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Everyone was keeping secrets.
Shadowheart was a disciple of Shar.
Wyll was pacted to Mizora — Mizora, not some infamous archdevil but a smug, over‑accessorized cambion with a flair for dramatic entrances. He was also a Grand Duke’s son, which explained the hero complex but not the tragic lack of anything resembling taste.
The ticking time bomb in Gale’s chest was the bloody Karsite Weave — oh, and Elminster delivered the news. Elminster. Drifting into camp like it was just another first-day and he wasn’t a thirteen-hundred year-old legend.
Lae’zel was committing high treason against her bitch Queen Vlaakith, which — honestly, good for her.
And Karlach… well. Karlach was Karlach. She couldn’t have held onto a secret if it had two handles and an Arcane Lock.
But everyone else in their little band of adventurers, misfits and heroes? Full of surprises, it seemed — and few of them good.
Although… some of those connections could be useful, assuming any of them managed to survive long enough to leverage them...
“Doesn’t it bother you?” Astarion asked the bard half-draped across his chest. Lyric had secrets, too — but she wasn’t keeping them from him anymore, so he wasn’t fussed. What was a spot of recreational murder between friends?
“…Mm?”
Apparently, she was half-asleep as well as half-draped. His fault, he supposed. He had been very thorough.
He nudged her awake.
“The secrets,” he lamented. “Suddenly, everyone has them.” She made a sleepy, non-committal noise. It was adorable. It was annoying. “Pay attention, darling. I’ve been monologuing for the past ten minutes.”
“You have not.” She picked her chin up off of his chest and opened her eyes. “And no, it doesn’t bother me. It would be a bit hypocritical if it did, don’t you think?”
He huffed. “How dare you bring logic into this. Do I really have to teach you how to brood?”
She stifled a yawn. “Teach me in the morning.”
“You are not staying here!”
She blinked. “Why not?”
“Because… we aren’t… that’s not what we do! We don’t—” He made a face. “Cuddle.”
“Setting aside the fact that we are, in fact, cuddling— Don’t wrinkle your nose at me, Astarion. We obviously are.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have a tent, and you do. Plus, you just took how much blood? From my femoral. If you want to kick me out, you’re going to have to carry me outside and leave me there. And,“ she smiled sweetly, a saccharine coup de grâce, ”good luck explaining that to Karlach.”
For a moment, he actually considered it. Then, “…Karlach has the watch tonight?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Fine. You can stay. But absolutely no cuddling — I mean it, Lyric.”
“Of course not.” She patted his shoulder, ignoring his scowl, then smiled beatifically and sank back down onto his chest. Her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing slowed, becoming soft and steady as she slipped towards trance.
He sighed. Not because she stayed, but — and this was the secret he kept, the most devastating of them all — because some part of him was relieved that she had. Some small part. And only because she was warm and the air had finally started to cool. She was better than a blanket. Marginally.
“…I’ll go if that’s what you really want,” she said softly. He glanced down; her eyes were still closed, but there was a slight quaver to her lips.
“Don’t be an idiot.”
She nodded, and for a few quiet minutes the gentle rise and fall of her breaths against his chest gave him the illusion of a heartbeat.