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Confrontation

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Bishop entered through the opening to the arena, a wall of fire rising behind him, to keep him from leaving before the fight was over. He snorted.

To add to the dramatics, more likely.

He could hear boos, and whistles. He grinned wryly.

Seems like I’m not really popular here.

He fingered his twin scimitars lovingly. It felt good to have them back at his side. To be out in the open air, able to breathe again. The damp, dark cells, the chains, it had been hard to take. He doubted anyone could be comfortable like that, but for him, it had been hell. He was used to run free through the woods, sleep under an open sky. He did not like being indoors at the best of times. But the last weeks – that had been bad.

But now, back outside, feeling the sun on his face again, breathing fresh air – he could feel his spirits lifting.

He smiled grimly. He suddenly felt much more optimistic. He would win this fight. And he would be free to walk under the sky again. No one would keep him from that. It was worth fighting for.

If you’re not willing to kill for it, how important can it be?

So true. He was willing to fight. He was even willing to die for his freedom.

Suddenly, the sound of the crowd changed, turning from catcalls to cheers.

Seems like my opponent has arrived.

Bishop turned to face the opposite gate.

Let him come. I’m ready.

Grimly, his eyes narrowed to slits, he watched a tall figure step through the shadow of the portal.

Are you ready to die, fool?

Then he saw the morning sun gleam on white hair, saw the familiar, graceful movements, saw the cool, blue eyes meet his defiantly.

He felt the colour drain from his face and his knees go weak. His grip on his swords loosened and he nearly let the weapons fall to the ground. What was this? Some sick kind of joke? What was she doing here?

If you allow yourself to develop a weak spot, someone will find a way to exploit it.

So they thought they had found a way to exploit that vulnerable spot of his, did they?. Thought that, if they sent her in, he would not fight for his life, would not kill her for his freedom, so that they would see him dead in the end. He wondered whose idea it had been. Hers? No one else knew about his weakness for her.

He felt like throwing his head back and howling in anger like a wolf. Was this never going to end? Would he be forced to repeat this torment over and over again? Someone surely had a very twisted sense of humour, and whoever that was did have a lot of fun on Bishop’s expense. Would he never be able to be rid of her?

Well, if they thought he would just cave, he would prove them wrong. He’d end this now. He had tried to avoid it, this time, but if they forced him to do it, he would. He always did what needed to be done.

Let’s get this over with.

His resolution hardened, he gripped his scimitars firmly again, and walked right up to her.

She awaited him, calm and silent, not saying a word.

“What are you doing here?”, he snarled.

She looked at him, still very calm, and replied evenly: “I’m the one you betrayed. I am the one you tried to murder. So if anyone should face you to receive judgement, it’s me.”

“Whose idea was this?”, he spat. “I don’t like to be made a fool of!”

She just shrugged. “Are you going to fight me or not? There’s a god’s judgement awaiting.”, she answered.

Bishop’s eyes narrowed in anger. “You can bet your head I will fight you. If you thought I would just quit, because of that little tryst in the woods, you were sorely mistaken!”

She looked at him, something like sadness in her eyes. “So be it.”

Bishop clenched his teeth. Very well. She had brought this down on herself, hadn’t she?

Chantal saw Bishop’s mouth compress into a tight line. Without further warning, he crouched into a fighting stance, and one of the scimitars moved towards her in a forceful arc, the other one ready to parry any blow she might deal. She could see only grim determination on his face.

She closed her eyes and lowered her own sword, awaiting the pain.

So, this is his choice?

Something connected with her upper arm, hard, and made her stumble a step to the side. She opened her eyes and looked into Bishop’s face. His eyes were blazing with fury, his jaw clenched. He had turned the blade in the last moment and lowered it a bit, so that only the broad side hit her, harmlessly.

“Defend yourself, godsdamnit!”, he gritted.

She just shook her head and dropped her sword.

“No”, she said calmly, meeting his blazing eyes with her own cool stare. “Just kill me, and you’ll be free. Of Neverwinter, of me. Isn’t that what you wanted, all along?”

He spat out a curse. “What game is this? Don’t think I won’t do it”, he growled.

“Well, then, what are you waiting for?”

He gnashed his teeth, his hands clenching around the handle of his scimitars. He lifted the weapon, his furious gaze never leaving hers.

Chantal stood very still, looking firmly into his eyes, head held high, awaiting the blow.

Bishop hesitated for an endless moment, his sword drawn back, ready to strike. Then, after a second stretched into an eternity while they stared at each other, the fire slowly died in his eyes, to be replaced by dejection. He exhaled slowly, and his hands let go, his weapons tumbling into the sand.

“I can’t do it”, he said helplessly, arms falling to his side, staring at her, utter lack of comprehension in his eyes. “What have you done to me? I can’t do it, even if it costs me my life.”

She had to close her eyes for a moment, as relief flooded through her, so strong it made her knees tremble. She had been right.

Thank you, gods.

She opened her eyes again, her gaze searching his face.

A humourless smile twisted his mouth and he dropped to his knees, his head bent. “Seems like it’s your turn this time to kill me”, he said caustically. “Go on, then. End my life. It’s not like it’s worth much anyway.”

She knelt down as well, in front of him. “Beg to differ”, she answered softly, her voice still shaking slightly with relief, and reached out, lightly touching his short hair.

He lifted his head, searching for her eyes, a painful question showing in his.

She smiled and stroked his cheek. “Gods, Bishop, you can be so thick sometimes”, she said, tenderly.

Realisation dawned on his face.

“You… you planned this!”, he said, incredulously.

She smiled at him. “Yes.”

Some of the old anger flickered in his eyes. “You idiot! I might have killed you! I nearly did!”

She shrugged. “Well, I reckoned, if you really went through with it, I would not want to go on anyway.”

He drew back, staring at her. “You… what do you…”

She silenced him with a finger on his lips. “Thick”, she whispered.

Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned forward a bit and placed a soft kiss on his lips. His eyes closed, his arms going around her, drawing her close, burying his face in her neck. He gave a trembling sigh, and she could feel him shiver.

“I nearly killed you”, he repeated, his voice unsteady.

“But you did not”, she whispered, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of his arms around her, his closeness. It was as if a wound in herself that had been hurting constantly was slowly closing with his touch. It felt so good. She inhaled deeply, breathing in his scent, the scent she loved so much, hugging him even closer, forgetting everything around her, everything but the feel of having him near and the gradually subsiding pain in her heart.

Until Nasher’s booming voice brought her back to the present. “I think we all have seen a judgement of Tyr today”, he said, his voice resonating through the arena. Chantal flinched and opened her eyes, only now realising how quiet it had been.

Bishop raised his head and looked at her. She had never seen so much insecurity in his eyes, hope battling with fear.

“What about... the paladin?”, he asked, hesitatingly.

She sighed and shook her head. “You know he’s with Neeshka. He loves her. I haven’t been with him since... since that night you came to me in the glade. I couldn’t. Not... not with what I felt for you.”

He stared at her, comprehension dawning in his eyes. “I have been very stupid, haven’t I?” he said, softly.

Chantal’s lips twitched a bit. “Incredibly stupid”, she said.

He closed his eyes for a moment, a shiver going through him. “I’m afraid”, he whispered.

“Shhh”, she said, stroking his cheek. “I know. Don’t be. We’ll make it work.”

Pain flitted across his face. “I’ve heard that before”, he said, his voice strangled. “Right before I lost her. They killed her, just because they knew it would destroy me.”

One day, I’ll make him tell me.

“But it did not destroy you”, she replied, softly.

“Yes, it did”, he answered, looking into her eyes. “I was dead inside. Empty. You know that. Until... you made me feel again.” He swallowed. “I can’t go through that again, all that pain. I just can’t. I’d rather stay dead.”

“Don’t worry about me”, she murmured, softly touching his face. “I can look after myself. I’m not that easy to kill. You should know that, of all persons. Whoever “they” are, I’m sure I could kick their asses.”

He just stared at her.

She cast down her eyes, looking up at him through her lashes. “I could kick your ass”, she murmured, challengingly.

Involuntarily, he gave a little laugh. “Only if you saw me coming”, he said.

She smiled at him, glad to see the pain on his face fade a bit.

He finally got up, holding his hand out. She took it, and he pulled her into his arms, hugging her close for a moment. Then they turned to face Lord Nasher.

Nasher’s face was impassive, as always, but Chantal thought she could see laughter in his eyes, and blushed slightly.

“Well, I think there is no blood to be shed in this arena today”, he spoke. “Tyr has rendered his judgement.” His eyes went to Bishop, all humour leaving them. “You will walk free. But if you are ever caught harming any of my people again, I will see you hang. Remember this.”

Chantal’s eyes left Nasher to wander over the people next to him until she found the faces she was looking for.

She saw Casavir staring at her with an expression of open horror on his face.

I’m so sorry, old friend. I had to do it. I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.

Neeshka stood next to Casavir, clinging to his arm, her face pale, but Chantal could see her nod nearly imperceptibly, and the corner of her mouth lifted in the barest of smiles.

You’re the best of friends... I’m sorry for what I did. I’ll try to make it up to you, I promise.

And behind the paladin and the tiefling she could see Duncan, fear and relief battling openly on his face. She looked at him, and he shook his head slowly, full of sorrow.

Chantal felt a tug on her arm and noticed they had been dismissed, and Bishop had turned away, drawing her with him. She followed him to collect their weapons from the sand, turning back to throw one last glance at her friends before they left the arena.

Outside, Bishop faced her, drawing her near, burying his face in her hair. She could feel a tremor going through him.

“I’m still afraid”, he whispered. “I don’t know if I can do this. I might still run.”

“I know”, she said, shaking the regret she felt because of the sorrow she had caused her friends. She would deal with that later.

She drew back a little so she could gaze into Bishop’s eyes. “But I also know you will come back. Won’t you?”

His eyes went soft. He lifted a hand, tracing her lips with his finger.

“Witch woman”, he murmured. “Yes, I guess I would be back. That is an evil spell you have laid on me.”

Chantal smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. “Do you want me to remove it?”, she whispered, looking deep into his eyes.

“Don’t you dare”, he said, covering her mouth with his in a passionate kiss.

So, this is it. The final chapter of a rather long story. I hope you enjoyed reading - but if you beared with me that long, I guess it was no total drag

I thought I'd better say a few words to the ending. In the game, you don't have to kill your opponent to win the Trial by Combat. I know that not all players get the option to let Lorne live, it probably depends on your alignment, but I was able to choose, and I let him live and still came out the winner.

So, because Chantal dropped her weapon, Bishop is officially the winner, but he does not have to kill Chantal to walk free. And that was exactly what she was hoping for. I have thought a long time about what Bishop would do in this situation, and I was severely tempted to have him kill her nonetheless. But in the end I thought that even he would have learned from what he went through during the last year.

Bishop and happy endings are kind of hard to mix on the other hand, so I settled for a silver lining on the horizon, instead of a happily-ever-after. It may not be to everyone's tastes, but to me, it was the most likely end. Whether they manage to find some happiness together I'll leave to your imagination

So thanks to everyone who kept reading to the end, and I sincerly hope it did not disappoint.

;) (Wink) — Description
Confrontation

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Bishop entered through the opening to the arena, a wall of fire rising behind him, to keep him from leaving before the fight was over. He snorted.

To add to the dramatics, more likely.

He could hear boos, and whistles. He grinned wryly.

Seems like I’m not really popular here.

He fingered his twin scimitars lovingly. It felt good to have them back at his side. To be out in the open air, able to breathe again. The damp, dark cells, the chains, it had been hard to take. He doubted anyone could be comfortable like that, but for him, it had been hell. He was used to run free through the woods, sleep under an open sky. He did not like being indoors at the best of times. But the last weeks – that had been bad.

But now, back outside, feeling the sun on his face again, breathing fresh air – he could feel his spirits lifting.

He smiled grimly. He suddenly felt much more optimistic. He would win this fight. And he would be free to walk under the sky again. No one would keep him from that. It was worth fighting for.

If you’re not willing to kill for it, how important can it be?

So true. He was willing to fight. He was even willing to die for his freedom.

Suddenly, the sound of the crowd changed, turning from catcalls to cheers.

Seems like my opponent has arrived.

Bishop turned to face the opposite gate.

Let him come. I’m ready.

Grimly, his eyes narrowed to slits, he watched a tall figure step through the shadow of the portal.

Are you ready to die, fool?

Then he saw the morning sun gleam on white hair, saw the familiar, graceful movements, saw the cool, blue eyes meet his defiantly.

He felt the colour drain from his face and his knees go weak. His grip on his swords loosened and he nearly let the weapons fall to the ground. What was this? Some sick kind of joke? What was she doing here?

If you allow yourself to develop a weak spot, someone will find a way to exploit it.

So they thought they had found a way to exploit that vulnerable spot of his, did they?. Thought that, if they sent her in, he would not fight for his life, would not kill her for his freedom, so that they would see him dead in the end. He wondered whose idea it had been. Hers? No one else knew about his weakness for her.

He felt like throwing his head back and howling in anger like a wolf. Was this never going to end? Would he be forced to repeat this torment over and over again? Someone surely had a very twisted sense of humour, and whoever that was did have a lot of fun on Bishop’s expense. Would he never be able to be rid of her?

Well, if they thought he would just cave, he would prove them wrong. He’d end this now. He had tried to avoid it, this time, but if they forced him to do it, he would. He always did what needed to be done.

Let’s get this over with.

His resolution hardened, he gripped his scimitars firmly again, and walked right up to her.

She awaited him, calm and silent, not saying a word.

“What are you doing here?”, he snarled.

She looked at him, still very calm, and replied evenly: “I’m the one you betrayed. I am the one you tried to murder. So if anyone should face you to receive judgement, it’s me.”

“Whose idea was this?”, he spat. “I don’t like to be made a fool of!”

She just shrugged. “Are you going to fight me or not? There’s a god’s judgement awaiting.”, she answered.

Bishop’s eyes narrowed in anger. “You can bet your head I will fight you. If you thought I would just quit, because of that little tryst in the woods, you were sorely mistaken!”

She looked at him, something like sadness in her eyes. “So be it.”

Bishop clenched his teeth. Very well. She had brought this down on herself, hadn’t she?

Chantal saw Bishop’s mouth compress into a tight line. Without further warning, he crouched into a fighting stance, and one of the scimitars moved towards her in a forceful arc, the other one ready to parry any blow she might deal. She could see only grim determination on his face.

She closed her eyes and lowered her own sword, awaiting the pain.

So, this is his choice?

Something connected with her upper arm, hard, and made her stumble a step to the side. She opened her eyes and looked into Bishop’s face. His eyes were blazing with fury, his jaw clenched. He had turned the blade in the last moment and lowered it a bit, so that only the broad side hit her, harmlessly.

“Defend yourself, godsdamnit!”, he gritted.

She just shook her head and dropped her sword.

“No”, she said calmly, meeting his blazing eyes with her own cool stare. “Just kill me, and you’ll be free. Of Neverwinter, of me. Isn’t that what you wanted, all along?”

He spat out a curse. “What game is this? Don’t think I won’t do it”, he growled.

“Well, then, what are you waiting for?”

He gnashed his teeth, his hands clenching around the handle of his scimitars. He lifted the weapon, his furious gaze never leaving hers.

Chantal stood very still, looking firmly into his eyes, head held high, awaiting the blow.

Bishop hesitated for an endless moment, his sword drawn back, ready to strike. Then, after a second stretched into an eternity while they stared at each other, the fire slowly died in his eyes, to be replaced by dejection. He exhaled slowly, and his hands let go, his weapons tumbling into the sand.

“I can’t do it”, he said helplessly, arms falling to his side, staring at her, utter lack of comprehension in his eyes. “What have you done to me? I can’t do it, even if it costs me my life.”

She had to close her eyes for a moment, as relief flooded through her, so strong it made her knees tremble. She had been right.

Thank you, gods.

She opened her eyes again, her gaze searching his face.

A humourless smile twisted his mouth and he dropped to his knees, his head bent. “Seems like it’s your turn this time to kill me”, he said caustically. “Go on, then. End my life. It’s not like it’s worth much anyway.”

She knelt down as well, in front of him. “Beg to differ”, she answered softly, her voice still shaking slightly with relief, and reached out, lightly touching his short hair.

He lifted his head, searching for her eyes, a painful question showing in his.

She smiled and stroked his cheek. “Gods, Bishop, you can be so thick sometimes”, she said, tenderly.

Realisation dawned on his face.

“You… you planned this!”, he said, incredulously.

She smiled at him. “Yes.”

Some of the old anger flickered in his eyes. “You idiot! I might have killed you! I nearly did!”

She shrugged. “Well, I reckoned, if you really went through with it, I would not want to go on anyway.”

He drew back, staring at her. “You… what do you…”

She silenced him with a finger on his lips. “Thick”, she whispered.

Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned forward a bit and placed a soft kiss on his lips. His eyes closed, his arms going around her, drawing her close, burying his face in her neck. He gave a trembling sigh, and she could feel him shiver.

“I nearly killed you”, he repeated, his voice unsteady.

“But you did not”, she whispered, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of his arms around her, his closeness. It was as if a wound in herself that had been hurting constantly was slowly closing with his touch. It felt so good. She inhaled deeply, breathing in his scent, the scent she loved so much, hugging him even closer, forgetting everything around her, everything but the feel of having him near and the gradually subsiding pain in her heart.

Until Nasher’s booming voice brought her back to the present. “I think we all have seen a judgement of Tyr today”, he said, his voice resonating through the arena. Chantal flinched and opened her eyes, only now realising how quiet it had been.

Bishop raised his head and looked at her. She had never seen so much insecurity in his eyes, hope battling with fear.

“What about... the paladin?”, he asked, hesitatingly.

She sighed and shook her head. “You know he’s with Neeshka. He loves her. I haven’t been with him since... since that night you came to me in the glade. I couldn’t. Not... not with what I felt for you.”

He stared at her, comprehension dawning in his eyes. “I have been very stupid, haven’t I?” he said, softly.

Chantal’s lips twitched a bit. “Incredibly stupid”, she said.

He closed his eyes for a moment, a shiver going through him. “I’m afraid”, he whispered.

“Shhh”, she said, stroking his cheek. “I know. Don’t be. We’ll make it work.”

Pain flitted across his face. “I’ve heard that before”, he said, his voice strangled. “Right before I lost her. They killed her, just because they knew it would destroy me.”

One day, I’ll make him tell me.

“But it did not destroy you”, she replied, softly.

“Yes, it did”, he answered, looking into her eyes. “I was dead inside. Empty. You know that. Until... you made me feel again.” He swallowed. “I can’t go through that again, all that pain. I just can’t. I’d rather stay dead.”

“Don’t worry about me”, she murmured, softly touching his face. “I can look after myself. I’m not that easy to kill. You should know that, of all persons. Whoever “they” are, I’m sure I could kick their asses.”

He just stared at her.

She cast down her eyes, looking up at him through her lashes. “I could kick your ass”, she murmured, challengingly.

Involuntarily, he gave a little laugh. “Only if you saw me coming”, he said.

She smiled at him, glad to see the pain on his face fade a bit.

He finally got up, holding his hand out. She took it, and he pulled her into his arms, hugging her close for a moment. Then they turned to face Lord Nasher.

Nasher’s face was impassive, as always, but Chantal thought she could see laughter in his eyes, and blushed slightly.

“Well, I think there is no blood to be shed in this arena today”, he spoke. “Tyr has rendered his judgement.” His eyes went to Bishop, all humour leaving them. “You will walk free. But if you are ever caught harming any of my people again, I will see you hang. Remember this.”

Chantal’s eyes left Nasher to wander over the people next to him until she found the faces she was looking for.

She saw Casavir staring at her with an expression of open horror on his face.

I’m so sorry, old friend. I had to do it. I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.

Neeshka stood next to Casavir, clinging to his arm, her face pale, but Chantal could see her nod nearly imperceptibly, and the corner of her mouth lifted in the barest of smiles.

You’re the best of friends... I’m sorry for what I did. I’ll try to make it up to you, I promise.

And behind the paladin and the tiefling she could see Duncan, fear and relief battling openly on his face. She looked at him, and he shook his head slowly, full of sorrow.

Chantal felt a tug on her arm and noticed they had been dismissed, and Bishop had turned away, drawing her with him. She followed him to collect their weapons from the sand, turning back to throw one last glance at her friends before they left the arena.

Outside, Bishop faced her, drawing her near, burying his face in her hair. She could feel a tremor going through him.

“I’m still afraid”, he whispered. “I don’t know if I can do this. I might still run.”

“I know”, she said, shaking the regret she felt because of the sorrow she had caused her friends. She would deal with that later.

She drew back a little so she could gaze into Bishop’s eyes. “But I also know you will come back. Won’t you?”

His eyes went soft. He lifted a hand, tracing her lips with his finger.

“Witch woman”, he murmured. “Yes, I guess I would be back. That is an evil spell you have laid on me.”

Chantal smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. “Do you want me to remove it?”, she whispered, looking deep into his eyes.

“Don’t you dare”, he said, covering her mouth with his in a passionate kiss.

So, this is it. The final chapter of a rather long story. I hope you enjoyed reading - but if you beared with me that long, I guess it was no total drag

I thought I'd better say a few words to the ending. In the game, you don't have to kill your opponent to win the Trial by Combat. I know that not all players get the option to let Lorne live, it probably depends on your alignment, but I was able to choose, and I let him live and still came out the winner.

So, because Chantal dropped her weapon, Bishop is officially the winner, but he does not have to kill Chantal to walk free. And that was exactly what she was hoping for. I have thought a long time about what Bishop would do in this situation, and I was severely tempted to have him kill her nonetheless. But in the end I thought that even he would have learned from what he went through during the last year.

Bishop and happy endings are kind of hard to mix on the other hand, so I settled for a silver lining on the horizon, instead of a happily-ever-after. It may not be to everyone's tastes, but to me, it was the most likely end. Whether they manage to find some happiness together I'll leave to your imagination

So thanks to everyone who kept reading to the end, and I sincerly hope it did not disappoint.