Chapter Text
“Wakey wakey, Lady Blade!”
Irva grumbles as Karlach cackles into her ear, wrapping her arms around the groggy cleric’s waist and hauling her up to a seat.
“Ugh… what? Why’re you…?”
“Aw, I know you want to get your beauty rest, but what’s the point if you’re already hot as hell?” Karlach teases. “Get it? Because…”
“You,” Irva growls, “have far too much energy right now.”
She manages to wrap her leg around Karlach, rolling her onto her back and pinning the tiefling down with a triumphantly bark of laughter. Karlach humors the little cleric. After all, it’s nice to see her grinning like this.
“Ohhh have mercy, you got me!” Karlach groans dramatically.
“I’m half-asleep and you’re already surrendering?” Irva smirks. “Avernus has made you soft.”
“You’re right. It’s all that good eating here, you know?” Karlach says sarcastically, her eyes sparkling.
“I wish,” Irva grouses. “I could use something that isn’t a fungus someday soon…”
“Your wish is my command!” Wyll calls out to them, his footfalls soft in the echoing cave. “Good morning, my ladies!”
He bows with a flourish at the entrance of the cave, prompting the two women to giggle even more, “May I interest you in some fine dining for this morning’s brunch?”
“Oh shit, what did you get?” Karlach asks eagerly, even as she remains contentedly relaxed beneath Irva’s seat.
“Abyssal chicken,” Wyll says proudly, the blood still shining in a fresh splatter across his armor.
“Ah, I thought something smelled less awful than usual,” Irva remarks, dismounting their friend and reaching to secure her other leg back on. She stands groggily, shuffling towards her partner. “Do we still have enough water?”
“You, my love, are clearly still spent from yesterday’s casting,” Wyll scolds her. “We have enough, so you should certainly drink some.”
“I can create more!” Irva insists, eyes already glowing as she begins to lift her hands.
“Not yet, Irv,” Karlach chuckles, patting her on the head as she passes the couple by. “The Blade is right, so just drink your water like a good girl.”
The three of them have been in relatively good spirits compared to the rest of this past year. After all, they uncovered plans for an infernal forge that holds a possible solution for Karlach’s infernal heart.
Hope is a dangerous thing, especially in hell, but it puts a bounce in the trio’s step nonetheless.
The freshly-cooked abyssal chicken doesn’t hurt, either.
“I think you’ve gotten the hang of this!” Karlach extolls, closing her eyes and groaning as she chews. “The amount of sulfur is positively tasteful.”
“I’m sure the patriars would have paid good money for such a delicacy,” Wyll quips dryly.
“Sweet hells, this is delicious,” Irva groans, placing her half-eaten chicken quarter back onto her plate. “And I’m already full. Go ahead, one of you — finish mine up.”
With an uncomfortable ache in his heart, Wyll follows her towards the cave’s exit.
“Are you feeling well?” he asks his partner, placing a hand upon her back.
“I’m feeling better than ever!” Irva assures him. “I’m rested enough, love. Let me keep watch?”
Wyll nods, handing her his waterskin before returning to Karlach’s company.
“Waste not, want not,” Karlach says lightly as she pulls over Irva’s abandoned plate. “Seriously. This is fantastic, Wyll. Worlds better than the jerky we’ve been gnawing at.”
Wyll hums in agreement, but his tight smile doesn’t fool Karlach.
“Copper for your thoughts?” she asks gently.
“It’s just one of those days, I’m afraid,” Wyll mumbles, staring in the direction of Irva. “I'll be fine, now that I have a moment to rest.”
There is a brief, skeptical silence.
“Hells, all right,” Wyll buries his head into his hands. “I suppose... have you been talking with Irva?”
“I mean, of course…?”
“Particularly when I’m not present,” Wyll clarifies warily, "do you think she’s… well?”
Karlach frowns at him.
“Hang on,” she ducks down to catch Wyll’s averted eyes. “Are you worried about something in particular?”
Wyll sighs heavily. “Yes, but you must not tell her, you hear me?”
Karlach glances around, her mouth twisting with concern as she rests a solemn hand upon her glowing heart.
“Your secret will be safe with me,” she vows.
“Thank you,” Wyll shifts uneasily. “I… I am worried about her. Looking back, she was quick to suggest Avernus for all of us, and eager to hurry through that portal. I thank the Triad every day we could save you that way. But even after all this time, a small part of me can’t help but worry that it wasn’t only to save you.”
He looks up at Karlach, troubled. “After all, we’re not the only things she has loved, here in Avernus.”
Karlach scoffs an incredulous laugh. “Soldier. Are you seriously thinking that she came here to find—?”
“—Tiamat. And yes,” Wyll confesses in a hush. “We have been searching for a solution for your heart, but do you ever get the feeling that she’s searching for something else?”
Karlach grimaces. “Soldier...”
“I know I should trust her,” Wyll continues shakily. “And I do, I think. But I also know that some habits... and some beliefs... don’t die so quickly. As my father warned me, one doesn’t simply forsake the teachings of their cult. It takes far more time than Irva had, and far more support than even we were able to give.”
Karlach ponders beside him.
“And if she does find Tiamat? Or if we accidentally stumble upon her?” she prompts him carefully. “What do you fear?”
Wyll huffs a mournful laugh. “I’m afraid I’ll lose her. I’m afraid she’ll still be willing to free Tiamat and unleash her upon the material plane, and even if she isn’t willing, that Tiamat will enthrall her and use her to do the same.”
“Wyll,” Karlach says sternly. “Do you trust Irva?”
He doesn’t hesitate this time, “Yes, I do. Everything is simply so uncertain and I don’t know how to give her the life she wants…!”
“How do you know that this isn’t the life she wants?” Karlach interrupts, before backtracking. “Shit, I don't mean spending her long engagement in Avernus... but the fact is, she’s got two someones she trusts besides her. Two people who love her. I think that’s something special, and she doesn’t need to tell us for me to know that.
“And yeah, I know she still wants to be connected to dragons, but they’re not all bad!” she reminds him. “I heard her talking to the cleric in Stormshore Tabernacle about Bahamut a while back. She didn’t know anything about him back then, so maybe if she begins to talk to someone like him, he could be a good influence. A better deity, if she’s gotta have one at all.
“But going back to what you said… I think I know something of what you’re feeling, Soldier,” Karlach says gently. “I've felt... awful that the two of you are spending your engagement running around with me and not living it up in the city. Hells, you could be a duke. She could be a duchess. You both could be dancing your asses off at a fancy masquerade ball right now!”
“Such occasions are nothing in the face of what matters," Wyll insists. "If skipping those means you’re safe, it’s more than worth it to me."
Karlach gives him a rueful smile. “I think Irva feels the same.”
Wyll closes his eyes. After a long moment, he looks to Karlach, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I can’t lose her, Karlach.”
“I can’t either… and we won’t, Soldier," Karlach's voice catches as she tears up as well. “Look, we love Irva. She loves us. And I think she loves that world we left behind, too. Think back — she had a chance to take the power offered by the Absolute, and she turned it down in an instant. We have to trust that she knows better than to blindly follow her old scripture. She’s better than that, don’t you think?”
Wyll nods, but something in his face is still doubtful.
“There’s… one more thing,” he confesses in a hush so low that Karlach needs to lean closer to hear him. “I’ve heard her muttering to herself... or someone else... when she’s off on her own. Talking about protection, and portals, and…” he shudders, “...rituals.”
He looks at Karlach. “I don’t doubt that she loves us. But I fear that even if she doesn’t unleash Tiamat for the sake of ending the world, she may somehow be brokering a deal with her for our protection, for a way to walk right into the forge and fix your heart. The truth is… I believe that she would do anything to see us safe.”
With a heavy sigh, Karlach reaches out to pull Wyll into a hug, and he buries his face in her shoulder to stifle a sob.
“Soldier… I’m sure it’s nothing. But if you're worrying about it, don’t you think you should just talk to her about this?” she asks warily. “We’re her friends. Maybe she feels alone with this burden, but we can talk her out of it, tell her it’ll be alright, that…”
She trails off, waffling a bit. “Look, that devil the other day was messing with our heads, wasn't he? Maybe these thoughts are coming up now as a symptom of that?”
Wyll sighs, “Perhaps, but still—”
He’s interrupted by a husky voice echoing through the cave.
“Karlach, have you seen—?”
Irva stops in her tracks, taken aback by the sight of her dour-faced companions.
“Oh hells,” Irva murmurs, approaching them both and reaching out a hand towards Wyll, glancing at Karlach with a question upon her face. “Did something happen?”
Wyll leans into Irva’s hand as her thumb strokes his cheek.
“We were talking about missing home,” Karlach covers for him, clearing her throat.
Irva reaches her other hand over, squeezing her friend’s shoulder as well.
“I understand,” she says softly. “It’s these quiet moments that are the worst, aren’t they? It gives us too much time to think.”
She rubs their shoulders thoughtfully.
“So... this might not be the best time,” she hesitates. “But I have a surprise for both of you.”
Karlach meets Wyll’s alarmed, wary gaze.
“A surprise in the hells,” Wyll says slowly. “Can you share any more details than that?”
Irva hums dubiously. “All I will say is that we should pack up camp. Other than that… it’s better if I show you.”
Wyll stands to oblige her, his heart pounding. He can tell that both Irva and Karlach are anxious as well as they begin to pack up their simple camp. But as soon as Irva leaves the cavern, he pulls Karlach aside.
“What should we do?” he hisses to her. “What if it’s…?”
“Soldier,” Karlach says sternly, grasping him by the shoulders. “It’s going to be alright. I promise.”
They’re awfully bold words.
Awfully confident words, too.
“Do you… know something?” Wyll asks her warily.
“Nope! I just… trust Irv," Karlach chuckles uneasily, patting his shoulder. "And you should too."
“Are we ready to go?” Irva shouts, her voice echoing throughout the chamber.
“Irva,” Wyll calls back, his voice breaking as he approaches his lover. “Can we speak in private for a moment?”
He gives Karlach an apologetic look and receives an encouraging thumbs-up in return.
“Yes?” Irva asks bemusedly as Wyll approaches. “Is something—?"
She hums happily into his sudden kiss, smiling as she wraps her arms around his neck. Wyll tries to pour everything that remains unsaid into the embrace, his lips pulling against hers as their tongues intertwine — unhurried and unabashed.
“Wyll…” Irva's gaze is quizzical as he pulls away.
“Irva,” Wyll chokes. “You know that I love you more than anything, right?”
His partner's breath catches, her eyes shining.
“So you’ve told me,” she murmurs.
“And I trust… that if it comes to it... you’ll do the right thing,” Wyll flounders at Irva’s sharp look of worry.
“Where’s this coming from?” she asks warily.
But before Wyll can answer, the cleric winces, swaying on the spot.
“Irva? Darling?” Wyll asks worriedly.
Irva opens her unfocused eyes, smiling.
“I’m fine, Wyll,” she reassures him. “But we should hurry — there’s not much time before we’ll need to go.”
“What’s going on?” Wyll asks.
“You’ll see, but first help Karlach pack,” Irva insists. “I need to… do something.”
She strolls out of the cave, and Wyll wrestles with the urge to follow after her. Instead he returns to Karlach, dousing the cooking fire and securing their minimal camp supplies.
“Keep your head on, Blade of Avernus,” Karlach mutters to him, patting him on the shoulder as she passes.
“I will… I am,” Wyll whispers — more to himself than anything.
—
Irva meets them at the mouth of the cave, already wearing her pack and dressed in the armor they had scavenged off a sundry of corpses over the past year. Despite its rather crude styling, Wyll can’t help but think that she looks utterly beautiful in it.
“Alright Irv, where to next?” Karlach asks blithely.
“Somewhere not far at all,” Irva gestures for them to follow. “But we must hurry. I don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves.”
She leads the two of them to another culvert amid the labyrinthine landscape, utterly silent as the occasional imp passes overhead. And then, upon reaching a dead end, Wyll spies the unmistakable lines and infernal runes of an incomplete ritual circle, lined with objects ranging from skulls, coins, and other unidentifiable artifacts.
“Oh hells,” Wyll utters, his steps faltering. “Irva. What is this?”
Karlach, meanwhile, bounces ahead of him. “Oh hey, how did this get here?”
Irva shoots her a quick but reproachful look that Wyll doesn’t miss.
“It’s a teleportation circle,” she explains to her partner. “Surely you recognize it?”
Wyll frowns.
“Very well. But where are we going?” he asks cautiously.
Irva exchanges another look with Karlach.
“Somewhere we can be safe,” she tells him enigmatically.
Wyll trusts her.
He does.
“I’m going to recite an incantation as I draw the rest of the circle,” Irva informs both of her companions. “This is going to draw some attention, so be ready to jump in as soon as it’s ready, alright?”
Karlach and Wyll nod — one more enthusiastically than the other.
“Alright,” Irva mutters to herself. She casts her mage hand towards the incomplete edge of the circle, and from her mouth flows a dissonant, whispering voice as it draws white chalk along the volcanic ground. As she recites her infernal incantation, Wyll recognizes the words:
“Take us to the place that’s warm
Where souls reside but imps don’t swarm
Guard the gate where hope will hide,
And take us to the lady’s side.”
‘The lady?’ Wyll wonders uneasily.
“Ooh,” Karlach breathes. “Shiny.”
The portal whooshes into existence, ringed by swirling hellfire. Irva steps back, wiping the sweat from her brow and dismissing her mage hand.
“Alright!” she pants, shouldering her pack and hurrying to join Karlach and Wyll. “Shall we?”
She steps between the two of them, taking both of their hands in her own and squeezing them.
“I hope this works,” she mutters to herself.
“What?” Karlach squeaks.
“What?” Wyll chokes.
But the three of them are already falling, falling into the flaming tunnel together, spinning into darkness.
—
Wyll holds tight to Irva’s hand, grounding himself in her touch and Karlach’s whoop of laughter.
“OOF!”
He collides against very solid ground, the breath knocked right out of him. He barely manages to groan against smooth stone, his head still spinning.
Does he smell… cookies?
“Not my cleanest work,” Irva comments sheepishly. “But it did the job, didn’t it?”
“Sure, Irv,” Karlach chuckles. “Nothing’s going to follow us through that, right?”
“No,” Irva reassures her. “I sealed it right behind us. But this teleportation circle here is permanent.”
Wyll hears her tap her boot emphatically upon the ground as he dazedly pushes himself to his feet, helped up by Irva.
“Steady,” she murmurs. “Get your bearings.”
Wyll nods, casting his eyes around this ornate room and its vaulted ceiling.
Hells. This place is familiar.
“This is the House of Hope,” Wyll says slowly, recognizing the ornate decor of what once was Raphael’s palace. “Why are we here?”
Irva shrugs.
“I figured the poor girl could use some company besides the debtors," she says airily, beckoning the confused Wyll to follow her down the hall. “Come on! I heard at Withers’ party that Hope turned the boudoir into a kitchen. Can you believe it?”
“Be on your guard!” Wyll urges his companions. “Karlach said so herself — a devil would have tried to take over this place after we left. Hope might not be…!”
“Ah! You’re early, goodness gracious!”
A familiar, red-haired cleric hurries down the hall, wiping her hands on an apron.
“Oh, but nothing’s ready! I’m a mess, and so are you, but I knew that was to be expected with all the running for your lives you’ve been doing… Why don’t you clean up? Relax!”
She gestures vaguely behind her.
“Oh no I’m a terrible host, aren’t I? I should offer you tea! But I didn’t want to assume which tea so maybe it’s best if I—?”
“You’re alright!” Wyll assures her, grinning in relief. “Helm… you’re alright, Hope?”
The dwarf beams at him. “Oh I’m better than ever! I’m…”
Her eyes fill with tears as she looks between the three of them.
“...so relieved. So happy. Oh you look well. Better than anyone I’ve seen coming out of Avernus. Not that I’ve gotten too many visitors anyway. No one who stays for long…”
She sighs dreamily.
“…and it’s been so long since I’ve performed a wedding, you know?”
Wyll’s heart jolts.
He gawks back at the beaming dwarf, and then he turns slowly to Irva and Karlach, both of whom seem suddenly fascinated with the corridor around them.
“Whose wedding?” Wyll asks, perhaps unnecessarily.
“...oh!” Hope exchanges a stricken look with Irva, who clears her throat with an awkward, nervous laugh.
“Yes, I suppose I didn’t quite think this through,” Irva mumbles, rubbing the back of her neck. “Starting with… telling you, I suppose.” She gestures at Karlach defensively. “It was her idea!”
“Fine, I’ll take the blame!” Karlach shrugs with a chortle. “I had the idea during watch one night, so I figured a short stint here wouldn’t hurt, right? It’s the safest place in the hells; one that even our friends, your father, and Irva’s sister can come to through the Devil’s Fee. And in the grand scheme of things… what better person to do the deed than Hope?”
She smiles sheepishly at Wyll’s stunned expression.
“Come on, Blade,” she says gently. “You’ve spent nearly all of your engagement running around with me. We’ve had each other’s backs, but you and Irv rarely have time to be alone and happy together. I saw you dancing a few weeks ago, looking all cute but sad, and I… had to help, you know?”
Irva avoids Wyll’s eyes, her cheeks flushed.
“And I welcomed the help,” she mutters abashedly. “Damn it. I hate surprises, so why wouldn’t you? If you’re not ready, or if this was too presumptuous of me…”
“We can just have tea!” Hope chimes in brightly.
“Hells yes,” Karlach grins. “The offer’s on the table, kids.”
“Along with some scones,” Hope adds helpfully.
Wyll and Irva flounder a bit, looking shyly at each other as they shift in place.
“Could the two of you give us a moment to talk?” Wyll asks cordially. “Alone?”
“Of course!” Hope chirps. “I could use some help in the kitchen and with decorating, even if it’s simply for tea!”
She beckons Karlach to follow, and with a last apologetic look, she obliges the cleric.
That leaves Wyll and Irva alone at last. Without speaking, they wander together over to a small balcony with a couple ostentatious chairs overlooking the dining hall below. There indeed is an eclectic spread of baked goods, fruit, and cheeses. It looks far less foreboding than the feast Raphael had tempted them with the first time they were here. The skeletal stonemason seems to be helping Hope set up, and when he notices the guests of honor he gives a small wave that Wyll and Irva hesitantly return.
“I’m at a loss for words,” Wyll huffs a laugh, peering down at the spread. “Oh my, is that… a cake?”
Irva nervously tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
“Tell me, was Karlach serious about all that?" Wyll asks in wonderment. "Particularly the part about our friends and family coming here?”
“Yes,” Irva says meekly. “Believe me, I was also surprised that your father was willing to come back to the hells…”
“Irva,” Wyll huffs a quiet, gentle laugh. “We haven’t spoken about a wedding ever since that night. I was honestly beginning to think…” he trails off, uncertain.
Irva gives a rueful shrug.
“Well… when you said you’d court me… and then when you asked me to marry you… I almost thought you were joking,” she admits. “And once I realized you were not, I was terrified. Not of being married to you!” she adds quickly, “But of everything it would entail. Being in front of highborn people, your father, Florrick. People I don’t know who would be looking at my tattoos, my scars, my leg…”
She scoffs, “You know I haven’t worn a dress in nearly eight years? I don’t think I’d recognize myself without seeing my legs.”
Wyll smiles.
Oh… how he adores her.
“But you have always wanted that grand wedding,” Irva continues, voice stilted. “I already worried that I couldn’t give that to you as a… nobody. And when the three of us literally went to hell together, and when we were running and fighting for our lives… it all seemed impossible. And so this seemed like the only way, not to mention the best option we have.”
Something in her expression gives Wyll’s giddy heart pause.
“Irva…” he asks timidly. “Did you decide to do this simply because I wanted it?”
“Of course!”
Wyll frowns.
Oh.
“But what about you, my love?” he asks gently.
“What? Yes, of course I do!” Irva exclaims. “Why else would I plan all this?”
Wyll throws up his hands with a chuckle. “Alright! I simply had to be sure!”
Irva relaxes to see his smile return. She hums thoughtfully to herself, fingers fidgeting atop the table. Wyll reaches over, taking her hand and smiling encouragingly at her as she thinks.
“It’s the right thing to do, anyway. Marriage is a particularly special magical bond,” Irva says. “A strategic one, in a way. We would both be protected more than ever before, and perhaps that’s what we need before we enter that forge to fix Karlach’s heart.”
Wyll's smile tightens, fleeting disappointment darkening his mind. “It would be practical, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose,” Irva yanks at her ponytail, frowning. “But that’s not the only reason why I want to do this.”
She meets his eyes, smiling softly.
“We’ve literally been in hell, but existing alongside you — and Karlach, but you especially — has been some kind of heaven. We fight devils and demons every day, but I’ve still never felt safer. For all intents and purposes, I think of you as mine.
"And I’m yours,” she adds softly. “I think of the notion of carrying you with me for the rest of my days as… well, hope.”
The two of them giggle together, and Wyll takes Irva’s other hand.
“Maybe I didn’t want the pomp of a grand Baldurian wedding,” Irva murmurs. “And yet I have always wanted you — fully in the eyes of the heavens… and the hells,” she adds wryly. “But it all felt so impossible during these days of chaos. I never thought to ask for it, for how would we do it? Even if I still had Tiamat’s blessing, or if I had managed to seek out Bahamut instead, it’s not like I could have wed ourselves. And we certainly wouldn’t have had all the food and dancing that… oh."
She trails off with a bemused smile. “Oh, hells... do you hear that?”
Wyll nods, standing slowly to look over the balcony’s railing.
“Music?” he breathes. “Where...? Who is that coming from?”
“Well, then... Hope seems to have outdone herself,” Irva remarks sheepishly. “I didn’t even ask for that.”
Wyll makes his move.
He stands up from his seat, turning to Irva with a smile as he bows low.
“May I have this dance, Lady Blade of Avernus?”
Irva huffs a laugh, taken aback before accepting his hand and letting him guide her from her seat. “You may, Lord Blade of Avernus.”
She places her hand against his, and the two move in a slow circle as they gaze into each other’s eyes, letting the soft music caress their ears as their feet follow suit.
“You’re a natural,” Wyll murmurs.
“You know I’m not,” Irva scoffs. “I had a good teacher. One of the best,” she adds coyly.
Wyll hums along with the music, spinning himself, and then Irva, and then —
“—ah!” Irva yelps as he dips her low.
She doesn’t complain, however, as he presses a firm, ecstatic kiss to her lips.
“Show off,” she mutters against his cheek.
“You love it,” Wyll growls, guiding her back up to her feet.
“No,” Irva grumbles. “I love you.”
They take another spin together, but it isn’t long before Irva takes a hard turn right into his chest, pressing him firmly back against the wall. He moans in soft, delighted surprise as she crowds against him, her lips hungry against his.
Far too soon, Irva pulls away; her gaze wistful in the direction Karlach and Hope had left.
“Wyll…” Irva whispers, her voice timid. “If this is on the table, along with the tea and scones… I would want this. I do want this.”
She looks up at him, eyes round and hopeful. “Do… you?”
Wyll chokes out a laugh, ducking his head before looking up at Irva with shining eyes.
“I do,” he says, pulling her in and kissing her sweetly upon her smiling lips. “…I do.”