Self published author and lover of literature

Parties, wine and makeshift balls were all things that Meyah had assumed she’d left to rot in the past, but as the Tieflings walked into her camp carrying crates upon crates of ale, wine and whiskey, it would appear the party was only just getting started.

And it set Meyah on edge as she wandered the perimeter scratching at the scars on her neck.

Her blood ran cold as she felt everyone's eyes on her, she wasn’t used to showing such weakness in front everybody.

If it was any other ordinary day that had her mind swimming with undead memories, she would have run off into the forest until she remembered how to breathe, but this time she was trapped.

And she hated every second of it as she felt her own blood trickle from her neck and stain the collar of her white evening shirt.

She cursed under her breath and threw an empty bottle of grease into the water, uncaring of where it landed.

“Meyah?” A voice called out amidst the chaos, but she ignored it, clutching at her dagger as she tried to silence the memory.

“Fuck off,” She hissed, her voice barely a whisper as she slumped to her knees in front of the riverbank, clutching at her shirt, the tip of the dagger scraping along the base of her throat.

“My dear, as much as I would love to bend to your whim. I can smell your blood across the camp, are you alright?” Astarion questioned and kneeled cautiously next to her, taking the dagger from her hands and placing it out of harms reach.

“I... I didn’t realise it was you,” She whispered, blinking rapidly in a futile effort to keep the tears at bay, “I didn’t think about that...I’m sorry.”

“Darling, stop apologising. I am not a monster who is going to devour you whole, well, not unless you ask nicely,” he said in an effort to lighten the mood, but it fell flat, “Look at me, please.”

“I am looking at you.”

“Properly,” he said and gently caught her jaw, turning her head towards him, giving her no option but to look at him. His eyes were tender as he brushed the stray strand of hair out of her face and smiled sorrowfully, “I know what you’re doing. I have done it to myself a thousand times over in my two hundred years of existence. But Meyah, believe me when I say, what happened to you, was never your fault. Do not give him the power by doing yourself injury and disservice. You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“But he died before I could get revenge,” Meyah sobbed into her hands, utterly touched by Astarion’s words. “I can’t...I....” she tried countless time to start her sentence, and every time she failed, each word tasted like bile and burnt like Wyvern venom.

Without a moment's thought, Astarion wrapped his arms around Meyah and held her as close as physically possible. Every sob he hushed and ran his hands through her hair, the smell of her blood ached his body, but he’d be dammed if he’d betray her trust like that. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss onto the top of her head, “He will never hurt you again, I will ensure it.”

“I want to kill him, like he almost did me,” she sobbed as she clutched at his shirt and hide her face in his chest, tears streamed freely down her cheeks as the pain she felt in the past sprung into a new life and ripped through her. She wanted to scream, she wanted to run, she wanted to be free and even in the safety of Astarion’s arms, she felt hunted.

“Do you know where he is buried?” Astarion asked, there was a bitterness to his tone that verged on a terrifying level of calmness. Beneath his dramatics, his blood boiled with rage. He would see that man's head on a spike – regardless of how rotten that head would be by now – before he saw the love of his life break down in agony, again.

“Probably somewhere underneath my families castle, in fact I know exactly were.” She laughed humourlessly and looked towards the sky, “He is buried in the graveyard behind my family castle, in the grave that I should...no, I was supposed to be buried in when they found me on deaths door.”

“Well, when we get to Baldur’s gate, let's say you and I go pay him a visit. I’ll bring him back to life as many times as necessary to ensure you get your revenge.” he said and wiped and tears from her cheeks.

Her brows furrowed in confusion and new, touched tears, sprung into her eyes, “You would do that for me, why?”

“Because I...”

“I know.” she smiled softly as he struggled to say the words. But they needn't be said, it was spoken in every little thing they did for each other, “I do too. You I mean,” she chuckled and pressed her lips to his and smiled as he sighed in satisfaction,

And yet, despite the sadness that lingered in the air, their kiss seemed to brighten the world again. Ground them in pure ethereal bliss. For they were two broken souls, entwined in the night.

“Did you want a taste?” She asked awkwardly as they broke the kiss, “I know it's never easy for you, I promise I'm okay.”

“Thank you my dear, but I shall be fine for tonight. You have suffered enough, although, I think we should get you patched up before the rest of our band of weirdos think you’ve been trying to off yourself.”

“I would never actually see it through, not that I haven’t thought about it,” she sighed as he slipped his hand in hers and walked them towards his tent, determined to make things right, if only for tonight.

“You’re not the only one. Cazador has left me with more than just the scars on my back, but as long as I have you by my side, I know that I will live to see another sunrise.”

“Astarion? Can I tell you something and you don’t have to respond. Or say anything not unless

you want to.” She asked as the tent flap flopped down and gave them the much-needed privacy.

“You scare me sometimes.”

“I love you.” she blurted, unable to hold it back any longer as she threw herself into him,

wrapping her arms around him, “You never have to say it back, but I wanted you to know, in case anything went wrong tonight.”

To say he was speechless was an understatement, before he could even think a single thought,

tears sprung to his eyes and surprised smile made its home on his lips. Could it be that he finally

found his home in her, the half high elf bard barbarian with a haunted past. Perhaps he did,

perhaps he would finally allow himself to be happy, to be loved and love.

***

As the night went on, the alcohol flowed freely until almost everyone in camp was feeling a happy, satisfied buss, including Meyah as she shuffled around in her tent and emerged with a dusty old lute. One that had not been plucked in several eons.

Yet, as the ithbank wine ran through her veins, she remembered Astarion’s words, and it set her body alight with confidence. With a swagger in her step, she approached the rocks and climbed to the top of them, clapping her hands together with a dazzling smile. By the gods did she know how to attract an audience. “For one night and one night only, I give to you a song perfect for drinking to!” She beamed and steadily strummed the lute, her gaze fixed on Astation who was staring up at her starstruck and smiling.

"Alfaira, Volo, join me, if you will. 3...2...1!”

And with that, the camp burst into life with the beautiful combination of lute, drums and a beautiful voice rising above them all. Meyah’s voice. It sent Astarion’s heart racing as he listened intently, it wasn’t the first time he’d heard her sing, she often sang to him when the nightmares took over, or under her breath when she was trying to figure out a puzzle in some dungeon that they’d accidentally got lost in. But it was the first time in which that Astarion had heard her sing with such confidence and blindingly beautiful charisma that ebbed and flowed into every single lyric.

As her hair came cascading down out of her usual pony tail, it was as if a new path had been forged. Everything in her mind became clear and her heart was lighter, gone were the days of balls, false performances and pretenses, she would never be that destitute princess again, she would reign as a queen of the people, a light admist the darkness, a lighthouse calling Astarion home.

“Do you think she’s drunk?” Gale questioned as he stood next to Astarion, and watched the performance unfold, he didn’t mean his next words harshly at all, but it didn’t lessen the blow, “I didn’t think she had it in her.”

“I do beg your pardon?” Astarion questioned, a hint of annoyance in his voice as he turned to look at Gale, confused and offended.

“I just mean, she might be a bard, but I've never heard her sing before...and she has a lot more hair than...”

But before Gale could continue his ramblings Meyah jumped down from the rocks, lute in hand and strode over to them, finishing her song of love and newfound freedom. “Knock yourself out, that is if you think you can do a better job,” Meyah smiled and held out her lute for Gale to take, an air of mischief lingered around her as she watched his gaze flicker from her to the lute to Astarion and back again, “Just don’t eat it.”

“Why would I eat it?”

“Because, Gale, it is filled with an enchantment spell. How do you think I got past so many guards? I’m more than just a pretty face.” She grinned as she watched Gale take it from her gingerly and walk over to the rocks. With a wave she sent him off with a muttering of, “Have fun!”

“Okay, okay, point made. Damned elf's and your over sensitive hearing.” he muttered under his breath and trudged back up to the rocks.

Meyah, for the first time in months, felt practically alive again as she felt Astarion’s arm snake around her waist and pull her flush against him. His red eyes blown wide with a mixture of adoration, admiration and love – perfectly mirroring her own. “You are so full of surprises,” he sighed lovingly and brushed his fingers along her jaw.

“What can I say, I learned from the best!” she said softly and leant into his touch, her hands rest over his heart, smiling gently as she felt it beat almost inaudibly beneath his ribs.

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps a white-haired vampire spawn with the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen and a dangerous smile that makes it hard to focus? Ring any bells?”

“Hmm, carry on,”

“Hmm, you really like flattery, don’t you? Let’s see, he has amazing strong arms that I love having around me, he has wonderful powerful fangs...and for better or worse, he has my heart.

Free to do what he wishes with it,” she smiled and ran her thumb across his lips as she met his eyes, “Could I kiss you?”

“I can think of nothing, I want more,” he purred and pressed a deep gentle kiss onto her lips, pouring everything he was scared to admit into it. His hands racked through her hair and pulled on it gently as they got lost in their embrace. Cheers from Karlach and the Tieflings rang out behind them, and for once they threw caution to the wind as Meyah wrapped her arms around

Astarion’s neck and gave him all the affectionate intimacy he craved as their lips danced lightly on each other. “You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?” Astarion whispered as he buried his head in her neck.

“Of course, I will,” she said as she held him, her hands rubbing soft comforting circles over his back. She made a mental note of the scars, of what letters she could make out, “and just so you know, I am not expecting sex.”

“You’re not?”

“Gods no. Don’t get me wrong Astarion, sex with you is fantastic, but it isn’t everything. And it most certainly isn’t what defines us.” Meyah said as she took his head in her hands, soothing his rising anxiety as their eyes met, “I love you because of who you are, not what you had to do. I know sex is something that is a bit iffy for you at the moment, so if you want to go for a while without it, I am more than happy to do that. And if the mood does arise where you want us to give into pleasure, then I am more than willing to do that too. Your consent and your happiness are what is most important to me, not some carnal desire that if worse comes to worst, I can solve for myself.”

“Come with me,” He barely managed to say as he stood still, moved far beyond words. In his two hundred years of existence, not one singular person had asked for his consent, no one wanted to make sure that he as happy, no one cared if he felt safe...no until Meyah Athina-Rose.

“Where are we going?” She questioned as she followed him hand in hand to an opening in the woods, the very same opening in the woods that they spent their first night together.

“Here., I wanted to wait until I thought you were ready...and perhaps, I may have misjudged you to harshly when we first met. To be quite honest, I didn’t think much of you back then. But everything has changed, and I... cannot imagine my life without you in it. So, I just want you to know that I want us to be something real...” he said, his body shook with nerves as he took

Meyah’s hand in his. The party hummed quietly beneath them and Astarion’s heartbeat furiously in his ribcage, terrified of rejection, terrified that she would one day see him the way he sees himself.

But she never did, she simply smiled at him and encouraged him to continue.

“Would you want us to be something real?”

“Astarion, you have no idea of how desperately I want us to be something real.”

“So that means...”

“It means whatever you wish for it to mean, I'm with you until the very end.”

“I love you,” the words slipped his lips and he covered his mouth as if wanting to push them back in, his eyes were wide as he looked at Meyah, all his dramatics faded away as he chuckled despite himself, “I am so sorry. I was not intending to say those words...I mean I was, but not for a little while yet. But well, I suppose they are out there now. There's no point trying to force back the truth for longer than we need to.”

“I couldn’t agree more, and the scenery is quite fitting” Meyah said and wandered back over to him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, her head resting on his shoulders as his rested on her head. “Welcome to eternal love.”

“I...thank you, for everything.” He smiled and held her close.

His anxiety finally silenced.

They were finally content and above all else, save.

Or for now at least.

Crime solving wasn't exactly something you and Sherlock had planned on doing in the early hours of Christmas eve. But it would appear that the universe had a different idea as you and Sherlock laid snuggled up in bed, just ready to drop off to sleep when your phone decided to blast the inspector gadget theme song: ringtone that you had set specifically for Mycroft.

And just as you went to ignore it, Sherlock pulled you closer and sleepily mumbled, "it's Christmas, play nice, darling."

A soft smile danced on your lips as you nestled your head into his chest and brought the phone to your ear, "Y/L/N - Holmes, I'm assuming it's very important given the fact it is litterally 3am."

"We have a case. And it's a strange one at that..." Lestrade explained as he wandered around Mycroft's bedroom and kept his voice low enough that he could he heard, but not so loud as to wake the oldest Homes brother who was laid starkers on the bed - well spent and worn out.

Sickness was a rarity for you, and for Sherlock it was something that occurred once in a blue moon. But it would appear that the blue moon had decided to rear it's ugly head, one month before the month of Christmas.

As rain pounded against the window, you and Sherlock laid on your backs on top of the covers that sat on your bed. Your fingers brushed against each other as your temperatures began to rise. You were the first to break the silence with a groan, "remind me whose idea it was to run around London in the pouring rain?"

And yet Sherlock just smiled at you weakly, a small mischievous glint lingered in his eyes, "I believe that would be your doing, darling. I think your exact words were: a little rain never hurt anyone."

"Point taken," you grumbled before turning on your side to face him and regretted it instantly as it felt as if your brain was hammering against your skull, "but I'm just sooooo bored. Can we not go to a crime scene?"

"Oh my dear, you never fail to amuse me. But as bored as we are, I'm afraid if I stand I loose what little stomach contents I have. And going by your alarming discolouration it won't be long before our illnesses are on equal playing fields, my dear."

"Touché. Should we call John, I'm sure he could get the details for us." You offered as you reached out your arm for Sherlock, and yet just as he reached for you - he immediately decided against it and leapt from the bed and beelined to the bathroom. "Are you alright?" You asked, your voice soft as you kneeled next to him and rubbed soft circles over his back and kept his fringe out of his eyes as he lost his stomach contents to the toilet.

"Can you kill me?" He groaned as he slipped against the bathroom wall, and pulled you to sit with him, his head rested on your shoulders.

"Not a chance my dear. But I promise I'm not going anywhere."

"How are you not dying?" He groaned as he felt you shiver.

"Oh trust me, I am." You said and pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself - the shivers were beginning to turn into aches and you feared the worst. "I think we need a doctor."

"Quite right. Oh for fuck sa-" but before Sherlock could even groan or finish his curse, nature took hold once more and all you saw was darkness.

As the darkness consumed you, it became clear that your illness came with delusions - and yours just happened to involved Moriarty who stalked your every move. Every happy thought you had about you and Sherlock became tainted with the sound of Moriarty's horrid laughter.

'I took him from you once. I killed him once before, I can do it all over again in a heart beat.'

"You're not real. You died. This is all just a fever induced trick!" You cried in defiance and stood your ground, keeping an eye on Sherlock via your peripheral vision.

'Am I not?! Do you believe me now?!' Moriarty screamed, the words practically ripped from his throat as he forced you to walk to the edge of the roof and shove your lover over the edge and as Sherlock fell, you fell with him.

His body hit the ground and you awoke with a blood curdling scream, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Your eyes scanned the room and you saw no sign of Sherlock, and yet as the panic rose in your chest, you found yourself too terrified to scream.

"Hey, hey y/n, look at me." John said softly, his voice cutting through the chaos that was your own mind as he stood in front of you, "you're okay, you're safe now."

"But Moriarty...he was...oh god! He forced me to push Sherlock... John...I--" you said as your breath caught in your throat and you curled in on yourself and screamed until John's arms wrapped around you. He held you so tight that you were scared, that if he was to let go you would fall apart entirely.

"Where's Sherlock?" You finally managed to ask through your tears.

"He's in the bathroom. But in all honesty, he's not in the best way, right now."

"But if my hallucination is that bad, Sherlock's would be..."

"I know..."

In a way, John was right. Sherlock's hallucinations were so much worse, and far far more vivid as he laid curled up on the bathroom floorm his mind was like a battlefield as he stood at Redbeards grave, tears cascading down his cheeks.

"I failed you," he muttered as he knelt on the grass and gripped his fallen dogs collar to his chest.

"Well, you were always such a stupid child," Mycroft's voice echoed in Sherlock's mind.

"I'm not stupid," Sherlock protested as he tried and failed to stand, "and neither was redbeard."

"No? Look at you, completely entangled in sentiment, you can't even sea what it's doing to you," Mycroft sneered as he watched his brother crumple, "she doesn't love you. You know that."

"Shut up!"

"She'll leave you and who will you have to impress then? John won't care, he's moved on with his life. You deserve to be alone. You should have died at Moriarty's hand."

"NO!" Sherlock's voice ripped from his throat as he clawed at the grass and the world around him started to shake as Mycroft drive the metaphorical dagger just another inch deeper into Sherlock's heart.

"Does she know about your OD after Serbia? You should have laid down and died when you had the chance. Now, do enjoy the fall, brother mine."

And Sherlock couldn't help but howl I. Lain as the visions vanished, but all the wounds remained.

The only thing that broke him from his spiraling mind was the sound of the door being shoved open and the feel of your cold hands on his cheeks. Neither of you could speak as the air caught in your throats and stole every single word from you.

But neither of you needed words, as your eyes met in a gaze of terrifying of desperation. Your arms wrapped around each other as you sobbed. Unable to determine what was real and what was not. All he knew, all you knew, was that your lives would never be the same again.

"Do you...do you want to talk about it?" You questioned as you carried two cups of tea over to where Sherlock was sat on the sofa, with a blanket over his knees, waiting for you.

"I barely know where to start..." He sighed, his hands shaking as he took his mug from you, a soft smile crossed his lips when he heard his engagement ring clink against the china. A gentle reminder of exactly what he was fighting for.

"Who did you see in your hallucination?" You asked, your voice barely audible as you cuddled your mug in both hands and snuggled into his chest, sighing softly as his arm settled on your waist.

"Mycroft and redbeard... well his grave that is. What about you?"

"I-- I saw Moriarty, we were in a room with no windows or doors at first and then--" you paused, your breath caught in your throat as the memories of the hallucination played on repeat inside your mind.

"We don't have to talk about it if you're not ready, y/n/n."

"It's okay Sherl, we need to talk about it but before we go to bed, can we talk about something else?"

"Anything in particular?"

"No. I just want to be distracted and I don't want to go to sleep without you in my arms."

"Funny, I was just about to say that I have no intention of going to bed without you."

"Great minds think alike," you smiled and entwined your ring clad hands.

"Indeed they do. Which makes our hallucinations-" he hesitated almost as if he was scared to breath them into existence.

"What happened?"

"Do you want the long version or the short version?"

"I have all night, Sherl," you said as you leant your head on his shoulder and his head rested on yours.

"I never thought it would end. I knew Mycroft and I were never particularly close as children...but I never thought he'd be the manifestation of my fear..."

"What was your worst fear?" You asked as you placed your mug on the coffee table and rubbed small circles onto the back of his hand as he spoke.

"Loosing you. You growing bored of me or I guess... survivors guilt- after the fall and what happened in Serbia..." He said, his words drifting off as he tried to block out the memory. His eyes were soft and sorrowful as he looked at you and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face,"what was your hallucination about?"

You couldn't help but lean into his touch and press a kiss to his palm, "Moriarty. It was so real, I thought he was back. We were in the roof of Bart's and he-he forced me to push you off of the edge and as you fell, I fell with you...but I-"

"Hey, shh. It's okay. He's dead, he won't come near us ever again." Sherlock whispered as he brushed away the tears you didn't know you had shed.

"Are you okay?" You asked as you met his gaze, tears shimmered in his eyes and you knew it was a stupid question. Neither if you were okay after the fever, but:

"We will be in time."

Several hours passed since your conversations about your nightmares and yet your body seemed determined to stay awake as you and Sherlock laid awake facing each other.

"Why are you trying so hard to stay awake?" Sherlock asked, his voice scarcely a whisper as he pulled you to lay on his chest - knowing that the rhythm of his heart was a comfort to you.

Your voice was barely audible as you tried to speak, "because I'm scared that when I wake up; you won't be there."

Sherlock's heart leapt to his throat as he looked at your broken expression and the floodgates that he'd been despretly trying to hold together - broke. "I didn't mean to hurt you, and I will spend the rest of my days making things right. You won't loose me. Not now. Not ever."

"And I promise you I am never going anywhere. If anyone says different do not listen to them, Sherlock, because you are single handedly the best thing that has ever happened to me. I have never and will never bore of you."

"I love you y/n, so so much."

"And I love you Sherlock, with everything that I am."

The day that Sherlock Holmes died, was the day that your world ceased to make sense.

Everything you had come to know, to believe, hell even to feel, felt foreign to you.

It was unlike you to give into emotions so willingly and yet as you sat in the clients chair of 222B, facing the fire, you couldn't stop the tears from cascading down your cheeks. You chest physically ached as you forced yourself to sob silently, not wanting to attract attention from Mrs. Hudson who you was sure was grieving in her own way.

As you tilted your head up to the ceiling - in a futile effort to get your tears to stop - you cursed Moriarty and Donovan and everyone else who had a hand in Sherlock's death.

Your heart pounded against your chest, you needed to feel something other than pure unrivaled anguish. But alas, it would appear that the universe wasn't quite ready for your rage just yet, as your phone began to ring and ring and ring until you could ignore it no longer.

"Hello?" You questioned, forcing your voice to be as neutral as possible, though it was still very much thick with the tears you were unwilling to shed.

"Y/n, it's Molly. From the morgue? How are you? Ah, that-thats a stupid question, don't answer that.." Molly rambled on and you could hear the sadness in her voice.

"It's okay, really... I'm... fine..." You lied.

"You know it's okay, not to be fine. You have to let yourself feel things. Not that I want to force you too, but-"

"Molly, please, stop. Just stop fretting and tell me what you need."

"Are you able to get down to Bart's? I need someone to identify Sherlock's body...and you were the first person on his list of emergency contacts."

"I was his first? Not John or Mycroft?"

"Not according to his record or phone for that matter. I know it's only been a few hours but I wanted you to be able to say goodbye."

"I...I don't think I'm ever going to be ready to say G-" your voice broke as a sob ripped itself from your throat, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as you curled in on yourself, desperaty trying to hold yourself together to finish the phone call.

But Molly's voice fell on deaf ears as you screamed in silence.

"I am so sorry, Y/n, if I there's anything I can do, I'll do it." She said as she paced the morgue, trying and failing to find the right words to comfort you.

Through your sobs you managed to find the strength to speak, although barely audible, "Just make sure that Donovan is nowhere near that bloody morgue or she may be your next patient."

"Don't worry, I'll set up a private space for you and Sherlock. Take as long as you need, he'll be waiting here...I mean, I'll have his body ready for you too see."

"Thank you," was all that you could mutter as you hung up and gathered what was left of your strength and your coat before taking one last look around 221B and deciding that it was time to face the music.