all of you, Tav.

Tav wasn’t sure for how long she laughed; maybe an eternity by debtor’s standards, but eventually the laughter faded and died, and so too did the manic smile on her face.

A light-headed, hollow creature stared back.

“... Tav? ” Kassius asked, a concerned whisper.

Nothing.

Then…

“Invisibilis,” she murmured, the spell practically inaudible.

At the same moment of disappearing from view, the dagger left the table and flatware and food scattered across the surface as a phantom swiftly climbed on top.

The phantom took aim at one betrayer of two.

Snap!

Tav was revealed too soon, her eyes a void, dagger hand poised to impale…

Thud!

Her dagger stabbed wood, an inch into the highback chair at the spot where Kassius’s eye would have been were it not for Raphael’s intervention. The elf stared at her, wide eyed with a bleeding gash across his cheek, a result of her blade and his delayed reaction…

Tav rapidly pulled the dagger free, body acting on its own accord, and she aimed another strike at the same time Kassius sluggishly raised his hands to his chest.

“Dolor!”

Crackling energy split outwards and into Tav’s chest, stealing breath while sending her backwards flipping into the air, pack leaving her body amidst a mess of silken emerald green. She landed hard against the marble with a groan, dagger skiddingy feet away from her, and Tav rolled to expertly recover onto her feet, numb to the pain.

She positioned herself to keep the fork she held hidden…

“Tav! I’m sorry! ” Kassius pleaded, standing with hands raised as if hoping to calm down a wild dog. 

But she was already calm.

Vacant.

Empty, even.

Tav was naught but a pound of flesh, her mind in limbo while her will alone sought retribution.

(A spark of hope lay waiting to light another match beneath her breast…)

“I had no choice!” he continued. “This was the debt I had to repay, don’t you see? To get my soul back!”

“Solenne?” she asked blankly.

“She’s innocent, I swear!” Kassius replied. He sounded sincere and his face seemed truthful, but Tav presently lacked the ability to read minute expressions. “Tav, I had no choice. I… I love you!”

Because there was nothing but ash where her heart used to beat, it was thus that nothing stirred at the declaration he had attempted to reveal earlier at the ball. Unconsciously, Tav cast a glance at Raphael, the director and writer who casually sat and watched as his two actors performed a scene driven by improvisation. His face was a mask of composure, and the minute expression that could be interpreted as concern was lost on her.

“You don’t love me…” she corrected Kassius, barely recognizing the sound of her voice.

“I do, though! You think I wanted to walk into your life wanting to fall in love with you? Knowing that this night was to come? It’s fucking torture! Not a day passed where I didn’t want to tell you everything… stop everything! But I couldn’t!”

“Poor soul…” Tav said, absently fingering the handle of the fork. “Welcome to the circus.”

She sent the piece of silverware flying, spinning across the room and over the dinner table…

Its pronged end embedded itself into Kassius’s eye, the throw perfect, her aim exact.

“GODS! FUCK! ” he yelled, doubling over in shock and pain with a polished handle protruding from his face.

A small price paid.

“An eyepatch will do you well; now you’ll look more the part of a pirate or smuggler,” Tav said flatly. “And I want you to know that whenever we fucked, I thought of Astarion.”

Her eyes found Raphael. “Every time."

He glowered, and Tav did not react as she strolled over to where her dagger lay, Kassius yelling in distress in the background.

She picked it up, gave it a single, innate flip in her offhand as she stood and then strode over to her seat.

Tav sat with sophistication, dagger held loosely in her lap, and she blinked at the devil.

“When is the third act set to begin?” she asked, holding her throbbing hand out towards Kassius, expectant.

Raphael’s brow furrowed.

“Undetermined,” he answered.

A groaning Kassius picked up the amulet and placed it in her hand.

“Unfortunate,” she stated, emotionless. “I will kill you once you’ve marked my contract as fulfilled and acknowledged my win.”

Raphael did not respond.

Tav quietly rose at the exact moment Kassius miserably slouched into his seat, his head hanging in his hands, fork handle poking through his fingers.

She walked to Raphael and waited for him to show his palm.

When he did, moments after staring into the void of her eyes, searching for something, Tav pressed the grimed amulet into his hand with her red bandaged one.

“You have your item,” Tav said, her hand retracting. “I don’t care about your deal or business with Kassius. I’m leaving.”

But before she would take her leave, she walked long ways around to a silently crying Kassius and seized the neck of the more-than-half-full bottle of wine that sat before him.

“Goodbye, Kassius,” she said. “Be glad it was only the dinner fork.”

She strode past her chair and then paused, her body facing the entrance hall as she gave a closing look to the devil who watched.

“While I loathe this play you’ve written, I will thank you for writing me a scene to share with my Astarion. Through a loophole, we reaffirmed our love for one another; real love, the kind of love that inspires hope. The kind of love that reminds me that, at the end of this, you won’t win. And if you somehow do, be it by cheating or divine intervention, I will ensure it won’t be without sacrifice.”

She turned to leave, raised the bloodied hand that held the bottle and threw a rude gesture behind her.

Down the entrance hall she went, irises of the devil following her every step, and Tav did not look back as flames marked her exit from the stage.

She reappeared in the upper floor of the Devil’s Fee, and Tav walked down the stairs and out the door, ignoring Helsik and anything the diabolist might have said to her.

Rain was coming, with thunder rumbling in the distance, and it would be best to get home soon so that she may climb into bed with bottle and blanket.

But Tav didn’t want her bed or her infernal blanket, and her feet instead headed in the direction of the graveyard.

She felt dead; she might as well lie with them.

Tav slowly walked her aching body through the gate, past a mausoleum and by a number of headstones, and allowed exhaustion to overtake her once she reached the slab marked for Astarion Ancunín. She collapsed against it, back against stone, dagger dropping next to her, and put her lips to the bottle of wine.

Tav did everything Raphael asked of her for the second act; she danced (with deceivers), mingled (with deceivers), and would now drink and forget that any of it happened at all.

It was raining when she stirred and uncomfortably cold.

Her eyelids felt like lead as they opened to the sight of fine leather boots lit faintly by moonlight.

“Astari’n?” Tav mumbled, groggy in her state of drunken half-wakefulness.

But it was not Astarion looming above her.

“Such a sad sight for the Hero of Baldur’s Gate” said the devil in his mortal disguise. “Get up, Little Mouse.”

“Mfmmk omff,” Tav replied, growling as she groggily rolled over onto her bruised side from the wet grassy patch where she lay. She curled in on herself, shivering.

Raphael stepped over her to remain in view.

“I said go th’fuck away!” she slurred, feeling around for her dagger.

The rat-fucking-bastard crouched down and revealed the weapon to be in his hand.

“G’ve it back!” Tav snarled, reaching for it.

“You will have it returned to you before the night is over,” he assured.

Snap!

Her dagger disappeared.

Tav squeezed her eyes shut, to make the devil go away, at least from her direct line of sight.

Since she could not hold her dagger, she alternatively grabbed a fistful of grass. “I hate you, Raph’l.”

He said nothing for a moment.

“Get up,” he repeated. “You are endangering yourself here instead of being in your home.”

“Th’bett’r for you then,” Tav grumbled. “If I somehow die, you’win. Byeee, soul…”

“Is that what you want, Little Mouse? Do you want me to win? So soon after the rousing speech you gave?”

“Dosn’t matter what I want…”

“It matters to me.”

“Liar!” she growled, eyes flying open. “You don’t care!”

Silence, then thunder and a flash of lightning.

Raphael was looking at her peculiarly. “Get up, or I will carry you.”

“You won’ fuckin’ touch me,” Tav bit out, fumbling around for the wine bottle, which also seemed to be gone…

“I will, and you are in no state to stop me,” he said, sounding amused.

Raphael reached for her, and Tav rolled over once more, this time onto her knees as she began to ineptly crawl away from him in her soaked dress, water dripping from her hair and into her eyes, hand throbbing and body sore.

She could hear the devil approaching behind her.

“Really, Little Mouse. This is pathetic; where is your dignity?”

“Hate you…” Tav mumbled for a second time, wanting to remind him.

“Then use your hatred to at least stand,” Raphael said harshly, gripping her by the elbow and making her.

He did not let her go as Tav stared at him with drunk contempt.

“Meetin’ you was’a mistake,” she ground out.

“No, my dear,” Raphael replied, voice heavy with conviction. “It was fate.”

“Well, fate kin’fuck off with you,” Tav said, wrenching her arm from him. She took a few swaying steps for the gate, and Raphael joined her, close at her side.

“I’m goin’ home, issn’ that what’you wan’id? Now, leave me ‘lone!”

In another effort to get away from him, she careened into a puddle and tripped over her feet.

Before she could fall, a warm hand caught her by the arm and pulled her to him.

Fire suddenly enveloped them-

-and Tav was home.

She glowered at him, trembling in her drenched attire. “Ass.”

“‘Thank you’ is what I think your intoxicated brain means to say,” Raphael corrected, and, for whatever reason, the devil appeared to be pleased by something.

She could not tell by what.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Tav said, taking her arm back again.

She sneezed at the devil’s boots.

Raphael smiled thinly at her before he crossed the room to her bed and found the knife from under the third pillow he lifted.

“Yes, and you will have your opportunity in the future,” he said as he slipped the knife into his boot. He casually positioned himself to half sit on her bedside table, the bedside table where they had– “For now, take off your dress.”

“Th’ hells I will, devil! Thissis my house! I d’mand you leave!”

She glanced to where her second dagger sat in its holster at the foot of her dresser.

“Try it, Little Mouse. Or, make this easy for yourself, and take off your dress so that you do not get further ill. I will only allow for the third act to commence when you are hale and whole; body, mind, and soul.”

It took her a minute to process, but the sooner the third act could proceed, the sooner she could kill Raphael, so Tav began groping at the backside of her bodice, keen to strip, keen to be well, but her impaired condition was making it difficult…

And she realized she needed help.

Good thing a devil was nearby; ready and willing, waiting and patient… expecting to be asked…

A smile played on his lips.

Tav glared at him. “Give me m’knife.”

“No.”

“I don’t wanna owe you ‘nthin’...” she mumbled, eying him warily.

Raphael went ahead and sauntered over to her, assuming.

“My dear, it would be a gift to undress you.”

Her stomach fluttered but at the same time felt like retching.

“Fine, help me,” Tav demanded. “But don’ touch nothin’ else but the dress…”

He gave her a devilish smile as he breezed around to her back. His hands slowly began to undo her bodice, and, although soaked in his own right, the proximity of him was warm and pleasant, and Tav grew sad and fearful…

“Don’ stab me ‘gain…”

There was a moment of hesitation, but the devil continued his task.

Her lungs were grateful when the bodice loosened, and Tav clumsily freed her arms from the sleeves before the dress pooled at her feet. With the devil’s heated gaze at her back, Tav instinctually covered her naked breasts with an arm as she next kicked off her boots and sloppily undid her dagger holster, leaving her in nothing but underwear and foot wraps.

Her bed looked inviting with her pillows and her blanket of red and gold, and Tav teetered as she gravitated towards what guaranteed further warmth. Before settling into the mattress, she stripped the bed of her blanket, made a cloak of a cocoon and flopped onto her stomach from within the center of her favorite place in all of existence.

She was annoyed when she felt the bed dip, as though a particular rat-fucking-bastard was sitting down next to her.

“We are not done yet,” said the bastard.

“What now?” came Tav’s muffled, groaning voice.

“Your hand.”

“S’fine.”

“No, it is not.”

“I won’ let youmanip’late me to thinkin’ you care. I know th’truth.”

“What is the truth, Little Mouse?”

“Tha’ you hate me jussas much as I hate you.”

Raphael hummed. “What makes you so certain of this truth?”

“Mmm, why else wou’dyou wanna hurt me so much?”

Silence and stillness.

“Give me your hand, Little Mouse,” he then said… oddly gentle.

“Manners.”

“Please.”

Tav awkwardly adjusted in her cocoon and offered the hand he requested, soggy kerchief loose and soiled. She purposefully kept her head hidden to hide her tears.

The dip in the bed shifted to acclimate, and Raphael’s hands carefully began to undo the knot Kassius had tied. The kerchief fell away after seconds and fresh air greeted her stinging palm and fingers. Though she was dramatically warmed by her blanket, a chill still managed to run along her skin as he held the back of her hand.

Snap!

Raphael placed her hand in his lap in order to fiddle with whatever it was he summoned. There was the sound of a bottle or two being set on her bedside table, and he resumed in cradling her hand, Tav flinching and hissing when he ran a potion soaked cloth over an unknown amount of cuts that decorated her palm.

As he cleaned, she could feel her eyes growing heavy and knew sleep would collect her shortly.

A new bandage was being wrapped, and with a knot freshly tied, Tav could swear she felt lips brush across her knuckles.

He let her go and stood, dip disappearing at her side.

Snap!

“Eat when you are able.”

“Mmmhm,” Tav said, drawing her hand into her cocoon. “Raph’l?”

“Hm?”

“Don’ tell th’bards…” she sleepily mumbled, eyes locking closed.

“And what am I refraining from telling the bards, my Little Mouse?” asked an amused sounding Raphael.

“How much of’n ‘diot I’m… for…” Tav yawned. “Fallin’n love with'a devil…”

Sleep lulled her after a shaky, sad sigh, and it was unknown how long Raphael stayed to watch her twist and turn in her slumber.

When Tav woke, however many hours later (head pounding), she turned onto her side, and with the tiny amount of light that reached the bedroom, she could see a silver stand full of the ripest fruits at her bedside table and her dagger and knife arranged neatly below.

She blinked, sniffled then sneezed and struggled to remember as she reached for a peach.

Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

The peach was soft to the touch and its prominent, sweet aroma reached her nose before its flesh reached her lips. She took a small bite, and the taste was divine on her tongue - truly the most delicious peach she’d ever had.

Unfortunately, the few bites Tav managed did not pair well with the most delicious wine she’d ever had (churning in her stomach), and she waged war with her will to not see peach and other substances expelled onto the floor.

She groaned as she returned the nibbled fruit to the stand and curled inwards on herself, her blanket snug, warm and comforting around her. 

It was out of mere convenience that she tolerated being wrapped in the infernal cocoon to begin with. Thankfully, the scent of the previous owner had ebbed enough, and it helped to persuade herself that the blanket was now more hers than his.

There was a hammering in her head, a painful result of her choice to drink and forget, and it was poor luck that the latter had not been entirely achieved. Tav could remember attending a hellish dinner with Raphael and Kassius, she could remember the reveal and felt the resulting, residual phantom pain from the blade devil and debtor drove down her spine…

But after … her memory blurred.

Raphael allowed her to leave, so she must have handed the amulet over. She could remember taking the bottle of wine, saying something to the bastard before leaving for the… for the cemetery. She could remember finding Astarion’s gravestone and… chugging wine…

She could remember Raphael appearing. He had surely gloated at her state of being before walking her home? No. He… brought her home, stripped her, and he…

Tav pulled her hand from the blanket and looked to where a clean bandage was wound and tied around palm and fingers. She flexed the injury; it stung far less than when she could last recall and there was no sensation of skin splitting at the movement.

He probably found it humorous to heal her hand when he had so horribly harmed her insides…

Tav sniffed, her nose runny, and her eyes trailed from her hand to the floor. There was no sign of her emerald dress, but her boots and footwraps had been tidied together at the base of her dresser (she could not remember taking her wraps off). She noted her pack was missing, and higher up…

Her (their) blanket was also missing, gone from where she had left it folded on top of the dresser.

He had finally banished it.

Peach and wine rose within her throat, and Tav rolled over the side of the bed and retched.

When Tav next awoke, there was significantly more than a sliver of light coming from the sitting room. The boards had no doubt been removed and the curtain pulled back, and another change was the sight of a familiar goblet that stared at her from next to the fruit stand.

With a passing curiosity, she leaned over to view her splash of vomit and discovered that, like her pack and burned blanket, her sick was missing and the floor clean. Disliking that a deceiver had returned uninvited, Tav spitefully knocked over and spilled the contents of the goblet onto the floor - against the wishes of her parched mouth (tasting of spew), aching head, and weakened muscles.

As she lolled onto her back, gaze unfocused at the ceiling, faces came to mind; the appalled and disgusted expressions of Wyll and Gale, the woe and betrayal Astarion wore during her public dance with a devil, the distress that followed during their reunion…

Raphael’s delight at her expense.

Tav choked on tears, and she begged to any god to bestow sleep upon her, however many times as necessary.

She’d rather live in her nightmarish dreams than the nightmare of reality.

Cherries and sulfur.

An intruder!

Tav sprang up with a yell, reacting on instinct, blanket falling around her waist as she snatched and threw her knife with speed and precision. The blade sliced through air towards the spot that habit dictated was marked for Raphael’s arrival…

Thud!

The bedroom was dark aside from three flickering candles she hadn’t lit on her dresser, and as her vision adjusted, Tav was sad to see that her knife had embedded itself into the wall instead of where Raphael’s head should have been.

But, though he was not there, she could smell him… sense him…

Feral instinct subsided, replaced with despondency. 

She glanced to the floor to find no evidence of potion spillage, and the goblet was back on her bedside table, refilled as if it had never toppled over to begin with.

Unable to shake the feeling of burning eyes upon her, Tav reached for the goblet and picked it up, holding it above the floor before it carelessly slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the hardwood, potion spilling again.

Another accident.

She blinked at the mess as she raised the blanket up and around her shoulders. Once the cocoon was in order, she settled back down and rolled onto her side - the side that faced the darker half and darkest corner of her room.

The side where an intruder in human form stood leaning against the wall, watching from the shadows. 

Their eyes would always find each other, and Tav stared into the darkness, giving him nothing before her lids closed.

Let him watch the broken mortal sleep.

When Tav next woke, she knew the intruder hadn’t yet left the room. She was determined to keep her eyes sealed shut and steadied her breathing to better pretend to still be asleep as she remained on her side.

She eventually betrayed herself when she failed in fully holding back a sneeze, and a book snapped shut seconds later where she knew a chair to be.

The intruder stood.

Their bootsteps were slow as they moved around her bed, coming to a stop next to the bedside table. Something flat was set down on the surface, and Tav yearned to grab her dagger…

“Little Mouse.”

She would say nothing to him.

The damage had been done, and he did not deserve acknowledgement.

After receiving silence, the intruder spoke. 

“You are prolonging your own self-proclaimed revenge by wasting away in bed. Should your avoidance of being well be due to your lack of remembering, allow me to jog your memory for you. The request that you be hale and whole for the third act is benevolence on my part, but if this melancholy is to continue, I will set a date to be within the next few days and you will abide by it. Should your performance suffer because of your… faltering spirit, the game will be definitively mine to take alongside your soul. Your hope to kill me will be snuffed, and you will have no one to blame for your failure except for yourself.”

A moment passed before cherries and sulfur invaded her personal space, the bed dipping near her head from pressure suspected to be from his hand.

The intruder leaned over, close, breath tickling her ear…

“Will you be able to bring yourself to kill me, dearest Tav?” He asked, his voice low, seductive.

She tensed.

How dare he goad her!

Do not react.

Ass!

Do not react.

Deceiver!

DO NOT REACT!

Rat-fucking-bastard who ruined everything!

SHE WANTED TO KILL HIM NOW.

“I hate you,” she whispered, eyes closed tight, hands white-knuckling her blanket.

“Hmm, yes, so I’ve heard…” he replied, and she could hear the smile. “I accept your hatred, Little Mouse. I cherish everything you give me.”

Tav couldn’t stop the shiver that ran along her split spine.

The intruder hovered over her for another moment, his breath faint against her cheek, but he withdrew with a gentle push against the mattress.

“What is on your bedside table are gifts you need not worry about paying back. Drink the potion and eat. Or don’t; continue to fester in your bed and guarantee the original, written ending for this play you loathe so much.” His steps took him away from her. “I will return in two days time, to make my judgment for when the third act will take place as well as provide minor details.”

There was a sharp exhale from the intruder, and the scent of candle smoke soon wafted over.

Two more steps before he stilled, and she presumed (hoped) that he was preparing to leave.

“Where is the strength that defeated the Chosen of the Dead Three and the Elder Brain? The nerve that would see you entreat with a devil and step into his home alone? Are you to be this easily defeated? If so, my admiration and anticipation have diminished greatly.”

Her jaw clenched.

And then the words that lit a match.

“Some hero…” he said, mocking.

Though her heart was burned, her spirit was burning.

Tav burst from her cocoon with a roar, twisting to grab her dagger from where she had last seen it on the bedside table. She was thrown off when her hand instead felt a book, the weapon having been moved by someone, and she quickly switched to seize a piece of fruit to hurl instead.

Raphael’s chuckle disappeared in a burst of fire, and the peach flew through flames and landed in darkness.

Tav stewed before she took the goblet and threw back the contents.

Whether potion or poison, she did not know and did not care as she slammed the empty goblet onto the table and sunk back into her blanket, fuming.

It turned out to be a potion. 

A potion of what Tav wasn’t sure of, but after some hours of sleep the hammering in her head had dulled considerably, her muscles pleaded to be used, and her stomach grumbled in hunger rather than in nausea.

Light streamed in from the doorway, and she could better see her bedside table and all that Raphael had assured to be gifts; there was of course the drained goblet and the silver stand of fruit, but another item had been left behind.

A book of Cormyrian poems.

Tav sniffled, her nose remaining runny despite the potion, and she wiggled to sit upright while also collecting and smashing pillows behind her back. She avoided another peach as her fingers wrapped around the most delicious looking apple, and only because it was the closest book did Tav reach for the collection of poems.

Once in her lap, the ashes of her heart somehow stuttered when she opened to the first page.

There, written in elegant script -

Dearest Tav,

I look forward to our future together.

- R

Tav flung the book away as though it were a dead animal and angrily bit into her apple.

Damned devil was toying with her! 

Already presuming himself the victor and owner of her soul!

Where was her dagger?!

Both daggers were sheathed in a belt that lay next to her boots, and she eyed the assortment while gnashing the godsdamned most delicious apple she’d ever tasted between her teeth.

Where it had taken Jaheira three consecutive visits to provoke Tav to eat during her last bout of despair, it simply took one visit from Raphael’s punchable face and rich voice; his taunts had coaxed her hunger, and his book of rhymes managed to coax her out of bed.

She dressed with a single thought on her mind:

Death to the devil!

Her expression was stony in between sniffling and sneezing as she walked the Lower City with a coin purse tied to her belt. Her route was aimless, with there being no real goal in mind other than to get out, but Tav's subconscious steered her away from the Devil’s Fee, the cemetery, entrances to the Undercity, and the house where Astarion had presumably made his deal.

If there was any bright side to act two being completed, it was that she could make her way around town without paranoia reminding her that someone was trailing her every move.

Kassius’s role in her life was over. 

Tav’s feet ended up carrying her to the Nook of Nourishment (where she purchased and picked at a hearty meal), to the bathhouse (for too long of a soak), and then returned her to strolling the streets.

All of it done while ruminating about the devil who ruined her life the moment they met.

Tav wished to go back in time or escape to another version of herself, if a person could believe in such things. A time and place where she and Raphael introduced themselves to one another without the strange sensation that they were somehow bookends to each other’s lives. A meeting where she’d feel instant revulsion that a devil would dare proposition her with any offer…

If that had happened, she’d have ultimately gone to the House of Hope with the intent to kill, friends and companions in tow. Haarlep would have died, guaranteeing her body to be hers and hers alone, and Hope would have been freed, saved from her obsessive captor.

Raphael would have arrived home, alerted by the chaos of their intrusion, and he would have fought and died then and there.

She’d be able to talk to Wyll without guilt gnawing at her for her poor decisions and would additionally have Gale in her life as a close friend to correspond with. Neither one would hate her or look at her as if she were the fiend…

She’d have destroyed the Crown.

And Astarion…

Well, they’d have lived happily ever after like the stories she was told and read as a child.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so perfect, but they would have been happy together.

A life that could never come to pass; Raphael ruined that possibility just as much as she.

Why he decided to come back into her life, and by way of an elaborate scheme no less, was a maddening mystery to her. She was a mouse trapped within a meticulously crafted maze, an entrance she had been lured to by way of cheese and an exit that was likely rigged from the very beginning to ensure her demise.

It was a curious thing that Raphael wanted her well when it seemed to be his absolute goal to tear her down.

Tav glanced down at her hand that had been unwrapped at the bathhouse; it was healed but scarred, with darkened lines marking the skin of her palm.

He mentioned an ‘original ending’... implying another had been written?

No! He could not write another when she would write her own!

Her fingers curled into a ball as the hand returned to her side.

And write she did, penning a plan in her mind as if fortuitously hit by bardic inspiration.

She would not meet her demise without a fight.

She’d win!  

She’d beat the third act, be declared the victor, and kill Raphael!

She’d take a bow before sawing off his horns!

She’d send a small one to Gale, wrapped with a pretty bow, and would personally deliver the other to Wyll to prove she was not in the devil’s arms as they thought. The larger set of horns would belong to her and Astarion as keepsakes to display above a mantle. 

She’d go back to the House of Hope with an archmage and a folk hero, find and destroy Astarion’s contract, kill Haarlep, free Hope!

Be a hero!

Reunite with her beloved!

Yes! YES!

How her spirit, how her hope burned!

She could right her wrongs! Correct this life!

Although it was a flip of a coin whether or not her plans worked out as intended, Tav had a good feeling that, with this plan, she’d come out alright in the end.

Her stony expression cracked, the culprit being the small smile on her lips as she made her way home.

When she got into bed, it was to sleep, get better, and pass time.

Instead of nightmares involving abductions, tentacled aberrations, near death experiences and the loss of her friends, Tav dreamed a dream she would forget in the morning.

In it, she danced with a handsome, winged devil under the stars.

A devil who loved her as much as she did him.

And she was happy.

The next morning (or what she presumed to be the morning), Tav rose from bed and stretched. As her bones popped and cracked, she determined she felt less sniffly and more well, and was already impatient for Raphael’s arrival later in the evening.

She grabbed an apple from the stand while thinking about what she might do to waste time for the day and bit into the fruit in between putting clothes on. Once dressed, Tav frowned at the reminder of her missing pack and thought to buy another as she secured her coin purse.

Her eyes inadvertently drifted to the blanket of red and gold; a replacement was needed there for Astarion’s return home. Tav mentally cursed her sentimentality; she should have burned the infernal thing when she had the chance.

Then again, returning it to Raphael undamaged was maybe the bigger play. It would show how much control she had over her feelings regarding him, how little she cared.

She’d give him his stupid book back, too.

Rat-fucking-bastard…

Not like any of it mattered since she was going to kill him.

Tav grabbed a clutch of (the most delicious) grapes on her way out of the bedroom, and she slowed to a stop just before reaching the front door.

It was another sunny day in Baldur’s Gate, and the living space of her (their) home looked different with sunlight pouring in and particles swirling around furniture and her stockpile of assorted items.

The boards that previously acted as shutters leaned against said stockpile.

She’d hammer them back over the window when the third act was over… redraw the curtain…

Back to darkness.

Tav realized she was frowning again.

It’d be alright.

She and Astarion would find a solution.

Together.

Without a devil's interference.

The shop she found after a lunchtime meal carried a variety of linens for the home. This included charming handmade quilts and finely woven bed covers, and Tav walked away spending more than she’d meant on a new blanket.

It was blue with threaded patterning, smelled nothing like him (or anyone), and was perfect. 

On her return walk home, she stopped by a stationer’s shop and purchased a few pieces of parchment to write a future letter that would come enclosed in a box alongside a horn.

Instead of lounging in her bed as she waited for Raphael, Tav took to lounging on the settee to enjoy what sunlight remained. Her legs dangled over the cushioned arm, pillows jammed under her head, and a good book that had nothing to do with Cormyrian poetry was open in her hands.

Eventually, as the sun began to set, her eyes naturally closed, and the words on the page…

“Little Mouse.”

Her eyes snapped open, and it was (again) instinct that saw her chuck the book at the devil’s mortal disguise.

Raphael easily caught what should have been her knife.

“Why can’t you use the front door and knock?” Tav groused, needing to cut herself off before she dumbly added ‘like everyone else’.

He watched with mild amusement as she swung her legs around and fixed herself to sit. He then looked at the book in his hands and studied the leather bound cover before opening to a random page.

He raised a brow.

“I had no idea you were so interested in… Cheesomancy,” He sarcastically said after sampling a paragraph. 

Contrary to how Raphael made it sound, the author was earnest in their descriptions of how to take down enemies with… well, cheese.

“I thought it apt for a mouse like me,” Tav replied, glaring. “And there are many things you don’t know about me, regardless of what your dog Kassius has told you.”

“Oh, I am sure of it.”

There was a smile on his face and a brightness behind his eyes as he stepped closer to her. He closed and offered the book, and she declined to take it with a turn of her head and an aversion of her eyes. Raphael set it down in the open spot at her side. 

He did not move back.

Tav kept her sights on the window, her mouth a taut line.

“Am I the picture of health for your last act?” She asked after too long silence.

“You are out of bed,” he answered, appraising her further. “And the fighting spirit I adore has returned to your eyes. It is good to see how my words inspired you.”

Quiet settled.

“Set the act for tomorrow.”

He shifted his weight, his head tilting.

“Are you so desperate to be rid of me, my Tav?”

“Yes, and stop calling me that,” she said, sneering slightly as her eyes flicked to his. She was doing her best to sound unbothered. “I’m not yours.”

“Not yet,” the devil riposted.

Tav took a deep breath, her fingers clenching the fabric of her breeches.

“Tomorrow,” she repeated after a slow exhale.

Raphael did not blink as he considered her request (demand).

“Mm, very well,” he acquiesced with a small nod. “I will collect you tomorrow night for the final act, and we shall arrive at the conclusion of this play.”

“My role? My costume?”

“Your role is to remain a surprise until moments before the curtain rises!” His hands gestured theatrically in action with his words. “As for your costume, your personal battle armor will suffice, along with your daggers and all else you choose to bring.”

Perfect; it would be easier to kill him afterwards if she was dressed for combat…

Snap!

Her missing pack appeared.

“And I daresay you might even need this…”

He offered the sack, and Tav immediately stood to snatch it from him.

She opened it. 

Empty, save her thieves’ tools.

“Wait here,” she said curtly, brushing past Raphael. She went to the bedroom, tossed her pack down where it belonged, and gathered her- no, the blanket of red and gold in her hands. Tav placed his book on top and returned to where he waited.

The stack was held out to him, and the devil eyed the items with slight repugnance.

“What’s this?” He stupidly asked, lip curling.

“What does it look like? I’m returning your things,” was her even-keeled response.

“They are yours to keep.”

“I don’t want them, but give me my blanket back and I will, regrettably, keep them.”

His eyes narrowed, and Tav knew he could not procure what she requested because it was gone for good.

“If you won’t take them, then I will give these things to someone who needs them. Though, I am unsure of who really needs a book on Cormyrian nursery rhymes...”

Raphael smiled thinly but it read more as a grimace as he accepted what was bestowed. He folded the samite over his arm and slotted the book between the blanket and his chest.

“Is there any more to your brief?” Tav asked, stepping back.

“There is,” answered the devil, stepping forward, unhappy about something. “You are to steal this next item, and it is thus that you should prepare yourself for a glorious heist.”

And for an impending battle …

“I know you won’t tell me, with your love of dramatic reveals, so I will spend the rest of tonight and tomorrow theorizing who it is you want me to rob. Karlach, or maybe my dead uncle who you’ve somehow risen?”

“Perhaps a scene for another time,” Raphael replied sardonically.

“There will be ‘no other time’.”

“Ah, but ‘nothing is guaranteed’, Little Mouse,” he countered, smirking as he threw her own words back in her face.

Tav’s expression darkened. 

“Leave,” she said suddenly.

“Say ‘please’.”

Oh, how godsdamned infuriating he was!

“Please. Leave.”

“Of course, Little Mouse. But before I do, it would be remiss of me if I did not recommend you get some rest. I realize it is a rather foolish recommendation, given who I am speaking with, but you will want to savor every wink.”

“I hate you,” Tav reminded. 

“So the bards say.” Raphael smiled devilishly, a secret in his eyes as fire swirled around his feet. “Until tomorrow.”

At his exit, Tav calmed her inner storm with number of steadying breaths before grabbing The Book of Cheesomancy and heading to the bedroom.

She undressed for sleep, made room on her bedside table for candles to read under, and climbed into bed with her new blanket, ready to learn more about how to bash a head in with a wheel of cheese.

Annoyingly, as the minutes passed, Tav found herself missing the blanket that smelled of cherries and sulfur.

But she didn’t miss him.

Would never miss him ever again... 

Not even when he’s dead. 

Rat-fucking-bastard.

She’d be done with him soon; all she needed was a wheel of Waterdhavian…

And a little bit of luck.

Tav did not sleep as well as she wanted; her blanket wasn’t as warm and comforting, and anticipation drummed under her skin.

She damned Raphael for poisoning her mind as she tossed and turned.

Come late morning light, Tav was up and out of bed.

She dressed for a simple outing with daggers, pack and purse at her side, and she left with a small, mental task list that would need to be completed before she could return home.

Tav knocked on the door to the Crimson Red's hideout.

If Kassius answered, she would gut him.

“It’s Tav!” she yelled to whomever was inside.

She knocked again, and moments later someone came to the door and opened it.

“Hi, Tav,” said Solenne with a timid smile.

Tav pushed inside without saying a word and made her way to the small storage room that held a low stash of potions, poisons, and elixirs.

“Tav…” Solenne said uneasily from the doorway as Tav picked up and studied what various bottles remained. 

“Kassius leave?” Tav asked, tucking a lone bottle of Karabasan’s Poison in her pack.

“He did.”

“Did he say anything?” she asked, tucking two healing potions in her pack.

“He did.”

“What did he say? ” she asked, dismayed to see no Elixirs of Fire Resistance.

She made a note to buy some.

“He said goodbye.”

Tav turned and glared. “Is that all?”

“He came back missing an eye… was clearly upset, but he wouldn’t tell me when I pressed… said he wasn’t coming back. The second task…”

Oh.

She had taken his eye, hadn’t she?

“Tav… what happened?”

Tav grabbed a potion bottle from the shelf, popped the stopper and took a swig of the liquid inside.

“Tell me the truth, Solenne; had you ever met Raphael before Kassius led us to Sharess’ Caress?”

Tav traced every fraction of movement, every iota of emotion on Solenne’s face as the question registered, but it was her friend’s thoughts that mattered most.

No! I’d never met a devil before that day! I had no part in whatever happened! I promise! I promise! Tav, please believe me!

“No!” Solenne exclaimed. “I promise!”

Tav heard the truth in her head and saw the truth in her wide eyes, and because she believed Solenne, she would not unveil the heinous deception of their ex-colleague (and friend and lover…).

“I won’t be coming back either,” Tav said.

No! Don’t go! What about Oswynn and me? Don’t lea–

She looked away from Solenne to stop prying into the woman’s thoughts as well as to stop the guilt.

“What do you mean you’re not coming back?”

“The contract is to end tonight, and with it, I’m ending the life I’ve led down here. I don’t want to do it anymore; I’m done signing contracts and fetching things like a dog.” Tav slid past the doorway and past a tearful Solenne on her way to the front door. “Enjoy the ring. Goodbye, Solenne.”

Before Tav would leave the Undercity for what she hoped to be the last time (unless needs demanded she return for reasons outside of making a living), she headed to the Guildhall in order to formally resign from Nine-Fingers’ books.

On her way, she stopped by a crude shop where the young owner was haggling with a gruff looking customer.

“That’s the offer, either take it or leave it!” Mol glanced at Tav’s approach and her face lit up in between her sales pitch. “You won’t find a better price anywhere else!”

The customer mumbled in discontent but forked over what had been asked for and shuffled off with their piece of jewelry.

“Hello, Mol,” Tav said flatly. “Got any smokepowder bombs by chance? And if you do, will it be getting back to Raphael what I purchased? What I wore during this transaction? How I smelled? What I said? ”

She could tell Mol was feeling uncomfortable, and it probably had to do with her hard demeanor and the way her questions became increasingly more… threatening.

“Look, Tav… er, you know how it is! I-”

Yes, Tav knew.

“Do you have smokepowder bombs or not?”

“I do, in fact!” Mol laughed nervously and went to a large chest. The lid was opened and fell back with clattering latches, and the tiefling child rummaged around her horde of goods. “I have four of ‘em!”

“I’ll take them all.”

“Ah! Great! I’ll give you a fair deal. It’ll be-”

“Free.”

Mol froze with two smokepowder bombs collected in her arms and another in hand.

“It’ll be free.” Tav restated, staring at her with a look that verged on menacing. “Right, Mol? For my troubles.”

“Y-yeah, uh… right!” Another nervous laugh as she gathered the last bomb. She walked over and set the grenades on the surface of a crate. “Here ya go…”

Tav accepted the gifts from the devil’s minion, placing each carefully in her pack, and she smiled pleasantly at the child after nestling them all.

“Thank you. Best of luck in your future career.”

She would let it be a surprise to Mol that her patron wouldn’t exist soon.

“See ya around, Tav...”

Nine-Fingers Keene did not take Tav’s word for it that she was leaving the life of a thief behind.

“You’ll be back,” she had said, and Tav left the guild leader to her assumptions.

Once aboveground, she avoided finding a local cheesery for a wheel of Waterdhavian and opted instead to find a seller of elixirs.

Two glass bottles of Elixirs of Fire Resistance clacked against the other items within her pack as Tav traveled home.

It was time to get into costume.

She felt ready, prepared as she sat leaned against her headboard and pillows.

There was no blanket or book in her lap while she waited dressed in her costume of a stained leather breastplate, studded leather gloves, and her favorite boots. Her assortment of belts and pouches adorned her waist, hips, and legs with items new and old tucked in or hanging from their respective places. Her pack sat against her, and was empty aside from her tinderbox and scrolls she managed to dig around and find around home.

Tav lamented not having more than a Scroll of Shocking Grasp, Scroll of Blur, and a Scroll of Hold Monster (thank you Rhys), but she was confident in her abilities to get both jobs done with her daggers and what tools she had.

The nerves she felt were exposed by way of twiddling thumbs and biting at her inner cheek.

Raphael would likely be dead the following morning.

And Tav… hated that she felt sad at the thought…

Which was stupid and absurd given that the devil was nothing but a tormentor who cared nothing for her and saw her as nothing but a plaything.

‘Will you be able to bring yourself to kill me, dearest Tav?’

Yes.

Yes, because she had to.

Yes, because it was the only way she could regain control of her life.

Yes, because he seemed to think she couldn’t for some reason…

Rat-fucking-bastard.

Rat-fucking-bastard!

Rat.

Fucking.

Bast–

A burst of flames lit up her darkened bedroom and a single candle flickered at the devil’s arrival.

And devil he was, his fiery eyes upon her, his red face serious in expression.

“Little Mouse.”

“Raphael,” Tav said calmly from the bed.

He held a clawed hand out to her as if asking her for a dance.

She rose from bed, slung her pack around her shoulder, and grabbed the knife from under her pillow. The blade twirled in her hand before it was slid into her boot, and Tav blew out the candle at her bedside table.

She placed her hand in his.

In a flash of fire, they stood within the entrance hall to the House of Hope and the ashes of her heart became lodged in her throat.

Raphael swiftly let her go and moved to stand in front of her.

“Welcome to the stage,” the devil said, tall and imposing with the barest hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Explain.”

He smiled.

“Your role for this final act is that of the Mouse,” Raphael professed with theatricality. “And I am to join you on stage, where I will be taking the role of the Cat. As the Mouse, and a little thief, you are to scurry through this House and snatch the named item from under the owner’s nose.”

He (the fucking owner) tapped his nose then moved to tap his temple thrice with a claw.

“But the Cat knows of the Mouse’s presence and will give chase! Around and around the two will go, and the act is set to end when either the Mouse has claimed the item or the Cat has claimed the Mouse. Avoid my claws, Little Mouse, steal what you have already stolen, and your soul is to be yours.”

“What have I already stolen? What’s the item I am to sniff out and hunt down?”

“The Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength!”

What…

What was all of this?

“I’m nothing but a toy to you, aren’t I?” Tav spat. “This stupid fucking game of yours was all so you can toy with me…”

“And why shouldn’t I, thief?” Raphael asked, the Archdevil Supreme edging into his voice and demeanor. “Did you not admit to making a game out of your lone visit here? The visit where you toyed with my archivist, toyed with my incubus, toyed with my diary, toyed with your contract! You toyed around in my House! You toyed around with me! Why should I not return the favor!”

Tav’s mouth hung open, her lip curled and brow furrowed as the truth came out.

“Gods… is that what this is all about?! I apologized, didn’t I? Oh, but apparently that wasn’t enough to mend the Archdevil Supreme’s brittle pride!” She bared teeth as she breathed hatred. “I left my contract alone! You got your fucking Crown, didn’t you?”

He stepped closer, his aura foreboding as his eyes burned her soul.

Tav did not move as she stared up at him.

“Yes, I have my Crown, but I’ve desired something else since your thievery within my House, be it the wish to punish you for your trespassing, be it your soul, be it…”

“My death? ” Tav finished for him.

He appeared visibly repulsed.

“Contrary to what you might think, I do not wish to see you dead, Little Mouse.”

“Well, I wish to see you dead!”

His face soured further. 

“Then you have my permission to kill me during this act, if you are able,” Raphael said, with the briefest glance at her lips. “Come at me with your hatred and your daggers, or run, seek and attain the Gauntlets before I catch you. Either course will earn you victory.”

“Good to know,” she replied viciously, glaring.

“There will be no visitors or debtors to interfere, and Haarlep is elsewhere for the time being, because, as you said, this game was always intended to be between us.”

“If that’s the truth, then you will release Solenne from her contract,” Tav challenged.

Raphael’s eyes glowed in delight.

“And what will you give me in return?”

She opened her mouth then closed it.

Tav had nothing to offer, wanted to give him nothing.

“I will release Solenne from her contract… for a kiss.” was Raphael’s offer. ”Nothing more, nothing less.”

She almost recoiled.

The soul of her friend for a kiss.

It sounded so simple… so easy …

The devil looked parched as he stared at her mouth…

The ashes of her heart… no… no!

Tav swallowed.

“Fine.”

“Then we have a deal.”

And before she knew it, Raphael was upon her. His mouth crashed against hers as one hand landed on her waist and the other held her neck, his thumb on the line of her jaw. Her lips remained tightly shut, but he demanded…

Tav hated herself as her eyes closed, the seal on her lips breaking at the devil’s insistence (and hers), her mouth giving way to better taste the…

Sweet fire -

No!

She hated him!

HATE!

Tav pushed him away, and the devil let her, looking so smug that she hated him more in the moment.

“I hate you,” she said with confidence after wiping her mouth to make a point.

“Prove it.”

A dagger came out with a spin.

“I fucking will,” Tav responded, quick to mirror his smugness as a taunt came to mind. “It will be easy; after all, you’re only a cambion.”

There.

There was the Archdevil Supreme.

“Am I ‘only a cambion’, Little Mouse?” he asked, his fangs showing. “Would you like to witness what ‘only a cambion’ can become?”

Well, when he said it like that…

No, she didn’t. 

“It doesn’t matter what you are; devil, cambion, cat, fox, rat-fucking-bastard. I’m going to end you one way or another and your horns are going to hang on my wall.”

“We will see,” Raphael replied darkly.

Snap!

A contract appeared, and the devil (or whatever he was) waved a hand over the parchment. The infernal agreement burned from the bottom up.

“Your friend’s contract has been dissolved,” Raphael stated. “Now, let us commence with this final act.”

He took a few steps back before straightening and posing with his hands clasped behind his back, wings tucked against him.

“Ignoring your insults, I am feeling… uncharacteristically charitable and will allow you a few seconds head start. Whether you wish to indulge in your instinct of fight or flight, that is your choice to make. I will catch you either way, and once you are in my claws, I will never let you go.”

Tav’s ashen heart was racing, her blood and spirit, her hope burning.

“Are you ready to begin?”

She gave a resolute nod and looked ahead to the dining hall.

“The curtain rises…”

Tav positioned herself… to run.

“The stage is yours, Little Mouse!”

And run she did.

Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

Down and up a small flight of stairs she sprinted, skipping steps as her boots pounded against patterned marble. 

“The Cat makes his appearance!”

Few seconds, indeed…

Fuck!

Asshole!

Tav did not have much time to think; her plan was in disarray due to the unexpected turn of events to be squaring off Raphael so soon. She wanted to kill him (very much so), however, the dark urge competed with her thirst for a win and her hunger to take more bites out of the Archdevil Supreme’s brittle pride.

This did not mean she would avoid a fight on her way to the Archive - her path to victory!

A mouse had claws, too.

Tav quickly replaced her dagger for a match from her tinderbox and she ripped a smokepowder bomb from a holder on her belt as the sound of wings beat furiously behind her.

Fuckfuckfuck!

She reached the dining hall and leapt onto the octagonal table, disturbing the arrangement that was still set for three. The mouth-watering spread that was to be dinner after the ball had rotted tenfold; a foul stench emanated from the boar carcass, its previously perfectly roasted flesh feasted upon by maggots, and untouched gray pastries joined stinking vegetables and moldy fruit (peaches included). Humorously, the place settings of polished cutlery and plating stuck out like a sore thumb; all of it silver that remained untarnished and flawless.

Tav thought she even saw the eyeball of an elf as she reached into the maw of the dead boar, swapping the apple it held in its decomposing mouth for a lit smokepowder bomb.

“You said you would never lie to me, and that in and of itself was a lie!” she declared, spinning around and pitching the rotted apple at the fast approaching devil who flew for her. He easily avoided the fruit (as Tav anticipated), and he was a handful of feet away when she next chucked the boar head in his direction, its neck having already mostly split from its body.

Spotting the rapidly dwindling fuse, Raphael landed and managed to shield himself with a wing just as the head exploded into pieces, the grenade sending chunks of boar skull, flesh, and brain matter everywhere.

Her ears were ringing and Tav ignored the flecks of decayed boar that hit her as she deftly pulled out an Elixir of Fire Resistance. She swallowed the entirety of the vial before tossing the glass aside.

A dagger was drawn, and the blade halfway flipped with Tav grabbing the point between thumb and finger. She wound up and threw the weapon with a growl. Raphael’s wing fanned out from his body in reaction, a gust of air hitting her face and rattling silverware as the dagger was flatly knocked aside by the leathery appendage, altering its trajectory to the floor.

The devil began to slowly stalk around the table, his eyes staring at the defensively posed figure that stood as the centerpiece to a fetid meal. 

“When did I lie to you, Mouse?” Raphael asked.

Tav could not let him get close to her.

“You had everything to do with Astarion’s leaving! Yes, I slept with your incubus!” An added measure, she kicked a silver stand of putrid pastries at him that he unfortunately avoided. “But it is you who sent Korrilla and Haarlep upon him! It was you who planned on giving him that damned amulet from the beginning! And it was you who made the terms of the contract be what they are! That he can never be with me so long as his contract exists!”

Tav kicked the same boat of gravy the amulet had sat in, and, again, Raphael brought his wing up to shield himself. The sterling boat hit him along with a splash of sauce before clanging against marble. This time, the devil was faster to unveil himself in order to keep his eyes upon her.

Which was smart of him because Tav had helped herself to Raphael’s entire place setting of silverware to use as ammunition.

“I did not lie to you; you asked if I manipulated Astarion into signing the contract, and I did not. I was merely a bystander who presented the agreement when all was said and done. Haarlep pulled the strings of your beloved, in your form, as you know. So who really manipulated Astarion?”

A fork narrowly missed his head.

“Bastard!”

“But not quite a liar,” Raphael countered with a smirk.

“What about Celeste?” Tav asked. Her opponent’s body was turned enough, and she sent a steak knife for where his heart would beat if he had one.

The devil protected the area with the palm of a clawed hand, blade piercing him.

“Yes? What about Celeste?” Raphael pried the blade out with the barest wince and let the improvised weapon join the rest of the collection on the floor.

“‘Very real’ my ass! She doesn’t exist, does she?”

He huffed a laugh as he continued his calculated stroll around the table.

“She is real enough, existing to a number of guests who attended the ball,” he replied. “And your attendance further established that existence. I fail to see the lie.”

“'Guests’…” Tav scoffed. “You mean people who owed you!” She launched a spoon at his head, and when he calmly leaned backwards to avoid it, a salad fork swiftly followed, aiming for the same red, horned and pointy eared target.

Raphael caught the pronged piece of silver in a fist.

“You are interested in Cheesomancy and like throwing things. What else do you like, my dear?” he asked, changing the topic as the fork fell. He turned sharply and reached the edge of the table with a single step, his eyes ablaze. “Kassius is no longer around to tell me. Do you like winning games against fiends and knaves?”

Raphael deftly smacked away her answer of a stand of fruit that hurtled towards his face. He growled and suddenly gripped the table, lifting it with such strength and utter ease. “If so, you cannot hope to win standing on a table!”

What remained of the rotted feast came sliding backwards, tumbling and scattering to the floor. Tav pushed off of the table surface before it fell onto its side. She rolled onto her feet with the fire of the hearth crackling behind her, and sat crouched while her other hand reached into her pack for what she marked to be the Scroll of Blur.

The scroll unfurled immediately once in her fingers.

“Nullus sui!”

Raphael flew above the table and came down for her, ready to pounce with his claws outstretched.

Tav leapt out of the way as the devil swiped and landed on her previous known position. He swiveled around to the sound of her boots scurrying across the marble, her feet managing to gracefully navigate between the mess of silver and food that decorated the floor.

Snap!

Balls of hellfire appeared in her path and exploded, sending fire to singe her hair and lick at her armor as she dove for cover behind a chair. She made a run for her formerly thrown dagger, and once in hand, Tav dashed around the upturned table, heading back towards Raphael with speed and agility, both daggers at the ready.

The effects of the scroll would dissipate soon; she had to make it count!

“Imagine the possibilities at your disposal had you not rejected my first gift; the powers you did not want,” he said, waiting for her with a smile.

“I don’t need them, and I don’t need you!”

Raphael again swiped for her, missing her as Tav ducked and pivoted at the last second, flowing around to his back. Her hand swung upwards and the dagger blade sliced the thick base of the devil’s wing, splitting skin to the bone, making him hiss and bleed, blood dripping onto the marble. The devil twisted, and the same wing threatened to knock her to the ground with power behind it. Tav ducked again, preparing to dart back out of range of his grasp-

-a red tail was waiting.

The appendage whipped the back of an ankle, sweeping her foot from under her, throwing her off balance-

Tav could read Raphael’s intention to ram into her with his shoulder to fully knock her prone, and her dagger swung for him, the blade close enough to dissuade him as she sought to regain stability.

The scroll’s effects were set to wane… she couldn’t stay so close!

Raphael hooked his boot around the back of the foot she needed as he avoided another strike, tripping her, and gravity worked its magic as Tav fell backwards.

Her tailbone crashed painfully against the hardness of the floor before her back followed.

And Raphael was quick to take advantage.

Snap!

He struck her hand with a flash of hellfire, and the unexpectedness of the sensation caused her to relinquish a dagger. Her fingers sought to retrieve it, the handle just within reach…

The weapon went skidding away from her as the devil’s foot kicked it, a bell jingling from where it hung from the cuff of his striped boot. Tav rolled onto her side, shifting to stab his toes with her second blade.

This proved to be a mistake; the blur that affected her person had worn out. The boot’s bell jingled again as Raphael slid his foot away, raising it and rapidly bringing it down to step on her wrist with a stable pressure that almost hurt. 

Tav groaned through grit teeth as she glared up at him.

She was effectively trapped.

“Fear not, Little Mouse, I have not caught you with my claws just yet,” Raphael said, seemingly to assuage her question of whether or not she had lost so soon. To add to his point, he wiggled his clawed fingers at her with a pompous smile.

“Stop toying with me,” Tav seethed.

“I’m merely enjoying you, my dear. As I’ve said before, I find your company refreshing, no matter the context,” Raphael stared down at her, his head cocked. “But, aside from that, as the Cat, my curiosity is insatiable. How will the Mouse progress through the House… declawed?”

There was more weight and pressure applied to her wrist, and Tav fought to keep her hold on the dagger against crushing pain.

“You know, of the two of us, it is you who is the liar,” Raphael mused.

“How am I the liar?” she asked, wincing.

“Let go.”

“How am I the liar?”

She would not let go!

Snap!

A burst of precisely placed hellfire lit up her hand - a hand that had threatened him, fed peach and fingers to him, shattered glass because of him! The elixir coursing through her and the leather she wore could only do much under the intense, unique heat…

“Always so stubborn.”

“You’re going to have to sever my hand completely if you want my dagger so badly!”

“And Haarlep says I’m dramatic…”

“How. Am. I. The. Liar? ” Tav ground out as he began to twist and grind his boot into her flesh and bone.

“Simply let go, and I’ll tell you.”

Snap!

More hellfire scorched her hand. The worn material of her glove was discoloring, shrinking, and Tav whimpered as her fingers felt as though they were being seared.

“I deny your offer.”

His weight, and the hellish flames biting her flesh…

She would endure!

“How about another kiss, then? Afterwards, you will learn the answer to your question, and I will allow you to scamper along with the dagger you hold onto so dearly.” There was that parched expression again, dwelling amidst the severity of his gaze. “Unlike you, I am not a liar, so you know my offer is true.”

A damned taunt…

She was no liar!

“Accepting will pause the act, should you be worried about the prospect of a loss,” Raphael assured.

“You’re fucked in the head, you know that?”

“As are you for wanting a devil like me… truly a well-matched pair...”

Her breath hitched between pain.

“I don’t want you!” Tav snarled.

He tutted.

“Such a liar,” Raphael then purred, a secret forming in the depths of his eyes.

What did he know?!

“A kiss, and I will tell you,” he teased.

She needed to know!

“I accept,” she hissed.

The hellfire died as if by the devil’s will, and the pressure on her wrist subsided.

Raphael did not remove his boot.

“Release the blade; you may retrieve it when we are finished with our little intermission.”

Tav let go, hating herself, and he plucked the weapon from the floor before tossing it towards the hall that would eventually lead to the Archive. His boot lifted from her with a tinkling bell, and Tav flattened onto her back. Her hand trembled, throbbing as she brought it above her head to inspect the damage; the previously dark leather was blackened in spots, burned, like the heart-

-that lurched as Raphael unexpectedly came down to straddle her, his weight on his knees, his eyes molten fire, his expression… nearly unreadable as he took the hand she observed in both of his.

“What are you doing?” Tav asked, alarmed, wincing as the devil began to carefully peel the leather away, his other hand gently holding the wrist he had stepped on but a moment ago…

“I told you, mouse,” he replied. “My curiosity… absolutely insatiable.”

He delicately wiggled the material from her fingers, and she flinched at the touch of his fingertips, the feel of his skin on hers as he slowly exposed the reddened, heated skin of her hand.

Raphael traced the scars that he had healed with a caress of his claws.

Tav swallowed the… the feeling that fluttered like butterflies in her stomach and rose like bile in her throat. Her breathing was unsteady, and her other hand flexed at the discomfort of having him closer than she wanted him to be.

“Your curiosity is going to get you killed,” Tav muttered petulantly.

His response was a smile that held his precious secret, and she could pull it from his lips with a kiss…

“Kiss me, damn you; be done with it,” she demanded.

Raphael hummed, pleased by the order. He languidly pushed the hand he held back and pinned it over her head, entwining his fingers with hers as he positioned himself above her.

His eyes took a moment to map the features of her face, and he raised a claw to her cheek. An imaginary line burned a path as it trailed down her skin.

“I’m already damned, Little Mouse.”

Raphael’s head slanted, and his lips met hers with a forceful hunger, cherries and sulfur overpowering the scent of rotted food that laid nearby.

His chest rumbled as Tav matched him, bringing forth her fury and her hate as they bit and pulled at each other's lips, drawing blood in between licking and tasting with desperation...

Raphael’s body adjusted to better mold itself on top of hers. The heads of the horned devils that adorned his belt poked into the leather that covered her abdomen, but lower, Tav could feel Raphael’s stiffening cock from where it now pushed against her clothed (and growing wetter by the second) sex.

No! She had to end this!

He grinded into her, and Tav moaned, equal parts pleasure and pain as his claws dug into the back of the throbbing, heated hand he held-

Raphael wouldn’t be the one to end it - as was his plan!

To shake her resolve!

Rat-fucking-bastard!

Tav’s entire body tensed, and she jerked her head roughly to the side, gasping for breath.

“Tell me how I am the liar!”

Raphael chuckled as he observed her, and his breath moved from her cheek to her ear…

“You deny wanting me, even after admitting to breaking into my home with a cat's curiosity to see what it would be like to fuck me. Instead, you settle for my incubus - a copy.” The huskiness of his voice held an edge of self-assurance, a confidence that what he spoke was true. “You eventually fuck me, your heart's desire, and then claim over dinner that you thought of a vampire spawn while my cock was buried inside your soaked and wanting cunt - a cunt I would bet souls is wet and wanting for me now…”

Tav was incited, her nails digging into his hand.

“I think, perchance, it was the other way around,” Raphael nipped her ear with his fangs before his face returned to hover over hers. “Look at me and tell me the truth, or be a liar; did you ever think of me as your vampire spawn fucked you?”

There were tears in her eyes as she turned her head and obeyed.

Raphael’s brow furrowed, and his grip on her loosened.

“Yes,” Tav answered, speaking the truth with hate. “Now get off of me and allow me to finish this stupid play, Raphael. If you’re going to catch me, then catch me. Stop toying with me; you’ll have all eternity to do so if I lose.”

A tear fell down her cheek, and the devil followed it with faint disgust.

Understandable; Tav was equally disgusted to have him be witness to her mortal fragility.

She willed it that the rest of her tears would evaporate.

“As you wish,” he said, releasing her hand as he returned to his previous way of sitting back on his knees. The bulge in his breeches was in plain view, and, maddeningly, Raphael still seemed to be in possession of his godsdamned secret while he continued to scrutinize her. “But before this intermission ends, I would like to offer you an invitation to my boudoir…”

Ass!

“Is that where the Gauntlets are?” She asked, drying eyes narrowing.

The devil smiled.

“My invitation comes at a cost you can afford…”

“Another kiss?”

Snap!

A physical invitation appeared between his index and middle fingers, and how funny it was that it looked exactly the same as the invitation to the ball. But, unlike the invitation to the ball, this particular invitation remained sealed, and, as he flipped it, Tav could read it was addressed only to her.

My dearest Tav.

“I seek an answer,” Raphael said severely. “A truth, and the invitation is yours.”

How could her heart pound this much after everything?

“Fine, ask your question.”

His eyes peered into her very being, unblinking and burning so intensely…

“Do you love me, Tav?”

Her entire body seized up, breath leaving her lungs like a soul might leave a body.

The truth came roaring in her ears and sat beating in her breast, tasting like ash on her tongue…

She hated the truth as much as she hated him and hated herself… but it nonetheless existed.

He could never know, would never know!

She would never give him the satisfaction!

Tav no longer cared about his secret, if it meant she could keep hers.

“No,” was her answer, a lie.

The invitation instantly burned to cinders before her eyes.

As if Raphael already knew.

As if that was his secret.

“Get off of me,” Tav growled.

He could take the secret with him to his death.

“There remains time for the truth to reveal itself,” Raphael said smoothly as he climbed to his feet. He presented his hand for her to take, and he huffed through his nose and tutted when she rebuffed him in favor of standing on her own, items shifting in the pouches and holders on her belt. “Such stubbornness.”

Tav glowered, keeping her eyes on him as she backed away. She navigated over to where the dagger he tossed waited for her, and, in turn, Raphael watched her with a smile as he made his way to the dagger he had kicked.

They picked up their respective blades at the same time, and the devil made a show of examining his as he sauntered to where she stood gripping hers.

“How did you come by this weapon? Stolen from the living or pilfered from the dead? A gift from a friend or companion?” Raphael pondered aloud. He passed by with a slight breeze from his wings and moved to stand in the middle of the short hall that led to her next destination. “Or was the pair of them found in a chest you plundered on your somewhat recent adventure?”

“A Bhaal assassin, actually,” Tav said. “Who failed in acquiring their target.”

“Ah, good to know you won’t miss this too badly.”

Snap!

Tav knew she would never see the dagger again.

“Are you ready to resume, my dear?”

“Yes.”

“Then our intermission is over.” Raphael beckoned her with two fingers. Past him, up a set of stairs and beyond a set of opened infernal doors, Tav could see the closed doors to the Archive. “Come; do you dare to try and scurry past me? Or will we be taking the long way around?”

Tav extracted her knife from the sheath of her boot. She smiled without mirth as she then used the toe of the same boot against the other’s heel and quickly pulled her feet from both pieces of footwear. Her toes, free from the wrappings that were otherwise bound the soles of her feet and up above her ankles, wiggled in reaction to the hot open air.

“Invisibilis.”

She disappeared and Raphael was preparing a snap to reveal her as Tav hurriedly hid behind an ornate rectangular pilaster that jutted out from the wall, out of the devil’s view. She quietly swapped her knife for a vial and mentally thanked Rhys for the Potion of Greater Invisibility.

“Invisibility will not work in this House.”

Snap!

Tav appeared, the vial to her lips, and she swallowed the potion in a single gulp, disappearing again.

Raphael was looking for her; she could hear the jingling of his boots as he turned in place, likely confused as to why she remained gone. He walked back into the dining hall by a few steps, his red face scrunched in puzzlement and irritation.

Tav crept around the devil’s back, squeezing her dagger handle, ready to react should he snap again…

Her feet made it to the hall he had formerly blocked, and Tav scurried.

Snap!

“There you are! My clever little mouse!” Raphael shouted. There was the sound of beating wings a short distance behind her. The bleeding gash he sustained apparently did nothing to hinder his advancement.

She should have sliced the other when she had the chance…

Up the stairs she went, and a wave of heat blasted her as a wall of hellfire ignited in front of the Archive doors.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and Tav lunged out of the way as a clawed hand went for her. Raphael swiftly landed, Tav rolling to her feet before bounding for him with her dagger ready to cut. It was a risky skirmish to partake in; there was no Scroll of Blur active to assist in her defense…

She swiped for him, and he dodged, retaliating with another attempt to grab her with his claws, the two of them entering a dance where one meant to defend and deliver harm as the other meant to capture and claim.

Where he had the advantage over her in size and strength, Tav had the advantage over him in nimbleness and speed.

A well matched pair.

After trading attacks and dodges, Raphael managed to grab the wrist of her dagger hand, and Tav dropped it, catching it with the other and clipping his forearm with the blade. She spun in his grasp, aiming to slice his leg but the devil broke his hold to avoid the strike. Her feet were silent versus the tinkling of bells as she evaded his tricky tail with a hop and a twirl.

“If I’m a liar, then you are a thief!” Tav said, springing away from his next possible attack.

He did not go after her and regarded her with a sneer.

“How am I the thief?”

They unconsciously began to circle each other.

“You stole Astarion from me with the conditions of your contract,” she spat, pointing her dagger at him as she had at dinner. “You stole my relationship with Kassius, tarnished those memories with the conditions of another contract! You stole my reputation, stole the opinions of my friends by dancing with somebody that wasn’t me! You stole my fucking blanket!”

“What about what you stole?” Raphael retorted, deflecting.

“Mol’s contract? The fucking Gauntlets? Both of which you have again!”

“You stole something far more important!”

“Like what?!”

He said nothing.

“Name it!”

His face was a mask of nothing … but, in his eyes…

“Name it, Raphael! Godsdamn you!”

In her anger, Tav threw the dagger for his heart.

And in a blink the devil caught the bladed edge, clawed fingers wrapped around deadly sharp steel. Blood promptly spilled, dripping from his hand, down the blade and splashing onto the floor. He beheld her, and the emotion she couldn’t decipher was there.

Snap!

The dagger disappeared, leaving him with a hand of freely flowing crimson.

A hand opposite of her own scarred palm.

Not knowing why she suddenly felt frightened, Tav spun around and charged for the door at her back. Hellfire licked at her leather as she reached and pulled at a handle with a roar. The door lurched open, and she pushed through the flames, formally stepping into the candlelit, overwrought Archive. Tav rushed to the center of the room feeling frenzied, her chest heaving in anticipation while her eyes immediately flicked to each of the three main pedestals that marked Raphael’s most prized items.

Her burning spirit sputtered as she took stock and recognized all that was on display; all of them mementos that cataloged her journey with Raphael, all of them behind golden impervious shields, and none of them being the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength, the item she needed.

She could sense and hear Raphael coming up behind her, his steps slow and deliberate.

“The Gauntlets… they’re actually in your boudoir, aren’t they?” Tav asked, her voice weak as she turned to look at him with horror on her face.

“You are free to go and take a look for yourself, if you’d like,” Raphael replied, his expression composed. He stepped to the side and gestured for the fully opened set of doors with his bloody hand.

Tav glared, hating him. She gave the devil as much of a wide berth as possible before she ran out the door, no hellfire to hurdle through. Raphael did not give chase and she sprinted down a series of hallways to the boudoir without impediment. Unsurprisingly, like with her previous visits, the shimmering semi-translucent barrier received her, blocking her entry until an invitation was presented.

An invitation she could have attained had she not been a liar who would deny a devil the wicked truth of her feelings.

She peered inside, and there… sitting on his vanity in view…

“FUCK! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

Her fists did nothing against the barrier’s magic, and Tav fell to her knees, scratching at her scalp and yanking hair, groaning something deep and guttural, hating everything, wanting it all to be over.

The rat-fucking-bastard who ruined her life and would own her soul, tormenting her for all eternity because she was stubborn and stupid, oh so stupid…

“He won’t stop ‘till he has you, little mouse…” a soft, cadenced voice said. “Body, mind, and soul…”

Tav sucked in air at the sound. Her head lifted and turned to see the flickering figure of a dwarf woman, her eyes swallowed in the same glowing orange fire that traced the outline of her image.

“How do you do it, Hope?” Tav asked, a desperate whisper. “How do you keep going after enduring the horrors you have? Horrors that far outweigh my experiences, horrors I may as well be complicit in having left you here…”

Chains rattled in the distance; a reminder of her failure to try.

“I endure because I must… Because it is only myself that can see to my survival! Can’t let Raphael win! Won’t let Raphael win! A GAME THAT WILL LAST FOR ALL ETERNITY!” Hope gave a fleeting look of panic and her body shrunk inwards. “I should be quiet, quiet, for he is here, waiting for you in the Archive, waiting to finish your game… But you are luckier than I!”

Tav didn’t know how to respond to the cleric; agreeing or disagreeing about the amount of luck either of them had was equally insensitive to everything Hope had seen and suffered.

“You are! He is different with you, the same, but different… His cherished Little Mouse,” Hope muttered on, her mind going to another place as she spoke. “I hear and see many things in this House, my House as much as his! You torture him as he tortures you, poking and prodding each other, bringing misery, pleasure and joy! ‘As she will give me her body, as she will give me her mind, AS SHE WILL GIVE ME HER SOUL!’ Ohhhh, he desires you so!”

Chains clamored, Hope’s image wavered to the tune of a faint scream.

“No…” Tav said.

Raphael’s ending to the play could not come to pass; it was Tav’s ending that Hope, the lone member of their audience, would witness before the curtain fell.

“I won’t be put in chains,” she continued, rising to her feet. “And I’m going to free you from yours, Hope. Something I should have done when we first met. I’m sorry for not being the hero you needed then, but I won’t leave you to suffer Raphael any longer.”

“You made no promises before,” Hope said, sullen. “Your lone visit, your goal being as mad as I…”

“I’m promising now! I’m going to save you,” Tav said, determined.

“Raphael will stop you, catch you! His claws a cage!”

“I’ll… I’ll take care of Raphael.”

“I wish it could be, but you cannot do it alone... there is the jailer, too! The many eyes and the ray of death… You must be clever, little mouse!”

“I will see it done.”

Hope smiled, wanting to believe.

“I have given you the phrases you need… the cat waits…”

Chains rattled again and with a wince, Hope disappeared.

“I promise, Hope,” Tav repeated to the empty hall. She turned around and her walk evolved into a run as she backtracked to the Archive with a fresh spike of adrenaline pumping through her veins.

As the Archive emerged, she murmured her invisibility spell and crept around the corner and crossed over the threshold.

Raphael was there, poised for her return, standing at the center of the room and from within the middle of his House’s emblem. However, it was unexpected and affected her strangely to see him… distracted, contemplating something with a steely expression while he stared at his wounded hand.

Tav did not get very far into the room before the devil abruptly broke from his thoughts, his body tensing, and through luck, surely, his eyes somehow found hers through her invisibility.

Raphael snapped blood covered fingers.

Snap!

“I can sense you, Little Mouse.”

“How?” Tav immediately asked, revealed and wanting to know.

“The mark on your neck,” Raphael replied, smirking. All traces of his solemnity had faded from his fiendish features. “It’s permanent, by the way, and although I cannot tell exactly where you are, I know when you leave a room and when you come back.”

“That’s cheating,” she said, bristling. “And I’ll find a way to remove your blasted bite.”

“You won’t, I promise you that. Better than infernal words, hm?” He sounded so damned sure of himself as he looked down at her, his head held high. “Did you find what you were looking for in the boudoir?”

“I did,” Tav bit out. “I also had a brief chat with Hope.”

The Archdevil Supreme came forward.

“Oh? Was the conversation illuminating?”

“I’m going to free her.”

Without warning and with a great push of his wings, Raphael charged for her, his eyes brimming with the absolute intent to catch her and… distress? Or was it fear?

She had no time to think about it-

“Invisibilis!”

IT WAS TIME!

Tav narrowly avoided him with a graceful pivot and her hand dipped into her pack for a specific scroll.

Snap!

“You can’t!” he growled, whirling around, reaching for her revealed form, his claws outstretched. “You’ll d-”

“Non-movere!”

The Scroll of Hold Monster was unfurled and invoked. Raphael froze mid-word, brow furrowed, with… yes, it was fear that danced in the fire of orange and yellow.

Fear that he was going to lose Hope, his precious plaything that had suffered enough by his hand! Fear of having the namesake for his House liberated, a place where souls came to toil and rot!

A fear of losing his stupid fucking game!

The spell would not last, and therefore, Tav, basking in the glory of having the devil right where she wanted him, took out her trusty knife and gave it a spontaneous flip.

“Before I free Hope, I’m going to pay back what I owe you,” she said, sidling up to him with a smile. She put the knife between her teeth and began to unfasten the loops of his doublet. Thankfully, his height wasn’t as much of an issue given his positioning, making it easier for her to gain access to his neck when she pulled down the collar of his doublet and the white, ruffled shirt underneath.

Tav took her knife back in hand and observed the pristine flesh that lay exposed to her.

“Three bites, was it?” she murmured, glancing into his eyes as the blade was brought to Raphael’s neck like a quill point to parchment.

And, further like a quill, the tip grazed red skin, drawing a deep line that left red oozing in its wake. A second line, one branching from the first, followed…

T

The devil groaned as more cuts marked him.

A

Two more…

V

The knife withdrew, the debt of three letters for three bites paid, and in a move for pure performance, Tav pushed herself onto the tips of her toes to better lick across her name and taste his infernal blood.

“Delicious,” she said, stepping away with cherries and sulfur in her nose.

Revenge did not taste as sweet as the word she used; it was unpleasant to have the hot, metallic tang of his ichor saturating her tongue.

She truly was a liar.

Raphael stared at her, for that’s all he could really do, and Tav could tell he was fighting fang and claw to rid himself of the spell that rendered him harmless.

The ashes of her heart ached painfully and there was an uncomfortable lump in her throat as she again closed the distance between them.

Tav’s arms came up and wrapped around the devil she hated so much, hugging him tightly as she buried her face against the unmarked side of his neck.

She could hear, feel him breathing against her…

He was so warm, and she fit against him so well…

Cherries and sulfur…

A scent she loved.

Tav wanted to cry, was going to cry as the knife raised once more, the trembling blade nestling between his wings and touching the fabric that covered his spine.

Do it.

Stab him as he did you!

Rid Faerûn of a devil!

Send the knife down his back!

Be a hero and save the future souls of others!

Stab him! Stab him! Stab him!

Save your soul!

KILL HIM AND WIN, YOU FUCKING CLOWN!

Tears leaked from her closed eyes, cascading silently and dampening the soft material against her cheek as the blade point poked deeper.

Fuck!

Fuckfuck fuck!

Why did she have to fall in love with Raphael?

The knife inched over to press against the base of his uninjured wing, slicing downwards before pulling away. Tav blinked away the rest of her tears before she followed suit, avoiding his gaze as she tucked the blade in between a belt. Her fingers opened a pouch and she seized the bottle of Karabasan’s Poison, popping open the stopper with a jerk of her thumb.

The lip of the bottle touched his neck at the spot above her carved name.

“I’m going to free Hope and with it, end your House,” Tav impassively drawled, pouring the poison over the fresh mark. “Only after, when you know that she’s gone and know that I was the one to do it, that’s when I’m going to finish you off.”

The bottle emptied, shaken of every drop, poison mixing with his blood as it ran down his skin and stained the white of his frilled shirt and his doublet.

When the spell wore out, the paralysis would take over and buy her just enough time to rescue Hope…

She’d better be quick, just in case.

Tav cast aside the bottle and bounded over to the first pedestal of three from the far side of the room.

The pedestal that held a contract.

But not hers; the devil was no fool the second time around.

It was Astarion’s.

I will know her body, read the placard.

Tav looked back at the breathing, bleeding statue of Raphael, his eyes burning pinpoints that retained their ability to move and watch her outside of the effects of spell and paralysis.

She couldn’t tell if he was tempting her on purpose, wanting her to break the sphere. She didn’t know if she was falling into another trap, moving her piece along the board exactly as he expected her to…

No, remember your own ending!

Yes, her ending… where Astarion would be free to be with her again…

She would keep her promise!

Tav brought her attention back to the magical sphere, thinking of the password that Hope had given.

“As she will give me her body,” she said, internally denying the statement.

The golden hued barrier surrounding the contract disappeared.

Tav grabbed her knife at the same time of grabbing the contract, and she wished to crow as the blade tore through the infernal parchment, cutting it in two and causing it to burn and shrivel into nothingness.

She smiled, feeling a small victory. Her knife was swiftly sheathed between her belt, and, because she did not bring cheese with her this time around, Tav plucked both her tinderbox and a smokepowder bomb from their holders.

Onto the marble pedestal the bomb went, to replace that which was no longer there.

Tav lit the fuse, turned heel and jogged over to the second, middle pedestal.

The pedestal that-

BOOM!

-held a sun-shaped amulet.

I will know her mind, read the placard.

Tav didn’t know what Raphael was up to - and she didn’t care.

Astarion would have his answer returned to him! She and him would live together with the sun shining through the windows!

“As she will give me her mind,” Tav said.

She pocketed the amulet; a prize to hold onto, a prize she would never let anyone steal from her beloved!

Another bomb was set, and another match kissed a fuse.

Raphael’s eyes scorched her as she ran to the third and final pedestal.

A pedestal that held the Orphic Hammer, the item that started it all, and an item Raphael retrieved after she and her party had misplaced it sometime during their battle with the Elder Brain.

BOOM!

I will know her soul, read the placard.

“As she will give me her soul.”

The Hammer was weighty as Tav obtained it, the heaviness feeling familiar and reminding her of when she had shattered the chains of Orpheus from within the Astral Prism.

Tav rested the hammer head on the floor and leaned the weapon against the pedestal as she prepared her closing bomb.

Once the fuse was lit, she secured the hammer in both hands and walked over to Raphael.

BOOM!

The sulfuric and musty scent of smokepowder bombs permeated the air, chunks of marble big and small littered the ground, and all prized items were pilfered by a liar and a thief.

She situated herself before him, and Raphael groaned as though he were trying to speak. The sounds he made were unintelligible, his tongue paralyzed.

“Before I go do what must be done, there’s another debt that must be paid,” Tav said, a menacing, mischievous glint in her eye.

She raised the Hammer back for a swing and brought it down, smashing Raphael’s toes through his fine leather boot, bell jingling.

The devil growled, his eyes a raging inferno she could no longer read.

“But, technically, you danced with me twice.” Her hands choked up on the Hammer, a second swing imminent. “So, this is for Haarlep!”

At the leaving of Haarlep’s name, the Hammer came down again on Raphael’s other foot.

Did his finger just twitch?

And his tail?

Shit, go now!

She would… but first…

Tav retreated by two steps and bowed deeply, theatrically before Raphael, a performative smile on her face.

And then she ran.

She ran out of the Archive, Orphic Hammer tight in her grip, fueled by the debts she had paid.

She ran down the halls, past the boudoir, fueled by the desire to see her own written ending through.

She ran to the gold prison hatchway she had ignored on her lone visit, fueled by the need to save Hope!

Tav let the Hammer drop, and with adrenaline pumping and a force of will, she pried the heavy hatch open, lid hitting the floor with a resounding leaded thud. She peered down the hole before sending the Hammer first, the weapon falling and landing against a craggy, dirt surface, and Tav made fast work of descending the ladder after it.

The Hammer was hefted once more. She motioned to hit the button to open the iron door -

A burst from next to her startled Tav.

Rapha -

“You didn’t kill him,” Hope said, her tone…

Sad…

Confused…

“I will!” Tav assured in the face of the cleric’s uncertainty.

Hope responded with a small, doubtful smile and disappeared.

“Invisibilis,” she said, desperate to disappear as well.

Tav slammed her elbow into the button, and the door opened.

Oh, what in the ever-loving-Nine-fucking-Hells!

Hope’s body was restrained from within the center of a chained platform, chained herself by two crackling tethers of an infernal nature. The platform, a hexagonal-shaped piece of ironwork, dirt and rock, hung over the orange hued skies of Avernus. On either side of Hope was a series of other chained platforms that led to large, glowing crystals - the source of Hope’s tethers.

And while Tav expected one Beholder, she did not expect two, or the imps that flew above petrified bodies that had at one point cowered for their lives.

Her grip tensed on the Hammer.

Tav took a steadying breath…

She could do this.

She had to be a clever little mou-

Tav sprinted and leapt from the edge that separated her from Hope. The dirt and iron was warm on her toes and radiated through her footwraps as she leapt again, springing from Hope’s platform onto another that swung faintly at the momentum of her presence.

The beholder that floated, protecting her target, detected something - an intruder, a mouse. Its massive body turned sharply in the air, and its many eyes began to look for her, its toothy maw salivating.

Tav jumped over to the crystal’s platform. She dashed and prepared to swing!

Her body appeared as the Orphic Hammer connected, splitting and shattering the crystal.

Breaking a tether!

Tav turned heel as an eyestalk shot a beam of black necrotic energy.

She dodged it and was then distracted by a burst of fire that appeared before Hope.

Raphael’s eyes frantically snapped to Tav’s, his voice shouting her name with fear as a second ray of death connected with her back.

She fell, and, being a thief, Tav couldn’t help but take the curtain with her.

Snap!

She was at the entrance hall to Raphael’s House of Hope.

She couldn’t remember the why or the how of it all, and nothing and no one was there to greet her. In fact, nothing and no one was there at all as she walked down and up a small set of stairs and across the mess of a dining hall with its knocked over table and spilled food.

Tav followed a trail of dribbled blood as she made her way through the halls of the House. She could not freely explore or pause to examine anything; her wrapped feet would not allow her to stop. They couldn’t stop; something was pulling her, commanding her to come.

And obey she would, obey she must, knowing where she needed to go, thinking of nothing but her destination…

She came upon the door of the boudoir, and Tav did not need an invitation as she crossed the open threshold.

She finally stopped after a number of steps and came to stand on the red carpet that made up the perimeter of the bath. All she could focus on was the unmoving back of Raphael; his wings were slashed and bloodied as he stood waist deep in bathwater, and his horns were angled in a manner that implied he was staring down at something.

Sensing her arrival, the devil slowly turned.

Consciousness came with memory, all rushing back to her at the reveal of her lifeless body that hung from his arms - arms that held her so intimately, so close. Her head rested against his chest with closed eyes, and bathwater dripped from her drenched frame, leather armor soaked through.

“Little Mouse.”

He spoke not to the dead but to her, the soul he now owned.

The fire in his eyes was suffocating as though it had little air to give it life.

“Raphael,” she said, somehow able to speak through the spectral green form that made up her incorporeal body. “You won.”

“What did I win?” he asked bitterly.

“What you desired.”

“What I desired?” Raphael sneered. “I did not desire your death! Foolish, stubborn woman!”

“It doesn’t matter now…”

“It matters to me!” he snarled, grip tightening on her corpse.

There was silence, and Tav blankly observed the cat who clutched the mouse in his claws.

It mystified her to see him… akin to mournful.

Such a human emotion for a devil to express.

But… 

He was both, wasn’t he?

“What am I to you, Raphael?" She asked, exhausted despite her state of being. "A plaything? A pet? A trophy?”

His gaze shifted to her face - the dead one, and he said nothing.

“Speak the truth, or be a liar,” Tav said.

After a moment, water rippled as Raphael waded over to the border of the bath. Carefully, he set her body down onto a small decorative rug that sat on the edge near an assortment of candles, and he propped her head up with a pillow not so unlike the many that adorned her bed at home. A claw pushed away a wet lock of hair that clung to her cheek before Raphael stepped fully out of the bath and over her corpse, his clothes bloody and sopping.

“What are you to me?” He repeated, an edge to his tone as he came for her soul. The restoration bath had only slightly begun to heal the cut of her name on his neck and his steps reminded of the toes she had broken. “You are… a bane, a plague on my thoughts that there is no hope of curing. You are a deterrent and a distraction from my conquering of the Hells, having become a priority over my ambition to rule. You are chaos to my plans and my existence, a craving I cannot be rid of…”

His fire was burning again, and Tav, lacking a body, somehow felt as though she had been petrified by the same beholder that killed her as Raphael unloaded the truth.

“You are all I’ve known since this play began, and an argument could be made that my obsession ignited the moment we met." He studied her soul as if she were a painting to be analyzed for its meaning. "You were meant to be a plaything in the beginning, and despite the nature of these acts, that is not how I view you any longer. You are not a pet to be kept. You are a trophy, but not in the way you might think. To me, you are... you. You've damned me with your expressions, your foul mouth, your wit...”

Snap!

Her unfulfilled and failed contract materialized.

“It is the truth that I want you, body, mind, and soul. But… there is more to you than that, isn’t there? There is the matter of your mortal heart.” Raphael seemed to struggle over his next words. “I… no longer wish to take these from you, Little Mouse, though you have stolen mine, thief that you are. And your soul, as pretty as it is and as much as I covet it, is nothing compared to the whole of you.”

There was no hesitation when he raised and waved his hand, and the contract burned to ash.

Had she a mouth and lungs to breath, Tav would have gasped at the action.

“Your soul is yours,” was Raphael’s acknowledgement to the question she did not ask aloud.

It was all overwhelming; her failure to save Hope, her death, the haunting image of her lifeless in his arms, the honesty of his admissions and his subsequent gesture and gift…

Here she was, a bottle of thoughts, memory and emotion, but it seemed ridiculous to cry without eyes, panic could not ice blood she didn’t have, and there was no heart to furiously beat in her chest.

Without a vessel, Tav didn’t know what to say or what to do.

What was she supposed to say or do?

“I… I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do,” she admitted.

Raphael held his bleeding, cut hand out for her to take.

“You're to come back.”

He answered like it was obvious, but… it wasn’t…

Tav eyed his hand and blinked.

What if she chose not to come back? She had failed in saving Hope, she was no hero and therefore the world didn’t need her, Raphael had likely taken back the amulet so she and Astarion would go back to darkness…

And… if she… mattered to Raphael, it would be payback…

“Why should I?” she asked, earnest.

His fingers flinched.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“I’m not needed.”

“You speak foolishness.”

“Do I? I make poor plans, I’m a poor hero and poor friend, and my poor luck will surely drag Astarion down again in the future. The only thing I can offer the world is misfortune and misery.”

His hand returned to his side.

“I thought we were past lying.”

“I’m not lying, Raphael!” Her dam was breaking. “This is not the ending I wanted! I failed in my promise to save Hope! She hates me, Gale and Wyll hate me, and there’s nothing I can say or give them that will heal those wounds! And this play, this whole ordeal… I’m not sure how Astarion will ever be able to look at me again after all that I put him through… he doesn’t deserve the dark...”

Raphael’s jaw worked before he opened his mouth-

Tav cut him off. 

“You’ve experienced the misfortune and misery I bring. You said it yourself; I do you more harm than good, Raphael. You do the same for me…”

She looked past him to the peaceful expression her dead body wore.

The sound of endlessly running water from duel faucets filled the silence. 

“What’s the ending you wanted, Little Mouse? Tell me; it matters.”

Tav stepped up to him with sorrow and anger.

“You were supposed to die! By my hand! I was to cut off your fucking horns and send them to Gale and Wyll as apologetic proof that I care nothing for you! Then we were to come back to this House together and kill Haarlep! Hope was to then be saved from all you inflict upon her! We’d leave and, with his contract destroyed, Astarion and I would be happy together! Without you interfering in our lives! And all of it doesn’t matter because it can’t happen!”

“Then come back and see it all through,” Raphael said, needling her.

“You know I can’t, you fucking bastard,” Tav choked out.

“Why can’t you?” he pressed.

Was she really going to say it?

“Say it!” Raphael growled.

“Because I can’t kill you! Because as much as I hate you…”

Why did she have to fall in love with Raphael?

She regarded her body once more...

Wasn’t all of this supposed to be easier now that she was dead?

“Look at me and speak the truth, Tav.”

Her eyes drifted up to his.

“I love you,” her answer was equal parts passion and bitterness. “Despite everything that you represent and everything that you are! Despite how you’ve ruined lives, including mine!”

He wore vindication, and she wondered if he heard anything beyond the three words he wanted to hear.

“You are why I can’t come back, Raphael.”

And the expression was gone as quick as it came.

He became unfocused, thinking, scheming something with a furrowed brow…

Eternity seemed to pass between them.

“What can I offer you?” he eventually asked, desperation threading itself through his measured words.

She took a breath that filled no lungs.

“Hope… and remorse.”

Raphael tensed.

“I cannot offer you remorse, Little Mouse, for I have none. I would do this all over again as you have brought me… enjoyment. As for Hope…” Raphael said the name with derision.

“My life for hers, Raphael.”

Tav stared at him, baring her soul.

You’ll do this if you love me.

He did not move, did not blink or breathe as he waged war with himself, Archdevil Supreme versus the cambion Raphael.

Tav reached up and touched his face, sensing nothing under her ethereal fingers.

He blinked, and it was Raphael who found her beseeching gaze.

“You must return first.”

There was such vulnerability in his voice and within his eyes…

Humanity.

“Alright,” she said, trusting him.

He offered his hand to her once more, and Tav took it, knowing he loved her.

Her immaterial body disappeared, replaced by an ethereal orb that Raphael came to hold between his two clawed hands. He carried her over to her fallen body and crouched before her, releasing her soul to hover above her still chest.

He stood to full height.

Snap!

Parchment appeared from the plume of smoke and embers but it was not a contract.

It was a Scroll of Revivify.

“Come back, Tav,” he said, and with a wave of his hand, the scroll was activated. “Please.”

Her eyes flew open.

And Tav could gasp again.

Chapter Text

He Will Be All She Knows

After inhaling the first breath of her second life, Tav felt herself lift from the rug.

To be held and carried, after all of his threats to do so, was something she had seen as a soul but had yet to be conscious or alive to experience.

Had she even the want or will to oppose him, Tav lacked the energy to vocalize dissent or physically resist; her muscles would not comply with the most basic of commands (move a finger), and her body was nothing but limp against him as he stepped into the steaming, restorative waters.

Raphael carefully sat down onto a step, his tail curling as he sunk into the bathwater. He cradled her close while settling her in his lap and kept an arm hooked under her knees as the other braced her to sit upright. His clawed grip was protective and unyielding at her arm and thigh.

From where her head relaxed against his chest, Tav could hear and feel a thumping at her ear - something racing, loud and quick.

A heart. 

His heart.

The devil had one after all. 

Tav yearned to look at him, to behold the emotion she could finally put a name to, but there was a heaviness to her eyelids, what she could see was fuzzy around the edges, and her neck had yet gained the strength to do anything other than stay stationed right where it was. 

They did not speak as they waited for the magicked waters to bring relief. It was a strange silence involving unasked questions and their respective answers, yet the quiet was not uncomfortable; Tav found peace in listening to the sound of Raphael’s beating heart, his breathing, and the calming sound of endlessly running taps.

Minutes into soaking, once she could move her fingers and wiggle her toes, Tav slowly untucked her chin and raised her eyes to meet tumultuous flames.

Possessiveness, relief, unburied love…

But also… hate - flickers of red amidst orange and yellow.

Hate that he, the self-aggrandized Archdevil Supreme, would care for her, that he would stoop so low as to return a soul to a mortal…

Perhaps she looked at him similarly; how is it that she came to love a fiend such as him?

“How is it you knew?” she asked weakly. 

“Your drunken mouth turned traitor. You requested that I not tell the bards you had fallen in love with a devil,” Raphael replied.

Oh.

“Had I given you the truth when you offered the invitation… what was to happen?”

“Our game would have led us here, and I would have ripped victory from you when you had thought it attainable.”

She would not have made it as easy as he made it sound.

“And should that have happened… my soul? Would you have returned it?”

“I… do not know.”

A truth they would never have the answer to.

Tav tucked her chin once more and stared absently into the water, unsure of everything.

Raphael was next in disrupting the silence.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” she replied.

“Yes, I imagine you would.” His body progressively became more rigid, and Tav predicted he was bracing himself for another question and another answer. “Will you be returning to your beloved Astarion?”

His words were laced with poorly disguised contempt.

Tav closed her eyes.

“I don’t know.”

And she didn’t.

Because her answer was not ‘yes’, she felt the barely imperceptible movement of Raphael’s breath catching with hope.

The need to get out of his arms and out of his claws filled her.

“I should be fine to stand,” she said.

Raphael did not release her; in fact, his hold became more constricting…

Tav looked up at him imploringly and met a deeply covetous gaze. 

“Raphael…”

He came back, and his grip suddenly relaxed to allow her to twist away from him and find her footing on the floor of the bath.

She stepped out into the pool’s center to gain some distance, and, feeling restricted still, Tav began to shed the weight of her waterlogged armor while keeping her back to the cambion. She pulled away her remaining glove, dropped it onto the water’s surface, and began to undo the one belt that would hinder her removal of her breastplate. At the sound of movement behind her, she peered over her shoulder to see Raphael leaning back on the steps to sedately watch her progress.

There was his unspoken offer to help, but Tav would not require his services.

She threw the belt off to the side of the bath and quickly undid the fasteners of her breastplate, antsy to be light, itching to be free-

“Hope!” She suddenly exclaimed, tearing the leather away from her with urgency. The breastplate was discarded, forgotten and left sinking in the water as Tav spun to face Raphael wearing what was left underneath - a thin, drenched tunic that clung to her like a second skin. “Free her! Don’t force her to wait another minute in this forsaken place!”

Raphael’s lip curled. 

“I cannot, Little Mouse,” he replied, his voice gruff.

Hate colored her vision; hate that would match the Archdev–

Snap!

The Orphic Hammer materialized in a plume of smoke, and Raphael stood to take it in hand.

And he soundlessly offered it. 

The venomous words on her tongue died beside her spark of loathing.

It was cowardice hidden behind the Archdevil Supreme’s brittle, flimsy, fragile pride that would not allow for Raphael to free Hope himself…

But… even so, he was making way for her to fulfill her promise…

Tav glanced worryingly at the armor she had just removed.

“The beholders–” she started.

“Are dead,” he finished. “I’ve… insured that nothing will stop you.”

She blinked at him with parted lips.

She had been the catalyst for her own demise, but how badly had she brought about his?

Had it been her death that broke his carefully crafted dial of control?

Because Tav did not go to him, Raphael went to her - his feet bringing him to the floor of the bath and through the water with purpose.

A moth to a flame.

Standing before her, he calmly proffered the Hammer once more, and Tav’s hands unconsciously broke the water’s surface to wrap both sets of fingers around the gleaming silver handle.

She was transfixed by him, and there was no resistance when his hand found her waist, claws and fingers winding in her shirt and pulling her close. Though the hammer she held was immobile between them, there was a hammering against her breast; her beating heart, snapped back into existence from the ashes, burning brightly, consumed in flames of unbridled ardor and aversion for the cambion who came to tenderly cup the side of her face with a scarring hand.

“Go be a hero, my dearest Tav.”

There was adoration in his teasing, mocking words and–

“Kiss me, damn you,” she said, breathless.

A smile, cocksure and so very pleased, donned his lips the second before they captured hers in a kiss that seared itself onto her soul - a soul he had held and returned.

They parted sooner than she knew he wanted, Hope swimming back to the forefront of her mind, and Raphael’s possessive hold again kept her near.

“Will you come back after?” he asked, voice roughened and vulnerable as he smoothed a clawed thumb across her cheek. “When it’s done?”

A request… so that they may talk more about what this was...

She shouldn’t; she should follow in Hope’s footsteps and leave this wretched place…

But… she needed to say goodbye first.

“Yes,” was her whisper of a reply.

Raphael searched her eyes before his hands reluctantly fell away from her. His wings glided delicately in the water as he sidestepped to not block her path, and Tav looked ahead to the exit of the boudoir.

She inwardly bolstered her morale and then waded over to the steps. There remained a weariness to her bones as she climbed out of the bath, but her body would be able and ready to do what must be done.

Water dripped from her, pouring onto the floor as Tav walked a straight path towards the threshold with the Hammer in a death grip. She did not spare a glance to the cambion who watched her leave with the hope that she would keep her word and return to him, and her feet broke out into a run once she exited.

“Hope! I’m coming!” she yelled to the empty stretch of a corridor.

She soon landed at the yawning mouth of the hatch, and Tav mimicked her first rescue attempt in throwing the Orphic Hammer into the pit before she descended after it.

And, same as before, albeit without the need to cloak herself in invisibility, she slammed her elbow into the button, and the door to the prison opened. 

She immediately met the eyes of an exhausted Hope who weakly smiled at her arrival while kneeling in dirt - one arm hanging from an infernal, tethered chain.

True to Raphael’s word, there was nothing to stop her, and Tav was quick to assess all that was left the prison’s jailers as she leapt onto Hope’s platform; the beholders had been brutally slain, their massive corpses charred a hundred times over, and the imps had not fared better, judging by the splashed blood and the bodies that looked as though claws had sliced their skin and tore away their insides.

Tav flashed Hope a thin but reassuring smile before she took off and jumped to the intermediate iron platform and then again over to the platform that housed the infernal crystal.

She marched over to the glowing red structure whilst choking up on the Orphic Hammer. With the target before her, the weapon raised, prepared to destroy, and a battle cry exploded from Tav’s throat; a tearful yell that infused her sorrow for Hope and her anger for both Raphael and herself as she swung and smashed the crystal with all her strength.

The geode cracked and shattered, and with it, gone was the last of Hope’s shackles.

Tav turned, wearing fatigue that would never compare to the woman who had endured so much. She watched Hope stare with near disbelief at trembling but free wrists, and it wasn’t long before the cleric attempted to stand on shaky legs.  

Wanting to help, Tav carefully began to make her way back over to the center platform. Once in arm’s reach, Tav dropped the Hammer and tentatively reached out for Hope before halting.

“Can I help?” she asked, unsure if the cleric wanted to be touched at all. 

Hope nodded, and Tav was by her side in an instant to help her rise and to be a source to pull and lean on. Thinking back to a time on the docks when she had to ask Raphael for a Potion of Healing, she reached into a pouch for what bottles she had and presented them to Hope.

“I know they’re not much…”

Hope welcomed the offering with grateful eyes, and Tav aided in bringing the first and then the second healing brew to her lips.

“It’ll be a few minutes for them to kick in fully, but if you don’t want to linger, I understand.”

“Thank you,” said Hope, her body shaking marginally less due to the more instant properties the potions provided.

Tav, feeling wholly undeserving of the gratitude, replied with an appreciative smile that lasted a fraction of a second before turning into a slight frown. She did not know what to say to the freed captive whose captor she could not kill due to complicated feelings.

It must have read on her face.

“You love him, don’t you, little mouse?” Hope asked faintly, eying her with what could almost be read as pity. “The man who is not a man at all… a devil, a torturer, a rat-fucking-bastard…”

Yes.

“I do,” Tav replied, owning the awful truth of it. “I have no excuse, and it will forever be my greatest shame.”

Hope did not respond, likely having nothing kind to respond with, and her hands became fists as she stared down at her feet.

“I would never stop you, should you seek his death,” Tav said, and it was not a lie.

“No, for what years remain of my life, I wish to never again see him! I will leave this House forever - rip his claws from my body, banish them from my mind! He will never again touch my soul!”

Tav’s shame multiplied and she internally swore to guarantee Raphael’s promise that he would not pursue Hope once she was fully out of his clutches.

Even if it meant allowing him to sink his claws elsewhere.

“Let’s get you out of here,” she said.

Hope was stronger now, with the potions in full swing, and there was confidence in her posture when it came time to make the jump from the center platform over to the prison doorway. Enemies were not expected, but Tav had experienced enough surprise battles that she followed behind on high alert, prepared to protect with the Orphic Hammer and with her life should any attackers appear.

Up the ladder they climbed and out of the hatchway. With the Chamber of Egress and its portals useless to mortals such as the likes of them, Hope kept her eyes forward as they journeyed to the entrance hall; there was no need for her to look around at the decadent, empty halls that she knew too well.

Tav imagined that, for Hope, to leave Raphael and the scourge of his House behind would be as easy as breathing.

But, for herself… to leave the former…

To what degree had his claws sunk under her skin?

“What will you do?” Tav asked as they walked through the putrid smelling, ruined dining hall.

“I… I’m not sure,” Hope replied, somber. “Which is rather funny, don’t you think? Considering all the time in the world that I’ve had to think about it.”

There was a pause before Hope continued.

“I once had a thought about staying, had this House been cleansed of the fiend who calls it his and cleansed of all of his subjects. To make it a House of refuge for the souls who owned themselves once more… The Archive would have made for a good art gallery…”

Down and up the small flight of stairs they strolled with Tav listening attentively.

“And, though she’s my sister, my blood who I love so dearly, I’m not sure I’ll be able to see Korrilla yet with her loyalty to him.”

They stopped on the cusp of where an entrance or exit portal might appear.

“Will you be able to summon a portal?” Tav asked.

“This is - was - my House as much as his; I could banish guests and will banish myself! Of course, where I go will be much nicer…”

Tav held out the Orphic Hammer to Hope as Raphael had to her.

“I… hope you can find peace,” Tav said, bleeding sincerity. “Take it. Sell it, if you need to.”

“Oh, little mouse.” Hope accepted the gift and hugged it close. “How I hope the same for you!”

The cleric gestured with her fingers and a large, rune-like symbol materialized on the marble at their feet - a whispering dark void at its center. Where Helsik’s summoning etched hellfire in the ground, this summoning radiated green and a refreshing coolness leaked from the swirling portal.

The cleric stepped for her exit -

“Can you forgive me, Hope?” Tav asked suddenly, pained.

Hope turned and smiled with warmth.

“I will always forgive a friend,” she answered.

Tav returned the smile, and through blurry, stinging eyes she watched Hope take a final step and disappear into the void - leaving the House of Hope behind forever.

The portal lingered a moment too long, and Tav resisted the urge to dive into the void herself - to run away from what she must confront.

It was when the exit finally vanished that she turned and started on the path that would take her back to the boudoir…

Back to Raphael…

On the way, it was difficult to not think about the future; with the contract dissolved and her soul hers, she was no longer bound to Raphael or to the House she roamed, but there was no telling where the impending conversation would lead. She needed to guarantee Hope’s safety with a fiendish entity who lived and breathed in trades and contracts…

And Astarion…

How could she negotiate for the amulet?

What would Raphael ask of her?

What was she willing to sacrifice and… would it be so bad? Now that they… loved each other?

Perhaps all along they were meant to take the stage together ; two performers destined to act and say the lines fate had written.

But, if fate was involved, that would mean their meetings - her contracts - had been out of her control, and what’s to come is…

Kismet.

Why did talk of fate sound eerily familiar?

Fuck!

Raphael had damned her as much as she had damned him.

The instant Tav crossed into the boudoir, she knew she made a mistake in not taking the portal; the air she breathed felt thick in her lungs and the hairs on the back of her neck alerted her to danger as she encountered a scene that was similar but different.

Raphael stood waist deep in bathwater, but his bloodied shirts had been shed, and it was the sight of his muscular back and his slashed-but-slowly-mending wings that greeted her. His head turned a fraction, sensing her arrival, and water swirled as he rotated fully.

Heat crept up her face as she landed at the red carpet, and Tav had the sneaking suspicion that the cambion had removed half of his clothes on purpose - to tempt her.

Though she expected a smirk, Raphael’s expression did not give much away; he regarded her with collected composure, yet there was a nervousness in the tautness of his lips and brow - as if he viewed this appointment as delicate, one to handle with care.

“She’s gone,” Tav said, trying to keep focus on his face.

“I know.”

She raised her chin.

“I need you to promise me that you won’t go after her.”

Raphael studied her.

Moments ticked by.

“And what am I to get in return for such a promise?” he asked, going still soon after the question left him.

Tav thought he might be holding his breath for her answer.

He wanted her to give herself to him…

Body, mind, and soul.

But… she wouldn’t.

Not unless the Archdevil Supreme demanded it as payment for the promise…

She wasn’t ready for Raphael’s claws to sink into her wholly.

For now, she could only offer a goodbye.

And with it…

“A kiss.”

Raphael, who seemed to cherish anything she would give him, let hope catch in the fire of his eyes.

But being a devilish bastard, he let her hang in suspense…

For the drama.

“I accept your terms.”

Raphael then waited, ever patient - expectant, and Tav allowed herself to go to him, her feet quiet as they traveled from the carpet to the steps of the bath and into the water. There was something electric between them; whether imagined or real, she felt it, and there was that pleasurable tingling sensation against her palm and fingertips when she raised a hand to the warm, red skin of his neck.

Her thumb swiped across the name that had become a faint but legible scar - the poison having done something to prevent full healing.

“I fear it might be permanent,” Tav murmured coyly, glancing into raging flames. “Do you know what it is?”

He did not move or touch her, wanting her to give, but oh, how he pierced her soul with his gaze!

“I have an idea,” he said lowly, pupils blown wide. “But enlighten me, my dear; what is it you have carved into my flesh?”

Tav tentatively brought her other hand to his bare chest, splaying her fingers before they slowly traveled up to capture the opposite side of his neck. 

“My name.”

He growled, his desire and need apparent.

It was her desire and need that gently tugged at his neck, drawing his head down to meet hers as her eyes closed, and Raphael readily obliged. Their mouths connected and his hands swiftly found her waist, grabbing and pulling her tight against him. Her own hands shifted; the scarred one moving to clutch the curls at the base of his neck, and the other seeking to explore his exposed skin.

Tav savored, indulged in the taste of him; lips that pleasantly scalded hers and a tongue that branded. It was a kiss that she intended to be the last and raw passion surfaced, love and hate intertwining to define the torrid essence of their relationship.

She wrapped a leg around his, as she had with their dance, and Raphael moaned, gripping her thighs and hoisting her up so that she may wrap both legs around him. Tav complied with his silent request, arousal taking over, spiking her blood and wetting her cunt.

His feet began to move, and Tav knew where they were going. She dizzyingly reached out to her will, crying out and calling for strength - needing to end the offer she never should have given…

Raphael climbed the steps, water dripping from the both of them as he left the bath with her melted against his muscular frame, moaning, wanting, needing –

Him.

She was damned!

Her head suddenly broke away from his and buried itself into his neck, her hands coming to embrace him tightly.

“I can’t,” she whispered, her breath ghosting over her name.

He froze, at the top of the steps, hardened by her words.

She could feel his rapid heartbeat, just as he could likely feel hers.

“Are you to leave me, Tav?” he rumbled, a sharpness to his tone.

“I can’t stay here.”

“I do not expect you to; you are free to return to your home.”

“I can’t be with you, Raphael.”

She hoped he could feel her heart tearing in two, so that he could better understand how badly he affected her.

He relaxed his hold on her thighs, and Tav’s feet slowly found the floor. She began to retreat, falling away from him, regret etched into her features–

Raphael arrested her, his scarred hand catching her wrist and keeping her close.

His eyes blazed red with loathing.

“It is you who is the devil! Seeking payment for debts, marking me with your name only to thus leave me in ruin!”

She was in ruin, too! Because of him!

“How do you imagine this is supposed to work?” Tav asked, clenching the hand he held, wondering, almost desperate that he could devise a plausible answer. “I am not so ignorant to think you would change for me, and I would never ask that of you. You are you; I accept that. Nonetheless, I cannot permit myself to be with you while you freely ruin the lives of mortals and torture souls!”

His eyes unfocused, his attention wandering to hastily formulate a viable solution. With no offhand plan coming to mind, his fingers wound tighter, claws digging into skin, hurting her.

“I said I would not let you go! Are you to make a liar of me as well?”

Her heart ached.

She tempered herself with a deep breath.

“Promise me you will never seek out Hope again,” Tav said, staring at him with renewed strength and resolve.

His lip curled.

“Oh, I promise, Little Mouse.” The Archdevil Supreme’s eyes glowed possessively. “But what is to keep you safe from me?”

She challenged him by throwing the truth in his face.

“Your heart’s desire – the hope that I will give myself to you by choice.”

Sneering at her reply, Raphael became embroiled in another internal battle.

It wasn’t long before he let her go with marginally softening features.

“If I… harmed you just now, forgive me,” he murmured, looking over her shoulder. The concession came out sounding stilted and unnatural, but there was sincerity at the core of his words as he then glanced at the wrist she consoled. “I no longer wish to be the cause of your pain.”

Tav nodded shortly in acceptance of an apology that she supposed was something of a first for the cambion.

He coolly brushed past her and snapped his fingers, summoning an empty glass and a bottle of wine next to the Gauntlets that sat on his vanity. Her head followed him, and Tav watched Raphael prepare a drink until she was struck by the reminder that her goal was to leave. Ruefully, she began to go around the bath to collect her things. She scooped up her discarded breastplate, belt, and lone glove that had been piled together, and next found the knife and pack that had been removed from her person sometime after her lifeless body arrived in the boudoir.

She maneuvered the pack around her shoulder. Curious about the contents within, she peeked inside and noted the amulet had not been taken as she had initially assumed.

“Keep it,” Raphael said scornfully as he scrutinized her from where he leaned against the vanity, wine glass in hand. “Return it to the vampire spawn when you return to him and return to your quaint little home. Be happy together, just as you wrote, Little Mouse.”

Tav glared at him, annoyed by his blatant jealousy and presumptive attitude when he should be well-aware of the damage he caused to all of her relationships.

“You’ve poisoned my love for Astarion with my love for you.”

“Good.”

“Gods, you’re such an ass, Raphael.”

Though he was spurned and smarting, he smiled something genuine that came to be hidden behind the glass he brought to his lips.

“Should I expect my phantom lover to rekindle their use of my body?” she then asked.

His eyes raked over her and the wet clothes that clung to her shape.

“I cannot nor will not make promises there. If you are not to be mine, then my need will settle for an inferior copy, as you had for me.”

Raphael’s head canted, as if expecting her to lay the groundwork for a new offer.

Tav opened her mouth, wanting for the phantom to not be a phantom at all.

“Please be kind to me,” was all that came out; a soft request.

“I… promise I will try.”

They stared at each other for eternity until his free hand raised.

Snap!

“The portal in the entrance hall will take you home,” Raphael said evenly. “And fear not; I will not give chase or interfere in your life. You called my bluff and know very well of my heart’s desire.”

Tav smiled thinly with resignation as she hugged the armor gathered in her arms, not wanting to leave but needing to.

“Goodbye, Raphael.”

“Tav.”

She turned away and was almost at the exit when–

“Dearest?”

The term of endearment stopped her advance, but she did not look at him – refusing to be lured.

“Should you change your mind, you know which door to knock on. I will always be waiting and ready for your call.”

Tav bit back a reply and left without looking back - his eyes watching her every step.

She didn’t get far before she heard the shattering of glass.

On her way to the waiting portal, Tav found and pulled on the boots that had been discarded.

She looked behind to an empty hall.

She missed him when she had sworn to never miss him ever again.

As stated, the portal whisked her home, and Tav stood in her bedroom at the place where Raphael had appeared so many times.

She dropped the armor she held, undid the remaining belts and holsters, and peeled her boots from her feet. Off came her soggy shirt and breeches, and Tav sat on the edge of the bed as she sluggishly removed her footwraps.

Stripped of nearly everything save her smallclothes, her head fell into her hands.

Grief washed over her, and Tav cried into the darkness.

If she was whole, body, mind, and soul…

Why did she feel so empty?

Tav awoke sometime in the late afternoon in the middle of her bed with her blue blanket twisted around her. It had been a restless sleep full of tossing and turning, and she had been battered by thoughts of how different her life and herself had become.

Where she had once pined for a personal journey of growth like that of her companions, Tav couldn’t help but feel as though she came out the other end worse.

But, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t learned anything; Raphael’s three act play had much to teach her.

She was a fool.

She was an idiot.

She was a clown.

She was a liar.

She was a thief.

She was a poor hero.

She was damned.

She was fucked in the head.

She was in love with Raphael.

Her soul fiercely longed to fix the damage that had been wrought, but she didn’t know where to begin. There was also the uncomfortable reality that some of it was irreparable - namely her head, her feelings, and, quite possibly, her relationships...

Tav groaned into the ether.

She laid there for what she estimated to be another hour (maybe three) before deciding that it was better to try and ease the burden of misery she felt versus wallowing in bed for days or weeks at a time. She started by untangling herself from her blanket and crawling off the mattress, burden heavy on her shoulders.

She dressed in simple clothing and, preparing for a chilly night, tied an overcoat around her waist before slipping her knife into her boot. Next came her pack, hastily thrown around her shoulder with the amulet safely inside, and Tav tossed in a coin pouch should any spending happen while she wandered the streets.

Her fingers absently came to touch the permanent mark at her neck. The ribbon was tucked away in her dresser, and there was nothing to prevent her from hiding the bite that was in view for all to see.

Tav pulled the drawer open and stared at the neatly wound strip of fabric.

With how quickly the gossip mill worked, and no thanks to the local paper, it was highly probable that most of Baldur’s Gate knew of the coupling between famed hero and devil.

On some level, there was the shameful accuracy of it; she had dealt with him on their road to victory, and they… loved each other, as strange and unhealthy as it was.

The drawer shut.

She would not be a liar.

On her way out, she eyed the parchment she had purchased and sighed something great before throwing the papers into her pack with a quill and small pot of ink.

Tav ignored the stares and whispers of those who seemed to better recognize her as she steered herself to a nearby stand selling fruit. She picked through what was left from a day of sales and left with a mediocre tasting apple in hand, content to stroll the streets as she pondered what to do and, for those it pertained to, what to say.

Her primary task was to reun– meet with Astarion. The amulet would be returned to him and he could do with it as he pleased.

Tav’s heart grew heavy at the question of their relationship status. 

For her, his leaving and the subsequent months had been an unbearable experience, but there was no telling how their time apart had affected him. As the months had passed, she never learned anything about where he had gone or what he was doing, and it was maybe unfair of her to conclude that he had inevitably moved on and rebuilt a life in the sun.

And in that vein of overcoming her, there was the discomforting thought that perhaps he had found solace in another’s arms.

It was only natural.

She had done the same. 

Their recent declarations of love still meant something (she loved him so intensely and would forevermore), but…

Beyond it all, there was a horned and winged figure that stalked the shadows of her mind, poisoning their love. Raphael would always be there, patiently waiting to remind her of his existence; if she and Astarion made love, she would picture His clawed hands on her skin, and the fire in His eyes; in the quieter moments with her beloved, she would think of His face, of the engaging repartees they partook in, and of their dance under the stars… 

Every day her soul would sing a song for the cambion who, quite literally, touched the fiber of her being.

The ugly truth was that her heart now belonged to a rat-fucking-bastard, and Astarion deserved far better than what she could offer him.

Maybe in that other life, that other time, she and Astarion were happy and in love until her mortal passing.

But it was not this one.

Although devastated by the conclusion she reached, Tav did not cry on her way to Sorcerous Sundries, and she managed a small, fake smile when she arrived at the counter and said hello to Rolan.

She left with two Scrolls of Sending, and one came to be unfurled and invoked moments after leaving the shop - a folk hero in mind.

“Wyll, I’d like to meet with you today, if at all possible. There are some things I’d like to say.”

A minute ticked by, and a welcomed voice spoke in her head.

“I will make time for you whenever you arrive. If today, ignore Gallott if he tries to dismiss you. He’s grumpier than usual.”

Tav’s smile was one of relief; Wyll did not hate her to the extent of ignoring her.

Since today worked for both parties, Tav set out for Wyrm’s Rock with the goal of divulging secrets she had kept from a dear friend.

“Oh, it’s you,” was Gallott’s surly greeting after she had knocked and stepped into the office.

“‘Tis I,” Tav acknowledged.

“Do you have an appointment?” he asked as his finger jabbed aggressively at the appointment book on his desk. His eyes scanned down the page. “Doesn’t look like it!”

The door behind Gallott opened, and Wyll frowned at his clerk before flashing an apologetic and lopsided smile at her.

“There’s no need to fuss, Gallott; the next appointment is an hour from now,” the duke admonished, making way for her in the doorway. “Come on in, Tav.”

Internally fretting about what had yet to take place, Tav awkwardly moved around Gallott’s wide desk (as he glared at her) and entered a familiar office that was arranged for business and not dance lessons.

The door closed, and Wyll came to casually situate himself against the front of his paper-and-book-strewn desk.

Tav’s fingers fidgeted at her sides as she mustered up courage.

“Wyll, I–”

“Astarion told me.”

She blinked.

“Oh.” Tav swallowed thickly and avoided the itch to look at the floor. “What… what did he tell you?”

“As much as he could, given the circumstances; that you had gone to Raphael’s House of Hope and… partook in activities with an incubus that now parades around balls in your body.”

There was sympathy in his infernal eye.

“I know that it wasn’t you that night,” he added. 

“No, it wasn’t…” she said, shoulders sagging as a piece of her burden was lifted.

“Astarion also said you were in trouble with Raphael.”

“I am - was! Was in trouble with Raphael…” The devil in the shadows scratched at her insides, and her face screwed up as the truth bubbled up her throat and sat on her tongue tasting of-

Cherries and sulfur.

Wyll looked at her with worry.

“What’s wrong, Tav? Please, just tell me so that I can help.”

The floor captured her attention.

“You can’t help; not with this,” she said, voice hushed. “I fell in love with him, Wyll.”

“Who? Astarion? I kno-”

Tav sadly shook her head.

She could visualize the wheels in his head spinning as he worked to make sense of something that didn’t make sense at all. 

“Raphael?”

Tav sadly nodded her head.

It became deathly silent (she couldn’t meet his eyes).

“Wh- how? ”

There was hurt and utter bafflement in Wyll’s question, and her hands twisted together as she prayed for the floor to engulf her.

Tav forced her head up and met a mismatched, bewildered and pained gaze.

She started from the beginning, at Astarion’s leaving…

Wyll was seated at his desk, his horned head in his hands as she finished up her tale. Tav had taken to furiously pacing the floor, and she was positive she both looked and sounded like a madwoman as she spoke.

“I died, Wyll! I fucking died, and Raphael gave me my soul back and… he let me go.”

Throughout her story, she had left out a large swathe of unimportant details; namely that of leather harnesses, fucking, peaches, dances, deals involving kisses, and anything else that would rub salt into the wound of Wyll’s potential heartache. What was important for him to know was that of Haarlep, Raphael’s pre-show machinations, and the three act stage play that had been written in her honor due to pettiness and pride.

“I know I shouldn’t love him, and maybe in time I won’t, but…” Tav sighed and gave him a pleading look as he raised his head. “But everything I’ve stated is a part of the sordid secret I’ve kept hidden from you. Believe me when I say I hate myself far more than anyone else possibly can...”

“Does Astarion know?”

“No, but I plan on telling him…”

“Gale?”

Tav winced.

“All that Gale needs to know is that I am not infallible; I make mistakes like any foolish mortal because that is what we are, including him. Next time you two meet, if you should desire to tell him the whole of it, then I leave that up to you. I won’t be asking for his forgiveness, and nor do I expect it.”

“Are you asking for my forgiveness, Tav?”

She stopped her pacing and composed herself.

“I’m sorry to have unintentionally involved you, and for any pain I inflicted by doing so,” she said resolutely. “I understand if you never wish to speak or hear from me again, and I accept it.”

Moments passed and Wyll’s chair moved. He stood, and began to walk towards her with a solemn expression.

Tav gasped when he enveloped her in a gentle hug, and she wrapped her arms around him as her eyes squeezed shut.

“Suddenly my time with Mizora sounds like a breeze,” he said after a minute.

She choked out a laugh that sounded more like a sob, and her head buried into his collar.

“To punish myself, I’m going to apply for the circus,” Tav mumbled into him.

He abruptly pulled away and gravely stared at her whilst gripping her upper arms.

“Never join that circus, Tav! Promise me!”

A tear rolled down each cheek as she smiled.

“I promise.”

“But, more seriously, I won’t say a word of this to anyone; it’s not my story to tell.” He spoke to her with compassion and looked at her with concern; there was no ounce of hate to be heard or seen. “Know you’re not alone, alright?”

She kissed his cheek.

“Thank you.”

Before she left Wyrm’s Rock, Tav glanced fleetingly down the hall that would lead to Rivington and Sharess’ Caress.

She wondered if Raphael was waiting for her in the Devil’s Den as she turned and walked in the opposite direction, back to the Lower City.

Tav found a quiet alleyway and unfurled the second Scroll of Sending.

She thought of a pale elf.

“Your contract is destroyed, and we are free to meet. Tonight? Midnight? At your grave?”

She disliked her clinical tone and the way it had wavered towards the end.

Her heart spasmed when Astarion’s voice resounded in her head.

“Of course, darling. I’ll be there.”

Tav made her way to the cemetery, prepared to wait.

She was unsure how she’d make it out of their meeting alive.

The sun was setting quickly by the time she arrived, giving her little time for her next task. She was thankful there was no storm brewing above as she sat down at Astarion’s grave and fished around her pack for parchment, quill and ink. 

While her lap did not make for the best surface, Tav was determined to make due as she prepared her letter to Gale of Waterdeep.

Dear Gale,

An easy start, and the feather quill tickled her lips as she debated on what to write next.

I hope this letter finds you well.

She hoped the letter would find him at all, but it was likely that Tara was no longer making life miserable for the local carrier pigeons.

There was meant to be the horn of a devil in a parcel attached with this letter, but my plan failed.

I know you disagreed with some of my decisions over the course of our tadpoled journey. Thanks to the burden of hindsight, I have my own regrets about the choices I made. This isn’t to say I regret my decision regarding the Crown, but if you dreamed of me paying a price for it, I can assure you that I am.

What you witnessed at the ball was a taste of that price.

If you are looking for my apology, I’m afraid I can only apologize for being a foolish mortal.

I miss your friendship, and I think back fondly on what time we did have together.

Best,

Tav

With what dwindling sunlight was left, Tav shuffled to a fresh piece of parchment and scribbled out another letter that she never intended to send.

Dear Kassius,

I understand why you did what you did, but, at the same time, eat shit.

- Tav

And underneath that:

Dear Circus of the Last Days,

I promised my friend I wouldn’t join your merry band, but might you be in need of another clown? I cannot juggle… yet. Also, I’ve got a great joke, but I kind of need to be there in person for you to get it.

Because I’m the punchline.

- Tav

And underneath that:

Dear Fate,

Why?

- Tav

Faintly mollified, she shoved the letters and materials into her pack and let the back of her head rest against stone.

Someone was too close.

Her eyes opened to a partly cloudy, moonlight sky and darted to identify–

“Astarion!” Tav was up in a blink, and she launched herself into his arms.

“Tav,” he said, giving her name weight and such love!  

Her fingers were in his hair, and his were in hers as they held each other close.

She was so tired of crying, of being weak and fragile and mortal, but her soul cried out for what had been lost between them as they gently swayed and relished in one another’s presence.

Her tears eventually subsided, and Astarion was the first to speak.

“It is you, isn’t it?”

Tav smiled as she pulled away and nodded.

“Yes, I promise it’s me! Ask me some–”

His lips captured hers, and Tav again soared in the celestial heavens.

The devil in her head dragged her back into the hells.

Reminding her.

She broke away with guilt in her eyes, and Astarion’s brow slowly began to furrow as he beheld the whole of her.

He was fast to notice the mark on her neck - a permanent bite from fangs that were not his.

There was a sharp exhale from his nose, and Tav uncomfortably watched as Astarion put two and two together, coming to the realization that, yes, it was her, but she was… different now.

“It’s alright, darling,” he said consolingly, brushing rebel tears from her face with a thumb.

“It’s not.”

Astarion gingerly pulled her in for another embrace, and Tav released a deep, shuddering sigh, yearning to remove more of the burden she carried.

“I’m sorry for everything,” she said, squeezing away the remainder of her tears as she squeezed him. “It wasn’t my intention for any of this to happen.”

His laugh was cutting and derisive, but was not meant in unkindness to her.

“We should know by now that things rarely go as intended…”

“Wyll has said something similar…” Tav mumbled. Her arms regretfully fell away from him, and Astarion’s followed suit. She took a step back to better see his pale, wonderful face in the moonlight. “Thank you for speaking with him… I met with Wyll earlier and disclosed what else I could in regards to this mess I made. I’d like to tell you as well, if you’ll hear it.”

“I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but I’m all pointy ears.”

Astarion sat himself against his grave while Tav paced and launched into a similar story to the one she had told Wyll some hours ago. Where she had before left out those unimportant details, she was a bit more candid and honest with Astarion when it came to the development of her relationship with Raphael; how he had cared enough to grant her powers she didn’t ask for, how he forced her into healing baths, ensured her safety after a night of drinking, tended to her wound, brought her back to life, and ultimately saved her soul.

And, just as Hope had, Astarion asked the question that made her want to crawl into a hole.

“You love him… don’t you?”

“Yes,” Tav answered, drowning in shame.

“Oh, don’t look so morose about it, darling. I’ve done far worse things than fall in love with a devil. Besides, I’m hardly surprised to hear it; I told you the day we bloody met Raphael that you two had been practically eye-fucking each other.”

She glowered at him down her nose.

“Don’t tease me about this,” she said seriously.

“Let me, will you?” There was the sadness in the red of his eyes, but his response carried a playful edge. “It eases the pain of this breakup…”

Tav blinked at him, having no acceptable response.

She did, however, have a gift.

“I… have something for you.”

Frowning, Tav reached into her pack, found the amulet, and came to kneel before him as she presented the chained sunburst.

It was Astarion’s turn to frown alongside a raise of his brow.

“There is no contract beholden to it any longer,” she said, offering it. “Please take it. Do with it as you see fit. It’s yours.”

His lips parted, uncertainty in his gaze, and Astarion accepted it after some time of staring. Instead of putting it on, the amulet went to his lap and his thumb began to graze across the sun - an action that read as being familiar to him. 

Tav’s lips twitched as she moved to sit next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

Her head tilted to rest upon him.

“I mean it when I say I’ll always love you,” she said.

Astarion’s head tilted to rest upon hers, his cheek nestling into her hair.

“And I’ll always love you. Raphael is a damned lucky devil.”

Tav wouldn’t tell him that she wasn’t with Raphael. She thought it best to avoid the hurtful, main reason as to why she couldn’t stay.

Because if I’m with you, I’ll still think of (wish it was) Him.

“I think it’s your turn to tell me what you’ve been up to,” Tav said, ribbing him gently with an elbow. “And don’t leave out any of the details.”

Astarion’s head lifted, and he set the amulet aside to free up his lap, patting it in invitation.

“If that’s the case, you’re going to want to get comfortable; we’re going to be here until morning.”

It was when the first sign of the sun began to show that Astarion put the amulet around his neck.

Tav’s head was in the pillow of his lap, her coat positioned as a blanket on top of her, and her hair was a mess from fingers that had absently combed through it all night.

It was a struggle to keep herself awake when she felt so content.

His tale had ended some time ago, and it relieved her to know Astarion found some manner of true happiness. He had left Baldur’s Gate for most of their time apart, wanting to leave behind bitter memories of Cazador and… the obvious. He traveled with a group of vampire spawn and helped them relocate and acclimate to a life that made them more human than monster, and there had been a handful of wayward adventures he encountered that made Tav grow green with envy.

When it came time to uncomfortably pry open the subject of possible lovers, hoping to assuage her guilt, Astarion delicately let it be known that he had not taken another since their parting. Even when under the impression that she cast him aside, he had not “moved on”, but his hand was being forced now that a devil had swooped in and stolen his love.

It rightfully stung to hear the sour delivery of that particular line.

They sat in silence, and Tav watched Astarion, tracing the features of a pale elf she’d love forevermore as he watched the sun rise.

“Will I see you again?” she asked.

Astarion sighed, and she prepared for the worst.

“I’ll… probably leave for a little while; deception lured me back to this city, and my only reason for staying hasn’t gone as intended.” He examined the sky for a beat before glancing down at her. “But, darling, only another contract would keep me from being in your life, and I won’t be doing that again. I won’t deny that it’ll hurt, knowing what we had, but we’re two little troublemakers together, and causing mischief hasn’t been the same without you.”

He dramatically raised a hand and began to examine his nails.

“Besides, I want to be the first person you call when Raphael inevitably fucks it all up, so we can kill him together.”

Tav snorted. 

“Let’s go kill him now…” she muttered.

“What a mischievous idea! Up we go!” Her head suddenly hit the grass with a thump as Astarion sprang up, and in a blink he was standing above her with the sun rising low behind him. “Early birds get the devil!”

“I can’t,” Tav said woefully. “I–”

“Love him, yes, hearing it once was quite enough.”

He smirked as he offered his hand to help her stand, and she took it while wearing remorse.

“Until I return, I do hope you intend on keeping in touch,” Astarion said. “Not one of your better qualities. If necessary, I will break into your hou- actually, that’s practically begging for a death wish; I’d be lit up in flames for inadvertently walking in on you and Raph-”

“Astarion! Please!” Tav exclaimed, pinching the bridge of her nose with an existential groan, a headache beginning as she inwardly bemoaned her taste in dramatic and theatrical…

Whatever they were.

“Darling, I’m afraid the teasing will only stop when I’m over you…” When she glanced at him, her beloved pale elf was smiling, teasing her still. “And, unless I burst into flames, I plan on not being over you for a very, very long time.”

Seeing how tired she was, Astarion walked her to what used to be their home.

When it came time to say goodbye, Tav pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I promise I’ll keep in touch,” she said.

“You’d better.”

How she adored that roguish smile, the flash of fangs–

The devil in the shadows growled, and Tav could swear the mark at her neck tingled.

Reminding her.

When Tav woke, her blue blanket was not as twisted around her body as the previous day, and she found it a little easier to get out of bed and dress for another afternoon outing.

She ensured her letters, whether intended to be sent or not, were still in her pack before she went out the door.

Her feet embarked for Rivington.

It was the Sword Coast Courier she needed, but because anything and everything to do with Him annoyed her, Tav stopped by a cheesery and purchased a wheel of Waterdhavian.

Halfway through her journey, Tav broke away from thoughts of Him and instead dwelled on which direction to take her life. 

Roguery was in her blood; it was a skill she was good at and admittedly enjoyed the thrills it brought, but ever since being tadpoled, and especially after the recent contract, taking at the behest of others left an acrid taste in her mouth. There were other avenues open to her that could benefit from her talents - namely that of being a mercenary - yet Tav wanted more…

She wanted adventure.

She wanted to be a hero.

An idea coming to her, Tav pulled herself aside to sit down at a bench overlooking the Chionthar. She pulled out her quill and inkpot, and shuffled to a blank piece of parchment.

The wheel of Waterdhavian made a much better surface to write on than her lap.

Dear Jaheira,

How is rebuilding going?

I might like to join you, if you’ll still have me.

I hope the family is doing well.

Give everyone my love,

- Tav

Tav carefully ripped the parchment horizontally and got started on another short note.

Dear Astarion,

Making good on my promise to keep in touch.

I might meet up with Jaheira and her lovable brood for a while but will keep you posted with my whereabouts should you fancy a visit.

She paused when it came time to sign. Were they together, a looping ‘yours’ would have preceded her name, and adding ‘love’ seemed insensitive.

After debating for far too long, the quill tip returned to the page.

All my best,

- Tav

A final piece of parchment, and a final note to write.

Dear Wyll,

Thank you again for the dance lessons and for listening to me as I talked your ear off about my favorite books.

If you noticed, aside from history, a lot of them were heroic tales. You didn’t know it was me, but I meant what I said at the ball; it is you who I will always picture as the heroic lead.

Unless, of course, the heroic lead is a woman.

Then the hero will suspiciously look like me.

All my best,

- Tav

P.S. I plan on returning to bother Gallott more. In disguise.

P.S.S. Don’t tell him.

Finished, she shoved everything into her pack (excluding the cheese) and resumed her walk.

Maybe she’d open a fruit stand in Neverwinter…

Tav stepped into Sharess’ Caress and aimed to drop her gift onto the first surface she saw.

Thunk!

“What is the meaning of this?” asked Mamzell Amira, staring at the counter as though she’d never seen a wheel of cheese before.

“It’s for the resident devil.”

Was he upstairs?

“I don’t know of whom you speak.”

A pitiful attempt at a lie.

Was he waiting for her?

Tav grabbed her coin purse and reached for a small bribe.

Could he sense how close she was?

“Leave it for him on the writing desk, or better yet the bed. I leave it up to you,” she said, sliding the coin over.

She wanted to deliver it herself…

Amira took the payment. “I don’t see a message attached anywhere…”

Tav smiled with fake sweetness. “The cheese is the message.”

She meant to leave immediately, but her eyes ignored her will and drifted to the stairs that would lead her up and to a particular room…

Her want…

Who she wanted…

“You can always give it to him yourself, you know,” Amira said slyly, knowingly.

“No,” was Tav’s cold reply before she turned sharply and left.

At Sword Coast Courier, Tav purchased envelopes, sealed her letters, and scribbled names. She wrote out both accurate and vague addresses, and trusted that her notes would find their way to the intended recipient someway or another.

If all else failed, there were more Scrolls of Sending to buy.

It was a last minute decision to go back and send out the piece of her mind she had written to Kassius.

As she left Rivington, Tav was proud that she walked by and under Sharess’ Caress without batting an eyelash.

Tav was not proud that she looked back.

On her way to find food in the Lower City, Tav stopped by a board of local job postings and announcements and memorized a few names, times, and locations.

Most of it was mercenary work, but it was a start.

It was just when Tav was beginning to nod off for the night, cozy in bed with a blanket she was getting used to, that a phantom’s touch on her skin reminded.

The heat in her core was instant.

The phantom’s hands were attentive, needy as they roved the planes of her body.

Her eyes burned the spot where He would appear while her fingers went to work between her thighs, rubbing her clit and pushing into her slick cunt.

Oh, the wicked, toe-curling sensation of the phantom’s mouth as it… traveled from her neck, to her breasts, down her stomach… to… to…

Her want…

Who she wanted…

It didn’t take long before-

“Raphael!”

The mark at her neck thrummed.

One Week Later

There was a mysterious letter under her door when Tav arrived home from a long evening that had been spent protecting a merchant’s traveling stock. The envelope was small with dirt around the edges but was addressed to her with familiar handwriting.

Tav slid a finger under the wax seal as she kicked off her boots, and a candle was lit, taken to the bedroom and placed on her bedside table.

Onto her bed she plopped, and she eagerly opened the letter to find two pieces of parchment.

Cub,

We would all be overjoyed for you to join us.

Attached is a map to our current location. We’ve been here for a few weeks already, and it appears we’ll remain for a few weeks more.

Fig and Jhessem are pestering me to let them get a word in.

The writing changed from jagged cursive to something undeniably more childlike.

I have many stories to tell you! - Jhessem

Mine are better! - Fig

Hope you’ve been faring well.

- J

Tav smiled fondly and returned the pieces of parchment to their envelope. She undressed for bed, and settled onto her mattress, ready for sleep -  if it would come at all.

She was tired of feeling lonely.

Cherries and sulfur.

He was in the room.

Though her heart jolted, she did not bolt up in surprise or throw anything at him. In fact, Tav had already been awake thinking, and she did not let her bewilderment be known as she silently slipped into the role of Sleep Incarnate - an unmoving, half-naked, perfectly slumbering form who laid on the side that faced him.

Meanwhile, her heart and blood were racing so terribly she thought she might die (again).

The half of her that wanted prayed for a sneeze she couldn’t hold to come tickle her nose from the ether, so that he would know she was awake…

What would he do then?

What was he to do now?

There was no jingling from his boots as Raphael quietly stepped to the bedside table. She heard him gently place two, faintly weighty and metallic sounding items upon the surface, and then recognized the nearly inaudible shuffling of paper.

He was snooping - intent on reading her private correspondence (which she supposed was payback for her reading his diaries).

Able to read in the dark, Raphael let out a displeased huff, and back into the envelope the parchment went.

He turned, and his bootsteps took him away from the table, away from her.

She heard the beginnings of swirling fire.

Her eyes popped open, finding His.

Stay! yelled her wanting heart.

Please go! yelled practically everything else.

She was granted only a second to see the blank expression on his mortal disguise before flames spirited him away.

Tav all but threw herself out of bed when the last ember disappeared, scrambling to light the closest candle, and, seeing a glimpse of what he left behind, hurriedly lit a few more to get a better look.

A pair of daggers, gorgeous in green with elegant emerald handles inlaid with gold. Their sharp edges softly curved into deadly points and she knew not of the material they had been crafted from – for what material existed that matched the ethereal color of souls?

She doubted that souls had actually gone into their fabrication, but, wanting to be sure, Tav brought one of the daggers to her ear as if to hear the whisper or scream of anyone or anything possibly bound inside.

Thankfully, nothing cried out, and she returned the blade to sit with its sister.

In her excitement at such a gift, Tav overlooked the sealed, perfumed note that sat next to -

A small piece of Waterdhavian cheese.

She couldn’t stop the smile as she picked up the note and broke the wax seal.

The candlelight illuminated elegant script.

I often think of our dance.

You looked exquisite in green.

- R

Charming ass.

Tav set the note next to the daggers, blew out her candles and fell back into bed with slight nausea sitting in her stomach.

She brought perfumed fingers to her nose and slowly inhaled.

Cherries and sulfur.

A scent she missed.

A scent she loved.

Tav rolled over and shut her eyes, feeling ill and in love.

Oh, how her heart burned for Him.

Four Days Later

It was mid-afternoon when Tav finished her job involving clandestined delivery of goods. She weighed the purse of payment in her palm and determined it was probably enough coin (along with some sweet talking) that could get her a new, larger pack that was better suited for travel.

It would be needed if she intended on leaving Baldur’s Gate in the next few days.

Tav departed the artisan’s shop with a fine leatherwork bag hanging from her back. As she strolled home, she pondered what she would fill it with when it came time to pack for her journey; most importantly, which books to bring and which books to leave behind.

The devil in the shadows whispered that she could not run from him, and she whispered back that she wasn’t running at all.

It was just time to do what she wanted: to experience adventure - to be a hero.

Is to be with me not what you truly want, Tav?

She ignored the devil, but her touch ghosted along the ethereal daggers at her side.

There was a finely dressed half-elf no older than thirty-five sitting in front of her door when Tav arrived home. The woman, freckled with braided red hair, was worrying her lip and picking fingers in her lap until she glanced up at the irritated homeowner who came to stand over her.

“Yes? Can I help you?” Tav asked in a tone that was neither-threatening nor welcoming.

The woman rushed to stand, looking harried.

“You’re her aren’t you? The Hero of Baldur’s Gate?”

“One of them.”

“But you’re the one whose lover is the devil called Raphael?”

Tav closed her eyes and internally screamed into the ether. When she opened them seconds later, she could read that the woman had not asked to make fun; there was desperation in her eyes.

She needed help.

“Mm, what do you need?”

“Please, you have to persuade him to call off the upcoming appointment he has with my brother! I overheard Persus talking just last night with a friend… he’s to meet with this Raphael tomorrow...”

Tav’s eyes narrowed, but it had nothing to do with the subject matter.

She gestured with her head for the door, and the woman sidestepped out of the way. The door was unlocked and opened, and Tav motioned with a hand for the woman to enter first.

“Come in; I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”

Unfortunately and impolitely, Tav could offer nothing to her guest as the woman sat down on the settee.

“What’s your name?” Tav asked, excusing herself to the bedroom to drop new and old leather packs at the foot of her dresser.

She also needed to scrounge around for a certain potion vial – if she had one lying around…

“Kaala,” the woman called back.

“Aha!” Tav exclaimed quietly to herself as she found what she was looking for. Down the hatch the contents went, and she returned to the sitting room with a green dagger held threateningly in her hand. “Well, Kaala, tell me; Did Raphael send you here?”

Kaala, if that was even her real name, shrunk back, and her mind equally shared in the terror she expressed.

Oh, gods! I’m going to die! I’m going to die!

“Answer the question! Did Raphael send you here or not?”

“No!”

No! No! Gods, I don’t want to die!

Tav lightened her tone.

“Did anyone else send you here? Maybe a curly haired dwarf? A one eyed elf?”

Curly-haired dwarf? Elf? What is she talking about? No! No! I just want to save Persus!

“No! I promise!” Kaala exclaimed shrilly.

Tav sheathed her dagger and sighed.

“Alright… Sorry for that. Needed to be sure.”

Kaala did not seem to be placated.

“I promise I’m not going to kill you, Kaala.” To relieve tension and keep distance, Tav stepped back to lean against the jamb leading to the bedroom. “With that out of the way; why does your brother want to make a deal with a devil? What does he hope to gain?”

“That’s just the thing,” Kaala said, sitting a bit more normally now that a dagger wasn’t being pointed at her. “It’s stupid, really. He’s doing it because he was dared to! He’s young, angry and foolish… thinks nothing can stop him. I don’t know what he aims to get out of it aside from bragging rights. But… the stories I’ve heard… he’ll lose his soul! You have to tell Raphael that he can’t do this deal! Please, Persus is all I have left…”

Tav winced; this woman viewed her as the last hope to keep her brother safe from a devil’s claws.

“I’ll give you all the coin I can!” Kaala pleaded.

For a split second, Tav felt like a devil, but the kind that didn’t deal in souls.

“You should be pleading to your brother,” she said.

“I did! He won’t listen!”

“Would you like me to knock some sense into him?”

Kaala apprehensively eyed a sheathed dagger.

“I’ll be nice, Kaala.”

“I-I think he would be home now…”

Tav turned into the bedroom and grabbed the favored (old) pack she dumped, soon returning to the doorway.

“Well… let’s go.”

As it turned out, Kaala and her brother lived in the Upper City and in a residence that, while not the largest or most expensive, was certainly… nice. It was easy to surmise that what wealth the siblings owned had been entrusted to them after the passing of whomever.

Tav took a seat in the parlor on a diamond patterned upholstered sofa. Old habits die hard, and she couldn’t help but case the room as she waited for Kaala to retrieve her brother from one of the fifteen rooms the house was estimated to have.

She also couldn’t help but still theorize that Raphael was behind the sudden quest that literally landed on her doorstep.

“Who’s this?” asked a pompous voice, and Tav’s focus went from a crystalline vase to a young man whose age she guessed to be in his early twenties. His hair was a reddish brown, and, unlike his sister, his ears were rounded off where hers were pointed.

“Her name is Tav,” Kaala said beside him.

“Yeah? And?”

“She’s the Hero of Baldur’s Gate.”

The person she assumed to be Persus did not look impressed.

“You’re not a very good hero, are you?”

There was an incredible amount of sourness in his voice as if she had personally slighted him somehow.

Tav would try to not let him get under her skin.

She smiled as genuinely as she could.

“So, Persus, I hear you’re planning on making a deal with a devil."

“I hear you’re sleeping with one,” was his comeback.

Tav would try to not let this little shit get under her skin.

“Persus!” scolded Kaala.

“It’s honestly none of anyone’s business what I do, and Kaala shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.”

“While that’s true, I’m here to tell you that you are way in over your head,” Tav replied. “Do you have any idea what you’re going to be risking when you walk in that door? The consequences you may face?”

“Yeah? My soul? Who cares? I’m not planning on losing it.”

Tav would try to not let this cocky little shit get under her skin!

“Your sister cares, and I care because I know what happens to souls who go to live in the devil’s house; an eternity of unimaginable torture awaits you that you can never escape from. You will exist for him and will do whatever and anything he asks of you. He might even consume you, or if you’re lucky, turn you into a lemure so that you can maybe rank up and do his bidding on the battlefield - keep his status quo.”

To her credit, Persus seemed bothered by what she spoke and Kaala was visibly gaining more hope.

“It doesn’t hurt anything to see what he has to say,” Persus replied. “He might not even ask for my soul… you’re just assuming.”

Tav gave him a flat smile.

“What is it you are seeking to gain by going to tomorrow’s appointment? What do you want from Raphael?”

Persus looked very sad for the briefest of seconds, and by the way her brow creased, Kaala seemed to understand what it was he truly wanted.

“He can’t bring your parents back from the dead,” Tav said, making another 'assumption'.

But he had brought her back from the dead…

“Mind your own fucking business!” he snapped, spinning around and storming off. “Both of you!”

Kaala sighed with tears in her eyes as they heard footsteps dash up a flight of stairs.

Tav sat and waited for her newfound acquaintance to speak.

“We lost them last year, during the attack… to mind flayers.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. We’re… managing.”

Kaala’s wet eyes were ever hopeful when they fell on Tav; the half-elf looked at her like she was the answer to a night of fervent prayer.

Tav did not know how to tell the woman that, while she felt for them and wanted to help, she couldn’t. Centuries of climbing an infernal ladder shaped and molded Raphael’s behavior; he would not forgo the possibility of claiming a soul because she asked. No, if he entertained the request at all, it would come at a cost to her.

A precarious situation Tav did not want to put herself in. 

Persus now knew the risks and potential consequences, and being an adult of sound mind, could make his own decisions.

“I can’t help you,” Tav said. 

Because I’m a poor hero.

Because I can’t see him again.

Because if I do…

I fear I’ll surrender completely. 

“Please! You haven’t even talked to Raphael yet! He might-“

Tav silenced her with a hand.

“I suggest you save your breath. Convince your brother to not attend the appointment versus trying to convince me of doing something that I cannot do.”

“It’s not that you can’t do it! You won’t! You won’t even try!” Kaala exclaimed, her face distraught.

A truth.

“I’m sorry,” Tav said sincerely as she stood. “I hope Persus makes the smart choice in the end. I really do.”

She walked away, leaving Kaala to cry as though she had already lost her brother.

That night, Tav did not get any sleep.

But it was thanks to her tossing, turning, and inner turmoil that she devised a plan that made her heart and spirit burn.

At the first signs of morning, Tav got out of bed and dressed for adventure. Donning her armor, belts and daggers, she transferred some items from her old pack into her new one and grabbed three of her favorite books and packed those, too.

She then left, locking the door behind her, not knowing when she’d return.

Thankfully Mamzell Amira was not in as Tav strode into Sharess’ Caress with a quest (and devil) in mind.

Which was good because she did not want to see any smugness from the proprietor as she climbed up the stairs and walked a path that led her to a particular door.

A devil’s den. 

Her stomach somersaulted with each step she took, and Tav disliked that she couldn’t sense Raphael like he could her; no magical properties had been embedded into his body by way of her knife or name. His claim that he would always be waiting for her, surely, had been a figure of speech rather than the actual truth; Raphael was a busy man, or as Hope once put it ‘a bus-i-ness man who was not a man at all’, and he had Hells to take over and other, better, albeit lawfully evil, things to do than rot in a room like some lovesick pup.

Things like scheduling appointments with spoiled, naive young men.

An appointment she was excessively early for, and, if Raphael wasn’t behind the door she was currently unlocking with her thieves’ tools, an appointment he would be on time for.

Tav held her breath as she opened the door to greet–

Nothing and no one.

She covered her disappointment with a relieved, nervous laugh.

The door shut behind her, enclosing her within the opulent room that smelled so very much like Him, and Tav headed directly for the comfiest looking chair she could find.

Her pack dropped unceremoniously to the floor with a heavy thud at the same time she flopped onto the cushion. She estimated it would be a few hours before anyone appeared or knocked on the door, and her hands reached into her bag to pull out a book she had yet to finish.

Tav swung her legs around and over the arm of the chair, sat back, and resumed learning about the fascinating subject of Cheesomancy.

In reality it was all a façade; she could do nothing but fantasize about the ending that she (and maybe fate) had written.

There was a burst of fire, and Tav snorted behind her book at the scrunched-nose double take Raphael gave her.

His mortal disguise was quick to replace the astonished expression with something more composed, but he could not hide the hope that filled his inviting brown eyes.

She wanted to kiss him.

“Raphael,” she greeted casually, flipping a page of the book she pretended to read, legs bobbing from where they hung.

“Tav.”

She scanned a paragraph, understanding none of it.

“Thank you for the daggers.”

His heart’s desire would not allow him to go to her.

“Thank you for the cheese,” was his rich, sarcastic reply.

Unable to ignore the intense heat of his stare any longer, Tav shut her book and adjusted her posture in the chair to sit with regal sophistication.

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Such a devil,” Raphael purred with a fiendish smile, eating her alive with his gaze. “Go on; I’m listening.”

“The terms are simple.” Tav raised her scarred hand and put her first finger in the air, and she would add as many as needed (up to ten, of course) to get the point across. “One: there will be no contract between us ever again. Two: I am to attend all of your appointments with mortals, where I will play the role of a silent observer. You can sing and dance to your heart's content without my interference. Three: once the contract is signed, should the mortal have bargained with their soul, I will step in and seek to complete the contract for them, to ensure that their soul remains theirs - not yours. I cannot fix the lives you’ve already ruined or stop the torture of what souls you currently own, but I can try to prevent you from ruining and torturing more. I know it won’t always be possible for me to succeed and save every soul, but I want to – need to try.”

She thought it possible that her heart might burst from her chest as she added a fourth finger.

“Four: I shouldn’t be here, but, foolishly, I am. It’s my heart’s desire to be with you, but I cannot be with you unless you agree to these terms and promise to nurture what we have between us into something healthy and good.”

Tav spontaneously threw up a fifth finger.

“Five: I love you, and you’re an ass for entering my home uninvited and for reading my letter.”

Her hand fell back to her side.

Raphael’s demeanor swelled with… did Raphael know happiness?

“Those are your terms?” he asked. “Ignoring the fifth one, which I think you know was not a term at all.”

“Those are my terms,” Tav said, releasing a breath.

He hummed and posed in mock consideration.

“I accept your terms,” came his eventual reply. “And I promise I will do what I can to prevent you from leaving me ever again.”

She glowered at him, and he smiled.

“In the healthiest of ways, dearest.”

Tav allowed herself to smile, too, feeling her own moment of happiness despite knowing that their relationship would take work; some part of her would always hate Raphael for what he did and what he was, but it was possible that their love could be something greater.

She felt it in her soul that fate existed and meant for them to be together.

They were two sides belonging to the same lanceboard.

A soul-stealer and hopeful soul-saver.

A well-matched pair.

“Because there is to be no contract, should we shake hands?” She asked, standing. Her prop of a book was left behind as she slowly sauntered over to the cambion who looked like a starved cat.

“Oh, I think not, my Little Mouse,” Raphael purred. He offered his hand – wanting her to give herself! Body, mind, soul, and heart! “I can think of something better than a handshake to seal this deal.”

She was before him, and Tav gave her scarred hand to His.

“A kiss?” she inquired.

He smirked as his thumb intimately caressed her palm.

“Yes, however, when it comes to you, a kiss is but a morsel of what I want; I desire to taste all of you after this upcoming appointment.”

Fuck.

“You know, Raphael …” Tav enjoyed the darkness that overtook his eyes at the sound of his name. She gently pulled her hand from his and began to teasingly fuss with a frilly white collar that was not stained with blood or poison. “You can always cancel this appointment. I’m sure my cunt tastes better than what Haarlep - a copy - could provide…”

How his chest rumbled!

Raphael encircled her waist and brought her close, his hand flattening at the small of her back.

“You are chaos to my being,” he said, impassioned as he glanced at her lips, his eyes an inferno of need. “And I would not trade you for anything, my dearest Tav.”

“Kiss me, damn you.”

He did, embracing her with sweet fire, sealing their deal and sealing their fates.

Persus arrived at what the Amira woman called the ‘Devil’s Den’ for his scheduled appointment. He knew he was late (he overslept), but he didn’t think he was so late as to have completely blown his chances of meeting with the devil he knew to call Raphael.

He knocked on the door and waited a moment before trying the handle - locked. 

Persus thought he could hear sounds coming from beyond the door, so he put his ear against the wood to better discern if another appointment had taken his place. 

Was that… moaning?

Well, it was a brothel…

Now irritated that his appointment had been replaced by some common whore, Persus knocked again, this time more loudly, before he again brought his ear to the door. 

A woman cursed, there were shuffling sounds, items were being put back, hushed whispers, a man chuckled, the woman cursed at the man, and then… silence.

As if by magic, the door unlocked.

Cautiously, Persus pushed the door open and his nose was hit by a wave of cherries, arousal, and something else he couldn’t quite place. There were two people in the room and neither were horned or winged; a middle aged man was prepping a glass of wine at a writing desk and a woman he recognized sat relaxed in a chair with a book in her hands.

The man turned to regard him with a glass in hand and a welcoming expression. He certainly didn’t look like a devil, dressed in his well-tailored (partially undone) clothes with his flushed, amiable human face. His brown hair, curled at the ends, was mussed and it was uncouth to see an erection straining against the breeches he wore.

“You’re late,” the man said. “Persus.”

There was a slight edge to the rich timbre of his voice.

Persus glanced at the woman who just the other day tried to stop him from doing what he was doing now; her hair was equally disheveled and her skin equally flushed.

She did not acknowledge his presence.

“What’s she doing here?”

Tav was her name - the shitty, renowned, supposed ‘Hero of Baldur’s Gate’ that didn’t save his parents.

No hero saved them…

“Oh, don’t pay her any mind, my boy,” the man said with a gesture. “She is here to silently observe outside of reading about a silly and useless thing called Cheesomancy.”

He watched Tav send a glare to the man from over her book.

“Easy enough to ignore her,” Persus said, returning his attention to the person he was here for. “Are you the devil called Raphael?”

“I am, indeed!” said the man, bowing theatrically. “But think of me not as a devil or a fiend - think of me as a friend, a bringer of hope! Providing you with what you desire, within reason, of course, as long as you do the same for me.”

“I want the souls of my parents.”

Raphael raised a brow and then barked a laugh. 

“You come to a devil and ask for souls? An unreasonable ask of me, I’m afraid. Even if they were mine, which they are not, I would not give them to you. Try again; what is it that you desire?”

Persus glumly stared at the floor. It was a lost cause to try and get his parents back; their bodies had been nearly unidentifiable and he knew not where their souls had gone. His friend had claimed devils dealt with souls and Persus had hoped…

Then his other friend called him too chicken shit to even meet with a devil; that he wouldn’t dare experience something outside of his cushy, comfortable, spoon-fed life. 

If he couldn’t talk to his parents again, then he needed proof that he was not a coward!

“I want a copy of our contract, with infernal ink and all.”

“How unusual!” Raphael began to stalk over to him. It reminded Persus of a cat. “Try not to be insulted but I must question the intelligence of your mortal mind; you do realize that in order for there to be a copy of a contract, there needs to be an original?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Of course,” Raphael repeated. “Then allow me to present you with the rest of the terms. Due to a thief, the Archive within my House is presently lacking a worthy collection of artifacts to view, and it is time to curate again. I am seeking an item called the Pyxis of Pandemonium. Rumors say it resides on this plane, near Cormyr. You will need to get your hands dirty - do a little adventuring in order to pin-point its exact location. In return for this item, you will be given your copy of our contract, infernal ink and all.”

“Pfft, that’s fine. I’ll pay for some adventuring party to get it for me.”

“Let the coin flow, I say!” Raphael continued his hand gestures. “But it must be you or… one other who obtains the item I seek, and it is you who must hand it over to me.”

“Is there a time limit?” Persus asked, wondering how much coin he would need and how big of a party he should gather.

“Two months should be plenty.”

“And if I fail? Or run out of time?”

Raphael smiled congenially.

“Then your soul is mine.”

Persus thought about it for a solid minute.

An adventure…

Sounded almost… exciting.

He could prove he wasn’t a spoon-fed coward…

“Deal,” said Persus.

“Marvelous,” said Raphael, almost purring.

Snap!

A contract appeared in a plume of smoke and embers, complete with glowing infernal ink, and beside it floated an infernal quill - ready for the taking.

Persus took the quill, put it to the parchment where it was indicated he should sign, and signed away.

His name blazed.

Snap!

The contract and quill disappeared in a burst.

There was suddenly another snap, but it did not come from fingers -  it was a book sharply closing.

“You idiot,” Tav said from her chair. Because the insult was directed at him, Persus did the right thing and shot her a dirty look.

Raphael chuckled and retreated to lean against the writing desk, as if his part was over.

“Alright, how long will it take you to go pack and grab your things from home?” she asked, standing. She began to do some light stretching.

“What are you talking about?”

Her brow furrowed.

“I thought the question was pretty simple to understand? Well, Persus, ‘one other’ was mentioned who could help get you this item, and lucky for you, I am the other.”

“I don’t need you!” Persus exclaimed, outraged at the thought that he’d have to travel with this… faux hero.

“Have you ever stepped foot out of Baldur’s Gate? Have you ever fought a man? A goblin? A gnoll? A hag? A vampire? A mind flayer? A skeletal dragon? A devil? ”

The answer to all of the above was no, no he hadn’t.

He gulped.

“Have I got great news for you! I have fought them all, and I’m still breathing. I think you’ll find very early on in our adventure that you do need me,” Tav said, smiling. She then took an elegant bow as if on stage. “Tav, Poor Hero of Baldur’s Gate, but the hero who is going to save your soul.”

What did he just get himself into?

“It’ll take me an hour to get home… another hour to pack…” he mumbled, rethinking everything.

He made a mistake.

“Then begone with you!” Raphael said, his countenance significantly more inhospitable as he shooed Persus away with a flick of his hand - as if he were an annoyance. “I have a hero to finish ravishing before she leaves for her next adventure.”

Suddenly fearing that he might be struck down if he lingered any longer, Persus began to stiltedly back up for the door.

“I’ll meet you in front of your house,” Tav said kindly.

“Right…” he said, turning around for the exit.

Before the door to the Devil’s Den closed behind him, Persus heard two sets of feet moving to meet and a burst of what could have been swirling fire.

It was a strange coupling he didn’t understand, but… there was much about the world he didn’t understand.

Maybe... traveling with Tav wouldn't be so bad.

Maybe she could teach him something.

END