Under a Violet Moon

Disclaimer: "Neverwinter Nights" and all the characters and places within belong to Obsidian and Bioware, not me, and I just borrowed them for a little joyride through Faerun. Keridwen is mine.

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Prologue

She stood on the battlements and looked onto the fields that lay in the shadow of the Keep, and her mind wandered while the wind tugged at the collar of her tunic and played softly with her chestnut-coloured hair.

She had come to this place shortly after their return to the stronghold. The fight had been vicious, but the bridges had been destroyed in the end, and now the Keep prepared for the Shadow army's arrival. Keridwen had been silent all the way back to Crossroad Keep while Khelgar and his clan brothers had bragged loudly about Ironfist strength in battle, amusing her Greycloaks and lifting the spirit of their little strike force noticeably.

Bishop had remained silent as well. He had not said a word to her or the men he was leading, but she had felt his eyes on her back all the way like flames flickering across her skin, and she had tried to ignore him as best as she could, not knowing what to say to him. Daeghun had walked silently beside her, his sudden appearance during their fight with the Shadow priests a balm to her weary self, and had offered her some sort of comfort in his own unique way. It had eased her troubled feelings to know that he was standing by her side after all, enough to allow herself a brief moment of peace while she had watched the sun setting the sky on fire as it sunk beneath the horizon, awed by the simple beauty of nature.

Her moment of peace had ended, however, as soon as they had reached the gates. Kana had been there with Nevalle and the rest of her companions, all cheering the heroes who had returned safely from another glorious battle, and suddenly, as she had watched their hopeful and expectant expressions, it had been too much for her. Responsibility had been draped around her like a cloak once more, and she could feel it dragging her down slowly into the mud. The Sword of Gith had hung at her side, its eery aura of otherworldliness resonating strongly with the shard in her chest, and she had felt an almost desperate desire to return to her Captain's suite to leave the sword in her weapon rack, just to be free of its powerful song for a while.

She had made her excuses, ignoring the puzzled looks of the faces of her companions who had obviously expected some kind of celebration, and had taken off to her quarters after giving some last orders to Kana, closing the heavy oak doors of her suite firmly behind her with a small sigh of relief.

She had laid the Sword of Gith on her bed, maintaining her gear quickly before she had finally walked across the room and reached for the katana that hung in its own weapon rack on the wall. Her fingers had stroked longingly across the smooth black scabbard, and with one fluid motion, she had drawn the blade.

The moonlight had flickered across its keen edge like a blue flame, and Keridwen had felt her heart ache as the familiar feeling of Shiranui's gentle magic flooded her being. It was so different from the silver sword's hungry call for battle that she could feel tears stinging in her eyes. She had been one with the blade the moment she had touched it so many years ago during another Harvest Fair, and that she now had to wield an alien weapon for the final battle was a torment to the weaponmaster's soul that none of her companions would ever truly understand. The Sword of Gith was a part of her body, true, but Shiranui was a part of her soul, and nothing would ever change that.

For a long moment, she had simply relished the intimate feeling between her and the blade and had let herself become one with it once more. Then, with another sigh, she had sheathed it with great skill and held the scabbard on eye level, bowing slightly before putting it back onto its rack.

Keridwen knew that it would be prudent to find some rest. They had only been able to slow down the approach of the Shadow army after all, and it was most likely that they would see it standing at their frontgates soon enough, and if that happened, the fight would be terrible. But her mind had still been too occupied with the day's recent events, and so she had decided to make her way to the deserted battlements instead, to wander under the dark nightsky and get lost in her thoughts.

She did not know how long she had stood there, staring out into the night, as she heard the sound of soft footsteps approaching. She did not need to turn around to know who had come to the battlements, as she had recognised his stride, but she did turn nonetheless. He stood close by, leaning casually against the stone wall, watching her. To any observer, the man would certainly seem calm and relaxed enough, but Keridwen knew better.

Bishop never relaxed, at least not really. She had always thought that the man resembled his wolf companion far more than any human, and just like his canine friend, Bishop was always ready to fight, always ready to turn the hunter into the hunted. Keridwen wondered why this had never bothered her before.

She did not know what to make of him. First, there had only been animosity between them. Bishop had been forced to help her by her foster-uncle, and this simple fact had clouded their relationship right from the start. Bishop had not even tried to mask his anger about her "family blackmail", as he had called it, and had focused all his bad tempers and harsh replies on her instead.

Keridwen had been strangely fascinated by his attitude. As a weaponmaster, learning to control her emotions had been an important part of her education, as her masters had always insisted that only a calm and focused mind could truly wield a weapon, that only if she learned to control herself, she would finally be able to become one with the blade and its intricate dance. She had never met a man like Bishop before who seemed to show his emotions so easily, who never tried to hide his thoughts or feelings and who did not care if he offended others with his caustic (and surprisingly adequate) replies.

When he had told Keridwen that he wanted to keep travelling with her, even after his debt was payed, she had been surprised. She had thought that he would grab his weapons as soon as they reached the Flagon and would walk away for good. But instead, he had stayed, and at first, Keridwen had never doubted that this had been a good and profitable decision for both sides. But then, things had changed.

The change had been almost too subtle. In the beginning, his replies had lost none of their harsh quality, but between his occasional insults, they had started to talk with each other. Slowly, Keridwen had come to know bits and pieces of the man's past and had shared some stories of her own. After a while, she had to admit that she admired his sharp eyes and quick wit, and that she had come to trust his opinion. And even though his tongue never truly lost its sharp edge, he seemed less hostile and more approachable when she was around, and Keridwen had been content with this strange kind of comradery that had developed between them. But then, he had started to touch her.

Although, not really. He had never touched her. The brush of a shoulder against another in the narrow hallways of a dungeon. The brief touch of a hand on her back whenever he passed her by. She would never have thought twice about it if she had not noticed the look in his eyes.

I do not like the way he looks at you.

Ironically, it had been Casavir who had finally opened her eyes. At first, Keridwen had thought that her paladin companion had exaggerated. But in the long nights and days that had followed their somewhat awkward discussion in the Flagon, she had watched Bishop more closely, and it was then that she had realised how often he seemed to touch her accidentally. And the longer they travelled together, the more often these touches were accompanied by a look in his eyes that she could not quite read.

Longing, hatred, confusion, anger, tenderness – all these emotions and more seemed to be woven into his hazel eyes whenever he looked at her these days, and his inner turmoil made them burn with an intensity that startled her, maybe even frightened her a little. For someone who had always found comfort in her ability to control her emotions, Keridwen found Bishops raw display of feeling fascinating and disturbing at the same time. She secretly feared that one day, he would do something rash and would force her to do something to him she knew she would regret in the aftermath, but he never crossed that particular line.

On the one hand, she was glad that he didn't. She was at war, after all. First hunted by the githyanki and then fighting against the return of the King of Shadows to the Material Plane, she had been drawn into events that were far more important than her own feelings, whatever they may be, and so she had focused on the tasks at hand, fulfilling her duties as the new Captain of Crossroad Keep.

On the other hand, she really did not know what she would have done if he had ever tried to touch her in a more than friendly way. There was another line with Bishop that she simply could not cross. She knew it was there, because she had learned to walk along its edges in the past few months, but whenever she had crossed it accidentally in the beginning, he had shut her out. It was almost as if he was afraid to let her come too close, as if he wanted her to keep away from him.

Whenever she had crossed that line he had drawn around himself, he had seemed to curl into a hedgehog position, prickly on all sides, and had lashed out with that sharp tongue of his until she had left him alone, and it had taken days before he allowed her to speak with him again. So she had finally learned how far she could gently push him before he pushed her back, and now, she moved carefully along the edge of his inner self, but unable to get anywhere near it. So what was she supposed to think of a man who looked at her this way and yet did not allow her to come any closer?

She studied him as he leaned against the wall, an unreadable expression on his face, his dark eyes watchful. He raised an eyebrow in response to her questioning stare, and she cast him a small smile before she turned her gaze away from him and onto the fields once more.

"There is death in the air tonight.", Keridwen said without thinking. She heard the faint creaking of his leather armour as he approached her slowly, his voice set in its usual mocking tone.

"There has always been death in the air since you have recovered that silver sword of yours, Captain."

Keridwen sighed. He was right, of course. As soon as Garius truly realised what they had remade in the smoldering ruins of West Harbor, his attack would be swift and merciless and solely directed at her, with only the Keep standing in his way.

Bishop leaned again with his back against the wall, but he was close enough for her to smell a faint waft of wine upon him. If she moved only a little to her left, her shoulder would brush softly against his arm. But she simply continued to stare out into the night, unmoving, and it was then that the moon suddenly caught her eye. Selune was still rising in the east, but instead of the bright bluewhite light that had played along Shiranui's edge only hours ago, it seemed as if dark clouds had approached from the Mere in the south and east, distorting its light and making the moon shine with an almost otherworldly purple glow.

"The moon looks strange tonight."

She could see him turning his head from the corner of her eye, following her gaze with his own eyes. He shrugged. "Well, now. It does indeed." She almost felt his stare burning across her skin like a brand as it wandered back to her, studying her face, and his voice tensed ever so slightly as he spoke. "But you still haven't answered my question, Captain."

Now it was Keridwens turn to tense ever so slightly, and a soft sigh escaped her lips.

His question.

They had been on their way to the bridges, Keridwen leading the way, as a hand had suddenly closed firmly around her arm, and she had looked over her shoulder to see Bishop bending towards her to growl quietly into her ear.

"We need to talk."

Convinced that his sharp eyes had scouted more trouble on the road ahead of them, she had nodded and had turned around to look at him expectantly, only to be mildly taken aback by the grim expression on his face.

"You!", he had growled at Khelgar and his men the second as they started to gather around them, "Shove off!"

Khelgar had huffed indignantly, obviously ready to start another brawl of words right here and there, but Keridwen had simply nodded in agreement, and so the dwarf had shut his mouth tight and moved on, grumbling under his breath as he did so, and one by one, the men had fallen in behind him.

Bishop had followed them with his eyes until they had reached a turn of the road and halted, waiting for them. He had been tense, and Keridwen had been strongly reminded of a feline predator that crouched on the ground, readying itself for the leap that would finally bring down its prey.

"What do you wish to discuss, Bishop?", she had asked gently. That was one of the things she had learned very quickly about the man. Showing some temper would only provoke his sharp tongue, as Khelgar and her other companions had found out soon enough. But whenever she had addressed him in her calm and quiet voice, he had talked.

His dark eyes had bored into hers, and there had been an emotion hidden in them that was quite different from his usual inner turmoil, one she could not read.

"Look, Captain, I know that the paladin and this… knight (he had snarled the word that he usually used whenever he spoke about Nevalle with so much contempt in his voice that Keridwen had almost winced. That she had not only been made Captain of the Keep, but also had been knighted as a reward after her victorious battle for Castle Never had been a sharp bone in his throat for a while, and there had been days when Kerdiwen had thought that their relationship would never recover from that blow) do still believe that there's hope, but I can see the truth they're trying to hide behind their pathetic codes of honour. War's about to hit this place hard, Captain – and you aren't going to win! "

She had sighed as she had felt the weight of her responsibility pressing down on her once more.

"You cannot be sure of that.", she had replied calmly, but her heart had ached silently.

He had made an angry move towards her and had reached for her shoulders, his grip hard enough to bruise. His voice had been nothing more than an angry hiss as he spoke.

"You know, with that stubborn little mind of yours, you were destined to run up against something bigger and more dangerous than you one day, and believe me, Captain, that day's coming! I say we head out now while we still can and let Neverwinter fall."

His hands had reached out to cup her face, and his fingers had stroked almost gently across her skin.

"Just you and me, Keri, that's what I'm saying. I can guide the two of us out of here, nobody has to know!"

She had shivered. Not from the fact that he had stood so close, caressing her face, and talked to her about treason in a voice that seemed to stroke like velvet across her skin. It was the fact that he had called her by her name that suddenly made goosebumbs rise all over her body, and her eyes had widened noticeably in surprise.

All these weeks they had travelled together, he had never called her by her name. Paladin, Goatgirl, Captain… he had called noone by their names, for that matter. Keridwen had always thought that this was his way to show people how less he actually cared about them. A paladin was always exchangeable, after all. But calling the man Casavir would have meant to acknowledge him as a person, and Bishop never acknowledged anything.

And now he had called her Keri. But did that mean something to him?

"Captain, the scout has arrived with news from the bridges!", one of her Greycloaks had called suddenly from their post down the road, and had startled the two of them out of their dispute. Bishop had made a step backwards and had removed his hands from her face, but his dark eyes had never left hers while he had waited for her reply.

Keridwen knew that she should have felt something. Joy, fear, sorrow, resentment – it wouldn't have mattered, for it would have been only human. She sensed that this was probably as far as he would ever go to show his feelings for someone, no matter what. But all that she felt was simple resignation instead. She had accepted her role in this particular play long ago, and now, there was no turning back.

"There are people counting on me, Bishop.", she had answered as gentle as she could. "I would never let them down."

"That's good to hear, woman.", he had growled with a slight snarl. "But that doesn't answer my question."

"Maybe. But that's the only answer I can give you."

His expression had darkened, just as she had expected. But she knew that there was nothing she could actually do about it, and so she had simply turned and had started to walk down the road where she could see Daeghun now waiting with her men, as she had heard a cold voice from behind her.

"Well, actually, I thought as much. These people are like stones, you know, and this war's an ocean – you might have made it out alive, Captain, but they're already dragging you down."

Keridwen had turned sharply, startled by the sneering tone of his voice, and had seen him standing there, his face now void of any perceptible emotion as all his masks fell back into place. She had felt a small sting of regret in her heart as she saw the look in his eyes, but had kept on walking anyway.

The wind freshened up noticeably and brought with it a distinct smell of rot and decay. Bishop remained silent, obviously waiting for an answer. She turned reluctantly to meet his eyes and was startled by the unusual seriousness she saw in them. She kept her silence, still searching for the words that would make him understand, as she felt compelled by his surprisingly calm demeanour to at least try and explain her decision as best as she could.

"Look, Bishop, I know that you probably won't understand this, but my place is here now. I wield the Rituals of Purification, and carry a part of the Sword of Gith in my chest. I have to fight this war."

He simply looked at her, his eyes never leaving her face, and she began to feel a little awkward under his dark and scrutinizing stare. Although he stood close enough for her to touch him, it suddenly felt as if he was miles away, and Keridwen felt the sudden and surprisingly strong desire to close this gap between them.

"When this war is over," she replied softly, "and the King of Shadows has been defeated, you can ask me again, and then I will give you my answer."

His expression changed almost too subtle for Keridwen to notice. He simply leaned against the wall, watching her, but she saw his muscles tense ever so slightly and was strongly reminded of a feline predator once more, seizing up its prey. The silence between them seemed to stretch for an eternity, and only as it started to turn into something eery and uncomfortable, Keridwen finally tore her eyes away from his face, feeling a little uneasy, and turned to leave.

"I am sorry, Captain.", she suddenly heard his deep voice from behind. "But I fear I cannot wait that long."

He was upon her in a heartbeat, startling her. One arm went around her torso, pinning her forcefully against his chest, while his other hand reached for her mouth, muffling her scream of surprise. The rough fabric of a cloth was pressed upon her mouth and nose, and Keridwen smelled a biting and sharp aroma before her knees buckled and her legs gave out.

Her view became all blurry, and an icy feeling seemed to emanate from her stomach and paralysed her arms and legs effectively. Her breath became heavy, and although she tried to fight it, she could feel herself gliding rapidly into unconsciousness.

As darkness finally closed in around her, she heard his deep voice whispering softly through the mist that fogged her mind, low and threatening.

"Pleasant dreams, Captain."

*****