A/N: I am so, so SO sorry this took so long! First I got addicted to Good Omens (a novel) and wrote a sequel to it, then school picked up, then I lost two grandparents in two weeks and found out my dog's cancer was unaffected by his chemotherapy and thus lost a lot of will to do anything. But playing Dragon Age made me miss Baldur's Gate, and thus gave me the inspiration to finally, finally finish this story.

Again, really truly sorry for abandoning this for so long, but thank you for reading and reviews are appreciated my dears!

SAREVOK

Sarevok had accompanied Rieltar to Candlekeep for a conference where they were sure to be uninterrupted. This was before Sarevok's awakening as a Child of Bhaal, but even at that young age he always knew there was something different, something special about him. The conference was regarding something trivial – a dispute over a nearly-exhausted iron mine to the east – and Sarevok had only come along to get out of Baldur's Gate, not for any official purposes.

While his father and the other members of the Iron Throne discussed whatever it was they were discussing, Sarevok used the opportunity to explore the nearly legendary library, running his fingers over the spines of books with titles that uninterested him.

"Wanna see my favorite book?"

Sarevok was startled by a tiny girl with ridiculously large ears betraying her elven heritage. She stood at the end of the aisle, her body hidden by the next row of books but her head peering around to look at him. She didn't look much older than a toddler.

"I thought children weren't allowed in here."

The elf didn't come any closer. "I live here, wif – with – my daddy. My name's Viviane. Who're you?"

Sarevok – who, at the time was not yet the Terror of the Sword Coast but still not exactly kind – decided to humor her. The library was eerie, if nothing else. "My name is Sarevok."

The elf finally moved forward, coming to stand in the aisle. "This is great! There's no one here for me to talk to except Imoen, and she's in trouble again so she's stuck with Uncle Winthrop. I like reading the books but I'm kinda lonely. Here! I'll show you my favorite book, like I promised!" The little elf moved past him, down to the end of the aisle and to another set of books pressed up against the wall. She pulled over a small stool and stood up on it, grabbing a particularly large tone off the shelf. "This was written by Alaundo; he made the library! I like it! It says all sorts of neat stuff that's supposed to come true." She cradled the book to her chest and walked back to him. "I've read it a bunch of times."

"Hmmm, Alaundo's prophecies." Sarevok took the tome from her and opened it to a random page. "During the days of the Avatars, the Lord of Murder will spawn a score of mortal progeny. These offspring will be aligned good and evil, but chaos will flow through them all. When the Beast's bastard children come of age, they will bring havoc to the lands of the Sword Coast. One of these children must rise above the rest and claim their father's legacy. This inheritor will shape the history of the Sword Coast for centuries to come…" Sarevok felt chills go up and down his spine, even unknowing as he was.

"The spawn of the Lord of Murder are fated to come into their inheritance through bloodshed and misery. It is the hope of their father that only one shall remain alive to inherit his legacy. I foresee that the children of Bhaal shall kill each other in a bloody massacre," Viviane recited from memory, her tone indicating she didn't understand the severity of her words. "Yup, that one's my favorite. How cool you opened up to it! I like you. We should be friends! Will you play with me? I… um… I have some unicorns upstairs, but you're a boy and boys don't like unicorns, um…"

"Viviane!" A gaunt old mage briskly walked over to them, lifting the young elf up in his arms. He sounded angry, but her inquisitive look didn't warrant a response from him. Instead, the old man glared at him, as if accusing him of something. Sarevok raised an eyebrow as the mage turned and briskly carried the little girl away.

Sarevok thought nothing of it and continued to peruse the library.

The encounter in the library often returned to plague Sarevok's thoughts, although he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the presence of Alaundo's prophecy; maybe it was the future triangle of murder that would emerge from the three who met that day. Whatever it was, every time his little sister looked up at him with excitement, he couldn't help remember the young child he had met years ago.

Sitting in his silent vigil next to her was making more and more memories come to surface than he would have liked. Thankfully, very few were of his path to power and the subsequent fall thereof; most were of his time spent imagining spitting her on his blade in the Abyss and the times afterward –

"Think of it; brother and sister side by side, as it was meant to be!" Sarevok continued, trying his best to resist the urge to get down and beg for his life back, "Together we can stand against all who dare oppose us!"

"Don't do it!" Imoen practically whimpered, backing up. The large ranger looked wary, the drow looked intrigued, and the two knights both looked like they didn't know what to think. Of course they didn't; they hadn't been there, hadn't seen the final battle.

Viviane looked at him thoughtfully. Suddenly she sprang forward, wrapping the spirit in a hug, his not-yet-living-yet-still-solid form tightening in response and lack of experience with affection. "Sure! Take as much soul as you need! We'll go kick some other Bhaalspawn asses and it'll be great! Between you, me and Imoen, we can call ourselves The Three!"

He sighed. "This is going to be a long quest, isn't it?"

"You said it, big brother. Let's do this thing!"

He really needed to leave her side now. What did he care if the stupid arrogant elf died? Besides, he was no healer; there was nothing he could do anyway. And that obnoxious priest didn't snore very loudly, but he certainly did roll about a lot. The other paladin had come in to rest in a corner and nap sitting up, but Sarevok never felt comfortable around him to begin with. Not to mention that the drow had come back, attempted to heal her and failed, and stormed off to glare in another corner.

For the first time in over a week, Sarevok stood and left that small inn room, making his way downstairs to sit at the bar. He demanded a large tankard of the strongest ale the place had and began drinking.

Honestly, sometimes – scratch that, more often than not – Sarevok wondered what in the Hells he was doing here. As he was no longer a Child of Bhaal in the important sense, the destiny of the Bhaalspawn no longer personally involved him. Oh, he'd established at the beginning he was essentially riding Viviane's coattails to power, but Viviane had made it quite clear she wasn't planning on attaining godhood any time soon, and anyway even if she were, the chances of that arrogant large-eared nutcase sharing her power were nil.

What it boiled down to was that Sarevok was here and he didn't know why.

It certainly wasn't because of the company.

"I feel no love for rodents of any size," Sarevok informed his younger sibling, "and as such were Imoen to die I wouldn't mind."
"Uh huh," said Viviane to indicate she was listening.

"That priest of yours continues to stare at me and on the occasion will mutter something about that group of paladins he allegedly belongs to."

"Order might be his favorite word."

"The other Order member is no better, in fact, as he actually has the mettle to threaten me."

"By now… yes, I think he's threatened to smite everyone on the team. Good for him!"

"And that drow… she is the only one I can almost bring myself to respect. But what concerns me is that you have quite possibly the, the 'goodest' team, save the drow and myself, possible. The constant talk of 'right and honor' makes my very lack of soul hurt. Couldn't you have assembled a group more… …"

"Evil?"

"Well, I suppose, yes."

"Oh geez," Viviane murmured, "who all… Well, you could have had Edwin, except I sold him to the Red Wizards."

"Good for you," said Sarevok proudly.

"Then there's Korgan, I guess… maybe… is he still alive? You know, I don't know." She turned in the general direction of her teammates and yelled out, "IS KORGAN STILL ALIVE?"

"YES HE IS," Viconia shouted back.

"OH, ARE YOU SURE? I COULDA SWORN I KILLED AN EVIL DWARF!"

"YOU'RE THINKING OF KAGAIN!" Imoen called.

"THANKS IMMY!" Viviane smiled at Sarevok again. "I get them all so confused! Anyhow, um, who else was evil…? Viconia obviously, she's here… … … Is that it? Yeah, I think that's it."

Sarevok shook his head solemnly.

"Yeah. And then you have the not-really-evil-but-not-exactly-good people, most of whom are also dead, but even then… Let's be honest, no matter who my team was, you'd hate them all anyway."

"… … Sister, for the first time, you have presented an argument I cannot refute."

He had told himself it was for the power, but he wasn't getting any out of this. He also told himself it was for the chance to kill things, but ever since he'd lost his Bhaal heritage, murder had felt… lackluster at best. The spark that used to infuse his being as he slew his foes was gone. Now he was merely a trained killer without emotions, without feelings.

Except.

Sarevok considered himself to be an intelligent fighter, but he didn't even think of his own safety as he charged through the magical storms and residuals, grabbing what he hoped was the sister he wanted to be alive and dragging her out.

An elf, too small to be Sendai. He couldn't help the snarl that emerged from his throat at the scent of blood assaulting his nostrils.

She had seemed larger than life as she faced down giants and armies, and as she had calmly taken and refuted every thought Sarevok had had about the nature of power. But now, lying utterly limp in his arms, he realized how frail she was. How miniscule… how small.

He growled at the priest; the knightling didn't even give him a second glance as he took his love's face in his healing-glowing hands. All around him the team moved to heal, dissipate magic, or finish off the remaining foot soldiers of Sendai's. And yet Sarevok… he…

… was in shock…

Like he had never been before, and never would, he would vow later, again.

He didn't even realize that he had gripped the tankard to pieces in his rage, both at the stupidity of his sister (taking on an archmage priestess on her own! What madness! What stupidity!) and at rage at himself. What weakness something like affection –

Like what –

"I'm not paying for that," Imoen said in her high-pitched voice that managed to make anything she said be not intimidating.

Sarevok growled at her.

Imoen sat down next to him, ignoring the dirty glare the barkeep was giving her. "You finally left her room! Apparently even ex-immortal pseudo-zombies need to poo every once in awhile, eh?"

The growling grew louder.

"Sheesh. You're cranky. You could try getting drunk, which is what everyone else has been doing."

"Or you could leave," he said pointedly.

"Or… I could leave… but… meh, why am I trying to talk to you anyway? I'm not the one who likes you." Imoen stood up, looking around the tavern awkwardly. "Yeah, I'm just gonna-" She gasped.

Sarevok looked to where she was staring, and his own eyebrow rose in surprise.

Viviane, clad in one of Anomen's tunics and her eyes still closed, shuffled barefoot down the stairs. Even someone who hadn't known she had been asleep for the past week would have been able to guess. She walked right past her siblings, coming face to closed-eyes face with the innkeeper, and said, "Cheese."

"Er?" said the innkeeper.

"I demand cheese," she said, her voice sounding hoarse, "and bread, and ham. Child of Bhaal. Give." She held out her hands.

"Vivi you're awake!" Imoen exclaimed, running over and hugging her sister. Viviane didn't seem to notice, too intent on getting herself some cheese.

"Excellent," Sarevok said, "Now we can finally leave this forsaken place and get some actual work done."

Accompanied by the sound of loud thunking noises, Anomen raced down the stairs, looked around with a harried expression and then relaxed when he found his quarry. "I don't think so, milady," he said sternly but with a smile on his face as he walked over, "You shouldn't be on your feet as of yet." He picked her up effortlessly and started carrying her back upstairs.

"Cheeeeese," she called back piteously.

Imoen was grinning from ear to ear. "I knew that she would be fine!" she exclaimed, bounding up the stairs after them.

Sarevok sighed and purchased the cheese, following suit.

The next day, the six companions donned their various armors and weaponry, ready to once again embark on their quest.

"We've got two choices, if I remember right," Viviane said, looking over her journal and the map, "We can take on Abazigal now, or we can try our luck with Watcher's Keep. As a huge fan of stupid Helmites and shiny things, I vote we take on Watcher's Keep first. Besides, Abazigal isn't going to go anywhere; these guys are really not proactive at all."

"Illasara attacked us," Keldorn reminded her, "which was quite proactive."

"Who?" Viviane asked even as Anomen picked her up so she was riding him piggy-back style; it was the only way he'd agree to even let her out of bed.

"Illasara the Quick?" Imoen said, "You know, she confronted us in those elven ruins?"

"Huh? Chick with Nice Noots?"

Viconia sighed. "Yes, Chick with Nice Boots."

"She was a Child of Bhaal?"

"She was a member of the Five," Anomen pointed out.

"Nyuh-uh. Oh come on! Makes me wonder why they didn't ask me to join. I am way better than Chick with Nice Boots. In fact," she smiled smugly, "I'm better than all of them."

Her party members rolled their eyes.

"So, anyhow, where to first?"

"Wherever you lead," Sarevok said gravely.