A/N: And, we are done! It's not how I imagined it to be at all, but it is how it is, and I hope this answers most of the questions still hanging around. There are no very big resolutions, I'm afraid... That is, in part, what the ToB part will be about, and I'll get round to it when I've put a bit more work into some of the more neglected stories I have on the go, and have completely re-read both Discovery and Reclaiming, making notes this time, and ensuring I don't get caught out by plot holes again! And so... please enjoy, if you can (and forgive any typoes/mistakes!) :D

General disclaimer: I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.

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Epilogue

Three days after Maiyn awoke, she found herself standing beside the body of Xan. He looked so pale -- he'd always been pale during their travels, but now it was emphasised even more, and his skin was brutally cold to the touch. She'd brushed away the hair from his face, reminiscent of the times that such a simple gesture had been shared between them with the utmost of fondness -- a bond that had never developed as it could have, but had never died as it should. Her right hand lightly rested on her abdomen; there was no sign of anything untoward there, but she knew better.

The sounds of murmured voices became apparent to her through her reverie. The priests were coming to prepare the body for the enchanter's final journey, though in her heart she knew it was futile. The moonblade lying beside his body was continuing to glow with an eerie blow light, coldly informing her of its continuation to feed on the souls of those who had wielded it so faithfully over the years. She hated it more than anything at that moment -- more than the inhabitants of the elven city, who watched her with mistrust in their eyes; even more than she hated Irenicus, the man who'd taken so many dear friends from her.

She didn't know what would happen to it, though she suspected the Queen would find another of her kind, deemed worthwhile to return the blade to Evereska; where the Elders would mourn for the loss of a defender rather than their kin, and the curse would pass on. But she couldn't let that happen; she'd made a promise, made a vow. She'd swore to Xan that she'd make sure his precious blade found its way home, and despite the hatred she felt for the weapon, the lingering love she had for her friend and companion was easily enough to overcome it. Whether or not she could tell them of the child she carried who shared Xan's blood, however...

Hesitantly, she folded her cloak in her hand, reaching out to wrap the sword in its confines. Then one last fond look at the father of her unborn child was all she had time for, before she quietly and swiftly made her way from the chamber, exiting as the clerics prepared to enter, secluding the sword within the swathes of her robe.

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They had decided not to attend the ceremony that Queen Ellesime had ordered for Xan after Maiyn had refused to even consider the invitation. So now, Jaheira was standing at the gateway of the city, absent-mindedly ruffling the fur of the lynx sitting by her side. The low purr emanating from Verya was the only sound the half-elf could hear. There were no birds, no songs or lively chatter. The city was in mourning for the lives that had been lost; Xan was just one of many.

Before long Jaheira was joined by Minsc, who smiled down to her with his usual warmth -- but even he had a tinge of sadness on his face, present since the fate of their mage companion became apparent to the survivors. He only nodded once, silently assuring her that their horses were ready to leave at any point; and then gently, the berserker reached out and placed his arm around the druid's shoulders, letting her lean on him slightly as they waited together.

Together they stood; an unlikely pair, bonded by a friendship that had lasted through the toughest of times, and each with an understanding of the pain the other felt. Together they'd entered Maiyn's company under the airy hand of Fate; together they'd killed; together they'd stopped a war, become heroes in their own rights.

Together, they'd each lost someone very dear to their hearts.

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Coran closed the door quietly as he left the small arboreal parlour, but the grin on his face was swift to fade as he returned to the reality of what lay ahead for him.

His parents and his sister were safe. They were, to put it simply, shocked beyond words when he'd sauntered in to see them, but they'd listened to his carefully edited tale regarding his whole role in the situation, and then proceeded to spend several hours filling him in with news about various relatives who he hadn't seen since he was a child. But it had made them happy, and the urgency of his leaving was acknowledged by three solemn nods as they wished him fortuitous luck on the rest of his journey.

He'd managed to avoid mentioning that one of his companions was the daughter of the dead human god of murder. He'd also managed to neglect mentioning her in any way that might hint at a relationship closer than travelling companions. It would have been no good raising the expectations of his ever-hopeful-for-grandchildren parents when he, himself, had absolutely no idea what kind of mess he'd managed to get himself into this time. And he absolutely dared not to mention Namara, as yet. One day he would, but now... not now.

And so he sauntered, grimly, back towards the gates, trying to ignore the gentle murmuring of the funeral dirges and requiems that could faintly be heard echoing from the grove where the body of Xan -- friend, comrade, kinsman, and father of his lover's unborn child -- was being prepared for the final rest.

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She'd never see anything like it again, she was sure of it. And it was truly beautiful; the branches from the trees were so alive, they reached for each other, caressing, entwining, forming canopies and platforms, the basis of the city that grew around them. It was whole world away from Athkatla.

But Athkatla was where her future would lie, and she'd accepted that. The Keep would be her main priority, of course -- ensuring the safety of her land, the happiness of her people. She'd work with those around her to ensure the contentment of those she was Mistress to, but still... she'd need to do more. Athkatla was home to the Amnish Council -- more and more she wondered if it was the correct way to seek her role in life. She wanted to make things better for everyone -- she wasn't doing that, here on the road. Not the way in the way she wanted to, at least.

It was something she would investigate -- they were to leave that day, and the journey would be long and difficult. The dark-haired enchanter had not returned from wherever Maiyn had taken them, and the shock of his departure was still fresh in the group's focus. There was no joy or happiness at the defeat of the enemy; only a numb sensation, and a very real feeling of loss.

Nalia turned to fetch her pack from beside the broken statue, uncannily aware of the pain associated with the loss of someone dear to you.

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Anomen was still watching her; from the moment she'd returned from Hell, he'd been there with her, by her side. The minutes had turned into hours, then days, and the young knight was never far from her, always watching, always worried. She knew she was failing to convince him that she was fine -- she was failing to convince herself.

It replayed in her head over and over again. The voice -- so strange and unknown, yet so very familiar. It had not returned since she'd awoken -- she was hopeful that it was something to do with the confines of Maiyn's own Hellish planes, and that it was just one of the tricks Irenicus had been playing to try and break their camaraderie.

But even if it had been -- she'd almost... almost... listened to it. She'd almost obeyed its authoritarian tone. She'd almost turned against her own sister in Maiyn's moments of weakness, and struck her down to make her own path through the prophecy that little bit easier.

Imoen shuddered, and immediately Anomen was there, wrapping his own cloak over her shoulders, giving her a tender, but concerned smile. She weakly returned the gesture, snuggling into the fur trim that as she'd done before, when she'd daydreamed about the dashing young priest, and her fairytale ending as he rescued her from the clutches of darkness for a long and blissful life. But what Knight of a Holy Order would rescue anyone with blood as tainted as hers? Blood so tainted, that she was beginning to overlook her sister -- the one person she loved more than anyone else -- because her heritage was eager to attain what their dead father had left open for one of his children to claim.

She was shivering now, and drawn into Anomen's arms as he murmured something softly into her ear, but she couldn't make out the words. Instead, her thoughts were full of visions of death and gore; of people dying, on a battlefield running red with blood and lapping gently at the base of the twisted statue they'd fought around in Hell. And atop the statue, laughing wildly, eyes glowing golden, she saw herself as she could be -- the successor to her father's portfolio, the new dark Lady of Murder.

And as she cried, desperately fighting against the new sensations sweeping across her body, Anomen held her close, troubled by her actions, and fearing what potentially could lie in the road ahead.

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They gathered by the gates of Suldanessellar silently, only the barest of nods acknowledging their readiness to depart the elven city. None, not even Coran, were eager to stay in its boundaries overly long. Maiyn, especially, seemed out of place and distrustful of all around her -- they all know it was only a matter of time before the divine link shared by the two wards of Gorion became knowledge to all, and none were willing face further questions from the elves.

Not even the relative safety they had in the city was enough to tempt them to stay longer; the elven army had retaken Suldanessellar easily after Irenicus fell, and the drow attacks had melted into nothing in the days and nights that followed. The companions had comfortable, airy rooms, but were silently restricted to staying within the palace, in a secluded wing and out of sight. Saviours they might have been -- welcome, they almost certainly weren't. It was only Solen's frequent visits and agreement to help them make their exit while the rest of the city mourned for their dead that had provided a way to escape the almost captive-like status they'd been given.

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"I must tell you about Joneleth..."

Ellesime had approached her when she was alone, the first evening after her awakening. Only Minsc had joined her back in the land of the conscious, and she was painfully worried about the others -- especially Jaheira and Xan, with his words of doom. She had been in no mood to hear the Queen talk of the love she'd lost, and the foolishness of her heart which had led to Irenicus being exiled from his city. And, of course, what happened after his exile...

"Are you even aware of the hurt and anguish he's caused? Do you even realise a fraction of the hurt he's made people feel?"

"I..."

"No, no words." She'd spoken harshly then; Ellesime had come to quietly excuse her actions, but Maiyn wouldn't -- couldn't, let it go.

"He tortured me. He used knives, brands, instruments I didn't even recognise. He elicited pain at every opportunity, he pushed me to the limits of what I could withstand, and he declared it as some test -- as preparation for something. And then... then he did the same to my sister.

"And do you know what was worse? He needed something to work on when he wasn't working on us. He needed test subjects, and they needed to be alive. The woman with the braided hair, lying in the room next door? She was a close friend of my foster father, Gorion, and she and her husband were Harpers. When Gorion died, they cared for me, guided me. They were with me when I had to do what I had to do. And because you loved Irenicus so much -- enough to set him loose on the free people of these lands -- her husband is now dead. He was taken from her, captured when they came to try and find me, killed without a second thought because this madman wanted to invoke the strongest possible emotions in us.

"And Minsc? The man who left here when you entered? His spirit broke when his first witch died, tied to a table as Irenicus made cut after cut into her, almost peeling the flesh from her as she screamed and cried. And he was left in his cage, powerless to defend her -- after serving her faithfully for so long, their quest was halted because of that mage, because they were kind enough to help me. He got to them because of me.

"But I'm tired of feeling responsible for it, now, because... it wasn't my fault, was it? He was -- he is -- nothing to me. He sought out Imoen and I to try and repair what you'd done to him, and so, because of your actions and your decisions, my friends died; I was tortured with my sister; my friend -- our kin -- was torn apart by his vampiric sister's minions, and now... now, I have to sit here, in this hateful place, listening to your pleading because of your guilty conscience while I wonder how many others have given their lives to fight him. Where were you and your people then?

"And, all along, you could have prevented this -- you could have done it differently. Rather than ruining the lives of so many... Do you even have any idea how many people were abducted from the streets of the human cities as he gained his 'specimens' for using against Imoen and I? Do you have any idea how many people are still wondering where their son or daughter, husband, brother, father disappeared to? If they are coming back? You have no idea at all... and you don't care, because he was exiled. He was sent from your people... your elves were safe, and that was all that mattered. What's the cost of a few human lives, after all? They live barely a few of our breaths... they are expendable, aren't they?"

The Queen had tried to talk, but Maiyn had shaken her head; raised her hand, asked for her to leave. And as she turned her back on Ellesime, to look out blankly and coldly at the beautiful city from the small, round window of her room, she'd had one last thing to say.

"No longer will I feel responsible for the deaths of so many good people. That burden will lie solely with you."

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Only one elf watched as they left through the vine covered gates of the city, following a little until the sight of the horses came into view. Jaheira caught Solen's eye, and offered him a smile before she looked away for the last time. He watched her go, the group riding away in a heavy silence that lingered around each one of them, and he didn't return to the safety of Suldanessellar for a long time.

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They did not stop until they reached the forest's border, then set up camp within the very edges of its shelter. Few words had been spoken during the ride, and as Maiyn and Minsc hunted for game with Verya's help, Coran aided Jaheira with the setting up of the tents they had, while Imoen and Nalia started a fire, and Anomen tended to the horses. Enough meat, berries, fruits and vegetables were caught and foraged by the rangers for a small feast, and for the first time since the battle with Irenicus, the spirits of the group began to rise slightly. They sat together, ate together, and reminisced fondly with tales of those who had fallen. Alora, Branwen, Yeslick, Dynaheir, Khalid, Kivan and Xan were remembered with tears at first, then fondness and murmured prayers. Nalia then spoke, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence, telling the others about the gentle young avariel, Aerie, with occasional help and interjections from Coran. A toast was made, collectively, and a silent understanding seemed to settle on the group. Whatever happened next -- wherever their paths were to take them, they would not split with the sorrow and weight of misery hanging over them. Some things were better left being unsaid while old wounds took their time to heal. Guard duties were agreed, and one by one, they retired to try and rest.

The next day they arrived at Trademeet, having agreed to spend one day and night there together, before pushing onto the De'Arnise lands. There, Nalia would return to her duties, while the others travelled on towards Athkatla. Anomen was required, by duty, to report to the Order. Imoen was happy to spend some time in the city as well, and Minsc was sure to go wherever she did. Jaheira wished to see them safely there, but had already said she intended to seek some private solace for a time, out with the boundaries of civilisation. That evening, Coran sent word to Cernd of their return to the city, and he came to speak with the half-elf. It was not long before she accepted his offer to spend time in the Trademeet Grove, and decided against travelling on with them. She promised to send word regularly, and to seek them out when she was ready.

Maiyn watched as the two druids spoke quietly, sitting together in the corner; each nursed a glass of mulled wine, and plates with crisp bread rolls and freshly picked salad were occasionally disturbed. Cernd looked kind and wise; he was softly spoken, charming in his own way, and had a strange manner which made everyone feel almost instantly at ease with him. Even Jaheira had relaxed visibly in his presence -- her face, still marred by lines of worry and fatigue, looked happier than it had for many months as the man described the slow regeneration of the once spoilt grove and the role Jaheira could play. The ranger felt a mixture of happiness and sadness; relief that her friend would have a continued purpose, something to help her work her way through her grief and fatigue... but also a very heavy heart at the thought of their company ending, no matter how temporary it may be. The reality that the half-elf would be content to settle in a grove, unwilling to embark on a life on the road once again was a possibility that Maiyn didn't want to think about too much.

Slightly aside from the druids, sitting at another dimly lit table, were Anomen and Imoen. They had become inseparable, and Maiyn had always suspected that her sister would wish to seek a life in Athkatla while the young knight was tied to the city. The ranger smiled softly to herself; she certainly couldn't fault her sister's choice. The priest was courteous, kind, gentle and caring, and she had no doubt that he'd make Imoen very happy indeed. What worried her was the secret heritage that Imoen would have hanging over her -- though it was not common knowledge, nor anywhere near it, there was always a chance that it would be discovered one day. And then... then what would the Order say?

Maiyn sighed and tried hard not to frown. Imoen was intelligent enough to have thought through the possibilities, and Anomen was clearly devoted to her. No matter the obstacles that might be in their way, the ranger had the confidence that they'd get through it, somehow. And she'd do whatever she could to help.

By the bar, Minsc sat beside Nalia. The young noble was giggling as Boo nibbled at some seeds in the palm of her hand, as the berserker watched proudly, informing her of his hamster's approval. The human girl had remained on the fringe of the group since their departure from the elven city, though she seemed to be more relaxed around the company of the companions. Her eyes avoided meeting Coran's, though she conversed politely enough with him and could often be seen giving him a faraway, wistful look. The noble seemed to have resigned herself to their parting, though he had not spoken about his intentions at all beyond travelling to the Keep. They had conversed, briefly, earlier, and Maiyn had watched, from afar, as Nalia removed the ring from her finger and pushed it gently into the elf's hands. With a smile, he'd shaken his head, instead placing it onto a finger on her other hand, then whispering something into her ear. They'd shared a small, companionable laugh, and parted to spend time with others.

Maiyn couldn't help but wonder if he'd stay behind when they reached the Keep; he had a duty there now, even if their marriage had been... dissolved? The ranger wasn't sure, entirely, what had happened -- but something inside her was soothing and calming to her emotions, and informing her that whatever had happened; it was final. But... he still could easily have the affections of his wife if he wished to make a go of it all. Yet, now, he was sitting beside the ranger instead, quite silently, yet comfortably, staring at the foam on the top of the ale he'd ordered. She delicately sipped the berry juice that Jaheira had insisted she drink, and wondered how to break the ice with him.

Nothing came to mind, though, and they sat there for several more minutes until he let out a loud sigh. She threw him a quizzical look, and he offered a half-smile in return.

"Had you told me, back in Baldur's Gate, that we'd be in this situation within a year of meeting, I'd never have believed you," he said easily, leaning back into his chair and glancing around the bar. It was a cursory examination though; his eyes settled quickly back onto her, and she felt the familiar flush rising to her cheeks that she'd experienced all too often during the first stages of their courtship.

"I don't think anyone could have predicted this," she replied quietly. "Even that old fortune teller in the Duchal Palace neglected to mention... well. Quite a lot."

Coran nodded thoughtfully. "She had a few good points, though," he mused, after a few moments. "Can you remember what she said?"

"A little," Maiyn admitted doubtfully. "Not very much, though. Why?"

The fighter moved forward to rest his elbows on the table again, chewing his lip as he frowned. "She said Jaheira would lose her source of strength."

"Khalid..." They sat in respectful silence for a few moments, before Coran stirred again.

"I remember that she told Kivan that he had to get over his revenge before he'd know what to do with himself." Coran snorted slightly in amusement.

Maiyn allowed a small grin to curl at her lips. "And he did," she said softly. "He left Shevarash behind, and became one of Sehanine Moonbow's flock. He seemed... happier, with it."

Coran's eyebrow rose. "Did he really? Well, I never... you seem to have the most remarkable effect on people who were so set in their ways. And quite happily set in their ways, too, until you came onto the scene..."

Maiyn shuffled her feet underneath her stool and looked away, fighting the shy smile that tried to break out. It was quick to fade, however, as her own memories of the seer returned. "She told Xan... that he'd love murder above everything else. And that it would be his undoing." She turned to look at her elven companion. "By reaching out for him, however unconsciously it was done... by taking him to a place his blade wouldn't allow him to go to... Did I murder him?"

There was a lingering silence, and Coran's gaze returned to the drink that rested on the scratched surface of their table. The continued murmur of both the locals, and their companions, continued around them, the only reminder that they were in the presence of other people. The only other noise that could faintly be heard was the crackling of the fire as it burnt fiercely in the inn's hearth.

"I don't think so," Coran eventually answered. "He made his choice, and he would have known the risk when he did so. He did it... Well; you know why he did it."

Maiyn nodded silently, and one of her hands instinctively moved towards her abdomen. It was only when she noticed Coran's eyes watching that she managed to stop it, moving it, instead, to settle on the table. He let out a small sigh.

"It is... a strange sensation, you know," he quietly spoke. "Jealousy isn't something that comes naturally to me, and now, especially... it seems a ridiculous sensation. But, it is there. It has faded, over the past few days, but... it is there."

Maiyn said nothing.

"He was a friend," Coran continued, staring into the distance, a slight crease on his brow. "Right until the end, I would have called him my friend. I do not know what he thought of me... a companion, a comrade. He was more guarded with his feelings and emotions; par for the course of an enchanter I daresay. But not with you. From the first day I spent in your company, I knew he longed for you, yet I recklessly ignored his feelings. After all, it was only meant to be a fling -- you'd still be there had his feelings remained after I'd left."

"But it didn't work out like that," Maiyn noted.

"No," Coran agreed. "No... I am not angry, or resentful, or unhappy. I, of all people, can... should be able to understand. It has been hard... having the shoe on the other foot, as it were. Now I think I know how Briel felt, how the others felt. I feel... bad."

"I thought you were..." Maiyn's throat went dry, and she quickly sipped some of her drink. "Well. Dead."

"But I am not," he said, letting his eyes settle back onto her. "And had Xan survived that battle, and left the city with us, I would have bid you a find farewell, and given you every blessing I could have for a long and happy life as a family. I... I'm sorry, Maiyn. I want to be able to offer you comfort, to be able to say the right thing, but I'm dreadfully unused to such occurrences. Instead... all I can offer you is my... support. Yes. My support, my friendship and my company. I would not want you to be alone."

It felt as if he'd both slapped her and embraced her. "Thank you," she said, awkwardly. He gave no sign of noticing her confusion.

"I had planned to travel on from Athkatla, towards the Gate. I would like to see Namara again, and I hoped... that perhaps... well, that you would wish to accompany me? We could make the journey on from there, to return Xan's blade to Evereska, if you want to. I mean, if you would want me to-"

"Yes," she interrupted hastily, reaching over with her hand to cover his own before he could say anything more. She smiled at him; hopeful, relieved, thankful. "That would be nice."