Work Text:
Minthara noticed the first sign when the party were making their way out of the Shadow-cursed Lands, having briefly stopped near the House of Healing in order to do some last-minute scavenging before hitting the open road. Elena had been by her side, excitedly rambling about a song she was working on. Her eyes had sparkled with joyful passion, her sharp-toothed smile had been positively adorable. Minthara could have stayed like that for hours, just listening to the girl talk about her art and sharing in her enthusiasm. She treasured those moments, which only made what happened next all the more distressing.
"...anyway, so in the third stanza I really want to convey a sense of warmth and hope, which is difficult to achieve with just a violin and a singing voice. But I heard Wyll is starting to learn the lute, and we do still have your lyre-" the Tiefling went on, before being interrupted by the harsh sound of a slamming door that made everyone jump. Minthara spun her head around to glare daggers at Lae'zel, who only rolled her eyes before moving on to the next room to ransack. With an annoyed sigh she turned her attention back to Elena, her eyes going wide at the sight of the younger woman wearing a face of sheer, all-consuming panic.
"Elena? What's wrong, my girl?" Minthara asked worriedly, reaching out to lay a hand on the Tiefling's shoulder, only for her to immediately flinch away.
"C-Can't breathe..." Elena struggled out, struggling for air like she'd just been saved from drowning. Sweat was running down her forehead and her legs were shaking heavily, making Minthara fret over whether she might collapse.
"Let's get you outside. I'm going to help you move, okay?" the paladin said in a gentle, almost motherly tone of voice as she put one hand on Elena's hip and the other on her shoulder. Well, motherly in the caring, nurturing sense of the word, not so much in the myriad other aspects of Drow motherhood she was familiar with. Many back home would likely turn up their noses at how Minthara had been 'coddling' the girl, and the former paladin of Lolth would only scoff before reminding them all, harshly, that nobody tells Minthara Baenre how to treat her lovers. Not anymore.
They'd taken a seat on the steps outside the building, side by side. Minthara rubbed the poor girl's back as she caught her breath, then held her close as she broke down in tears. It hurt to see her like this, even more so not knowing the cause, for that meant she didn't know how to help. But Elena didn't answer when she asked, and further prying only seemed to upset her more. Minthara had apologised, kissed Elena on the forehead, then sat with her in silence for a minute longer. Still, she worried. Her sweet, beloved bard carried so much pain with her every day, but she seemed more reluctant to let anyone shoulder that burden as time went on, despite it clearly getting no easier to carry. In hindsight, she should have addressed it that very night.
The second sign came while on the road to Baldur's Gate. The journey had already taken them several days by then, and though everyone in the party was getting tired of the near constant travel on foot, Elena seemed to be taking the whole ordeal particularly badly. The closer they got to the city the more she withdrew, until one morning where she'd stayed shut inside her tent well past the point where they were supposed to depart for the day. Foolishly, Minthara had simply assumed the Tiefling needed some more rest, after all by then she'd had no reason to suspect anything more severe. Not a mistake she would repeat.
"You need to go check on Elena." Shadowheart said from behind the Drow as she was finishing packing up her tent. Normally she would have taken offence at being told to do anything by anyone, but the mention of Elena made her ears twitch. It was almost embarrassing how obvious her affections for the young bard were, but it wasn't like either of them were making much effort to hide their relationship. Minthara liked to think of it as marking their territory, reminding everyone that they were under eachother's protection. She occasionally got the feeling that Elena was flaunting her, for lack of a better word. "We were supposed to pack up and leave an hour ago, and she hasn't left her tent all morning."
"This journey has been very exhausting for her, I would prefer to let the girl sleep." Minthara replied, strapping her folded up tent and bedroll to her backpack and securing the whole thing with sturdy knots that were technically meant for use in the bedroom. She idly reminded herself to purchase some decent ropes once they got to the city, the ones she had access to at camp were far too thick and coarse.
"You haven't been with many people who share her mental state, have you?" the cleric inferred, crossing her arms and meeting the paladin's eyes when she turned around. Her face was stern, like she presumed to lecture the older woman, though in truth her advice may be more welcome than not. "Most around camp don't see it, but I do and I know you do too. Elena's not doing well, and staying in bed for this long usually isn't a good sign. I know, because I've had days like that myself. So please, go talk to her."
Minthara was silent for a moment as she considered the implication. She'd been around long enough, she knew what Shadowheart was alluding and that it was a bad idea to leave it unaddressed. In all honesty the paladin felt somewhat foolish for not taking Elena's depression into account herself, though in her defence she wasn't that knowledgeable in the subject. It wasn't exactly given a lot of... care, in Menzoberranzan. Instead of help and treatment being offered, the onus was usually placed upon the sufferer to hide and work on the symptoms unassisted...
...much like Elena had been doing recently.
"Out of my way." the Drow said as she unceremoniously dropped her backpack to the ground and marched right past Shadowheart, barely noticing the relieved look on the cleric's face in the corner of her eye. She may not have sworn any formal oaths of fealty to the Tiefling, but to her mind she was still under an obligation to protect and care for her. The vulnerability the girl had so graciously shown her would not be taken for granted.
Minthara only slowed down once she got close to Elena's tent, taking a moment to steady herself and push aside her own feelings of failure. If she was going to treat Elena right, she couldn't make herself the priority.
"Elena?" the paladin asked tentatively, right outside the tent's opening flap. No response, not even a groan. A seed of worry began to take root in Minthara's mind, but she tried to stay rational. There were any number of reasons why Elena wasn't answering her, perhaps she was simply still asleep, perhaps her voice was sore, or perhaps she felt so down couldn't even muster the necessary energy to speak loud enough to be heard... That last possibility made it considerably harder to stay calm, and so she spoke the Tiefling's name a little clearer. Still nothing. Well, only one thing to it. "I'm coming in, my girl."
Minthara slowly peeled back the tent flap to see the shape of Elena buried under her covers up to her horns, at first unmoving but soon stirring to life before suddenly flying into an upright position in what could only be described as blind panic. She immediately went from resting to frantically throwing the covers aside while sputtering out apologies.
"I'm up, I'm up! Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry, please don't be mad, I'm sorry..." Elena rambled as she fumbled with the straps on the backpack where she kept all her gear, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes, a distraught look on her face. Minthara had seen that kind of extreme reaction before, in soldiers returning from the front lines and servants treated with excessive harshness. Her heart broke once she connected the dots.
"My dear, it's alright. Everything is alright. I'm not mad at you, you're fine." Minthara said in the calmest voice she could muster as she made her way into the tent, slowly approaching Elena while doing her absolute best not to appear in any way like a threat. Her arms were outstretched, she knew how much her little bard liked being held when her mind was in turmoil like this. "It's just me, see? Nobody is going to hurt you."
Elena flinched away at first, but after a few seconds she tentatively leaned into the older woman's embrace, tears flowing down her cheeks as she sobbed and tried to catch her breath. She held onto Minthara's arm like a drowning woman would driftwood.
"You're not angry?" the Tiefling said quietly, her voice shaky and unsure. "I'm sorry for not getting up sooner, I'm sorry for causing a scene, I just..."
"Shh, it's alright. My darling girl, you have nothing to apologise for. I'm sorry for scaring you." the paladin replied, resting her chin on Elena's shoulder and gently rocking her until her breath steadied. They stayed like that until Elena felt calm enough to leave, but she once again did not speak of what was truly troubling her. It took a lot of restraint for Minthara not to pry.
By this time tomorrow, they would arrive at Baldur's Gate and all the trouble that entailed. If Minthara and Elena were ever going to have their talk, it would have to be now. And so the Drow followed the sound of a mournful violin, away from the camp where the others were still putting up their tents. She emerged in a clearing, the distant sunset spilling faintly through the trees and painting the scene before her in shades of orange and red. Elena sat on a tree stump with her back turned as she played her dirge, slightly hunched as if struggling to bear an invisible weight upon her shoulders.
Minthara approached slowly, she was always reluctant to interrupt her favourite bard when she was busy honing her craft, though it did not take long for her to be noticed. The final note trailed off into a scratching noise as Elena seized up, before a weary sigh fell from her lips. Without turning around she down towards her violin case to stow the instrument. Minthara could see the tension settling in the girl's back.
"You wish to talk." Elena said. It was a statement, not a question. When she finally turned to look the paladin in the eye she looked... exhausted. Defeated, as if it was taking all her energy just to be present in the moment.
"You have not been well as of late." Minthara replied, cutting straight to the point. Still, she tried to be careful in her choice of words. "I cannot help but worry, Elena. You know I care for you a great deal. I wish to help, but when you don't talk to me-"
"It's not your problem." the Tiefling interrupted, pulling her knees up to her chest with a distant look on her face. Her voice was almost devoid of emotional inflection, like she wasn't really there. "It's my burden to carry, but if you've noticed enough to worry... I guess I haven't been doing a very good job of it."
The Drow was taken aback for a moment, saddened by her lover putting herself down once more, a habit she'd hoped Elena had worked past by now. Perhaps an unreasonable expectation. Change didn't happen overnight.
"I cannot force you to accept my aid, dear. But neither would I be satisfied if you went along thinking it was beyond your reach, or that I would think any less of you should you need it." she affirmed, walking up to lay a gentle hand upon Elena's shoulder. A moment of silence followed, as the bard still refused to look her in the eye. Others would have stormed off in a huff at that, offended at being ignored instead of simply accepting that who they were speaking to needed a moment to think, to compose themselves. Minthara was determined to treat Elena better than she herself had been.
"I don't want to be weak..." Elena finally said, barely audible. She sounded resigned, hopeless for lack off a better word. Like she'd been dreading this conversation, but now just wanted to get the inevitable over with. "But... I can't help it. It's how I was born, I just... I'll never be a woman like you."
"Who is calling you weak, my girl? I'll gladly bring you their heads." Minthara asked, not joking in the slightest. The thought that someone would say such things about her Elena made her blood boil, yet the rational part of her mind forced her to realise that might not be the issue at hand. "...have I made you feel weak?"
"No! I mean... I can't help but compare myself to you, but that's not your fault..." the bard explained hastily, shifting uncomfortably on the spot. "You've seen how I act, how I flinch at the dumbest things... My cowardice is bad enough already, but such behaviour, such weakness... A woman should be stronger."
"Oh, Elena..." the Drow began, so uncharacteristically soft in her tone that it surprised even her. She stepped around to Elena's front, lifting the girl's head to gently cup and caress her cheeks. "What you are describing is trauma, and it is not weakness. I see you fighting uphill every day. I know it is difficult, and exhausting, and unfair, but it gets easier. You will live to see a day where the fight is so easy you barely have to fight at all, I know this because you are strong, Elena. You are the strongest person I know."
"You have no idea how much I want to believe that..." Elena said quietly, an unsure expression on her face, tears budding at the corners of her eyes. She took a moment to just close her eyes and breathe, steeling herself for whatever she must say next. "My first partner, she... beat me. Whenever I would stay too long in bed, or couldn't muster the energy to clean the house, or forgot to cook. We knew something was, is, wrong with me... And she said there was no way I could get better without... consequences."
Minthara's ears twitched, as another name got added to the list of souls she would send screaming down to the Hells for daring to wrong her and her loved ones. Vengeance is a virtue, after all. Again she was reminded of Menzoberranzan, how the society she grew up in assigned blame in situations like what Elena had gone through. But Minthara Baenre had no need of those teachings anymore. Right now her heart was telling her what was right and wrong, and that was all she listened to.
"There is nothing wrong with you, Elena, and I will not tolerate anyone saying otherwise. What happened to you were the actions of a feeble, weak-minded individual who would rather treat their partner as a problem to be solved than an equal to respect and cherish. None of that, none of it, was your fault!" the paladin said with steely conviction and a fire in her eyes, smoothing her hand across Elena's cheek and up into her hair where she gently caressed her scalp.
"But... I put up with it for so long, accepted every apology, I... Gods, Minthara. I stayed with her for two years, I-"
"And? You did what you had to in order to survive. You may have placed your faith in someone undeserving of it, but this is a mistake that everyone makes. It takes time to learn who to trust, and who to cast aside." Minthara replied, a smile playing across her face as the Tiefling processed her words, and with it hopefully coming to a realisation: She was far stronger than she gave herself credit for, and she did not have to be infallible to be a real woman. That last part especially Minthara hoped was obvious. No matter what, nobody could take Elena's womanhood from her.
"I love you." the bard suddenly blurted out, without fear or remorse and only a slight blush to her cheeks. "I wish I'd said it sooner, but I love you Minthara. You are the darkness that shields me from harm and the light that guides me to the warmth of home. And... I cannot thank you enough for this, but you make me feel like I have worth."
Minthara knew she was not an easy person to love. She had her peculiarities, her odd habits, and nobody would dispute her vicious streaks. She'd lived a long life, and was responsible for more than her fair share of atrocities. In truth, she'd given up hope on true love long ago. Such things weren't for people like her.
But in Elena's eyes she could see it, clear as the light of day. Minthara was loved. Somehow, against all odds, she had earned the love of this beautiful, timid girl who so often saw the world in only its darkest hues. This girl who trusted a killer to nurture and care for her. A girl Minthara loved more than she hated her enemies.
So, Minthara told her. In every language she knew, every way she could think of. For long hours they professed their devotion to eachother, tangled in eachother's arms and calling one another's names until their voices grew breathless and sore. They did not part until morning, and then only briefly.
Their days ahead would be difficult, for there were many foes arrayed against them, both from within and without. But neither would face them alone.