Chapter Text
It was just past sundown, and Tav was already quite drunk.
“Give a cheer for the greatest band of bards in Faerun!” a gnome shouted from the hastily-constructed stage in the center of the tavern, and Tav added her voice to the uproar of the crowd. In truth, they were merely passable entertainment compared to the performers Tav was used to seeing at the events her family held, but good drink and better company could make even the most paltry flautist sound melodic.
The company in question was a rather strapping man, who had lost his shirt at some point before wandering into the Elfsong and had the look of one who swung large hammers for a living, either in a smithy or in battle. Tav couldn’t quite remember how she’d ended up in the man’s lap, or if his name was Harvol or Harold, but she was enjoying herself regardless. Someone along the bar raised their tankard up in a toast, saying something about the bounty of Midsummer celebrations. Tav and the man who she was sitting on raised their glasses with a cheer, and Tav laughed as someone’s drink dripped down her back.
She knew she should be worried about the stain, and smell the swill would leave, and if her chamber maids would report their inevitable findings to her mother come morning, but Tav couldn’t bring herself to care.
It would be several more hours still before the largest displays of celebration would be held, but echoes of fireworks still could be heard over the noise of the tavern’s crowd. Occasionally, a flash of color would light up the dark corners of the tavern’s hall, showing couples embracing in sharp relief for a moment. Tav’s new friend was beginning to have similar goals as his rough fingers rubbed circles along the outside of her thighs, but all Tav could think about was the sticky chill of her now damp tunic.
Half shouting a near-nonsensical excuse about a privy, Tav slid from Harold’s—Halvor? Hartnel?—grasp and ducked through the crowd. Dodging trays laden with drink and elbows spinning in time with the music, Tav managed to find the doors to the tavern and took in a long, grateful breath of air.
The sun had set completely while she’d been drinking inside; the heat that had gripped Baldur’s Gate over the last tenday had finally released its grip, and the breeze cooled Tav’s flushed face and neck. Her damp tunic, draped low in the style of those who wanted to appear fashionable but still be able to move freely, still clung to her back, but already it was bothering her less.
Taking another long breath, Tav considered her options. She could return to the Elfsong and its raucous celebrations, or she could follow the distant sounds of singing and shouting to another tap house. She could even seek out the hidden gambling dens run by the Guild, though that was much riskier to her coin purse, and they’d likely turn her away anyway if she couldn’t feign sobriety well enough.
She could also return to the Upper City, where more stifling parties were surely occurring, but Tav detested those functions. She’d been forced to attend more than enough of them by her parents in her life. There were also the temple celebrations: the Wavemother’s chosen would be dancing the night away to welcome the warm tides of late summer, and Lathander’s temple would be lit with hundreds of lanterns and torches to bring light to the shortest night of the year.
Still debating her options in her mind, Tav didn’t notice the man’s approach until he delicately cleared his throat behind her. “Whatever could such a delectable flower like yourself be looking for in the Lower City all alone?”
Tav spun to face the speaker and instantly regretted her choice. Raising a hand to her head as if to steady her eyesight, she finally managed to focus on the speaker: a pale elf, white-haired and dressed in a fine, dark doublet. He watched her with dark eyes, a strange shade of brown that looked almost red in the torch light. A faint smile played on his lips.
Tav smiled up at the elf and took a polite step back, fearing for a moment she would lose the contents of her stomach on his fine boots. “Celebration, of course,” she responded. “Fine drink, fine company, and whatever else the gods send to me for Midsummer.”
The man tilted his head and seemed to study her, his smile close-lipped. “Surely the Upper City holds more… familiar entertainments for a lady such as yourself,” he drawled. His voice was clipped and honeyed, with an accent better suited to halls of business and politicking than the stoop of a Lower City tavern. While his voice hinted at a more blue-blooded life, his muscled build spoke of another calling. His doublet held tight around his biceps and broad shoulders and while his clothes were fine, there was something tense about his stance, like a cat who’d just caught scent of prey.
Tav found herself distracted for a moment, but met his eyes with a jolt of surprise. “You mistake me for someone else, sir,” she murmured quickly. “I’m not one to be invited to such revels.”
The man chuckled, his hand coming to cup her elbow and draw her to the side as a pack of drunkards shuffled out of the tavern. “Of course,” he said in a low voice, eyes meeting hers with a conspiratorial smile. “Most of the dregs in this part of town wouldn’t recognize a prize like you, but there are others with more… discerning tastes.”
“That being you?” Tav asked, letting him lead her along the street. “You seem to hold yourself in quite high regard for someone who is also roaming the Lower City on Midsummer.”
“Alas, not everyone agrees with the holy orders that today shall be a day only of merriment and rest. Business must continue even when all else stops, as they say.” His hand moved from her elbow to the small of her back, pausing briefly when he encountered the dampness of the fabric. “But I have been terribly rude. I don’t even know your name, and here I am going on like a bore.”
Tav reached up to her shoulders, a laugh on her lips. “Someone spilled their drink on me. I’m not usually one to smell quite so strongly of ale.” She reached up and pulled her hair to one side, as if to save it from encountering the mess. “My name is Tav. And you are?” She stopped their slow walk down the street to look up at him, wondering how they’d come to be standing so close to one another.
The elf’s eyes traced down the curve of her neck, and he raised a hand to lightly sweep away a stray curl. Tav suppressed a shiver as his fingers, cool against her flushed skin, brushed against her collarbone. “Eyes like the summer sea, hair the color of sunshine. You are quite a tempting Midsummer treat.” He leaned in closer, filling the air with the scene of fine brandy and something else that Tav couldn’t quite name.
Tav felt herself blush, wondering why this man made her feel like a fresh maiden. She stepped into the opening of an alley as another large group of revelers pushed down the street. A few of them heckled Tav and the man, shouting about a fine Midsummer fuck or idiots standing in the street, but Tav’s companion didn’t even glance at them.
Tav cleared her throat and pushed her hair back, wincing more from surprise than pain when her ring caught.
The elf caught her hand and studied the offending jewel, a silver ring with a single gem set into it. It was rather plain, save for a small sigil carved into the gem’s face. “A magic ring? My, darling, you are a mysterious woman to find in such a place. You should be more careful with such expensive adornments.”
“My mother gave it to me,” Tav said, pulling her hand out of his grip. “She said it has some abjuration charm on it, but I’ve never had anyone identify it for details. Have you played with magic items before?” She grinned as she loosened the ring from her finger, an almost nervous giggle on her lips. “I love watching them change size for the wearer.” Deep in her mind, drowning in the ale and wine she’d drank over the last few hours, she knew putting her expensive family heirloom on a stranger was a terrible idea, but consequences, she decided, were for mornings.
She pressed the ring onto one of his fingers, trying not to focus too much on what his slender, well-manicured fingers would feel like elsewhere. The ring caught on his first joint, then seemed to shudder before the band grew wider, just enough to slip entirely onto his finger. “See?” Tav said, smiling first at the ring, and then up at him.
She hadn’t realized they’d moved quite so far into the alley, or how they seemed to be wrapped in shadows, or how the sounds of the city’s celebrations had faded. His eyes seemed fixated on the ring for a long moment, his breath held still, and Tav’s smile dipped. An ember of anxiety lit in her stomach as she wondered if she’d said something stupid or sounded too drunk.
Suddenly, the man’s eyes snapped to hers, and he gave a slow smile. “Utterly amazing,” he whispered, and then his lips crashed against hers.
Tav’s senses became overwhelmed as she hit the wall of the alley, her hands coming up to grip the collar of his doublet. His lips were cool, and hers parted eagerly as he nipped at her bottom lip. It seemed like an eternity and not any time at all before his lips left hers to trail kisses down her jaw and neck. She gasped out a laugh, tilting her head back to allow his path to continue. His lips on her skin seemed to awaken her senses; she no longer felt the dullness that drink had lent her, and there was only his hands gripping her hips, his thigh between her legs beginning to maddeningly press against her.
Tav gasped again as his teeth dragged along the sensitive skin of her neck. One of his hands trailed up her back to tangle in her hair and he used the grip to pull her head farther to the side, giving him even more access. The smallest of moans left Tav’s lips.
Suddenly, the pleasure of his ministrations was replaced by a moment of piercing pain. Tav’s eyes flew open, panic flooding her as she felt her skin part against his teeth. He’d bitten her, hard enough to draw blood. That was certainly not something she was interested in, not in an alley with a stranger, and she pressed her hands against his chest. “What—?” she began, but all thought left her as she felt the man smile and drink.
Tav’s vision went white; pain, pleasure, panic all fought for control as she tried to push the man away to no avail. Eyes wide open, mouth parted, Tav drew in a deep breath to scream, and time seemed to slow.
Threads so thin she could only see them as brief flashes of light seemed to cover everything in her vision. Strings of light, drifting through the air, fading and returning so quickly it made her head spin. Tav didn’t know what she was seeing, what was happening, but she reached out one hand, grasped a thread, and pulled.
The thread seemed to burst beneath her fingers. The taste of overripe strawberries, the smell of a garden left too long in the summer sun burst across her senses. The wall behind her, the leg between her thighs, the mouth at her neck all disappeared, replaced with rushing air. Disorientation seemed to rob her of her sight for several moments before she realized it was not the air that was blowing so hard, so suddenly, but that she was falling. Below she could see the lights of the city spread out across the bay and the black shade of the waters rushed up to meet her.
Tav screamed, and her voice was joined by another. The man, the pale elf who still had her blood staining his lips, was falling in the air near her, his eyes wild and fixated on the dark expanse below them. In her panic, Tav couldn’t tell how far they were from the ground, how much longer they had before the inevitable.
The rushing air seemed to steal her breath and she squeezed her eyes shut. Even without sight, she could still see the threads crossing before her, and she desperately reached out to grasp another.