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missfortunetherogue

1 month ago

Chapter 2: A Reluctant Leader

In the interest of keeping things family friendly on Tumblr, I’ve left out the mild 🌶️ part - you can read the whole chapter on AO3, though!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298/chapters/165181885#workskin

Summary: Gale and Lae’zel join the party, and Lae’zel has choice criticisms about Miss Fortune’s battle prowess. Miss Fortune continues to unravel at night, and Astarion catches them mid-pity party. The pair discuss the gift of freedom.

Two fresh faces sat around the campfire tonight, their unfamiliar features illuminated by its orange glow as the stars above yawned and stretched awake. Miss Fortune was exhausted from all the walking, from having to play the leader - now with more people to herd around. Gale of Waterdeep, a wizard, seemed pleasant enough, if a bit long-winded and over-confident. Miss Fortune found it amusing that he claimed prodigy status in nearly the same breath as he’d needed to be pulled out of a waypoint he’d trapped himself in with a wayward spell. But the rogue liked the kind twinkle in his eyes, his gentle demeanor; and they certainly couldn’t complain about the delicious stew he’d stirred up from their foraging today.

They’d also found the green woman again - Lae’zel was her name. A Githyanki warrior. Miss Fortune had never met a Githyanki before, and from the little glimpse of the culture they’d gotten so far, they were glad they’d been spared this long. They didn’t care for her brusque attitude or her threatening glare. Rescuing her from the rickety cage those tieflings had trapped her in also introduced additional tension into their group as Shadowheart and Lae’zel quickly displayed a festering enmity towards one another. Miss Fortune didn’t envy their future self if they had to eventually choose between the two.

It was just Miss Fortune and the new additions sitting around the fire for supper. Shadowheart had made it clear she did not wish to break bread with a Githyanki, and Astarion had made some excuse about being eager to get back to an exciting part of his book while he ate.

“Thanks for cooking, Gale,” Miss Fortune said to the wizard. “This was delicious.”

“My pleasure, Miss Fortune,” Gale replied. “Can’t say I’m much of a hunter, but I’m happy to do my part around the hearth.”

“Serve yourself another helping,” Lae’zel commanded, staring the half-elf down. Her disdain for them was clearly visible even from the other side of the fire.

“Excuse me?” Miss Fortune replied.

“You are underfed,” the warrior insisted. “Scrawny. Weak. If you don’t gather your strength, you won’t last a tenday.” She stood, stalking around the fire to where Miss Fortune sat. “Stand. Let me show you.”

The half-elf looked to Gale for help, but the wizard was avoiding eye contact and looking deeply uncomfortable. Perhaps hearing a shift in the tone of their banter, Astarion had come out of his tent, leaning casually against the pole of the canopy with his arms crossed over his chest. Miss Fortune realized they were on their own. Humoring Lae’zel, they stood sullenly, setting their bowl down by the log they’d been sitting on.

Lae’zel circled them like a hyena sniffing out carrion, her long, sharp fingers poking and prodding as she went. “I feel sharp rib bones where there should be muscle. A hollow stomach, weak arms. How do you expect to fight like this? Tsk’va, can you even bear the weight of a sword?”

“Three days ago I wasn’t expected to fight at all,” Miss Fortune said, staring her down.

“Circumstances have changed, istik. You’re pathetic. If we had been raised together at my crèche, you would have been such a liability that I would have killed you at the first opportunity, if the sa’varsh didn’t cull you first.”

Miss Fortune’s mind reeled at the abusive words being spat at them. The insults burrowed into their mind deeper than the tadpole; the half-elf could feel them taking root, spreading the rot of self-loathing further still. Just what I needed, they thought. More ways to be insecure. Lae’zel’s criticisms were a sharp contrast to everything they’d grown up hearing, when they were denied food for not being thin enough. This was a new chapter in a long saga of always being too much and not enough all at once. And yet, with both Astarion and Gale bearing witness to their humiliation, a small voice in the back of their mind urged them to resist.

“Do you hear me?” Lae’zel hissed. Her hand shot out to grab at Miss Fortune’s chin. Panic clawed at them in that instant as flashbacks played through their mind of so many different hands wrapping themselves around their neck; crushed windpipes, ugly purple bruises, coming to with a healer’s face looming over them, gasping for breath even as the air felt like fire in their lungs. Pure instinct kicked in as they evaded lightning fast and elbowed her in the stomach, stepping out of range before she could react.

“Touch me again without my permission and you’ll find out firsthand how deadly I can be,” they threatened. Miss Fortune donned a mask of steely resolve that they hoped would look more believable than it felt. “There are more ways to be lethal than brute strength, Gith, and you’d do well to remember that next time you wish to humiliate me in front of our companions.”

Lae’zel remained doubled over while she fought to regain her breath. Once she did, she smiled cruelly. “Good. So he does have a spine in there somewhere.” Did Miss Fortune detect a hint of respect in her tone? Probably not.

“‘They.’ My pronouns are they/them.”

“Chk. Your pronouns will be was/were if you don’t bulk up. My warning stands.”

“Lae’zel, down girl,” Astarion cut in at last, remaining well outside her reach. “I think you’ve made your point.”

Miss Fortune let out a huge sigh of relief as they watched the warrior stomp off to her tent and immediately begin sparring with the air. They picked their bowl back up and took a second helping, sitting back down next to Gale.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” they said to the wizard.

“I’m sorry I didn’t step in,” he replied, bashful. “Truth be told, that one intimidates me.”

“Ha! You’re in good company then,” Astarion drawled as he sauntered back over to the fire, taking a seat on the other side of Miss Fortune. “You did well standing up to her, though if I were you I’d sleep lightly tonight.”

“Thanks, Astarion. So comforting. Anyway…Gale, what’s Waterdeep like? I’d never left Baldur’s Gate before my abduction.”

Gale was more than happy to regale them with extensive stories on the history and landmarks of Waterdeep as well as his personal fond memories while Miss Fortune finished eating. The half-elf made a point to nod along and voice noncommittal approval every now and again, but they noticed Astarion made no such effort. He instead chose to slouch back and inspect his nails, which he kept filed in neat points.

“Astarion, you’ve got cleanup duty tonight,” Miss Fortune stated once Gale’s story had petered out.

“And break a nail? I think not,” the pale elf retorted haughtily.

“Everyone does their part, your honor,” Miss Fortune warned as they slapped their knees and stood up. “There’s no servants out here. I’m going to go check on Shadowheart. Later, gentlemen.”

“Ugh, fine,” they heard Astarion complain as they walked away.

Miss Fortune found Shadowheart kneeling in prayer in front of her tent, head bowed and hands steepled. They wordlessly kneeled in front of her, waiting for a small while before she noticed another presence nearby.

“Hi,” she smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Just checking in,” Miss Fortune smiled back. “I noticed the tension between you and our new Githyanki companion.” They shuffled a little closer until their knees were almost touching, and Miss Fortune was pleased, if not a bit surprised, that the cleric didn’t shuffle away.

“I would be lying if I said I welcome her addition to the party,” she admitted. “I don’t trust her.” The cleric shifted her posture, moving from kneeling to a relaxed cross-legged pose. She fished the mysterious artifact out from a pocket and began toying idly with it. Miss Fortune made a silent note to get her to spill the truth about that as soon as possible.

“I know, and I’m with you. I don’t trust her either, but she seems so confident about the cure waiting in her crèche. We can’t afford to turn our nose up at any leads, Shadowheart.”

“I hate that you’re right,” she admitted. “I’ll do my best to be civil but that’s as much as I can promise. You’d do well to demand the same from her.”

Miss Fortune held up their hands in surrender. “I’ll see what I can do, but not tonight. She’s already detailed the many reasons I should die over dinner; I’d hate to add more to her list.”

Shadowheart gasped, then put a hand over her mouth to stifle laughter. “Did she?!”

“With Gale as my very unsupportive witness I can assure you, she did.”

Unable to keep it contained, Shadowheart’s sharp laugh cracked like a whip in the space between them. “I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I almost wish I’d seen it. Anyway, thanks for checking on me. I’d do well to get back to my nightly prayers. Goodnight, Miss Fortune.”

“Goodnight, Shadowheart,” they said as they rose.

The campfire was deserted by the time Miss Fortune ambled back over, and they couldn’t tell whether they felt relieved or disappointed. They realized the specific company may have tilted the emotion in one direction or the other; on one hand they were relieved Lae’zel was out of sight. But Astarion remained aloof and something of an enigma, one the half-elf was curious to uncover. Perhaps another night, they thought to themselves.

Alone, Miss Fortune threw a few more sticks on the fire before taking a seat in front of it. The cracks of dry wood igniting and the drone of insects chirping filled the night air. The sounds were still unfamiliar and overwhelming to them, but less so than the night before. They remained unnerved by just how small and insignificant it made them feel to sit under a blanket of stars, however. They were just a speck of dust floating through the world, really. A speck of dust that now had four people looking to them for answers they didn’t have.

With a heavy sigh, Miss Fortune realized they’d traded the panic of the previous night for a sinking, familiar numbness. They pulled their knees to their chest and stared unblinking into the dancing flames, letting their eyes go unfocused as they burned and watered. An ugly thought intruded: what if they just…laid down in the fire? The pain wouldn’t last long, and on the other side of it would be blissful nothingness. No more being too much and yet not enough. No more parasite, no more nightmares. But no, the fire wasn’t big enough anyway, and the smell would likely wake someone up in time to douse the flames and heal their mangled flesh. If only mending the mind were as simple as calling upon one’s god and shouting te curo.

Miss Fortune held vigil over the dying fire until the last embers turned to ash before they doused it with water out of an abundance of caution; Shadowheart had warned to never trust a dry fire pit to stay dormant. At last they retreated to their tent, collapsing on their bedroll with a groan. The heavy blanket of numbness continued to weigh on their chest, yet their mind would not relinquish the drone of insecurities in favor of sleep. They knew from countless other nights like this that no amount of pleading with themselves would bring the sweet relief of sleep.

There was only one thing that usually worked when their mind was in this state. With a heavy sigh, they slid down their breeches…

Read the rest here