Impish Antics & Crafts

He didn’t deserve to be where he was now. At the feet of this strong, tremendous woman, his knees tucked neatly between her dirtied and tattered boots, the same boots that carried her from the Ravaged Beach to Emerald Grove, the Goblin Camp, Moonrise Towers, and her final destination Baldur’s Gate. He was not worthy to be at the feet of such a beloved hero. Not after what he did when handling the refugees.

Yet, no matter how many times he voiced this to the hero of Baldur’s Gate he was silenced. Those sweet lips pressed to his, the kiss silencing him quicker than any silence spell, her warm and soft lips enrapturing him like no other. She’d always say something about him being too harsh on himself and reassure him that it was alright. For a moment in time, those words would soothe his old soul until the evening came. The two laid out on their bed, she tucked into his side with a leg thrown across his thighs, arms circled around him like he was her childhood stuffie. Her breath softly caressing his skin with each rise and fall of her chest. The would be moon high in the sky, yet he’d lay there, his long fingers curled loosely in her hair, his thoughts elsewhere.

Where he shouldn’t be.

He’d scold himself for not making an effort to solve his dilemma, spending the rest of the night until his body forced him asleep to resolve himself. Then the cycle would restart.

He meant it, truly, but was also just a man—tiefling. When it came to the woman he loved he was nothing but powerless, fully at her mercy to do with him as she wished.

One evening this cycle repeated again.

Y/N returned from the market to gather the supplies they would need before setting out to the reunion of her former party. The invitation was for her and her alone, but yet she had insisted that he’d join. He wasn’t so sure if his presence at the reunion would be ideal, but she assured him the others would be joyed to have him. Although doubting her words, he relented.

The sun rose and fell, the familiar fiery palette painted the sky of Baldur’s Gate. The birds sung beautifully in the distance, a gentle wind coursed through the sky creating a faint chill on the balcony. The older tiefling’s gaze remained fixated in the distance, an all too familiar pensive expression decorating his features. He was lost in his thoughts, so much so that he didn’t hear the door to the balcony open and shut behind him.

“I know that face.”

He stiffened, her voice pulling her out from his mind. His amber eyes flickered in her direction, his dazed expression clearing into one of clarity, his body relaxing soon after. A quiet sigh left his lips.

“If one didn’t know any better, they’d believe I now hold you hostage with how often such a sound leaves your lips and wear such a face.”

His eyes widened quickly before narrowing.

She was sat on top of one of the two chairs that sat on either side of the small balcony table she had gotten not too long ago. With long, swift steps he was toe to toe with her in a blink of an eye. The tiefling hesitated for a moment, an unreadable look flickering in his eyes before disappearing, and he knelt down. One hand on her knee, he got onto the ground between her feet, taking her hands into his own shortly after.

“Surely you must know how I feel.” Zevlor said, a hint of emotion leaking into his voice.

Desperation? Self-loathing? Regret? Maybe all three?

“I do.” Y/N reassured him, squeezing his hands. The corners of her lips turned downward as she continued. “However, I do wish being with me didn’t bring you such turmoil.”

“Being with you doesn’t.” He quickly argued. “It is not you…”

Her frown deepened.

“But something ails you.”

He sighed, visibly cringing.

This wasn’t meant to happen this evening… Yet here they were.

“It is I that brings myself such ailment.” He confessed, brows furrowed.

No longer able to meet her gaze, his gaze shift to their joint hands. His hands engulfed hers, his hands considerably larger than her own. Soothingly he ran his thumbs along the backs of her hands, drawing mindless patterns into her soft skin.

“I’ve said it before, but I truly do not deserve you. You are decisive. Formidable. Selfless. You deserve someone who can compare.”

There was a beat of silence.

“And you do not compare?”

Silence. One beat, two beats, and then on the third there was an answer no louder than a whisper.

“No.”

Y/N shook her head.

“I think otherwise.”

Removing her hands from his grasp, she cupped his cheeks, and gently forced him to meet her gaze. Her strong and steady met his stormy ones, the shame and guilt he had been feeling for so long now practically oozing from him and onto her.

“You are all those things you just used to describe me and more, my love.” Y/N murmured, pressing her forehead to his.

He shook his head.

“I have not done anything to be worthy of such description. If anything, quite the opposite. Innocents are dead, no thanks to my selfishness.”

It was her turn to shake her head, pulling away slightly.

“When I found you—in the colony, do you remember? Upon being saved you asked me about the refugees. From my experience, it is not common to worry about others while you, yourself, are in distress. A selfish man wouldn’t have acted the way you did.”

Zevlor said nothing. Not yet.

Sitting with her words, he leaned into her touch, nuzzling her palm with his long and sharp nose. His eyes fluttered shut, his fingers coming to sit around her own as he pressed a chaste kiss to her wrist.

“You made a mistake, sure, but you did and continue to do everything you can to make up for it.” Y/N continued. “You are worthy. I love you. I love you and no one else because they are not my hellrider.”

His eyes remained closed, but they didn’t need to open nor his lips for her to know she had gotten to him. His tail that once hung low with hardly any movement now was perked behind him, flitting side to side in contained excitement. The skin underneath her palms radiated a new warmth—one she was all too familiar with though.

“Won’t you understand?”

He pressed another kiss to her wrist. His eyes fluttered open and he pulled their hands from his cheeks and instead guided them to his lips. One by one, he kissed each of her fingertips and her palm before finally kissing her knuckles. Amber irises met hers once more, although they weren’t completely convinced, they were the clearest she had seen them in a long time.