Forsaken by Shadows 71: Beneath the Stars

36: Beneath the Stars

Rismyn

Rismyn stood before the warming stove, glaring down at the empty saucepan as if it was the object's fault that he had absolutely no idea what to do with it, whilst studiously ignoring the sound of water falling down the hall. A sound that meant Mazira was still warming up under the hot water of Solaurin's enchanted rain stone.

Definitely not something he should be thinking about. At least, he was fairly certain he wasn't allowed to think about it yet. They'd only kissed.

Stars, they had kissed. He pinched himself, leaving yet another little welt on his arm, just to be sure he wasn't dreaming. Even with the sharp lance of pain, he wasn't convinced. It felt too good to be true. He shut his eyes, replaying the memory, until a voice cut through his reverie.

"What are you doing?"

Rismyn jumped, whirling to find Mazira leaning against the doorframe. He hadn't noticed the water shut off. How long had he been reminiscing?

Her lips held the slightest upward tilt, her dark curls tousled from toweling off, giving her a bit of a wild look that he found incredibly attractive. Of course, it wasn't helped by her new dry outfit, the neckline dipping demurely to her collarbones.

His throat bobbed and he averted his gaze. There was absolutely nothing immodest about her clothing. Yet the sight of skin where he'd grown so used to fabric did things to head, and he wasn't sure he was allowed to let that happen. There was so much still unknown. All they had done was kiss...

"Rismyn...?"

Her voice jarred him back to reality and his face flushed. "Yes. Sorry. What?"

Her brow puckered in concern. "Are you... going to cook something?"

She gestured to the stove, where the saucepan sat mocking him, and Rismyn's flush boiled over. What under Faerûn had he been thinking? He had never willingly cooked anything in his life. Ti'yana usually handled that chore.

"Ah... yes... I..." He cleared his throat, stepping back and indicating the other items he had gathered; the bottle of cream and the ceramic filled with powdered chocolate. "I had wanted to make you cocoa," he admitted, his gaze lowering in shame. "But... I don't know how."

Her laughter made him wince, but when he looked up, her smile was warm and captivating, her eyes full of a light that made his soul ache.

She'd allowed him to kiss her. Would she allow it again? Or had she thought better of that choice in the time it had taken them to get home and get changed?

They should have stayed beside the sacred pool. Sacred pools were far better suited for these kinds of discussions. All that soft light and gentle ambience.

"Here, let me," Mazira said, moving toward him. She brought with her the scent of freshwater and florals, and his vision went fuzzy as her body heat mixed with his own. Yet as she reached for the handle of the saucepan, he caught her wrist.

"Please," he said, sliding from her wrist to her hand. "I... I want to do it for you. Can you just... teach me how?"

The request had been cute when he had asked her to teach him to kiss, instruction he hadn't really needed at all. That had been teasing and fun. Flirting, Beltel would have called it. A subject matter his friend claimed to be an expert in.

But the request was less cute when Rismyn admitted to lacking basic survival skills, even after a year of having ample opportunity to learn them. How many times had Ti'yana griped that he never helped out, only for him to find more excuses to avoid menial chores?

He had training, he had gem-cutting, he had social obligations.

He'd almost let Mazira die in the Wilds because he didn't know how to turn bluecap mushrooms into sporebread.

Dread iced over his bones as he failed to meet Mazira's gaze. Did she really love him? He was pathetic.

And yet, her fingers closed around his own.

"Okay," she said, and Rismyn perked up, then froze again for entirely different reasons.

The smile she wore was... devious? Had he ever seen that look on her face?

"But it's going to cost you."

Her face suddenly blazed crimson and the playfulness morphed into surprise as she covered her mouth. Almost as if she couldn't believe the words that had just escaped her lips. "I—I mean..."

Rismyn momentarily forgot his shame, intrigued by her words. She was so cute when she looked at him like that. "No, no, I think that's fair. I'm pretty thick-headed, you know. You deserve wages for your efforts in teaching me. What's it going to cost?"

Now both hands were covering her face as she peered at him through her fingers. "I—I was thinking..." Her palms slid away, revealing she had bitten her lower lip in a way that filled Rismyn with an inexplicable urge to try it himself.

"Maybe..." She swallowed and stepped in, tilting her face upward, and Rismyn thought he understood what she was getting at.

But he'd thought that before, and had been wrong. So, so wrong.

The icy feeling returned, freezing him stiff. He was powerless to move as she leaned in closer.

And closer.

And then she hesitated, brow furrowed, and backed away.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me," she said, flustered. "My, it is warm in here. Let me get the measurements—"

She was gone. Just like that. She'd been so close. Her lips so near. She had wanted it, hadn't she? And yet she had backed down.

Was it his fault? Because he hadn't moved?

"Wait," Rismyn said, his voice strained. As if admitting to needing help with the cocoa wasn't shameful enough.

Mazira paused, glancing at him, still glowing a soft pink.

Rismyn put a hand to his forehead. Why was this so hard? He'd always imagined telling her his feelings was going to be the hardest conversation they'd have. He never would have guessed that it would only be the start of the real work.

"I'm... scared," he told her.

"Scared?"

He nodded, still avoiding her stare. Not one of the hazing rituals at Melee-Magthere could compare to the mortification this admission left him with. "I have all these... thoughts. Feelings, I guess. Centered around you." He glanced at her quickly, which was a mistake. She was too beautiful, her attention rapt on him. "Things I want to do... or try..." Stars, this was getting more awkward with every breath. "But I'm afraid that... what if... what if I misread you and... and..."

He couldn't finish. He pressed his eyes shut but it only made him experience the memory more acutely. The hate in her eyes when he'd pushed the situation too far.

Two hands found one of his, and he released a breath as Mazira squeezed.

He looked at her and found her face full of grim determination. Hardly the expression of doting devotion he'd been craving. He waited for her words, but instead found her moving. Lifting her hands to reach for his head, threading her fingers through the back of his still-damp hair, and pulling his face down to meet hers.

It was better than the first kiss, for the first kiss had already been buried under the waves of his self doubt. It had happened an eon ago, time casting uncertainty over whether it had happened at all. But this kiss... this kiss was raw. And real. And full of acceptance and understanding, penetrating his heart in ways that words could never aspire.

He was weak before her, but she loved him anyway.

Rismyn's muscles slowly uncoiled and he melted around her, holding her close. He lost track of the number of kisses exchanged, and barely even noticed when they transitioned from kissing to quiet holding, her head nestled just under his chin, their breathing slow and synchronized.

"We're ready this time," she murmured.

"Are we?" he asked. He leaned back to look at her. The question had come from the little Solaurin voice that echoed in the back of his mind.

She bit her lip again, with that small, shy smile that did dangerous things to his heart. "Well... that's what I'm telling myself..."

He chuckled and ran a hand over her hair. "Fair enough. I'm hopefully less stupid now than I was then."

"You weren't stupid!"

"I accused you of having me bewitched for nine years, then panicked when I realized it wasn't true and I had to be accountable for my own emotions."

She looked away. "Well, I suppose it wasn't your brightest moment..."

He laughed hollowly. "That's the understatement of the century."

"But I forgive you," she said, tilting her face up to his. "I have forgiven you, a long time ago. Considering the poison with which you were raised—"

He groaned and shook his head, leaning back against the counter and pulling her with him. "Please. I don't really want to relive the memories. I just... I mentioned it... to explain why I..."

Why he, what? Why he was terrified to love her? Why he feared the depth of his affection would smother her? That he would break her all over again, like Solaurin warned?

Mazira pulled away, taking his hands in her own. "I'm scared, too, you know," she whispered. "Scared of losing you."

"Losing me?" Rismyn repeated. How could she lose him? He was absolutely devoted to her. Heart, body, and soul. She was far more likely to get tired of him before losing him. "Zira—" he began, but cut off when she raised a hand to quiet him.

"I don't know when I started loving you," she said, taking his hand again and tracing her thumb along the back of his knuckles. "I just realized I did when you left me for Melee-Magthere."

Her admission struck him like a fist to the gut, his eyes bulging and his breath escaping. "When I... left...?"

That long ago? When he had first admitted to loving her? Stars, how badly had he screwed things up? All the broken years they could have avoided, if he had just... well, if he had what? It's not like he would have saved her just because she accepted his feelings. He'd been too selfish, too cowardly. She could have loved him, and he would still have left for Melee-Magthere, like a good little second-son, hoping she was still there when he got back.

"I was horrified when I realized it," she said. "Because of who you were. And what you were."

He didn't blame her. She should probably still feel that way. Was he really all that different of an elf now than he was then? He'd like to think so, but the way he had seriously contemplated the murder of Vaylan the night before said otherwise.

He looked away, unable to speak through his shame.

Yet her hands found his face, gently turning his gaze back to her.

"I was as poisoned as you were," she continued, staring intently into his eyes. "Raised on lies, just like you. Clinging to falsehoods to avoid taking responsibility for my heart."

"No, Mazira," he tried, but she spoke over him.

"I told myself I hated you. That I could never love a drow. But when I saw you again, in that crowd at the Academy"—she laid her head on his chest—"My heart knew. I had never stopped treasuring you."

Rismyn's arms wrapped around her, but he had no words. How could she have treasured him this whole time, when he'd been so wretched to her? It didn't make sense, and yet he clung to her, unwilling to let her go. Ti'yana had told him he was good for her. He didn't believe it, but he would spend the rest of his days striving to be.

After a moment, Mazira squirmed, and Rismyn released her. She reached around him and slid the sugar jar over to join the cream and cocoa, which he had all but forgotten about, and then drifted down the counter, returning with a set of measuring bowls.

"Two of these," she said, setting the largest of the bowls before the cream. "And one each of these. Then stir it together until it dissolves and the liquid is simmering."

Rismyn leapt to obey her instructions, if nothing else because it gave him something to do with his trembling hands, her words ricocheting around his head. It was simultaneously everything he'd always wanted and the worst possible circumstance. She had loved him this entire time. And he... he'd been so reckless with her heart.

And yet as he grabbed a spoon and set to stirring his concoction, she stood beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I tried to ignore it in the Wilds," she said, and his grip tightened on the spoon. "I looked for your flaws, never your merits."

"Merits?" Rismyn said. "What merits? I treated you so terribly."

"You did the best you could with what you knew how."

"That's not an excuse."

"But it is a fact," she stated, with no room for argument. "We're both broken, Rismyn. We've both suffered so much. Broken pieces have sharp edges. Sometimes you get cut. But sharp edges wear down over time."

He said nothing, stirring away. A rich, sugary scent drifted upward, mingling with her florals.

"It took him for me to realize again how dear you were to me."

Rismyn froze.

"When he came for us. And I thought I was going to lose you."

Him. The one who had found them again. The one who still breathed because Rismyn had failed to keep his promise to Mazira.

"And now he's back," she said, as if echoing his thoughts. She reached out and covered the hand that was clutching the spoon, moving it in stirring motions until he took up the task again. "I'm not afraid of you, Rismyn. I know you. I know if you cross a line it will tear you up inside. I know that you'll apologize and make it right, just like you always have. It's him I'm afraid of. That he'll take you away from me. That I'll lose you for real. Or that you'll lose interest in me. You'll realize how boring I am. How strange. And plain, compared to Ti'yana."

"Ti'yana!?" Rismyn dropped the spoon and spun to face her. "What does Ti'yana have to do with anything?" And why did she come up in the same breath as Toloruel?

"Well..." Mazira said, teasing the ends of her hair. "It's just... she's so beautiful. And... and whole."

"Mazira—"

"And drow. And you're letting the cocoa burn."

Rismyn clenched his jaw and snatched up the spoon, whisking the dark liquid into a miniature whirlpool. Cooking took far too much attention. He was starting to understand why Solaurin had a tendency to let things burn.

"Look, nothing against Ti'yana," he said, as the cream began to froth under his fervent care. "She's great. A good friend. But she's not you."

"But—"

"No." Little splatters of cocoa escaped the pan, and he slowed his attack as they sizzled away. "I like Ti'yana immensely. As a sister." He winced inwardly as the word conjured the very un-sister-like memories he now shared with her. "It's you that I love. It's you who are most beautiful to me. Body and soul. She doesn't compare."

"Rismyn... I..."

He glanced at her and started, as her eyes welled over with tears. Oh no, what did he say? "I'm sorry," he began. "What I meant was—"

"Be quiet and hold me."

He obeyed at once, abandoning the cocoa to wrap her in his arms.

She clung to him, shaking. After a moment of soft sniffles, which would probably have been adorable if he didn't feel so wretched for causing them, she relaxed. "These are happy tears," she explained, leaning back and wiping her cheeks, though it seemed she'd been successful and fighting back most of the tears. "I'm just... really glad to hear those words... because I thought..."

Guilt wrapped slender fingers around his throat, contorting his ability to breathe properly. He felt suddenly dirty, like he'd been unfaithful to Mazira, even though there had been no promises of intent spoken between them.

But that had been the point, right? A meaningless first kiss, given to someone he wouldn't regret giving it to. An event that wasn't supposed to matter.

Standing before Mazira now, as she wiped away her fears and jealousies, he wasn't so sure he agreed with that sentiment anymore. He huffed and looked away, crossing his arms over his chest.

"But... in the interest of pure honesty," he said, while his instincts screamed at him to shut up. Yet he could not. The guilt would eat away at him, and if there was one person he wanted no secrets with, it was Mazira. "I have kissed her..."

Mazira blinked, staring at him with a blank expression, apparently needing a moment to absorb the words. Then she jabbed a finger in his chest. "I knew it!" she declared. "I knew something was happening between you two!"

"No, it's not like that!" he said, though strangely, Mazira didn't seem upset. She actually sounded... triumphant? As if she was pleased with herself for being right.

Except she wasn't right.

"Nothing was happening," Rismyn said. "That's why we kissed."

She arched an eyebrow. "You kissed her because of nothing?"

Well, when she put it like that. As though he'd been behaving like Beltel, who chased women callously for meaningless enjoyment.

"Look, it's complicated," he said, exasperated. "We were at the Festival—"

"This happened last night?" Her face fell.

"And we had just finished watching your Serenade," Rismyn continued, because the only way off of this funeral pyre he was building was to outrun it. "And I ran downstairs to see you. But when I got there, you were with..." He broke off as the image of the golden elf's arms around her temporarily rendered him speechless with fury.

"I was with Vaylan," Mazira finished.

Rismyn nodded. "And I... kind of... wanted to murder him."

She didn't laugh. She didn't brush him off or roll her eyes as if she thought he was being dramatic. She just took his hand, communicating that she understood. She'd known the elf he once was. The one who lurked not so distantly beneath his skin.

The one who whispered consequences only counted if you got caught.

"But obviously, I know better now," he said, trying to convince himself.

The cocoa glubbed on the stove, startling him. He had forgotten all about it, and jumped to tend it.

"It's probably finished," Mazira said, her voice soft.

He nodded, removing the saucepan from the stove while Mazira drifted toward the cabinet that contained the mugs.

"So I ran," Rismyn said, reaching for a ladle as she slid the mugs toward him. "And I guess Ti'yana was tired of all my tantrums. I, uhm, sort of ruined her Festival with my mood. I was tired and just wanted you back from the temple."

It felt like a confession of sin, but Mazira's lips quirked in a smile. It was enough to encourage him to go on.

"She gave me quite the tongue lashing," he said, then winced as he remembered where this story was going. "I mean, she lectured me about how stupid I was being. And then she asked me why I hadn't told you my feelings yet and, I, well. I dunno." He filled the two mugs, then offered one to Mazira. "There's lots of reasons, but in that moment, the most potent was because I thought you didn't want me."

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way," she murmured, accepting the mug he handed her.

"It's not your fault," he said. "It's like you said. I could only see my own flaws. I thought you would be better off with... him. An elf who understood your past in ways I can't. Someone from your Surface life. Someone who wasn't drow."

"I guess we're not so different," she said, though her smile was tinged with sadness.

"I guess not," Rismyn said. He raised his mug to her. "To the death of misunderstandings."

She clinked her mug to his and offered a flat, "Hear, hear."

Silence fell as they sipped the drink, the warm sweetness soothing away his chill. The cocoa actually turned out well. Mazira must be a good teacher.

"So anyway," Rismyn said. "Long story short. I was throwing a tantrum about how I'd never be happy without you and she decided to prove to me that I could, in fact, live without you. So she threatened me with a kiss then made good on it."

"How does that... oh." Mazira blushed, which in turn brought a flush to Rismyn's cheeks.

"If it's any consolation," he said, "The experience only proved to me how much more you were the only woman I wanted to kiss. We made a pact to get rid of Vaylan so I could talk to you finally and then..."

"And then," she said sadly, lowering her gaze to her drink.

"I'm sorry, Zira," Rismyn said. "For everything."

For Ti'yana and Toloruel. For failing her at every turn. For being less than she deserved but too weak to let her go.

But Mazira just lifted her eyes and smiled. A real, broad smile. Not the false one he had learned to recognize when she prepared lies she thought he wanted to hear. "I'm not upset about it."

"You're... not?" he said, dumbfounded by her response. "Are you... sure?"

"I am," she said with conviction. "Actually, it's kind of cute. She's a good friend. And I'm not one to talk. I kissed Dreder."

"You what!?" The mug nearly slipped from his hands as the last three words he ever wanted to hear came out of Mazira's mouth. They were so horrific and absurd he couldn't have even fathomed them in his worst nightmare.

Mazira and Dreder? They weren't even supposed to go near each other, let alone talk, let alone...

He was going to be sick. That mercenary was about to lose far more than his hands.

But Mazira just laughed. She set her cocoa on the counter and took the mug from his hands, setting it aside as well. "He earned it," she said, interlocking their now free hands together. Her mirth faded as she continued her explanation. "He... he helped me stand up to Vaylan. When Vaylan tried to..."

Her momentary lapse into joy had faded completely, and Rismyn somehow managed to conjure enough empathy to temporarily set aside his vicious scheming against the mercenary. "He's dangerous, Zira."

"He reminded me a lot of you, actually," she said.

Which, considering what he had just said, cut.

"He was all prickly and angry, like you used to be when we were small. But he apologized for what happened at the Academy. And thanked me for healing him. It reminded me of when you brought me back the healing balm. The first night we became friends."

Rismyn looked away, deeply troubled by the sentiment. Could Dreder... actually be changing? Sure, he'd subjected Dreder to Solaurin's lectures as a way to deter him from his attentions on Ti'yana, but he didn't actually expect the words to sink in.

Still, changing or not, that didn't absolve him of his most recent crime.

"So, you kissed him?" Rismyn asked, not quite able to keep the dejection out of his tone.

"Oh! Only on the cheek!" Her face flamed once again. "I'm sorry. I meant to clarify that sooner."

He wasn't entirely sure that made him feel better. Not because he was jealous of her attention. No, he was jealous of her forgiveness. Dreder had nearly gotten Mazira killed. How could she just let that go?

The same way she let his sins go. With grace they didn't deserve.

"He's actually the reason I came looking for you," Mazira said. "He got really angry when I told him we weren't together. He told me I was blind. That you'd loved me this whole time, and I just got so used to it I had taken it for granted."

"Dreder told you that?" Rismyn gaped at her.

She nodded. "So I decided I wasn't going to let another cycle go by without confronting you. And, well, you know the rest."

Rismyn was speechless, unsure of what to think. He took up his cocoa and moved to the kitchen table, sinking into one of the chairs. All this emotional whiplash was exhausting.

Mazira moved to join him, and Rismyn sat back, opening his arms. After only a brief hesitation, she accepted his invitation and curled up on his lap rather than the chair across from him.

He enveloped her, resting his chin on her head, and she released a small, contented sigh. A sound that sent a thrill coursing through his blood. She might have kissed Dreder on the cheek, but it was his arms she relaxed in.

He could definitely get used to this.

That is, if she let him. How long would she tolerate his affection? Were there limits? He had so many questions, but asking risked uncomfortable conversation. Maybe even answers he didn't want to hear. Yet not asking risked mistakes, and that was infinitely more terrifying.

Besides, anything to get the subject off of her and Dreder.

"Mazira," he began. "What are we?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like... uhm..." How did he phrase it? He didn't even know. The lines of relationship expectations had been muddied since coming to Launa, with so many different cultures informing the courtship rules. "I love you."

"And I love you."

Those words from her lips still made his head spin. He would have pinched himself again if his hands weren't occupied holding her. "Right... so... that makes us... what?"

She shifted, moving her face to a position where she could see his. "Oh. Like... how we relate now? Uhm. I... don't know." A warm red tinge colored her cheeks. "What... do you want us to be?"

"I dunno," he said, glancing away. "Whatever you decide."

Mazira stiffened, her fingers sliding around his jaw commanding his attention. "Rismyn, no. We're not doing that."

"D-doing what?" he stammered, taken aback by the sharpness of her glare. What had he done now?

"We're not drow!"

He arched an eyebrow, and her flush returned.

"I mean... you know what I mean!" She removed her hands from his face and crossed her arms with a huff. "I don't get to decide just because I'm female. We're equal in this. So it's whatever we decide."

Whatever we decide. A sentiment that both thrilled and frightened him. Loving a woman who saw him as her equal was a dream he'd never dared to dream, but having to make choices? That he was fully unqualified to do. Women decided and men followed. That was how it had always been with his people.

That was how he'd been raised.

And yet, her attempt at a stern expression was so adorable it melted his reservations, softening the ball of nerves that tangled up in his gut. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry," he said with a laugh, rubbing her back. "Please, don't yell at me anymore."

Her eyes went wide. "I-I wasn't yelling, was I?"

"No." He hesitated, then leaned forward and kissed her brow. It still felt weird to act on those impulses. Weird, but exhilarating. "I'm teasing you. We can decide this together." If he must. "So. What do you want?"

She considered only briefly before shaking her head. "No. You have to tell me first. That way you can't just agree with what I say."

He stilled, the hand rubbing circles on her back freezing in place. It was only as she said it that he realized he had been banking on doing just that. Use her for the guideline and just tweak and agree as needed.

But she set her jaw, and those prickles of dread spidered out from his core. What if he said the wrong thing? What if what he wanted was more than what she wanted? Did he really have to go first?

Judging by the look she was giving him, yes. He did.

Rismyn tried to swallow but his mouth had run completely dry. He lowered his hands to her waist, his gaze to the floor. "I..." He trailed off, but she seemed content to wait.

Perhaps he should lie. Or downplay it. No need to frighten her off with his total and complete obsession with her.

But... no. That defeated the whole purpose of being together, didn't it? He had told her about Ti'yana because he wanted no lies or secrets between them. How could he hold back that which was most true in his heart?

"I want you as a wife to me," Rismyn said, before he could spiral into uncertainty.

Mazira sucked in a sharp breath.

He looked away, lest her expression deter him from finishing.

"I want no more of these boundaries everyone insists on," he continued. "I want you there when I go to sleep and in my arms when I wake up. I know... I know we're really young to be making those kinds of commitments but... I don't want to keep putting off loving you. Elven immortality is a privilege, not a guarantee, especially in the Underdark."

He winced as he said those last words. They weren't even supposed to be in the Underdark anymore. He had promised to take her to the surface. Another oath sworn and abandoned.

"Rismyn..."

He tensed.

"I want that, too. I... I want to be your wife. No one else. Not ever."

He released his breath in a long exhale, and to his surprise found his eyes burning. He blinked to keep the tears at bay. "Really? Are you sure?"

He finally braved looking at her, and found her smiling. "Positive."

He sighed again, squeezing her close. "What a relief," he murmured. "So... does that mean we're married now?" That was how it worked where he came from, at least. A woman picked her mate and it was decided, until she got bored of him. But Mazira wouldn't get bored of him... right?

"I don't think so," she giggled. "I think it means we're betrothed now. Promised to be married but not quite there yet. We have to have a wedding first."

"A wedding?" Rismyn frowned. The word sounded vaguely familiar. "Oh, right, from your stories. Wait, that's a real thing people do?"

"Yes!" Her giggle became a laugh. "It's a ceremony where we exchange oaths. Promises to love and care for each other for the entirety of our lives. Usually it's done before a cleric... oh."

She cut off at the same moment the blood drained from Rismyn's features.

"I-I'm sorry..." Mazira said. "We don't have to make it religious, I know you hate religion—"

"It's not that," Rismyn said, though he was still distracted, reeling from the implications in her words. They had to exchange oaths? What good were his oaths when he hadn't kept any of the previous ones he had made? Toloruel still breathed, they had yet to see the sun...

"What is it, Rismyn...?" she asked, and there was such sorrow in her voice it cut.

He stiffened, his gaze falling to the floor but his arms locking around her. How many times was he going to have to admit to failing her in one cycle? "It's just," he began. "I have already made you promises I didn't keep. How can I be sure I'll keep marriage oaths?"

"Promises? What promises?"

"The ones I made when I took you from Menzoberranzan."

"Oh!" Silence fell. She shifted on his lap, but he still wouldn't look at her. "Those are promises outside of your control," she said gently. "These promises... to love me and care for me... that comes from you."

That was the problem, wasn't it? It came from him. And while every fiber of his being sang praise for Mazira and Mazira only, he didn't trust his wicked drow heart not to lead him astray. What if he made her promises he couldn't keep? What if he wasn't capable of it?

He had to know. He had to find out.

"No," he said, his conviction solidifying.

"No?" Mazira repeated, and she sounded stricken.

Rismyn lifted his eyes, connecting with hers. He cupped her cheek and kissed her gently. "Is there a time limit on this betrothal?"

Her eyes were wide and full of uncertainty. "Uhm, I don't think so..."

"Good," Rismyn said. "Because I'm going to marry you. But I'm going to prove I can keep my promises first. When we wedding, it will be beneath the stars."

"Wed."

"What?"

"Wed is the tense of the word in its verb form. Wedding is the noun."

His lips quivered with a smile. Some things never changed. "Alright, when we wed, it will be under the stars." Which meant until then, the boundaries would remain. But he didn't mind. He needed to do this. He needed to know he could. "After Toloruel is dead."

He was rather proud of himself. The words felt good, no, right to say. Like he'd been stumbling in the bright light and finally touched down on a shadowed path.

But Mazira... was it his imagination, or had she gone pale? They'd blushed so much she could easily have just gone back to her normal shade of quartz.

Finally, she spoke. "What if he kills you?" she asked, in a small, trembling voice.

So she was pale. He caressed her cheek, trying to share his confidence with her. "I'm not dumb enough to rush out after him alone, without a plan," Rismyn said. Though if he were being honest, he'd already started planning to do just that. The exact thing Mother Lara had said he would do, which justified her refusal to tell him the truth. His jaw clenched, but he kept his voice gentle as he spoke. "We have the entire city to support us. We'll do this together with them. This will be over and then we'll take the next Fleet ride to the world above."

Yet still, she did not look relieved. In fact, his words seemed to trouble her even more. Had he overstepped? She had said they were equals in this future planning, but he hadn't really given her a chance to speak.

He was just about to apologize when she spoke. "But what if... what if I want to stay here?"

He stared at her, not entirely sure he had heard her correctly. "You want... to stay here?"

She shrugged. "I mean... I miss the sun. And the wind, and the rain. And seasons." She sighed wistfully, rubbing her shoulder. "But I think I would miss Solaurin more. And Ti'yana. And Miss Tsaria and Sabraena and all the friends we have made here. Home isn't about a place. It's about the people who make it."

"Oh." He sat back, absorbing her words. If he were being honest, the sentiment thrilled him. It was one less difficult task for him to accomplish, and he loved Launa. The people, the cavern, the work. He'd never been so happy in his life.

Well, until Mazira kissed him.

Still, it was a tempting copout. The Militia would kill Toloruel and he could stay where he was comfortable.

But he'd never know for sure that he could keep his promises.

"I still want to see the surface with you," he said. "Please. I... I need to. But we don't have to stay there. We can come back. Build our home here with our... family." The word felt weird to say. But it was the right one. Of that, he was certain.

Mazira seemed to be considering, and then a smile blossomed on her face. "Okay," she said. "It's a plan."

A knot released in Rismyn's heart and his body relaxed. It was a plan. Not an easy one. But a plan. He might have to live with these insufferable boundaries a while longer, but at least he was allowed to kiss her now.

And so he did.

***

She was in love with a drow.

She was in love with a drow.

Icy water sloshed around Vaylan's shins, but it did little to cool the burning in his blood.

How could she be in love with a drow?

Disgusting. Vile. Unnatural. Dark elves and bright elves didn't belong together. Not like that. If nothing else, Ardyn's parents were a perfect example of that. How often had Ardyn lamented that his father was heartless, cruel and uncaring for his children? It wasn't the drow's fault, they just weren't made with hearts.

Mazira couldn't love a drow. It would only doom her further. She must have been warped by darkness. She had no concept of something better than cave-dwelling monsters. She'd become addicted to her grief. That was the only rational explanation.

He'd rescue her. It was his destiny. The Stars had led him here for this very purpose, to save Mazira from the shadows. The story was perfect. Absolute poetry. Their fathers couldn't have written it better.

But Mazira didn't believe in the Stars. They used the name of the celestial heavens as curse words in this backwater excuse for a city. How could she understand their importance, when she had been starved of their light for so long?

No, it wasn't enough to just take her away. He had to retrain her thinking. He had to prove to her, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was following the course of the heavens.

Then she would see. Then she would understand. She would reject that whiny, gangly dark elf who had sunk his claws into her head and flee with him willingly.

Back to the Surface, where they belonged. Beneath the stars.

He lifted a vile of deep blue liquid to his lips and drank, wincing as pain seared along his neck. But he endured it until it subsided, and his lungs cried out for oxygen his respiratory system was no longer capable of extracting from the air. At least, temporarily.

He dove into the depths of the black river, finding sweet relief in the currents. His destiny didn't lay within the prison-like walls of Eilistraee's Sanctuary. It waited for him beyond, where it stalked them from the shadows.

Disclaimer: Forsaken by Shadows is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. ©Wizards of the Coast LLC.