chapter three.
captive audience

When Fallon roused, it was on the bitter iron of a cage.

She let out a harsh groan, clutching her temple as pain's dull ache thudded against her skull. Her vision remained blotted as she pulled herself upwards, collapsing her back against a cold frame. The ink of night was broken only by the distant glow of a campfire. Raucous cries filled the air, song and laughter carried through a chill. Nausea swept her as reality came crashing with a sickening thud. They had been made the fools once more. A groan rang from her lips.

"Finally, you're awake." Marth's tender hand met her shoulder. Fallon blinked back the swirling of her vision, waiting impatiently for it to stabilise. "The other two are still out cold. Dalaia put up a fight, as per usual. Orikas too, but he caught a nasty blow to the skull."

"I'm almost jealous. They get to sleep off the pain." Fallon's head gave a sickening throb. She shuddered beneath it, the pain wrapping around her skull. "I suppose you cooperated."

"I can't take as much of a beating as you three, yes." He replied sheepishly, inching towards her. "If it makes you feel better, I've had to listen to their terrible singing for hours. Not to mention all the talk of what's to be done with us."

Fallon nodded. The goblins she had known in her time all had cruel tongues, their words crass at best and skin crawling at worst. She could only imagine just what Marth had heard and knew best not to pry. Instead she focused on orienting herself to her surroundings, pushing aside the pain as she attempted to gather her wits.

From what she could see, they had been taken to the broken ruins of some ancient site, surrounded by walls of thick grey stone slabs, the tops of which were jagged as though a goliath had stopped at some point and taken a hearty chomp from the ceiling. The night sky was clearly visible, dulled by a roaring bonfire surrounded by their captors in various states of inebriation, some sitting on fallen tree logs, others sprawled half asleep on the ground. Not several feet from them, Fallon spied their belongings sprawled atop one another in a precarious pile.

She realised with a lurch of her stomach that their things had not gone untouched. 

An ogre, the size of two or three men stacked upon one another and the girth of several more stood holding her lyre awkwardly between his meaty hands, as clumsy fingers attempted tenderness on the instrument. It plucked a discordant tune in earnestness, hiding a look of dejection as a hearty round of cackles ensued. Fallon shed no tears for its plight. Her hands furled into fists. 

Her attention snapped away at the sound of a whisper to their right, finding that they were not alone. In a cage similar to theirs was a group of gnomes, all standing so as to allow for room amongst them. Most were dressed in rags, their round faces forlorn, and between the men and women Fallon could clearly see not all were of age. A child, no two, were hidden in the crowd and cowering to the sides of the man who was attempting to speak to her, clutching iron bars between his hands.

Fallon leaned over Marth to better lend an ear. He made space for her, arching himself further against the back of the cage at a respectful length. 

"What do you know of them?" She asked quickly, keeping her voice level so as not to attract unwanted attention.

"They caught us on the road. Our camp was pillaged." The man said with a soft tremor in his voice, his eyes furtively glancing to the side. Fear was potent in the emerald glint of eyes spread wide. "Said they're rounding up the countryside. Bringing us West, they are. For the True Souls."

"True Souls?" Fallon's brow bent at the unfamiliar phrase.

"Thought word travelled fast around these parts. You're not from here, are you?" The gnome's eyes noted her garb. "You're from the city."

"I might be. That's not important. What do you mean True Souls?"

"Hey! Quit whispering amongst each other!"

Their conversation had been spotted, a bone flying through the air to whizz between the gap of the two cages. The man recoiled but Fallon remained as she was, turning her head to spy their aggressor, who she recognised as the goblin from outside their camp. He was not the only familiar figure though. Did he eyes deceive her? No, indeed it was Astarion, a dark bottle of wine in hand and his attention now her way. A smug grin lit his lips as their eyes met. She knew in her gut that this was his doing.

Fallon pulled back to a seated position, exchanging a dark yet knowing look with Marth. Orikas was still slumped in place near her feet, but Dalaia had begun to wake, a groan besetting her lips. She slowly rose from the floor of the cage, her movements ginger as she clutched her sides.

"Blasted fucking vermin!" She cried at the top of her lungs. "They fought like dirty cowards. What's a woman to do against a group of more than ten?!"

She kicked the cage, the force enough to rattle Fallon's bones and stir Orikas. Fallon leaned down to shake her brother by the shoulder. As his face upturned, she could see that Marth was right about the nasty blow, the socket of his eye smarting yellow with a bruise and his lip split where dried blood bloomed at a grisly wound. 

He cursed beneath his breath. As he set eyes on Astarion, something glistened in the golden hue of his eyes. Orikas clutched his brow, not in an attempt to wield his magic but almost in reaction to something Fallon's peeled eyes could not see. Suspicion sharpened her mouth.

"The elf!" Dalaia exclaimed through gritted teeth. "He's here."

"Why of course I'm here!"

The group jumped at the sight of the man now sauntering towards the cage. His arms were flown wide, white shirt billowing from his slender frame. He had discarded his doublet for the time being, for the night was balmy and thick, no doubt made all the more pressing by proximity to the bonfire. His hands ghosted the pale skin of his forehead, as if to swipe sweat from brow, though she saw no glisten against the pallor of his flesh. Lowering his hand, he exchanged a glance with Orikas.

At his approach, Dalaia hissed loudly, her knuckles clenching.

"What the fuck're you doing? Shouldn't they have you locked up along with us?"

Astarion stopped a few feet from the cage, lowering down on his haunches as he peered inside. Fallon crouched to her feet, back hunkered by the cage as she made her way delicately over Dalaia and Orikas' legs to the front. Marth tensed as he watched her, warning held on the tip of his tongue. She gave him a knowing stare before facing the elf with hardened resolve, her hands clutched against the bars to steady herself.

"Well as you can see, unlike you, I know how to make a few friends. Their hospitality is to be desired, but as you can see, they did me favour of exacting a whim of petty revenge. Of course, I yearn for more ... Stimulating company. You all find yourselves in quite the predicament, don't you?"

"You could call it that." Marth mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. "So this is it? You've gotten a taste of revenge and consigned away our lives? Ready to watch them tear us limb from limb?"

"Oh I would never waste such pretty faces. I mean the humans, of course. No offense to the other two, I'm just not particularly fond of what you're pedalling." He gestured to Dalaia and Orikas with an elegant flourish.

"Your loss." Dalaia snorted.

"I don't doubt it, darling. Let's not mince our words though. You see, I've done a little introspection since our little encounter. At first I thought to the hells with all of you! Let the goblins pick at your bones after they make you dance a little jig. It would be quite the entertainment, and I need a chuckle after golden eyes there pinned me down, but you're just in luck that I thought upon it deeper."

Fallon did not like the sound of this one bit. Whatever his bargain, she knew it would come with a dozen clauses. She had no time to hear him wax and wane at their expense. 

"Speak plainly and quick." She replied between taut lips. "I care little for all this hot air."

"More's the pity," was Astarion's reply. "I do love the sound of my own voice, and soon enough, so will you. It might have taken you all a moment to realise this, but I'm extending an olive branch. See, if there's one of your lot, then sure to be there's more to come. These goblins might have succumbed to my silver tongue, but the tides will turn at the slightest inkling of my becoming a liability. And gods, I'm lonely! Can you blame me? Nothing but sheep and simpletons in these parts. The wine is to be desired as well, why I swear they must make it from olives its so bitter."

"Lonely? It was your decision to wander so far along the Sword Coast." Suspicion narrowed her eyes. There was so much here unsaid.

"Ah, but was it?"

Briefly he found her brother once more. Now the exchange was undeniable, as though a thread so faint that Fallon's sight failed her connected the two men's minds. It caused an uneasy shift to ripple through her core, barely able to hold her tongue from demanding of Orikas just what had passed between them. She held to silence only in the wish to not appear ununited.

"I don't know, enlighten me."

 "If only I could. In fact, I will. If you'd oblige. Your freedom, my protection, it's a simple formula is it not?" Astarion replied with a sparkle in his eye.

"No. We'll managed without your help," Fallon retorted, "go back to your fun. We have been in stickier situations. If you want to lend a hand, then keep them busy while we slip away unseen."

"Oh but that's not how this works, darling. Need I remind you that you're in no position to bargain? Don't be stubborn now, it's unbecoming." His hand stroked lazy against the iron bars, barely a hair above her own. "Earn your freedom and a new party member, someone to liven things up."

"I liven them up just enough." Dalaia retorted.

"Perhaps, but the nights are grow tired without a fresh face, do they not?" He turned to Fallon, cocking an eyebrow. "Besides, how do you expect to slip away when I am in possession of the key?"

With the flourish of his wrist, he produced it. Red and thick with rust, Astarion balanced the key between his fingers, swinging it like the pendulum of a clock. Fallon's hand deftly slipped through the bars, and for one sweet moment she caught it, only for Astarion to turn her sleight into that of his own. He clutched the key to his chest, tutting beneath his breath.

"Now now, don't be so desperate. You didn't even ask. The effort's commended though. Now I'm more than certain that I've heard of you. The Watch's Bane, the Shadow of the Upper City. Fallon's the name, isn't it?"

Fallon bristled. "You know of me?"

"Your reputation precedes you to those in the know, darling. Consider it a compliment."

There was no doubt he was Baldurian, though she could not claim to return the recognition. This surprised her, the thought having plagued her in the hours of her pensive mulling. It was her business know all of note in the city, yet his face escaped her entirely. Perhaps she had mistaken his clothes for his character, charlatans were aplenty in the walls of Baldur's Gate. She did not neglect the expert swing of his tongue.

Orikas' hand firmly gripped her shoulder, garnering her attention.

"We take this offer," he said. "He joins us."

She flushed in return, taken off kilter by the gravity in his voice. Quickly she shook her head, furrowing her brow.

"N-No, we don't."

"We must. He means us no harm. I know his word to be true."

Her brother's tone was flat but she knew the look on his face to be urgent. A twist of resentment in her gut that he would open his mouth to oppose her so directly in front of an adversary. Her lips twisted into argument that would never come to pass, caught by the plain look upon his face. She knew it all too well, he would not be budging.

Fallon did not want to back down. Her frustration and their circumstances, how squarely they lay at her feet, bit sharp as claws into her flesh. The assuredness in Orikas' face forced her to pause only in its rarity of plea. He often spoke in contradiction to her, yet as Astarion's state of being alive and well before them evidenced, she had the final word. Did he not see the consequences of folding? Or was that the point of his words? Had his belief in her judgment slipped just enough to justify trust in a man who had given them the slip only to return with a forceful blow? Astarion had demonstrated clearly that he could be a reckoning. Why place blind faith?

She turned to Astarion with a heavy brow.

"How should I know you won't pull the rug again?" 

"That's the delicious thrill of it all, my dear." Astarion replied, his voice falling dark. "You don't."

In spite of better instincts, his words kicked of excitement. She bit her lip, cursing herself for the thrill that coursed through her. All of the careful planning that had gone awry, why not squander her senses if Orikas thought he knew better? It would be his head on the block when things inevitably went to shit. She could sense the resistance of Marth and Dalaia, but unlike Orikas, they would not open their mouths to object so brazenly. With a final sigh, she swallowed back her pride. To hells with it.

"Fine." She breathed. "I agree."

"Fallon ..." Marth began but she quieted him with a sharp look. "Ok, alright. Looks like we're doing this then."

"I knew you would see reason." 

He passed the key back between the bars. His fingers caught her by the wrist before she could pull away, oddly cold despite the warmth of the night. A shiver ran down her spine. 

"Now, I have some goblins to distract. Wait at the upended cart just a hair North of here, and if you think about running off into the night, I promise that you'll live to regret it." The twinkle in his eyes was evidence enough that he meant every word. 

"Wait."

It was Marth who spoke, much to Fallon's surprise. Astarion tilted his head in expectation.

"What of the gnomes?"

"What do you mean 'what of the gnomes'?" Astarion frowned. "Would you have me wish them good luck on the road? A sorry for the hand dealt? I'm not in the habit of saving simpletons, take it as a compliment."

"Please," the gnome said mournfully from the other cage. His pleading gaze found them each in turn. "We've women and children."

"Even less of a reason then," Astarion scoffed.

Once more conflict reared its ugly head inside of Fallon, though not nearly as even sided. Her heart was selfish beyond the reaches of her group. She was not so soft to those downtrodden as Marth, nor did she harbour Dalaia's tenderness for the young. Instead Fallon's hesitation was one of a memory, where in the dark cellar of Virric Mossdreamer's home, where a lifetime ago she had been faced with much the same decision.

"A liability. We're in no position to raid this camp." Orikas' tone was edged with warning. His eyes beamed in the glow of the camp light. He had said much the same thing that he had in the past, when they had first discovered the other, along with a kinship forged beyond mere blood. "We leave them."

Fallon threw once last glance towards the captive gnomes and she knew him to be right. This was not their burden to bear.

"Yes. We leave them." She said, as though the thought was her own.

Just as he made to return to the goblins, Astarion caught her eye. He studied her with the countenance of a scholar, investigating a relic of foreign origin, where weight of touch paled the knowledge gleamed in the pages of a book. Pleasant surprise married with curiosity. He approved.

On the recesses of his mouth, the corners of his lips upturned in pleasure. Fallon felt the sliver of something ugly ripple through her. Her past decision had left Fallon fraught, twisting like vines that squeezed on the nights when she found shallow sleep. In dreams, she revisited the faces of a dozen of her siblings, their reflection of her features pronounced as though looking into a mirror of trickery. 

Now for the first time since that fateful night, Fallon found herself considering that the decision may have truly been the right one.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

AUTHOR'S NOTES

i. so many author's notes omw, i hope the pace feels fast but fluid. this story's plot has proven a lot more complex than i originally intended it but i adore it and tbh i've been cooking. 

ii. i'm also trying to challenge myself with the speed of the narrative because, if you've read anything else i've written, i tend to meditate on character development before i move into the plot and i'm trying to be more efficient with TDM. feedback is forever appreciated, if not in this chapter then the ones to come! tysm for reading xx