moonselune

[moonselune]

First, thanks for the poem headcanons! You and your friend knocked it out of the park. Second, I'm gonna be selfish and send another ask. Do you have any post story adventuring with/domestic headcanons for karlach?

hey hey lucky for you i have two snippets based around this - you may have already read them but I'll put them down below :)

⟢The World Is Ours⟢

⟢The Life We Build⟢

[moonselune]

Headcanon about what a lazy morning looks like with each of the female companions? In camp or post Elder Brain doesn't matter.

I did it as little snippets because I simply could not contain myself

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The first rays of dawn filtered into your shared tent, casting a soft glow on the canvas walls. The air was still cool, but the warmth radiating from Karlach more than made up for it. She lay sprawled on her side, her fiery hair fanned out on the pillow, her breathing steady and even. The sight of her like this—completely at ease—was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

But peace was fleeting when it came to Karlach’s mornings. As her eyes fluttered open, she stretched her arms high above her head, her muscles shifting with the motion, and let out a groggy yet determined groan.

“Alright, babe, time to get moving,” she mumbled, already swinging her legs over the edge of the bedroll.

Oh no, you weren’t having that. Not today.

Before she could rise, you flung your arms around her middle, pulling her back down with a playful grunt.

“Absolutely not,” you murmured, burying your face in the curve of her neck. “Stay. It’s too early, and you’re too comfortable to go anywhere.”

Karlach laughed, her voice husky and warm. “C’mon, sunshine, just a quick run to shake the cobwebs loose. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You tightened your hold, resting your chin on her shoulder. “Nope. You’re officially trapped. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

She turned her head, smirking as her sharp teeth glinted in the morning light. “Oh yeah? And what are you going to do to stop me, huh?”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “I’ll bribe you with all my love and maybe a few promises here and there. How’s that?”

Her laughter filled the tent as she relented, settling back down into your embrace. “Alright, you’ve got my attention. What kind of promises are we talking about here?”

“Anything you want,” you replied, tracing small circles on her arm. “I’ll make you breakfast for the rest of this week, rub your shoulders, maybe even kiss every bit of your face.”

Karlach turned fully to face you now, her grin softening into something tender. “Babe, you’re making it really hard to resist you right now.”

“That’s the plan,” you said, matching her smile.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, murmuring sleepy words back and forth, trading kisses that ranged from playful pecks to lingering brushes of lips. Karlach would occasionally make a half-hearted attempt to get up, but each time, you pulled her back down, giggling as she surrendered with exaggerated defeat.

Eventually, though, her stomach growled loudly enough to interrupt the peace, and she laughed. “Okay, okay, you win. I’ll stay lazy—but only if I get breakfast.”

“Deal,” you agreed, releasing her with an exaggerated sigh of loss. “But you’re fetching it. I’m too busy being cozy to move.”

“Oh, so I’m a servant now? So much for those sweet promises” she teased, pulling on a loose tunic and giving you a playful glare. “Fine. You just sit there looking cute. I’ll be back.”

She leaned down to kiss your forehead before ducking out of the tent. You lay back, basking in the warmth she’d left behind and listening to the distant sounds of camp stirring awake. When Karlach returned, she was balancing two plates loaded with breakfast—a chaotic mix of bread, cheese, and fruits.

“Feast time!” she announced, plopping down beside you on the bedroll.

The two of you dug in, making a complete mess of the blankets as crumbs scattered and sticky fruit juices dripped onto the fabric.

“Alright, who’s the slob now?” you teased, pointing at the crumbs collecting on her lap.

“Oh, please,” she shot back, her mouth half-full. “You’re the one with jam on your chin!”

You reached up to wipe it off, but Karlach leaned in, licking the spot clean with a quick swipe of her tongue.

“Hey!” you laughed, swatting at her.

“Can’t let good food go to waste,” she replied, grinning as she kissed you again, tasting of sweet fruit and warmth.

By the time you’d finished eating, both of you were laughing so hard your sides hurt, teasing each other about who had made the biggest mess. Crumbs covered the blankets, and there was a suspicious smudge of butter on Karlach’s cheek, which she refused to admit was her doing.

“Alright,” she said finally, leaning back with a contented sigh. “This is the life. Lazy mornings, breakfast in bed, and you. What more could I need?”

You smiled, reaching out to tangle your fingers with hers. “I could ask the same thing.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while longer, sharing quiet moments of laughter and warmth, before finally deciding to face the day. But in your heart, you knew these mornings with Karlach were what you’d treasure most.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

Lazy mornings with Minthara were never truly lazy, not at first. She was a woman of discipline, a warrior who thrived on structure, and mornings, in her mind, were for action, not indulgence. You had long since learned that the battle to keep her in bed was one that required cunning, strategy—and occasionally, shameless dramatics.

This morning was no different. Minthara had already stirred, her sharp gaze fixed on the faint light spilling into the room, her body tense as though preparing for an unseen battle.

“I have things to attend to,” she said firmly, her voice a silken blade. She was already reaching for her armor, her movements precise, deliberate.

You, however, were ready for this. Sliding closer to her, you tangled your legs with hers and let out the most exaggerated sigh you could muster. “Oh, but who will keep me company in this cold, lonely bed? The pillows can only do so much, and the silk sheets—soft as they are—lack the warmth of a lover’s embrace.”

Minthara paused, her silver-white hair falling into her face as she turned to glare at you, though there was no true malice in her eyes—just the faintest flicker of amusement.

You pressed on, emboldened. “Perhaps I’ll dream of someone to hold me. Someone strong, someone fierce, someone who could rule both the bed and the world…”

Her hand darted out, grabbing your chin and tilting your face to hers.

“Enough,” she hissed, her crimson eyes narrowing. Then, before you could respond, her lips were on yours, silencing your teasing with a kiss that was both possessive and electrifying. When she pulled back, her voice was low and dangerous, though the smirk playing on her lips betrayed her. “If you dare dream of another, I’ll ensure you never wake again.”

“Veiled threats already?” you teased, leaning into her touch. “And here I thought we were just starting the day.”

Her laugh was soft and dark as she finally relented, sinking back into the bed and pulling you close. Her arms wrapped around you, and one hand found its way to your hair, her fingers idly combing through it.

“You are insufferable,” she murmured, though her tone held no real bite. “But it seems I’ve been bested—for now.”

You grinned, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

The two of you lay there for a time, her body a warm, reassuring presence against yours. Minthara rarely allowed herself these moments of vulnerability, but when she did, they were all the more precious.

“What shall we do with our day, then?” she asked, her voice softer now, contemplative.

“Conquer the world, perhaps?” you replied, tracing idle patterns on her arm. Her lips quirked up in a rare smile.

“Ambitious. But tell me, where shall we start? The surface? The Underdark? Or perhaps,” she added, her tone teasing, “we’ll begin with breakfast.”

You chuckled. “We’ll start wherever you want. Though ruling the Underdark together does have a nice ring to it.”

Her eyes softened as she considered the thought. “You truly wish to remain by my side, even there? In the dark, where few can thrive?”

“Wherever you go, Minthara, I’ll follow,” you said earnestly.

She regarded you for a moment, her expression unreadable, before pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Then we shall carve our future together, one conquest at a time.”

The morning passed in quiet conversation, your shared ambitions weaving a tapestry of possibility. For once, Minthara allowed herself to stay, her fingers brushing through your hair as she spoke of her dreams for the Underdark and the life you would share there.

As the light grew stronger, you knew she would soon insist on rising, but for now, you had her. You had this. And that was more than enough.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Lazy mornings with Lae'zel were always a battle of wills. She was a Githyanki warrior through and through, her mind and body conditioned for discipline, combat, and constant motion. Staying in bed was, to her, a waste of precious time. But you had your methods—methods that she begrudgingly admitted she was impressed by, even if she would never say it aloud.

It always began the same way. The first rays of sunlight would filter into the tent, and Lae'zel, ever vigilant, would stir. Her muscles would tense as if prepared for a fight, and she would begin to shift beneath the blankets.

“I must rise,” she would say, her voice sharp but still laced with the drowsiness of sleep.

“Oh no, you don’t,” you murmured, already moving. You wrapped your arms around her waist and legs, entwining your body with hers like a constricting boa. She tensed beneath your hold, her golden eyes narrowing as she tried to pull free—but you were relentless.

“Release me,” she demanded, though her tone lacked the bite it usually carried in battle.

“Not until you promise to stay,” you countered, your grip tightening just enough to keep her in place.

Her muscles flexed, and you could feel her testing your hold. But then, to your surprise, she stilled, her gaze scrutinizing you.

“You are tenacious,” she remarked, a note of approval in her voice. “Very well. I will humor you… this once.”

Satisfied, you rewarded her compliance with a flurry of kisses on her face, starting with her forehead and moving down to her cheeks.

“Good choice, Lae'zel,” you teased, planting a final kiss on the corner of her mouth. She scoffed, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

“Do not mistake this for weakness,” she warned, though she made no effort to pull away.

You grinned, settling beside her with your head resting on her shoulder. “Never. But now that you’re here, you owe me a story.”

“A story?” she echoed, raising a sharp brow.

“Yes. Tell me about the Astral Plane,” you said, your fingers tracing idle patterns on her arm. “I want to know what it was like. All of it.”

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze growing distant as she considered your request. Then, she began to speak, her voice steady and commanding, as if recounting a battle strategy. “The Astral Plane is unlike anything you could imagine. It is a void, vast and infinite, where time holds no dominion. The stars are not stars as you know them, but luminous beacons of psionic energy, guiding us to our conquest. The Githyanki thrive there, unbound by the laws of your world.”

You listened intently, hanging on her every word. The way she spoke of the Astral Plane, with both reverence and pride, painted vivid images in your mind.

“Did you ever look out into the void and just… wonder?” you asked softly.

She turned her head to look at you, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. “Wonder about what?”

“About what else might be out there,” you said. “Beyond the conquest. Beyond the battles. Just… what it would be like to live there, peacefully.”

She was silent for a moment, as if the question had caught her off guard. Then, she spoke, her tone quieter than before. “Peace is not a concept that the Githyanki are taught to value. But… perhaps I have wondered.”

Your heart swelled at her honesty, and you pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

“Thank you for telling me,” you murmured.

She huffed, though her expression softened. “You are insufferable. But I find your curiosity… tolerable.”

You laughed, knowing that was the closest you’d get to a compliment. The two of you lay there for a while longer, Lae'zel continuing to share her stories of the Astral Plane while you listened with rapt attention.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Slow mornings with Shadowheart were a cherished slice of heaven to you, a rarity in your chaotic lives that you clung to. The two of you often found yourselves tangled in each other’s arms, her head resting on your chest, your fingers lazily combing through her soft, raven hair. She was slow to wake, a luxury she rarely afforded herself, but in your arms, she allowed her guard to fall.

The first hint of the morning came with the sound of Scratch’s claws clicking against the wooden floor outside the bedroom. You groaned softly, already knowing what was coming, but Shadowheart barely stirred, her breath warm against your collarbone as she shifted slightly closer to you.

Just as you expected, Scratch’s wet nose nudged at the door, and a moment later, it swung open. The loyal dog padded over, tail wagging enthusiastically. He jumped up on the bed with a happy woof, which earned a sleepy groan from Shadowheart as she stirred.

“You’re far too energetic for this hour,” you mumbled to Scratch, scratching behind his ears as he let out an eager bark.

Before you could do anything, Scratch took it upon himself to deliver his morning greeting to Shadowheart—by licking her face. Shadowheart let out a soft, sleepy hum, still half-asleep and mistaking the sensation for something else.

“Good morning to you, too, my love.” she murmured groggily, her lips quirking into a small, contented smile.

That was it. You couldn’t hold it in. Your chest shook with barely contained laughter, and when Shadowheart finally opened her eyes, she was greeted by Scratch’s happy, drooling face.

Her expression shifted from affection to realization, then to horror.

“Wait—Scratch?” she exclaimed, sitting up abruptly and wiping at her face. “I thought—! You—!”

You were absolutely losing it, your laughter bubbling up uncontrollably as you clutched your sides.

“Oh gods,” you gasped, tears forming in your eyes. “That was—oh, that was perfect!”

Shadowheart glared at you, her lips twitching in a suppressed smile despite her best efforts. “You think that’s funny?”

“Absolutely!” you managed to get out between peals of laughter.

“Fine,” she said, her voice laced with mock seriousness. Before you could react, she grabbed your shoulders, leaned in, and ran her tongue up the side of your face in one swift, deliberate motion.

You froze for a second, utterly stunned, before letting out an exaggerated sound of protest. “Shadowheart!”

“That’s what you get,” she said smugly, settling back down into the bed and pulling the blanket over herself as if nothing had happened.

Scratch, apparently pleased with himself for causing such chaos, flopped down at the foot of the bed, wagging his tail contentedly. You wiped at your face, still grinning, and turned to Shadowheart, who was now feigning sleep again.

“You’re impossible,” you said, pulling her back into your arms.

“And yet, here you are,” she murmured, her voice soft with affection as she nuzzled against you.

The rest of the morning passed in a warm haze of sleepy cuddles and light banter. Scratch eventually drifted off, his snoring filling the room, and you couldn’t help but press a soft kiss to Shadowheart’s temple.

“You know,” you whispered, “I think he likes you better than me.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Smart dog,” she replied, and you couldn’t help but laugh all over again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The morning light filtered through the tent’s flap, casting a soft glow over Jaheira’s features. She stirred before you, as usual, her discipline refusing to let her linger in bed for too long. Her hand reached for the edge of the blanket, intending to throw it off and rise to start her day.

You rolled over, catching her wrist gently, and looked at her with a sleepy smile. “Must you be so diligent, my love? You’re not a young sprout anymore. Surely, someone of your… seasoned years needs more rest.”

Her eyebrows lifted, her lips curving into an amused but challenging smirk. “Seasoned years, is it? Careful, or I’ll show you just how much strength comes with them.”

Feigning innocence, you stretched lazily and tucked your hands behind your head.

“Oh, I’m not worried. I just thought you might need a little extra time to… recharge.” You waggled your eyebrows teasingly.

Jaheira let out a low laugh, shaking her head as she leaned down over you. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? A little fox, nipping at my heels.”

Before you could reply, her lips found yours in a kiss that was both commanding and affectionate, silencing whatever retort you had prepared. Her hands brushed along your sides, firm but gentle, leaving you breathless as she pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

“I may be older than you, but don’t mistake that for weakness,” she murmured, her voice low and smooth.

You grinned, cheeks flushed, and wrapped your arms around her, pulling her back down onto the bed with a soft laugh. “You’ve proven your point, oh wise one. But I win this round, don’t I? You’re still here.”

Jaheira let out an exasperated sigh, though her eyes glinted with fondness. “You always get your way, don’t you?”

“I like to think of it as a gift,” you replied smugly, nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

She chuckled, shaking her head again, but didn’t make any further attempt to rise. Instead, she allowed herself to relax into your embrace, her fingers absentmindedly stroking through your hair as the two of you basked in the warmth of the moment.

“I suppose one morning spent lazing about won’t hurt,” she said after a while, her tone softer now.

“Exactly,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone. “Besides, I’m selfish. I want all your mornings.”

Her hand paused in your hair, her gaze turning thoughtful as she looked down at you.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” she said, though her smile betrayed her affection.

“Your menace,” you corrected, grinning up at her.

With another indulgent sigh, Jaheira rested her head against yours, allowing herself to savor the stolen moment of peace. You both knew the world would demand your attention soon enough, but for now, you were content to remain entwined, sharing the kind of love that made all the teasing and trouble worthwhile.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was so cute to write, I love little fluffy things like this and I hope you guys enjoyed it too! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

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[moonselune]

Love your writing!! You always capture the characters so well! ❤️❤️

Ahh thank you so much, that's so sweet !! 🩷

[moonselune]

By the Silk that Binds Us (pt. 13)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Matron!Minthara x Wife!reader

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight part nine part ten part eleven part twelve

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The grand dining hall of House Baenre was a feast for the senses, its dim yet radiant glow casting a rich tapestry of light and shadow across the cavernous space. Flickering candlelight reflected off the polished blackstone walls, accentuating carvings of spiders spinning webs of power and intrigue. The dining table was a masterpiece of excess, heaped with a banquet of the Underdark's finest: tender rothé, glazed cave fish, and sugared fungi arranged alongside flasks of crimson wine poured into goblets adorned with amethyst spiders.

Tonight’s celebration was a rare reprieve, a moment of pride as the Baenre family gathered to honor Lira’s first kill—a rite of passage that carried with it the weight of both pride and consequence. Lira sat near the head of the table, her posture straight, her face carefully composed, but the faint tremor in her hands betrayed the thrill of achievement and the realization of what it meant. Her little ruby eyes burned with determination, a spark mirrored in her triplet siblings, Sarae and Viroen, who watched her with both admiration and a growing sense of rivalry.

The atmosphere was uncharacteristically light. Even Kyorlin, often reserved and aloof, had joined the festivities, his expression softened into a rare smile. Goblets were raised, and voices joined in a toast to Lira’s accomplishment, the sound reverberating through the hall like a hymn to ambition and survival.

Yet beneath the revelry, an unspoken truth lingered: Lira’s achievement painted a target on her back. In drow society, a first kill was more than a moment of triumph; it was a declaration of power, a signal that one had stepped onto the precarious path of political and familial ascension.

Lesaonar sat at the center of the table, his face a study in pride tempered by worry. He watched his children closely, particularly Sarae, who fiddled with her goblet, her lips twitching with the barely restrained urge to one-up her sister’s victory. When Lesaonar caught her gaze, his eyes softened, though his brow remained furrowed with a father’s quiet anxiety.

Kyorlin, seated beside him, leaned over to murmur something, his tone low and reassuring. Whatever he said seemed to ease Lesaonar’s tension, the faintest smile breaking through his guarded expression. It was a fleeting moment of familial solidarity, one that felt fragile but genuine.

The celebration held an air of inevitability. Sarae and Viroen, though outwardly congratulatory, were already measuring themselves against their sister. The rivalry between the triplets was palpable, but tonight, it was muted, their ambitions momentarily eclipsed by the unity of their house. This unity, however, would not last.

Days later, that fragile harmony shattered. The family was gathered again for the evening meal when Sarae limped into the hall, her movements stiff, her robes bloodied from a recent duel gone awry. Her head was bowed, and her crimson eyes glistened with humiliation as she took her place at the table.

The room fell silent, the once-celebratory atmosphere replaced by an oppressive weight. Melinoe, who oversaw the triplets’ training, fixed her daughter with a stern, unforgiving glare.

“A Baenre does not fail so miserably,” she declared, her voice sharp enough to cut through stone. “Especially not my daughter. I expected more from you, Sarae.”

Sarae flinched but said nothing, her fists clenched tightly in her lap. Lesaonar’s face tightened as he glanced at his wife, his jaw working silently. He remained quiet, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. Melinoe’s critique grew sharper, her words dripping with disdain.

“You will be better,” she continued coldly, “or perhaps I’ve expected too much. A true Baenre would never—”

“Enough!” Lesaonar’s voice erupted, startling even the youngest at the table. His fists slammed onto the table, rattling the silverware. “She’s still a child. How can you expect perfection from her at every moment?”

The hall fell deathly quiet. All eyes turned to Lesaonar, his rare outburst hanging heavily in the air. Minthara, seated at the head of the table, turned her gaze to him, her crimson eyes narrowing.

“Remember your place, Lesaonar,” she said, her tone icy and controlled. The weight of her authority settled over him like a shroud, a reminder of the rigid matriarchy within House Baenre.

Lesaonar hesitated, his anger still simmering, but he relented, sinking back into his chair with a look of resignation. Minthara’s gaze swept over the room, her expression unreadable, before settling back on the meal before her.

The tension, however, did not dissipate. Melinoe, emboldened by Minthara’s rebuke, turned her scorn back to Sarae.

“Perhaps she has simply inherited her father’s weakness,” she said, her lips curling into a sneer. “One would hope she would be stronger than—”

“Enough, Melinoe.” Your voice, calm yet unyielding, cut through the rising storm. All eyes turned to you as you met Melinoe’s gaze with unwavering calm. “Is it not you who oversees their training?” you asked, your tone steady but pointed. “If Sarae falters, does it not reflect on the skill and wisdom of her teacher?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Melinoe’s expression twisted with outrage, but she was rendered momentarily speechless. Minthara’s gaze flickered between you and Melinoe, her face a mask of neutrality, though a spark of acknowledgment flashed in her eyes.

“You hold her to impossible standards,” you continued, your tone softening but remaining firm. “But if she stumbles, perhaps the fault lies not solely with her but with the one responsible for shaping her.”

Melinoe’s face flushed, her anger palpable, but she bit back her retort. For once, she had no words, her authority undermined by your own and the weight of your argument. Minthara finally spoke, her voice steady and authoritative.

“The expectations upon the Baenre children are high,” she said, her crimson eyes sweeping over the room. “We all bear responsibility for their success and their failures. There will be no more blame cast without it being shared.”

Her words reestablished a tenuous peace, the family settling into an uneasy quiet. Lesaonar’s shoulders relaxed, and he offered you a small, grateful nod. Melinoe, though seething, remained silent, her gaze fixed firmly on her plate. The triplets exchanged glances, their rivalry momentarily set aside as they absorbed the tension between their parents and the house’s matron.

The meal resumed, though the air remained heavy with unspoken tension. Forks scraped against plates, and goblets were refilled in silence, the once-celebratory atmosphere dampened by the earlier exchange. Lesaonar remained quiet, his focus seemingly on his plate, though his crimson eyes occasionally flickered toward Sarae with a mixture of concern and pride. Sarae sat stiffly, her head bowed as she poked at her food, while Viroen and Lira exchanged wary glances, uncertain of how to navigate the strained mood.

It was Kyorlin who finally broke the silence, his deep voice cutting through the awkward stillness.

“I have received word from the barracks,” he began, his tone measured but tinged with cautious optimism. “The Seldarine threat might finally be ebbing. My old comrades say the extremists seem to be retreating. If it’s true, Menzoberranzan may finally see some reprieve.”

The statement hung in the air for a moment before anyone responded. Several gazes turned toward Minthara, whose expression remained impassive as she leaned back in her seat. Her eyes flicked to Kyorlin, and though she said nothing at first, the sharpness of her gaze spoke volumes.

“Reprieve?” Minthara’s voice carried a note of skepticism. She placed her goblet down with deliberate precision, the sound of the metal base meeting the table breaking the quiet. “If Eilistraee’s extremists have already joined their ranks, as we suspect, their retreat is nothing more than a feint. They won’t stop until we have every one of their heads severed on pikes and hearts served on silver plates."

Kyorlin tilted his head slightly, acknowledging her point. “Perhaps. But it’s possible their losses have weakened them enough to scatter. Not every enemy retreats with the intention of regrouping.”

Minthara’s gaze hardened. “And not every retreat is a sign of defeat. The Eilistraee worshippers don’t think like us. Their faith makes them reckless fools, but also dangerous. Until we are certain they’re eradicated, Menzoberranzan and this house, cannot afford to relax.”

Her words carried the weight of finality, and Kyorlin did not press the issue further. Around the table, the family listened in silence, each member considering the implications. Even Melinoe, who had spent much of the evening seething, seemed to pause it to nod subtly in agreement with Minthara’s assessment.

The meal concluded with little fanfare, the servants moving efficiently to clear the table as the Baenre family dispersed. Lira and Viroen left first, their hushed whispers trailing off as they exited. Lesaonar lingered a moment before gently guiding Sarae to her feet, offering her a quiet word of encouragement before the two departed. Kyorlin stood and bowed his head slightly toward Minthara, his departure marked by his usual quiet efficiency.

You, however, remained seated, your gaze fixed on Melinoe. She noticed your lingering presence and raised an eyebrow, her irritation from earlier still visible in the taut lines of her face.

“Melinoe,” you said softly, though your tone carried an undeniable authority. “A word. Alone.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded curtly, following you out of the dining hall and into an adjacent chamber. Minthara gave you a look but you murmured you would join her your chambers soon.

The room was small and dimly lit, its furnishings sparse—a stark contrast to the opulence of the hall. The quiet here was oppressive, the weight of what needed to be said hanging heavily in the air. Melinoe folded her arms across her chest, her ruby eyes narrowing as she regarded you.

“What is it?” she asked sharply, her tone defensive. “Come to reprimand me further?”

“No,” you replied evenly, meeting her gaze without flinching. “I came to speak plainly.”

Her expression faltered for a moment, but she recovered quickly, her posture remaining rigid. “Then speak.”

You took a step closer, your voice lowering. “I understand your frustrations, Melinoe. Your expectations for Sarae, for all of them, are high. And they should be. But tonight, your words went too far.”

She bristled, her lips parting to retort, but you raised a hand to stop her.

“I’m not here to argue,” you continued. “I’m here to remind you of something you seem to have forgotten. These are your children. Not soldiers. Not pawns. Children.”

Her crimson eyes flickered, a mixture of anger and something softer—something she worked hard to suppress.

“They’re Baenres,” she countered, her voice quieter now but still sharp. “They don’t have the luxury of being children. Not in this house. Not in this city.”

“And yet,” you said, your tone softening, “if you strip them of what little innocence they have left, what will they become? Weapons, perhaps. But weapons break, Melinoe. They shatter under the weight of what they’re forced to endure.”

She said nothing, her arms tightening around herself as she looked away. For a moment, the mask slipped, and you saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes.

“You are a brilliant tactician,” you said gently, stepping closer. “A formidable assassin. But you are also their mother. And they need you to be that, as much as they need your strength.”

Melinoe’s jaw tightened, but her gaze softened just slightly.

“You think I don’t care for them?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “That I don’t want them to succeed?”

“I know you care,” you said firmly. “But sometimes, in your pursuit of their success, you forget what it is they’re fighting for. They’re not just Baenres. They’re your children. And they need to know you believe in them, not just in their victories, but in their ability to rise after a fall.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy but not unbearable. Finally, Melinoe sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

“You speak as if you know better,” she said, though there was no venom in her words. “But perhaps… there’s truth in what you say.”

You nodded, offering her a small, genuine smile. “It’s not about knowing better. It’s about seeing what we often overlook. That is what keeps us alive.”

She glanced away, her expression thoughtful, and for the first time that evening, the walls she’d built around herself seemed to crack. Though she said nothing further, her silence spoke of a reluctant understanding. As you left the room, you couldn’t help but hope that tonight’s events had planted a seed—one that might, in time, bear fruit.

The long corridors of House Baenre were bathed in the dim, eerie glow of faerzress, their twisting paths quiet save for the soft click of your boots against the stone floor. One hand rested instinctively on your swollen belly, a protective gesture you scarcely noticed anymore. The baby within you shifted, their tiny movements stirring a warmth in your chest that momentarily eased the tension of the evening’s events. As you made your way toward your chambers, a particularly strong kick startled you, drawing a soft chuckle.

“Already restless, are you?” you murmured to yourself, your tone affectionate as you breathed through the sharp pang of pain, that had recently come with a bought of dizziness and a complete, albeit temporary cut off from your magic. As if the babe was taking it all for itself for a brief moment.

A faint sound from the shadows made you pause, your keen ears picking up the light tread of approaching footsteps. Turning your head slightly, continuing your breathing, you saw Kyorlin emerge from the shadows, his crimson eyes catching the faint light. His expression was unusually hesitant, a contrast to his usual composed demeanor.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low but genuine. His gaze flickered briefly to your midsection before returning to your face, concern etched faintly in his features.

You smiled, the world coming back into focuse and the warmth of his concern a welcome respite after the tension of the meal.

“I’m fine, Kyorlin. Just tired,” you replied. Your hand drifted to your belly again as another small kick rippled beneath your palm, but this time you felt your magic return to you. “They’ve been particularly active tonight.”

Kyorlin’s eyes lingered on your bump, his usual stoicism faltering for a moment as curiosity—and something else, something unspoken—flashed across his face.

“Active?” he echoed, his voice tinged with a hint of bewilderment.

You hesitated for a moment before gesturing toward him with a small, encouraging smile. “Do you want to feel?”

His crimson eyes widened slightly, and he stiffened, clearly caught off guard by the offer.

“I—” he began, glancing away as if searching for an excuse to decline. But something in your expression, perhaps the gentle patience you extended toward him, made him pause. Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “If… you don’t mind.”

You guided his hand to your belly, placing it carefully where the baby had been kicking. For a moment, nothing happened, and Kyorlin’s unease was almost palpable. Then, a tiny movement stirred beneath his palm—a faint but unmistakable sign of life.

His breath hitched ever so slightly, his crimson eyes widening as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d felt.

“It’s… strange,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was fleeting. Almost as quickly as he’d placed his hand, he withdrew it, his expression shifting back to something more reserved.

You laughed softly, brushing off his abrupt retreat as mere awkwardness.

“Strange, perhaps, but miraculous too,” you said warmly. “Thank you for humoring me.”

Kyorlin gave a small nod, his gaze flickering toward the ground for a moment before he straightened. His demeanor shifted slightly, becoming more purposeful.

“I wanted to speak with you about something,” he began, his tone carefully measured. “It’s about the guards.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “What about them?”

He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the corridor as if to ensure no one else was listening.

“Minthara has them working endlessly. The soldiers, too. Drills, patrols, constant vigilance—it’s wearing them down.” His voice grew quieter, a rare hint of vulnerability seeping through. “I’ve seen it in their eyes. They won’t say anything, of course. They’re too disciplined for that. But it’s hard to watch them pushed to their limits.”

You listened intently, his words stirring a pang of sympathy. Kyorlin had always been closer to the rank-and-file than most within the noble circles, his years of service in the barracks leaving him attuned to the struggles of those beneath him and you valued him for it.

“You think security should be relaxed?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“I think…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I think balance is needed. The Seldarine may be retreating, as I said earlier. And if they’re not, the constant pressure will leave our forces vulnerable in other ways. Exhaustion is as dangerous as complacency.”

You considered his words, the truth in them undeniable. Minthara’s unwavering focus on strength and readiness was admirable, but even the strongest chain had its breaking point.

“I’ll speak to her,” you promised, your voice steady. “I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll try to convince her to ease the burden, if only a little.”

Kyorlin inclined his head in gratitude, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. You felt a flicker of guilt, you would speak to MInthara but you can already picture her response - a mocking laugh and dismissal.

“Thank you,” he said simply, his tone sincere. He hesitated for a moment longer, as if there were more he wished to say, but then thought better of it. With a final nod, he turned and disappeared back into the shadows, leaving you alone once more.

When you return to your chambers, you find Minthara standing by the window, her arms crossed as she watches you approach. The faintest trace of impatience marks her features, and her eyes narrow as you close the door.

“Tell me,” she says, her voice low, “what you discussed with Melinoe.”

You lean against the door, your expression light, keeping your tone evasive. “We spoke of family matters.”

Minthara’s gaze sharpens, not missing your deflection.

“You softened her, didn’t you?” she accuses, her voice carrying an edge of irritation, as though the very idea rankles her.

You chuckle, walking past her to set aside the robes you’d worn to dinner, shaking your head. “Oh, don’t worry, my love. Whatever words I offered won’t be able to displace a lifetime of Baenre ruthlessness. She’s still herself, still the fierce creature you know.”

Minthara watches you closely, her eyes narrowing in appraisal, and though she opens her mouth to press further, she closes it again, grudgingly dropping the topic. She relaxes slightly, a faint, amused smirk tugging at her lips as she settles back against the edge of the bed, watching you with a new intensity. But before the silence between you grows too long, you turn to her with another matter on your mind.

“Have you tried dosing me with sussur lately?” you ask casually, though your eyes hold a trace of curiosity. "I’ve been feeling… off, as if my magic is distant. Sometimes it feels almost unreachable.”

Minthara arches a brow, clearly caught off-guard by the question. She meets your gaze, her own expression shifting briefly as though weighing how to answer.

“I have been giving you doses,” she admits after a pause, “but not of sussur.”

You hum thoughtfully, mulling this over. “Perhaps it’s just an odd reaction with my magic, then. Something seems different… more restrained.”

Minthara watches you, her gaze narrowing with concern for a fleeting moment before she recovers, her voice even and calm.

“I’ll look into it,” she promises, moving closer and resting her hands on your shoulders. “But it could be the child—magic thrives in the womb. Maybe they’re claiming it for themselves.”

You can’t help the smile that curves your lips.

“A strong child,” you say, a hint of pride filling your tone. “Likely siphoning my strength already.”

Minthara’s lips quirk in a faint smile, her hands sliding down your arms in a gesture of quiet reassurance.

“If that’s the case, then we’ll have nothing to worry about. They’ll come into the world with a power to rival the best of the Baenre.”

Her confidence and calm soothe you as she continues, her hands drifting to rest on your slightly rounded belly, her gaze filled with an unexpected tenderness. The quiet of your chambers was broken by a faint, trembling cry from down the room adjacent to you. Both you and Minthara turned your heads sharply, your attention drawn to the sound of distress.

“Lythaera,” you said softly, already moving toward the door. Minthara followed without a word, her usual sharpness replaced with maternal concern.

You found the child in her room, sitting up in her small, ornate bed. Tears streaked her pale cheeks, and her tiny hands clutched the blanket around her as though for protection. Her eyes were wide and frantic, darting around the room as if searching for something that wasn’t there.

“Lythaera,” Minthara said, her voice unusually gentle as she crossed the room swiftly. She scooped the child up into her arms, holding her close. “What’s wrong, my little one?”

Lythaera buried her face in Minthara’s shoulder, her sobs muffled but still audible. You moved closer, your heart aching at the sight of her distress. Gently, you reached out to stroke her hair, her small form trembling beneath your touch.

“Sweetheart,” you said softly, crouching to her eye level as Minthara held her. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

Lythaera lifted her head slightly, her cheeks flushed and damp with tears. Her voice was shaky, her words stumbling over themselves in her panic.

“I-I was burning,” she babbled, her small hands gripping at Minthara’s robes. “It was hot, Mama. Am I still burning?”

Minthara’s arms tightened protectively around the girl, and her expression darkened briefly—though whether it was at the imagined threat or her daughter’s fear, you couldn’t tell.

“You’re not burning, Lythaera,” Minthara assured her, her tone firm yet soothing. “You’re safe. Mama and I are here.”

You nodded, brushing Lythaera’s hair back from her face. “There’s no fire here, my love. Just us. You’re alright.”

The little girl sniffled, her tears slowing as she leaned into Minthara’s chest, comforted by your combined presence. Minthara sat down on the edge of Lythaera’s bed, cradling the child against her as you settled beside them.

For a few moments, the room was quiet again, the weight of the nightmare slowly lifting. As Lythaera began to calm, you glanced at Minthara, your earlier conversation with Kyorlin still lingering in your mind.

“Kyorlin approached me earlier,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “He asked me to speak with you about easing security. He’s concerned about the toll it’s taking on the guards.”

Minthara scoffed, her grip on Lythaera tightening slightly as she adjusted the child in her lap.

“Kyorlin is a fool if he thinks we can afford to relax now,” she said bluntly. “You’re pregnant. The Seldarine threat is far from over, and those Eilistraee extremists are like vipers in the grass. They’ll strike the moment we let our guard down.”

You’d expected her response, but you still felt compelled to press.

“He’s not wrong about exhaustion being a danger,” you said carefully. “We’ve pushed them hard. Perhaps we could find a way to—”

“No,” Minthara interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. “I won’t risk it. Not for their comfort, not for anything. Let them be tired. Better that than dead.”

At the mention of the Seldarine, Lythaera stirred, her small voice piping up hesitantly.

“S-sel-dar… Sel-darine?” she repeated, her tiny mouth stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

Minthara’s expression softened briefly as she looked down at her daughter, though her voice remained firm. “Yes, my little one. The Seldarine. They’re awful, terrible creatures. They would hurt us if they could.”

Lythaera blinked up at her, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Awful?” she echoed, her voice small.

Minthara nodded solemnly, her fingers brushing a stray curl from Lythaera’s face. “Very awful.”

Lythaera’s face scrunched up in concentration as she attempted another word she must have overheard. “And Eil… Eil-is-tree?”

You hid a small smile at her mispronunciation, but Minthara’s expression darkened slightly.

“Eilistraee,” Minthara corrected. “She’s just as bad, my love. Worse, even. Her followers want to destroy everything we’ve built.”

Lythaera’s little face twisted into a scowl, her crimson eyes flashing with childish indignation.

“I don’t like that name!” she declared, her small fists clenching. “Eil-is-tree is bad!”

Minthara’s lips quirked into a faint, approving smile, her fingers stroking Lythaera’s back soothingly.

“That’s right,” she said softly. “You’re a smart girl.”

You chuckled, leaning back slightly as you watched the exchange. Despite the tension of the conversation, there was something undeniably endearing about Lythaera’s fierce little declaration. Minthara’s protective hold on her daughter spoke volumes, her usual harshness tempered by a rare tenderness.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Unfortunately, your pregnancy had worsened over the past tenday. Now at 25 weeks, the dizziness that had plagued you occasionally during your pregnancy now came more frequently, sometimes leaving you lightheaded for long stretches. The baby’s movements were strong—sometimes too strong—and though you cherished the proof of their vitality, each kick seemed to sap what little energy you had. A faint, ever-present ache had settled into your body, and even simple tasks like standing for too long or climbing the estate's many stairs left you winded.

It was Minthara who called the healers, her tone sharp and unyielding when she ordered them to assess you. Their examinations were thorough, their probing hands and incantations leaving you feeling even more drained by the time they finished. When they finally delivered their conclusions, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it was no less frustrating.

“Stress,” the elder healer said, her lined face calm but firm. “The pregnancy is progressing normally, but the strain of your duties is taking its toll. If you continue like this, both you and the child may be at risk. I recommend stepping back from your responsibilities—earlier than planned.”

You bristled at the suggestion. Stepping back meant relinquishing control, even temporarily, and in Menzoberranzan, even a brief absence from power could invite ruin. Yet as the healer’s words settled in, you caught Minthara’s expression out of the corner of your eye. Her crimson eyes, sharp and assessing, left no room for argument.

“You’ll do as they say,” Minthara said bluntly, her voice brooking no dissent. “I won’t have you endangering yourself—or our child—because you’re too stubborn to rest.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. Over the next few days, you began to withdraw from your usual duties as Mistress of the house. Council meetings carried on without you, though Minthara kept you informed of their outcomes. Head of staff reported to Lesaoanar instead of you and the presence of the mistress' guard became increasingly present. You had caught one of them outside of bath chamber you had visited after a bought of nausea. You were not even allowed to mentor the younger girls of the house like you used to, Minthara had insisted that their shrill tones and excited shrieks were too much for you - although you supposed that was projection on her behalf.

You hated the sense of helplessness that came with your forced rest, hated the thought that the intricate workings of your house were happening without your direct involvement. But you couldn’t deny the faint relief you felt as the weight of responsibility began to lift, if only slightly. T

The routine changed fully when an emergency council meeting was called. Whispers had spread of Seldarine infiltrating other noble houses, a potential threat that required immediate attention. You instinctively rose to prepare for the meeting - surely this was too important for you to be excluded from? But Minthara intercepted you before you could leave your chambers.

“You’re not going,” she said firmly, stepping into your path.

“I should be there,” you argued, but the weariness in your own voice betrayed you.

“And risk collapsing in the middle of the council chamber?” Minthara’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll stay here. Watch the children. They’ll benefit from your presence, and you’ll benefit from not overextending yourself.”

You opened your mouth to argue further, but the faintest flicker of concern in her gaze silenced you. Reluctantly, you nodded, watching as she swept out of the room.

With only slight begrudging, you found yourself in the family common room, resting on a plush chaise as your child kicked within you. The triplets were already there, their usual boisterous energy filling the space. Sarae and Lira sat side by side, alight with mischief as they leaned toward Viroen. He stood a few paces away, his small arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to look defiant.

“You’re going to be sacrificed to Lolth next,” Lira said to Viroen, her crimson eyes gleaming with mock seriousness. Her delicate features, so much like her mother’s, were alight with amusement.

Sarae nodded solemnly, her expression an exaggerated mirror of her sister’s. “It’s true. The Priestess already said so.”

Viroen, to his credit, didn’t falter. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared them down with a defiance that belied his years.

“You’re lying,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “We already sacrificed baby Kel’ren last tenday. Lolth doesn’t need another sacrifice so soon.”

The twins burst into laughter, their facade crumbling as their brother’s response only fueled their amusement. Even Viroen couldn’t suppress a small, smug smile, clearly pleased with his own retort.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, their morbid humor a testament to their Baenre upbringing. It was moments like these—brief flashes of innocence amid the cruelty of your world—that you cherished most.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed a small figure approaching. Lythaera, clutching her favorite plush spider, toddled over with determination. She reached your side and tugged gently at your sleeve, her wide crimson eyes filled with curiosity.

“Play colours?” she asked, her voice sweet and hopeful.

You smiled down at her, though your body felt heavy with fatigue. The game she suggested was simple enough, and you welcomed the opportunity to keep her entertained without expending too much energy.

“Alright, little one,” you said, adjusting yourself in your seat. “Let’s play. Tell me what color everyone’s eyes are.”

Lythaera’s face lit up with delight as she began the game. She pointed to each of the triplets in turn, her tiny finger aimed with precision.

“Sarae… red!” she declared with confidence. “Lira… red. Viroen… red.”

You nodded along, your smile growing. “Very good. And what about Mother and Unlce Lesaonar?”

Lythaera turned toward the door where her mother had last been, her expression thoughtful.

“Red!” she announced after a moment, looking back at you with pride.

You nodded again, pleased with her enthusiasm. “That’s right. And now… what about Uncle Kyorlin?”

Lythaera paused, her little brows furrowing in concentration. She tapped her chin with a finger, mimicking the way she had seen adults ponder, before speaking with confidence.

“Blue!” she declared, her voice clear and unwavering. You froze, the word catching you off guard.

“No, darling,” you corrected gently, though a faint unease stirred in your chest. “Kyorlin’s eyes are red. Just like everyone else’s.”

But Lythaera shook her head, her expression resolute. “No! Blue. Kya-oralin blue eyes.”

Her insistence made you pause, the certainty in her tone more unnerving than her words. You tried to brush it off as childish stubbornness, but the conviction in her gaze—so steadfast for one so young—sent a chill through you.

“Are you sure, Lythaera?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with curiosity and a creeping sense of dread.

“Blue,” she repeated, her voice firm. “Kya-oralin blue.”

The room, filled with the distant sounds of the triplets’ laughter, seemed to grow colder. A faint knot formed in your stomach, tightening with each passing moment. You wanted to dismiss it as nothing—a child’s imagination, a harmless mistake—but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that her words held some deeper meaning, something just out of reach.

Your hand instinctively rested on your belly, the baby stirring within you as though sensing your unease. The warmth of Lythaera’s small presence beside you did little to quell the strange, ominous tension that now hung in the air.

“Alright, my love,” you murmured, your voice soft but distant. “If you say so.”

Lythaera smiled, satisfied with your response, and toddled back to her siblings, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The weight of her words lingered, echoing in your mind as a whisper of something you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you wanted to.

The disquieting comment from Lythaera lingered, an unwelcome shadow in the back of your mind. Kyorlin’s eyes were red—of course they were red. Everyone’s eyes in your family were red. Yet the conviction in Lythaera’s voice refused to be dismissed. You told yourself she was just a child, prone to mistakes, but Lythaera was no ordinary child. She was sharp, perceptive beyond her years, often noticing details others overlooked. Her insistence nagged at you like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

To quiet your unease, you called the triplets over.

The unease gnawed at you, refusing to abate. Finally, as if to silence your own doubts, you turned to the triplets, who were still playing in the corner of the room.

“Viroen,” you said, your voice light, masking your unease. “What color are Kyorlin’s eyes?”

Viroen glanced at you, his expression incredulous. “Red, of course, Auntie. What else would they be?”

“And you, Sarae? Lira?” you pressed, your tone remaining casual. The girls looked up from their game, identical smirks on their faces.

“Red,” they said in unison, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The answer eased you somewhat, though the doubt still clawed at the edge of your thoughts. When Lesaonar, Melinoe, and Minthara returned to the family room, you welcomed the distraction. They entered with a presence that commanded attention, their expressions grim. The tension in the air was palpable.

“What happened?” you asked, sitting up straighter despite your fatigue.

Minthara’s gaze softened slightly as it settled on you. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” she said firmly. “It’s being handled.”

You frowned, frustration flickering to life. “I deserve to know. If this is about—”

Minthara raised a hand, silencing you with a look. “Rest, my love. Stress will only harm you and the baby. Trust that we are taking care of it.”

The dismissal rankled, but you held your tongue, unwilling to press the issue in front of the others. Minthara picked up Lythaera, and from that simple act you could tell the meeting had not gone well. Minthara was not one to seek out comfort but there were ways she showed when she required it. Picking up Lythaera was one of those ways.

You wanted to continue to pry about the meeting but had no desire for an argument, so instead, you turned your attention to Lesaonar. “Where’s Kyorlin?”

Lesaonar shrugged, his usual relaxed demeanor returning. “He’s sulking in the training yard. Probably sharpening his swords or brooding over something ridiculous. You know how he gets.”

Melinoe smirked. “Especially when somebody didn't get their way in the meeting."

"But no surprise there," Lesaonar chuckled before turning back to you. “Do you want me to fetch him for you?”

You shook your head, rising carefully to your feet. “No, I could use the walk. It will do me good.”

Minthara’s sharp gaze pinned you briefly, assessing. Finally, she nodded, though her lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t overexert yourself.”

“I won’t,” you promised, resting a hand briefly on her arm before making your way toward the corridor.

The estate was quieter now, the weight of the emergency meeting casting a somber mood over the halls. Your footsteps echoed softly as you moved, your hands resting protectively over your abdomen. You were tired, but the walk felt grounding, helping to dispel the restless energy that had clung to you all day. It was silly really, checking if the brother you have known all your life actually had red eyes just because of a toddler. Call it pregnancy paranoia or a lapse in sanity, but you just had to check.

You caught sight of Kyorlin just ahead, his tall, lean frame silhouetted against the dim light of the corridor. He was facing away from you, his shoulders tense as he leaned against the wall.

“Kyorlin,” you called softly, your voice carrying through the stillness.

He turned toward you, and in that moment, it was as though a veil had been lifted. His eyes—Lolth save you—were not red. Not the ones that beamed up at you when you first held him as a babe when he was brought into the world. Not the same red, you would dab tears from when your family's torment of him got too much. Not the red that had looked upon you in pain on your wedding day. They were a piercing, unnatural blue, glowing faintly in the dim light, almost unnatural. The sight hit you like a physical blow, and you stumbled back a step, your breath catching in your throat.

“Kyorlin…” The word was barely a whisper, your mind racing to make sense of the impossible. He’s not Lolth-sworn. Lolth has left him. He’s light-eyed. Seldarine. A traitor.

Before you could react, Kyorlin closed the distance between you with startling speed. His hand clamped over your mouth, muffling the cry that rose in your throat. His other hand flashed, and you felt the sharp sting of a blade piercing your side. The pain bloomed, hot and searing, as your legs buckled beneath you.

“This shouldn't have happened, not yet,” Kyorlin murmured, his voice low and regretful. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

Your magic surged instinctively, but the energy fizzled uselessly as though snuffed out. Panic flared in your chest as Kyorlin smiled faintly.

“Seems the sussur is finally doing its job,” he said, his tone almost apologetic.

Your vision blurred, and you fought desperately to stay conscious, your hands scrabbling weakly against his arm. The poison from his blade spread quickly, leaving your limbs heavy and unresponsive. Kyorlin leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear.

“All will be right,” he whispered, his voice laced with fervor. “Under Eilistraee’s light, we will all be free.”

Darkness crept at the edges of your vision, and the last thing you heard before the world went black was Kyorlin’s voice, raised in a desperate, panicked yell.

“Help! Someone help! She’s been attacked!”

The urgency that filled the corridor was palpable as servants and guards clustered around your unconscious form. The whispers and rustling movements of their panic blurred together, creating a low hum of chaos. Kyorlin, still kneeling beside you, played his part with masterful precision. His hands trembled slightly as they cradled your head, his face drawn with just enough worry to seem genuine.

“Quickly! She needs the healers now!” he barked at the nearest servant, his voice breaking with carefully calculated urgency. “She said she felt tired, and then she just... collapsed!”

The gathered crowd accepted his explanation without question. After all, your recent ill health had been a topic of quiet concern throughout the household. You had been seen withdrawing from your duties, stepping away from council meetings, and struggling with exhaustion. That someone in your condition might faint was hardly surprising.

Several guards lifted you gently onto a stretcher, their movements precise and practiced. No one noticed the tiny cut beneath your robes, hidden and insignificant in appearance. To their eyes, it was nothing more than another bout of your worsening fatigue.

Minthara’s appearance silenced the murmurs. She strode into the corridor like a storm, her crimson eyes scanning the scene with a mix of confusion and barely restrained panic. Her grip on Lythaera tightened, the little girl held protectively against her chest.

“What happened?” Minthara demanded, her voice cutting through the noise. Kyorlin stood, his posture straightening as he met her gaze. His face was the perfect mask of concern and helplessness.

“We were speaking,” he explained, his voice low and calm. “She told me she was tired, and then she just collapsed. I called for help immediately.”

Minthara’s sharp gaze flicked to you, now being carried away by the servants. Her jaw clenched, her usual composure cracking at the edges. Lythaera squirmed in her arms, her wide eyes darting from her mother to you.

“I’m going with her,” Minthara said firmly, her tone brooking no argument as she took a step toward the retreating stretcher.

Kyorlin intercepted her, his movements careful, his voice soothing. “Minthara, wait. Let me take Lythaera. She shouldn’t see her mother like this—it will only upset her more.”

Minthara hesitated, her maternal instincts warring with her desire to stay at your side. Lythaera, perceptive even for her young age, looked up at her with wide, questioning eyes.

“She’ll be safe with me,” Kyorlin added, his tone softening as he held out his arms. “I’ll take her to Lesaonar and Melinoe’s quarters. You need to focus on my sister right now. She needs you.”

Minthara’s crimson eyes lingered on him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. She leaned down to kiss Lythaera’s forehead before handing her over.

“Look after her,” she said, her voice low and firm.

“Of course,” Kyorlin promised, his tone earnest. He cradled Lythaera gently, his grip firm but comforting. Minthara cast one last glance at you before hurrying after the stretcher, disappearing down the corridor toward the healers.

As soon as she was gone, Kyorlin’s expression changed. The concern evaporated, replaced by a cold smirk. He shifted Lythaera slightly in his arms, adjusting his hold as he turned and began walking in the opposite direction. His steps were measured, unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. Lythaera, ever observant, tilted her head.

“Wrong way!” she said, her voice filled with the blunt curiosity only a child could manage. Kyorlin’s smirk widened, but his tone remained light and cheerful.

“No, it’s not,” he said. “We’re going on a little adventure instead.”

Lythaera’s brow furrowed, her small hands gripping the front of his tunic. “Adventure? Where?”

“You’ll see,” Kyorlin replied smoothly, his pace quickening. The shadows of the estate seemed to close in around them, and Lythaera’s unease grew as the familiar halls gave way to lesser-used corridors.

“Don’t like this way,” she mumbled, her voice growing quieter as her eyes darted nervously around.

Kyorlin’s smile turned cold, his blue eyes even colder, but he kept his voice gentle. “Don’t worry, little one. Soon, everything will be better. You’ll see.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Things were getting a little bit too chummy around here. Mwhahaha!

I hope you all enjoyed it, I think this chapter is a little shorter than others but don't worry lots to come!

Please let me know your thoughts and theories down below. I really love reading them and again, they are such amazing motivators for this series! Love you all! - Seluney xox

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[moonselune]

Bg3 companions and a reader who is ridiculously into them? like can't be around them without blushing, stuttering over words, etc.

Love your writing ♥️♥️♥️

ahhhhh thank you so much, this was a pleasure to write !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Breakfast in camp had become a small but daily ordeal. Sitting across from Karlach was as thrilling as it was nerve-wracking. She always looked so effortlessly radiant—her wide smile lighting up her face, her hair messy from sleep, and that laugh that came from deep within her chest. You, meanwhile, were a nervous mess, barely able to lift a spoon without fumbling it in her presence.

This morning, you were attempting to slice an apple while also trying to sneak glances at her, as usual. But, distracted as you were, you barely noticed when she caught you looking. She grinned, that flash of teeth making your heart skip about five beats.

“Hey, you want some?” she asked, holding out a plate piled high with a variety of fresh fruits. You stammered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Uh—y-yes! I mean, no! I mean—” You fumbled for the right words, your voice a bit too loud in your panic. Karlach looked at you, mildly confused but amused.

“Alright then, you let me know if you change your mind,” she said, winking, before going back to her breakfast. The little wink nearly killed you on the spot, and you dropped your apple, which rolled dramatically across the table and plopped off the other side.

Wyll, sitting beside you, tried to hide a snicker behind his hand. He’d been noticing your flustered behavior around Karlach for days and had clearly reached his breaking point. As Karlach turned away, Wyll leaned in close to you, smirking.

“Oh, this is painful to watch,” he muttered, barely containing his laughter. “When are you going to do something about it?”

You gave him a quick, desperate glare, feeling the blood drain from your face.

“Do something?” you whispered, panic lacing your voice. “Wyll, I can’t even string a proper sentence together around her without sounding like a fool!”

Wyll rolled his eyes, still grinning.

“Trust me, I can see that,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “But if you keep this up, it’s going to get unbearable for both of us. You’re absolutely lovesick, and she’s completely oblivious.”

“Lovesick?” you whispered, trying to keep your voice low but also scandalized by the word. “That’s… that’s not…”

Wyll arched an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look that read, Really?

You sighed, knowing he was right. Every time Karlach entered the room, you either found an excuse to leave or wound up a blushing, stumbling mess. Just this morning, she’d brushed a crumb off your shoulder, and you had nearly collapsed on the spot.

Wyll laughed, patting you on the back a little harder than you would have liked. “Look, if you don’t do something soon, I will. Maybe I’ll tell her for you—‘oh, by the way, did you know you’ve got someone so smitten with you, they can’t even eat breakfast right?’”

Your eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow with challenge.

“Fine,” you whispered, heart racing at the thought of actually doing something about it. “What do I… say?”

Wyll shrugged, his expression softening a bit. “Just talk to her. Be honest. If there’s one thing Karlach respects, it’s bravery. And if there’s one thing she loves, it’s someone who cares as much as she does.”

But as you mulled it over, you looked across the table and saw Karlach laughing at something Astarion was saying, her eyes bright with amusement, her entire face aglow with the life and warmth she carried effortlessly. You swallowed, trying to imagine how you’d ever muster up the courage to tell her anything.

The rest of breakfast went by with your heart hammering and Wyll occasionally sending you smirking looks. You felt like you were on fire, thoughts racing as you considered his words.

Finally, as camp was beginning to break up and everyone was scattering to their daily tasks, you decided to follow Wyll’s advice. Taking a deep breath, you gathered every bit of courage you could find and made your way over to Karlach, who was busy folding up her bedroll. She looked up, surprised, as you approached.

“Oh, hey! Need something?” she asked, her grin warm as always.

You cleared your throat, feeling the words get caught. “I… um…”

Karlach tilted her head, watching you patiently. “Everything okay?”

And there it was, the opening. The chance to say something. Be brave, you reminded yourself. You took a deep breath and tried again.

“I just… wanted to say…” you stumbled, unable to look her in the eye. “I really… enjoy spending time with you.”

The corners of her mouth turned up in a soft smile, her eyes studying your face, but still, she seemed blissfully unaware. “Well, good! Same here! You’re a lot of fun, you know. Brave in your own way, even if a bit shy,” she teased lightly, giving your arm a light squeeze.

You couldn’t help but laugh nervously, feeling your cheeks burn. Maybe Wyll had a point—Karlach appreciated bravery, and here you were, looking like a fool again. But as her hand lingered just a moment longer on your arm, you felt a surge of determination. This was only the beginning.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

You’d found Minthara’s sword on the outskirts of camp that morning, half-buried beneath some tangled roots. It was unmistakably hers—dark metal with a wicked curve, and elegant engravings tracing the hilt. You’d only seen her use it from afar, but even then, there was something mesmerizing about the way she wielded it, about the way her gaze sharpened whenever she held a blade. You were already a bundle of nerves at the thought of returning it to her, and that only got worse the closer you got to her tent.

She was sharpening a dagger when you approached, her expression focused, so much so that for a moment, you thought about turning back. But then she noticed you, her eyes snapping up to meet yours with a glint of curiosity.

“You’re looking rather… tense.” Her eyebrow arched slightly as she took you in.

Your heart thudded painfully, and you swallowed, forcing yourself to hold up the sword without dropping it. “Uh, I… found this for you. Your sword, I mean. It was… um, outside camp, and I thought you might want it back?”

Her gaze softened, a small smirk playing on her lips as she reached for the sword, her fingers brushing against yours. You nearly jumped at the contact, face burning, feeling like you might explode from embarrassment. You tried to say something else, but the words came out as a strangled squeak, and you practically forced yourself to look at the ground to avoid those piercing eyes of hers.

“Hmm,” she murmured, glancing over the sword, and then back at you. “Thank you. It's… refreshing to see someone with a sense of respect.” She held your gaze for a moment longer, and then, with an amused nod, she went back to her sharpening.

You quickly walked away, all but stumbling as you escaped, only to find yourself practically nose-to-nose with Shadowheart, who looked far too amused.

"Gods above," she snorted, crossing her arms. "I've never seen someone turn so red while returning a weapon."

You stammered, looking anywhere but at her. "I was just… trying to be polite!"

"Polite? If that's your version of polite, then I’d hate to see you actually try flirting," she teased, unable to hide her grin.

“Oh, please,” you huffed, looking away and trying to calm the blush still heating your face. “It's just… I don’t know. I like her, alright? Even if she’s… well, she could probably kill me without a second thought.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. "Good to know you’re aware. And yet you still act like a lovesick fool around her, it's almost like you want her to kill you."

“I would die happy!” you blurted out, throwing your hands up. “Minthara could do anything she wants to me—absolutely anything at all—and I’d thank her. She could stomp me into the dirt, call me a fool, hex me, curse me, make my life a living hell, and I'd still probably thank her with my last breath!”

Shadowheart laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You’re hopeless."

But you were too caught up in your rant. "I’d let her do anything—anything at all! She could make me fetch her supplies every morning, have me clean her sword every night, stand guard for her at dawn and dusk, and I’d still think it was the best thing to ever happen to me!”

"Ahem."

You froze, mid-rant, and turned slowly to find Minthara standing directly behind you. She looked deeply amused, one eyebrow raised, her eyes glittering with dark humor. Her smirk was even more wicked than usual, and her gaze held you captive as she stepped closer.

“Good to know,” she said, her voice smooth and cool, her smirk only growing. “I may have to test that loyalty sometime.”

She winked at you, and then, just as easily as she’d come, she turned and sauntered away, leaving you standing there completely speechless, your face redder than ever.

Shadowheart burst out laughing, clutching her side as she watched you sway in shock. “You really have a gift for making a fool of yourself, you know that?”

You sank to your knees, stunned, still processing that Minthara had heard every single word. Shadowheart’s laughter rang in your ears, but you were simply too dazed to care. Perhaps that death would come quicker than expected - if your own heart didn't give out first.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Every time Lae’zel looked your way, you felt like a live wire, a rush of heat filling your face. She seemed to command every space she entered, her presence sharp, unapologetic, and utterly captivating. But whenever you were around her, every sentence became a tangle of stammered nonsense, and all you could do was blush helplessly. Today was no different.

You were fumbling with your supplies near the fire when Lae’zel walked over, her gaze scrutinizing as always.

"You’ve been acting strange,” she declared, crossing her arms and eyeing you critically. “Weakness of any sort is unacceptable. Are you unwell?"

Her bluntness only made you more flustered, words tripping over each other as you tried to respond. "No, I… I mean, yes, but not in that way. I mean, I'm fine. Completely fine.”

Lae’zel’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced. “You are not fine. You stammer, you lose color and gain it again. See Halsin or Shadowheart—this weakness needs mending.”

Desperate to reassure her, you tried to explain further, but each attempt seemed to make it worse. “I’m not… it’s not that kind of weakness, I just—well, around you, I—uh…”

She fixed you with a glare, her frown deepening. "Enough. Your words make less sense with every second. Perhaps you’re more ill than you realize.”

Your cheeks burned as she turned sharply to fetch Halsin, all but barking his name across camp. He arrived quickly, taking in the scene with a look of amused understanding.

“She is in poor health,” she said, gesturing at you. “They are losing control over their words and show clear signs of a fever. You will attend to them.”

Halsin’s brows lifted slightly, and with a knowing look, he glanced from you to Lae’zel. He gave a slow, considering nod. “Yes, I believe I see the trouble. An ailment, certainly… though it appears to be more of the heart than of the body.”

Lae’zel scowled, gripping her weapon as if ready for battle. “Explain this ‘heart ailment.’ What creature has inflicted it upon them?”

Halsin chuckled softly. “They’ve been bitten by a lovebug, Lae’zel. That’s all.”

Lae'zel let out a string of sharp Gith curses, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "A lovebug. Where does it lurk, this creature? If it is preying upon our camp, I’ll hunt it down myself and crush it beneath my blade."

Her fierce determination, though absurd, only made your heart race more. Halsin stifled a laugh, giving you a sidelong look of utter amusement.

“I think you’ll find that hunting it will be… difficult,” he said, barely hiding his grin. “The lovebug often prefers stealth, hiding within feelings rather than form.”

“Feelings, a psychic offender,” she repeated, her brow creasing in thought. After a moment, she nodded decisively. “It is trickier prey, then. But I will find it nonetheless.”

And with that, she strode off, muttering to herself about unknown threats to the camp. As soon as she was out of earshot, Halsin let out a laugh, clapping you on the shoulder. “You know, I think you may have just made a miraculous recovery.”

You let out a groan, pressing a hand to your flushed face. “Do you think she’ll ever realize?”

“Not any time soon, I’d wager,” he chuckled. “But watching her hunt for a creature that doesn’t exist… that’s something we’ll all enjoy.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart’s approach had been so unassuming, yet it immediately set your heart racing. You’d been minding your own business by the campfire, trying not to glance her way too much, when she’d walked over, looking perfectly calm and utterly oblivious to the effect she had on you. She needed help with a spell—one that apparently you could explain better than anyone else at camp. You tried to play it cool, managing a quick, slightly-too-high “Sure!” and hoping your pulse wasn’t visibly hammering in your throat.

Standing beside her, you began explaining the spell, hands trembling ever so slightly as you demonstrated the incantation.

“So…uh…you’ll want to focus your energy here, at the core…” you muttered, gesturing to the focus stone. You held it out for her to see, only to have her fingers brush yours, sending a jolt through you that nearly made you drop the thing.

“Like this?” Shadowheart asked, her gaze flicking up to meet yours. Her dark eyes held that same thoughtful curiosity, and your voice caught in your throat. It was hard enough trying to form sentences with her this close, let alone explain a complex spell.

“Y-yes. Like that,” you managed, each word coming out slightly unsteady. “And, uh, then you just…channel it gently, but with intention.” She tilted her head, leaning closer, following along with perfect focus.

Meanwhile, just behind her, Karlach was all but dying, barely containing her laughter as she watched you fumble. Her amusement was clearly at your expense, and it took every ounce of willpower not to glare at her. Your attention drifted back to Shadowheart just as she turned her attention to the final gesture of the spell.

Her hand rested over yours for a second too long, her voice soft as she asked, “Does this look right?”

You nodded dumbly, your brain too overloaded to form a coherent reply, and somehow muttered, “It’s, uh…very…graceful.” Internally, you cringed. Graceful?

Shadowheart, apparently too engrossed in the spell to notice your red cheeks, gave a small, content nod. She released your hand, oblivious to the way you quickly hid your trembling fingers.

“Thank you,” she said with a rare smile, her voice calm and warm. “I think I understand it now.”

She turned to leave, casting one last glance over her shoulder, which made you feel simultaneously light-headed and weak in the knees. You stared after her, still processing, trying to shake off the ridiculous butterflies. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until she was already out of earshot.

The second she was gone, Karlach burst out laughing, dropping her head back in utter delight.

“Gods! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were spellbound yourself,” she teased, unable to wipe the grin off her face. “That was one of the best things I’ve ever seen. Hopeless,” she declared, shaking her head at you with a mischievous gleam.

Heat flooded your face all over again as you groaned, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I know, okay? It’s…utterly hopeless,” you admitted, voice thick with defeat. Before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed her mug of beer straight from her hand and downed it in a few quick gulps, hoping it would somehow wash away the mortification you felt. Setting the empty mug down, you sighed deeply. “She didn’t even notice anything.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re very, very wrong,” Karlach countered, her smile twisting into something sly and secretive. She crossed her arms, leaning in as if sharing a precious secret. “Because she was definitely checking you out while you were showing her that spell.”

You froze, turning slowly to look at her, heart skipping a beat.

“You’re joking,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper. There was a spark of hope, ridiculous but undeniable, blooming somewhere deep in your chest.

Karlach grinned wider, shaking her head. “Oh, no. She was stealing glances at you the entire time,” she said, sounding far too pleased with herself. “She’d peek up at you just when you weren’t looking, trying to act all serious, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. You might be as oblivious, but I’ve got eyes.” She winked, patting your shoulder in encouragement.

Your mind raced, playing the whole interaction back. You remembered how Shadowheart’s gaze had lingered, her voice soft, her questions coming slower, almost careful… Could Karlach really be right? Was it possible that Shadowheart had actually been…interested?

“Maybe there’s hope after all…” you mumbled, feeling that glimmer of excitement grow.

Karlach clapped you on the back with a laugh, nearly knocking the air out of you. “There you go! Just keep stuttering and blushing—seems to be working like a charm.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Guess I’ll just have to keep embarrassing myself, then,” you said, grinning despite yourself.

Karlach’s laughter echoed across the camp, but her eyes held a genuine warmth as she said, “Well at least it’s a start. You’ll get there.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

Jaheira's gaze was focused, unrelenting as she adjusted your grip on the scimitar. Her hands, warm and confident, guided yours over the hilt, showing you the correct angle, the precise strength you should use. Every time her hand brushed yours, you felt your heart stammer. You hoped she didn’t notice your flushed cheeks or the way your breath caught every time she leaned closer.

“Here,” she said, her voice calm but commanding. She moved to your side, adjusting the angle of your stance with the barest brush of her hand along your back. “It’s not about brute force,” she murmured, her voice so close it felt like a whisper. “It’s about control, understanding where the balance lies in every movement.”

You nodded, barely able to find your voice, managing only a stuttered, “Y-yes, of course.” But you were far more focused on her proximity than any of her advice.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Astarion lounging a few paces away, arms crossed and a devilish grin spreading across his face. He had noticed, of course—there was no hiding it from his all-too-keen gaze. Before you could silently beg him to go easy on you, he stepped closer, feigning a helpful tone.

“Stick your rear out more,” he suggested, his voice laced with amusement. “Helps with balance. And I’m sure Jaheira would agree.” He flashed you a wicked grin, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Your face flamed, and you shot him a withering look.

“Thanks, Astarion,” you muttered under your breath, attempting to ignore him. But his smirk only widened, and he continued to watch, pleased with himself.

Jaheira, still adjusting your stance, gave you a quick nod, oblivious to your flustered state and Astarion’s antics.

“There you go,” she said, stepping back just enough to observe your form. “Much better.” She gave a satisfied nod and went on to demonstrate a quick series of strikes, her movements fluid and sure, each slash a picture of precision and elegance.

You could barely pay attention, completely distracted by the grace with which she wielded her weapon, the easy strength in her every move. As she looked back at you, catching you gawking, you fumbled to regain focus.

“Uh—yes! Right, like that!” you stammered, hurriedly attempting to mimic her motions.

Jaheira gave a small, amused smile before nodding approvingly. “Keep practicing that sequence. It’ll help build your control.”

As she left the clearing, giving you one last nod of encouragement, you could hardly breathe. You waited until she was out of sight before collapsing against Astarion, running a hand through your hair with a groan.

“I’m hopeless,” you muttered, shaking your head. “She probably thinks I’m a complete mess.”

“Oh, she definitely does,” Astarion said, his grin impossibly smug as he gave you a playful shove. “But she won’t have to wonder about it for long.”

You shot him a look, eyebrow raised in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

Astarion’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I may have left your journal in her tent. You know, the one with the little poems in the margins?” He waggled his eyebrows, feigning innocence.

Your eyes went wide, horror settling over you as you gaped at him.

“You didn’t,” you whispered, dread turning your stomach. The journal held every embarrassing thought, every scribbled confession, every starry-eyed rant about Jaheira that you hadn’t dared speak aloud.

“Oh, but I did.” Astarion’s voice was light, mocking even, but his eyes held a teasing warmth. “Look on the bright side. At least now she’ll know how much you ‘admire her scimitar technique.’ among other things..”

You shrieked in exasperation, though a traitorous part of you couldn’t help but feel the faintest spark of excitement at the idea. You shoved Astarion, who merely laughed, delighted with himself, as you stood there in helpless anticipation, wondering how you’d ever face Jaheira again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Trying to stay composed around Gale was becoming increasingly impossible. You could barely string together a coherent sentence whenever he was nearby, your cheeks burning and your heart racing so loudly you were sure he could hear it. It had gotten to the point that, during one of his magic lessons, you’d accidentally projected a very vivid thought about kissing him far into the Weave—and while he hadn’t directly addressed it, you had felt your face go scarlet the moment it happened.

Yet, despite that blunder and all your clumsy attempts to communicate the depths of your affection, Gale remained completely oblivious. And this state of suspended longing, this fruitless crush, was starting to drive you mad.

After another awkward lesson with Gale where you stumbled over your words and blushed at the mere brush of his hand over yours, you found yourself venting to Minthara, though you knew her to be an unlikely confidante. Her eyes held little sympathy, her arms crossed as she gave you a hard, skeptical look.

“Just grab the wizard and use him for your pleasure,” she suggested bluntly, as if it were the obvious solution. Her gaze was sharp and impatient. “You’re a warrior, not a blubbering fool.”

You shook your head quickly, horrified. “No, no, it’s not like that! I don’t just want him in some shallow way.” You sighed, your heart feeling tight. “I want to… to adore him. To look after him. To treasure everything about him, every small thing, every story he tells and every spell he casts. I want to worship him like he deserves.” You leaned into your words, almost forgetting who you were talking to in the rapture of your lovesick confession. “I want to make him feel like he’s the most cherished person in the world.”

Minthara recoiled as if you’d offended her sensibilities with such sentimentality, looking visibly revolted by your romantic ramblings. Her lips curled in distaste.

“By the darkness, are you even listening to yourself?” She gave an exasperated huff, then, with a roll of her eyes, she called across the camp, her voice clear as a bell. “Wizard!” she yelled, her tone commanding and fierce. “They want to go on their knees for you—are you going to do something about it, or will I have to rip out their tongue to stop their endless lovesick whining?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and before you could process the horror, Gale turned, an expression of curiosity mixed with surprise crossing his face as he started to walk over. You immediately whacked Minthara on the arm, panic rising as you whispered, “What are you doing?!”

Minthara looked at you with a smug indifference, ignoring your frantic scolding as if she’d done you the greatest favor.

“A strange way to show your gratitude,” she remarked drily, “given how much assistance I just rendered.”

By then, Gale had reached you both, his brows lifted in confusion, a hint of pink on his cheeks.

“What’s all this about… someone going on their knees?” he asked, looking between you and Minthara, though his gaze lingered on you. His voice was gentle, though you could see the glimmer of curiosity—and something else—in his eyes.

You shot Minthara a glare, your face flaming, then took a steadying breath, turning to Gale.

“I—um,” you stammered, realizing there was no dignified way to explain this away. “I think… what Minthara was so eloquently trying to say is that I… might, uh, harbor feelings for you.” You paused, swallowing. “Quite a few of them, actually.”

Gale’s face softened, and a warm smile played at his lips, his hand reaching to touch yours with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice dipping low, “it’s wonderful to know I’m not the only one who’s felt that spark.”

Minthara turned away, clearly satisfied, muttering something about lesser beings and their foolish emotions, but you hardly noticed her departure as your heart beat out of your touch, your greatest fantasies finally coming true.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

Dinner had been an ordeal. Astarion sat beside you, closer than usual, his presence a tangible, almost overwhelming warmth. Every time he reached for something or murmured a comment, you felt yourself freeze, stumbling over your responses, blushing so furiously you’d started to worry it was noticeable. You could barely bring yourself to eat, much less speak, and by the end of the meal, you were sure you’d only embarrassed yourself.

That might have been manageable if it ended there. But just hours later, as the party approached a fortress with heavy guards stationed at the gates, Astarion took the lead, slipping into his charming, roguish element. He approached the security with a smooth, confident swagger, flashing that insouciant smile of his, every word a practiced melody of flattery and wit. He left them captivated, helpless to deny him as he led the party in with ease, his charm so intoxicating it almost felt like magic.

And while the others chuckled at his skillful maneuvering, you felt an unexpected ache in your chest. Watching him sway them so effortlessly stirred a pang of jealousy you hadn’t expected. Did he even notice the way you pined for him? The way every stray touch or knowing look from him seemed to linger long after he’d moved on?

Caught in your thoughts, you didn’t realize Gale was watching you with a raised brow. He leaned over, studying your expression with mild amusement and maybe a bit of pity.

“You look,” he began in a soft murmur, “like someone just killed a displacer kitten right in front of you.”

Startled, you forced a tight smile, trying to wave him off. “It’s nothing, Gale.”

“Nothing?” He crossed his arms, unimpressed. “Please, you’ve been fawning over Astarion for ages now, your heart practically on display.”

There was a pause as you grappled with the admission, your face heating up, but at last, the dam broke, and you began to pour out your feelings in a quiet, hushed ramble.

“It’s just… my heart beats for him, Gale. Every time he speaks, I hang on his every word. I want nothing more than to just reach over, brush his hair back, and listen to him talk about all his little grievances—his so-called ‘inconveniences,’ his charms, all of it.”

Gale nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment. And then his lips curled into a wry smile as he leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, I suppose your dilemma is solved, then.”

Confused, you blinked, feeling a twist of dread. “What do you mean?”

“Oh,” he said, chuckling, “just that you happened to be projecting that over the tadpole connection. Quite eloquently, I might add. The entire party heard every word by my predictions.”

You froze, horror dawning as you processed what Gale had just said. Every word, you realized, echoing faintly through the magical thread you shared. You dared a glance at the others, only to see Karlach giving you an encouraging thumbs-up and Shadowheart hiding a smirk behind her hand.

Then, to your ultimate mortification, Astarion strolled past, pausing just long enough to catch your eye. A sly grin played on his lips as he gave you a long, lingering look, his gaze glinting with amusement.

“Not to worry, darling,” he murmured, a teasing warmth in his voice, “I have plenty of inconveniences—and a few conveniences—to tell you all about. Shall we start tonight?”

His words sent a rush of heat up your spine, leaving you speechless as he gave a little wave, disappearing down the hallway. Gale patted your shoulder with a grin.

“See?” he said cheerfully. “All handled.”

You were left rooted to the spot, barely able to breathe, knowing that somehow you’d been caught, exposed—and that Astarion was, indeed, fully aware of the fact that your heart belonged to him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll’s presence seemed to have a gravitational pull all its own. Every time he smiled at you, every chivalrous gesture—offering his hand to help you up a steep path, or casually brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face—felt like a dream. A warmth filled your chest, so intense you could hardly look him in the eye, your words dissolving into stammered half-thoughts that trailed into silence. Each interaction left you breathless, embarrassed, and wondering if maybe, just maybe, he noticed how flustered he made you.

Training, however, was another story. Lae’zel was as intense as ever, barely giving you time to catch your breath between strikes. She was quick, sharp, and relentless, and it would have been more manageable—if you could actually focus. But each time she demanded your attention, your eyes kept wandering back to Wyll, who was a few feet away, talking to Shadowheart as he polished his sword. The way he moved, the way he spoke, that disarmingly warm smile…

It was only a matter of time before Lae'zel had enough.

She stepped back, arms crossed, leveling you with a look that could freeze lava.

“You’re distracted. Useless,” she declared, throwing down her sword with an exasperated sigh. “You pine like a hatchling, and it disrupts our sparring.”

You flushed, scrambling to come up with an excuse, but Lae’zel was already stomping off toward Wyll. You moved to intercept her, knowing she was the absolute last person who should reveal any of this. “Wait—Lae’zel, don’t!”

Lae’zel ignored you, her voice booming as she closed in on a bewildered Wyll.

“You,” she pointed at him, “this one wants to share their body with you.”

Wyll blinked, his eyes widening as he looked between you and Lae’zel, clearly trying to make sense of what she’d just said.

“I—what?” He looked at you, a blush rising to his cheeks as he fumbled for words. “I mean, I didn’t—wasn’t aware—”

Mortified, you didn’t think, you just acted, flinging yourself at Lae’zel with a force you hadn’t known you possessed. You tackled her to the ground, landing with a clumsy thud, and slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Not…what I meant!” you stammered, trying to laugh it off to Wyll, who was still looking down at the both of you in complete bafflement. “What she means is—uh, we’re just, um, sparring partners! She’s…dramatic.”

Lae’zel raised an eyebrow, and with her typical stoicism, she bit down—hard—on the hand you’d used to cover her mouth. You yelped, jerking your hand back, and Lae’zel smirked, a silent satisfaction in her gaze as she sat up, looking entirely unapologetic.

Wyll was still staring, one eyebrow raised, lips quirking slightly in what looked like a restrained grin.

“I’m… not entirely sure I understand what’s going on here,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement. “But whatever it is, I’m flattered.”

You scrambled to your feet, rubbing your bitten hand, and tried to put together a coherent explanation, but every time you met his gaze, words seemed to fail you.

“Well… right,” you mumbled, feeling heat rise to your face as you threw a quick glare at Lae’zel, who simply shrugged, as if completely innocent of any wrongdoing.

Wyll’s expression softened as he watched you struggle to speak, and he smiled gently.

“It’s alright,” he said, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you and Lae'zel.”

That simple gesture—his kindness, the warmth in his voice—made you feel as if you’d forgotten how to breathe. You managed a nod, barely holding onto your composure, while he looked at you with that disarming sincerity that always left you reeling.

Lae’zel, watching the exchange with an air of smug victory, dusted herself off. “There. See? Problem solved. Now maybe you’ll stop sparring like a weakling.”

You shot her a glare, but Wyll chuckled softly, meeting your eyes with a spark of curiosity.

“If you ever want to train together,” he said, his voice low and warm, “you need only ask.”

And with that, he gave you a wink, leaving you in a breathless, heart-pounding daze as he walked back to his gear.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

Every time you were around Halsin, it was like the ground slipped out from beneath you. His voice, that low, warm rumble, made your heart pound, and every casual touch seemed to ignite sparks across your skin. He was utterly unaware, of course; his gentle smiles and steady hands never betrayed a hint of understanding that he sent you reeling. You were sure that was the only reason you hadn’t completely given yourself away.

So when you returned to camp with an injury—a jagged cut on your arm from a goblin's arrow—you hoped it might go unnoticed. Shadowheart was busy, deep in her meditation as she restored her energy, and you thought you could handle the wound alone. But Jaheira spotted the blood trailing down your arm almost immediately. She arched a brow, her eyes flashing with a mix of annoyance and amusement as she approached.

“Let’s have a look,” she said, but as she examined your arm, she shook her head with a soft sigh. “This needs a proper healer. Come on.”

Before you could protest, she’d already begun steering you toward Halsin’s corner of camp. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and a familiar warmth crept up your face. “Jaheira, no, really, I’m fine. It’s not even that deep. You could probably just—”

“Are you afraid of a little attention from the First Druid?” she teased, smirking as you stammered. “If you’re so sure you can handle it alone, why is your face turning as red as a blood hawk?”

You barely managed a protest before she’d called out to Halsin, who looked up from his work, his eyes sharpening with concern the moment he saw the blood seeping through your sleeve.

“Come here,” he said, his voice a blend of calm authority and quiet worry. He rose to meet you, his eyes never leaving the wound as he reached out, guiding you to sit down on a low stool beside him. His hands were warm, gentle but firm, and you felt heat flush up your neck and into your cheeks as he examined the wound.

Jaheira, leaning against a tent post with her arms crossed, watched the scene unfold with an amused glint in her eyes, a smile curving her lips as you struggled to steady your breathing. But Halsin didn’t notice; his focus was fully on your arm, his brow furrowed with concentration as his fingers brushed softly along the edges of the wound, checking its depth.

“It isn’t too deep,” he murmured in his gentle, rumbling voice. “But we don’t want to risk infection. I’ll clean it and make a poultice to help it heal.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but the feeling of his hands—steady, reassuring, and just a little too close—sent your mind reeling. “Y-yes, of course. Whatever you think is best.”

Halsin gave you a soft smile, the kind that seemed to reach into your chest and make your heart skip.

“Are you feeling alright otherwise? You look a bit flushed.” His eyes studied your face, brow creased in genuine concern. “Are you feverish?”

You blinked, thrown off by the question, and felt your face grow impossibly hotter. “No! No, not at all. I’m… I’m perfectly fine. Really. Just, um… It’s just… the wound.”

Jaheira couldn’t contain her amusement any longer; she snorted softly and rolled her eyes, muttering, “It’s certainly not the wound that has you blushing.”

You shot her a quick, desperate glare, but she only smirked, clearly enjoying your struggle.

“A shame that our healer here clearly can’t see that particular ailment,” she added, just loud enough for you to hear.

Halsin looked between you and Jaheira, a slight confusion flickering in his eyes before he turned back to you with a gentle, almost affectionate smile. “Well, you should rest nonetheless. Even a small wound can bring on a fever if not treated with care.”

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his thumb tracing light circles just above your collarbone as if to soothe you. It was a simple, instinctive gesture, but it sent a wave of warmth through you, and you fought the urge to lean into his touch, to linger in the quiet strength he offered.

“Let me just…” His voice was soft, his attention focused on preparing the poultice as he worked with deft hands. But every so often, he’d glance up, catching your gaze with that calm, reassuring smile that made your heart race all over again.

Beside you, Jaheira leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He truly has no idea, does he?”

You felt a flicker of panic, but there was no use hiding it now. You muttered, barely audible, “Not the faintest clue.”

She chuckled, shaking her head with a mix of sympathy and sarcasm. “To be fair, you’re not making it particularly obvious.”

Before you could retort, Halsin returned with the poultice, carefully applying it to your wound with practiced gentleness. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin, his hands steady and warm, sent another wave of nervous energy through you. He worked in silence for a moment, his gaze focused, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

“There,” he said softly, finishing the bandage. “That should hold for now. And I’ll make more of the poultice tonight to ensure it heals properly.”

You managed a shaky nod, trying to form words but only managing a faint, “Th-thank you.”

Halsin’s smile deepened, and he placed a final, reassuring hand on your arm. “It’s my pleasure to help. But if you do start feeling feverish, promise you’ll come to me immediately.”

“Yes. Of course,” you stammered, hardly able to meet his gaze. Jaheira watched you, her smile widening as she shook her head in mock exasperation.

“I think it’s safe to say you’re sick with something,” she muttered, just loud enough for Halsin to hear.

Halsin’s brow furrowed in mild concern, and he tilted his head toward her, curious. “Sick with what, precisely?”

You shot Jaheira a desperate look, but she only shrugged, that teasing glint in her eye.

“Nothing a nice cold dip in the river can't fix.,” she said, her voice laced with amusement as she turned to walk away, leaving you to face Halsin’s warm, questioning gaze.

“If you’re certain you’re well…” he said, his thumb brushing lightly along your hand in a final gesture of reassurance before he let go. “But do take it easy tonight. I’ll check in on you later, just to be sure.”

As he stood and walked away, you sat there, still reeling, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. You wanted to stay in that moment forever. Perhaps during his check in later, you would actually do something about it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was actually so cute to write aha, I hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

Check out my redbubble shop here !

[moonselune]

I adore how you write Lae'zel. She's by far my favorite romance and I always stop to read anything you write for her, because you do her so much justice. I can hear her lines in Devora's voice! <3<3<3

I have an inhuman crush on Devora oh my god, the temptation to write a Lae'zel eats ranch for the first time fic just for her is unsurpassable.

Thank you so much, that is so so sweet xox

[moonselune]

THE LGBTQ COMMUNITY FORGIVES REGULAR PROFESSOR GALE PLEASE LEAVE HIM ALONE!! He’s autistic and I gave him a long talk about ambition.

As a fellow member, I assure you professor gale is safe, he is my favourite version of Gale xox

[moonselune]

origin companions + halsin with a durge reader who's scared of hurting them? :3

Aweeeeeeeee yeee I love me some hurt/comfort

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

You found yourself lying next to Karlach one quiet night in camp, the usual contentment you felt in her presence haunted by a gnawing fear you could no longer ignore. Your hand rested on hers, calloused from years of battle yet infinitely gentle as she held you close. But even her warmth couldn’t quell the dark, twisting urges that had been growing inside you, lingering at the edges of your mind like shadows waiting to pounce.

As Karlach’s breathing slowed into a soft rhythm, you could feel the tension within yourself mounting, your fingers twitching in your lap as you struggled to keep the darkness at bay. The more time you spent with her, the more desperately you wanted to stay by her side, but the very core of you, the blood that coursed through your veins, pulsed with the hunger for violence—a birthright you couldn’t escape.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, you sat up, unable to bear the silence any longer. Karlach stirred, her eyes opening to find you gazing off into the distance, lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind, love?” she murmured, voice tender as she reached up to cup your cheek, her thumb grazing softly along your skin.

You closed your eyes, leaning into her touch, feeling her strength and warmth, wishing you could be whole enough to deserve it.

“Karlach,” you whispered, feeling the weight of the words build up in your throat, thick and heavy. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve tried to keep hidden.”

She sat up, her attention fully on you, brows knitted with concern.

“You can tell me anything,” she reassured you, her hand squeezing yours as if she could somehow tether you to her strength. “Whatever it is, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

But that’s exactly what terrified you. You opened your mouth, hesitating, afraid that once you voiced it, it would become real, a truth you couldn’t unburden from yourself. But the worry in her gaze and the trust she’d placed in you made it impossible to keep hiding.

“I’m scared, Karlach,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Scared that one day, all this darkness inside me… that I might lose control and—” The words faltered, and you swallowed, forcing them out. “That I might hurt you.”

Karlach’s expression softened, and she placed a steadying hand on your shoulder, grounding you in her calm.

“Darling,” she said, her voice a quiet balm against your fraying nerves. “We’ve faced hell and back together, quite literally. And I’ve seen what’s in here.” She placed a hand over your heart, her gaze fierce and unwavering. “And I know it’s a good heart. Better than most.”

Her words stirred something in you, but the fear remained.

“There’s a part of me that wants to give in,” you said, struggling to keep your voice even. “A part that whispers how easy it would be to let go, to let the bloodlust take over… You wouldn’t be safe from that, Karlach. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stop it.”

Karlach’s hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek, guiding your gaze back to hers. Her eyes, so full of fire and compassion, searched yours, unwavering.

“Listen to me,” she said firmly, her tone gentle but unyielding. “You are stronger than whatever darkness is inside you. I’ve seen that strength in every fight, in every choice you’ve made. You’re not your blood, love. You’re you.”

Her words cut through the dread tightening in your chest, and you felt something break inside, like a wound you hadn’t realized was there finally being tended. But as her fingers traced reassuring patterns against your skin, you couldn’t help but voice the other fear that had been haunting you.

“I don’t want to put you in danger,” you admitted, voice thick. “The idea of being close to you, of letting myself love you completely—it terrifies me.”

Karlach smiled, a sad, beautiful thing that held no trace of fear. “If you push me away, I’ll still be in danger. Out there, fighting, facing whatever madness this world throws at us. But if I’m by your side, at least I know who I’m fighting for. Who I’m protecting. And who’s protecting me.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, too afraid that any answer would break this fragile moment. But Karlach didn’t need words. She pulled you into her embrace, her warmth surrounding you, her fingers tracing soothing circles along your back as she held you close.

“Promise me something,” she murmured into your hair, her voice a steady anchor. “When the darkness feels too heavy, when the blood feels like it’s pulling you down—come to me. Let me help shoulder it. Don’t carry it alone.”

Her words settled over you like a shield, the terror slowly easing under the weight of her trust. You nodded, unable to speak, letting yourself melt into her hold, feeling the burden lighten just enough to breathe.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The moonlight cast a pale glow over the camp, deepening the shadows of the trees around you as the night grew quiet and still. You sat by the fire, watching its embers flicker, your mind a tangle of thoughts and emotions too knotted to untangle alone. Tonight, you couldn’t shake the growing, gnawing worry that tightened its grip on your chest. The violent urges within—the dark whispers that surfaced when you were cornered, angry, or simply still too long—felt closer than ever, and the very thought of losing control with Minthara nearby made you shiver.

It was a rare vulnerability, one you hadn’t planned to let show, but Minthara was sharp. When she finally settled down beside you, her piercing gaze fixed on you, she noticed the tension in your shoulders, the distant look in your eyes.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, brow furrowing with a hint of impatience. She wasn’t one for sugarcoating her concern.

You hesitated, not sure if you could put into words the fear that had been clawing its way up from somewhere dark within you. The silence stretched until you finally forced yourself to speak, voice barely above a whisper.

“I… worry, Minthara,” you began, and she raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by your tone alone.

“Worry?” she scoffed, leaning back with a half-smirk. “What are you, mortal?”

But you held her gaze, your own look unyielding, and she gradually registered the seriousness etched into your face.

“I’m worried I might hurt you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “These urges, this… darkness inside me—sometimes I feel it would be so easy to lose myself to it.”

Minthara stilled, the humor gone from her eyes. She narrowed her gaze, searching your face.

“You think you’re dangerous to me?” She sounded half-amused, half-intrigued, as though the thought were a new challenge rather than a cause for alarm. “I know you’re dangerous, but to me?” She shook her head dismissively, as though the idea were ridiculous.

“No, Minthara. I mean it,” you said, your voice firmer this time. “What if it’s stronger than me one day? What if it’s stronger than… than us?”

There was a pause as the weight of your confession settled between you. For a moment, Minthara’s hardened expression softened, only a flicker, before her fierce eyes met yours again.

“If it’s any consolation,” she said, voice lowered to a dangerous murmur, “I’d kill you long before you laid a hand on me in malice.”

You let out a shaky breath, and though her words were grim, you knew they were a promise—one she’d keep if it ever came to it. There was comfort in her unflinching resolve, in the certainty that Minthara would not hesitate to cut you down if you became a danger to her. But it was still hard to believe she’d understand the battle raging within you.

Minthara held your face firmly in her hands, forcing you to look her directly in the eye.

“I’ve faced darker things than you, and I chose you,” she said, her voice quiet yet fierce. “You aren’t the only one who knows the dark, and you’re certainly not the only one who knows how to control it.”

Her touch steadied you, a calming balm against the tempest you felt within. You took a deep, shuddering breath, grounding yourself in the solidity of her hands against your skin.

“You’ll have to trust that I know what I’m doing,” she said with an air of finality, almost daring you to argue. And you knew she meant it: she would see through whatever lay ahead, by your side or against you if need be. But you could feel the strength in her assurance, the way her words wove around you like armor, and the whisper of your own doubts grew a little quieter.

Still, Minthara didn’t pull away. She stayed close, her gaze intense as she searched your face.

“I don’t need you to hide what you are from me,” she murmured. “Only a coward would. And you…” She leaned forward, brushing her lips softly against your cheek, a rare tenderness in the gesture. “You’re no coward.”

Her confidence filled a quiet part of you, a place that only Minthara could reach. And for the first time that night, you found yourself almost able to believe that maybe her blood would not decorate your hands.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The night was quiet and still, save for the distant rustle of leaves and the crackling of the campfire. Its warm light flickered over Lae'zel's sharp features as she rested beside you, eyes half-closed, her usual intense demeanor softened by a rare, momentary relaxation. But your mind was restless, weighed down by shadows you could barely voice.

You watched her, feeling the gentle pull of affection—and something darker. That gnawing, dark urge was a reminder of your bloodline, a whisper at the back of your mind that seemed to grow louder with every passing day. Each time you felt the pull of the violent, savage instincts that Bhaal had woven into you, you fought to suppress them. But tonight, the struggle felt heavier, too close to the surface. You could feel a deep-seated fear forming in your chest: the fear that one day, you wouldn’t be able to contain it. And if that day came, would you be able to keep her safe?

Finally, you couldn’t bear it any longer. The words slipped out, breaking the silence between you, quieter than you’d intended. "Lae'zel… I need to tell you something."

She looked up, the piercing gaze of her amber eyes meeting yours. Even in this vulnerable moment, there was no judgment in her expression—only curiosity, perhaps the smallest hint of concern.

"Speak then," she replied, her voice firm but encouraging.

You hesitated, unsure where to start, then took a deep breath, staring into the campfire’s flickering flames as you began.

"Sometimes, I feel this… darkness inside me. A hunger for violence that runs deeper than mere anger. It’s been part of me since I was born, and most days, I can hold it back. But with you, Lae'zel…” You paused, words catching in your throat. “I worry I might lose control. And I couldn't bear it if I… if I hurt you."

For a moment, there was silence. She studied you, her expression unreadable, and you began to fear the worst—that she might recoil or mock your weakness. But then, she spoke, her voice surprisingly gentle, though edged with her usual sharpness.

"Do you think I am some delicate flower, trembling at the thought of a little bloodshed?" she said, almost scoffing. “Or do you think I have not already noticed the darkness in you?” She shook her head slightly, her gaze steady and unafraid.

“It’s not that,” you stammered, struggling to make her understand. “You may be a warrior, fierce and unbreakable. But this is different. This isn’t sparring or combat—it’s… primal, uncontrollable. If I ever lost myself fully, it wouldn’t matter who was in front of me. I’d be nothing but a tool for death.”

Lae'zel’s eyes narrowed, but she did not pull away. Instead, she leaned closer, placing a strong, calloused hand on your arm, grounding you.

“You listen to me,” she said, her voice low, unwavering. “You fear harming me because of this ‘darkness,’ yes? Yet you know this about yourself. You fight it even now, holding back when others would simply give in.” She paused, her hand tightening around your arm. “But you must understand something about me as well. I am no stranger to violence. I have walked among enemies all my life, and I have bested warriors twice my size. I am no frail creature, and I am not afraid of you.”

Her words sent a jolt through you, her confidence in you both humbling and terrifying. She didn’t understand fully—not yet.

“But what if one day… I’m not me anymore?” you asked, your voice breaking slightly. “What if all that’s left is Bhaal’s influence?”

She smirked at that, and a strange fire sparked in her gaze. “

Then you will know that I would face you without hesitation. I would be ready, blade in hand, to meet whatever you became and bring you to heel.” There was a fierce pride in her words, and though her response was blunt, it was laced with a loyalty that softened your fear, at least for now.

Lae'zel pulled you closer, her grip firm, and rested her forehead against yours, the gesture as intimate as any words she could have spoken.

“Do not insult me by assuming I am weak enough to be afraid of you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

With that, the tension you’d been carrying in your chest began to ease. Lae'zel would never see you as a threat; she would face you if she had to, but not with fear. Only resolve. Only love.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The moon hung low, casting silver light over the camp, as the others drifted into their tents or found their places by the fire for the night. You sat on a boulder near the edge of the clearing, staring into the surrounding darkness. The shadows felt more alive than they should, twisting and coiling, whispering at the edges of your thoughts. You clenched your fists, trying to still the trembling in your hands.

The violent urges had been growing stronger lately. A restlessness clawed at your soul, begging to be let out, and it terrified you. Your bloodline—Bhaal’s taint—felt like a curse you could no longer contain. You thought of Shadowheart, her quiet strength and sharp wit, the way her voice softened when she spoke to you alone. You loved her with a ferocity that frightened you, and it was that love that made everything worse. If you ever lost control, what would stop you from hurting her?

You didn’t hear her approach until she was standing beside you. Shadowheart had a way of moving silently, as if she were part of the shadows themselves. She sat next to you, her presence grounding but still leaving you on edge.

“You’ve been distant,” she said softly, her gaze studying your profile. “I know something’s troubling you. I can see it.”

You couldn’t meet her eyes, staring instead at the ground.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, but the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

Shadowheart wasn’t fooled. She reached out, her hand brushing yours.

“You’re not fine,” she said, a quiet insistence in her voice. “I can feel it. Please… talk to me.”

Her gentle concern was enough to break the fragile wall you’d built around your emotions. You exhaled shakily, your voice trembling as you spoke.

“Shadowheart, I… I don’t know if I can do this. Every day, it gets harder to keep it all in check. The bloodlust, the urges—they’re stronger than ever. It’s like there’s something inside me, clawing to get out. And I’m terrified of what will happen if I can’t stop it.”

She watched you intently, her expression unreadable, and you pressed on, the words pouring out now.

“You’re everything to me, Shadowheart. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. And that’s what makes it worse. What if one day, I lose control? What if I hurt you? I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

The silence that followed felt unbearable. You risked a glance at her, expecting—dreading—judgment or fear in her eyes. But instead, there was understanding, and something even deeper. Shadowheart took your hand in hers, intertwining your fingers.

“You think I haven’t seen what you struggle with?” she asked quietly. “I’ve seen the way you fight it, the way you hold yourself back, even when everything in you screams to let go. That takes strength most people couldn’t dream of.”

You tried to pull your hand away, shaking your head. “Strength only lasts so long. One slip is all it takes.”

She held on tighter, refusing to let you retreat into yourself. “Then I’ll be there to stop you. I’ve been in darkness before—I know what it’s like to fight something that feels bigger than you. You’re not alone in this, and you don’t have to carry it by yourself.”

Her words struck a chord deep within you, a mixture of hope and guilt threatening to overwhelm you. “But what if—what if you’re not enough? What if one day, I…”

Shadowheart placed a finger to your lips, silencing you. “Stop. Listen to me. If I were afraid of you, I wouldn’t be here. You’re not defined by the darkness in you, no matter what your bloodline says. You’re more than that. And if you lose your way, I’ll be there to pull you back. Always.”

The certainty in her voice was enough to break something inside you. Tears welled up, unbidden, and you quickly wiped them away, ashamed of your weakness. But Shadowheart cupped your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“It’s okay to feel this way,” she said softly. “It’s okay to lean on someone else. You’ve been carrying this burden alone for too long.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe her. You leaned into her touch, letting her warmth chase away the cold that had taken root in your chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Shadowheart pulled you into an embrace, her arms strong and steady around you.

“We’ll face this together,” she murmured against your hair. “You don’t have to fight alone anymore.”

And in that moment, with her holding you as if she’d never let go, the weight on your soul felt just a little bit lighter.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The camp was still, cloaked in the soft, silvery light of the moon. Most of your companions were asleep, save for the faint sounds of someone shifting in their tent or the occasional crackle of the dying fire. You sat apart from the others, your hands trembling slightly as you stared into the flames, the warmth doing little to chase away the cold knot of fear in your chest.

You had been feeling it for weeks now—this creeping, gnawing sensation at the edges of your mind. It wasn’t just anger or frustration. It was something deeper, darker. The whispers of your lineage clawed at your resolve, a constant reminder of the bloodline you couldn’t escape. Being Bhaalspawn wasn’t just a title; it was a curse, a tether to violence and death. And it was becoming harder to ignore.

The thought of hurting someone—hurting her—gnawed at your mind like a sickness. Jaheira, with her calm strength and unwavering compassion, had become your anchor, your light in this shadowed existence. But what if the darkness inside you grew too strong? What if you slipped? What if, in a moment of weakness, she got caught in the storm of your own making?

The thought alone made you sick.

You didn’t realize how tightly you were gripping your hands until you heard a voice behind you. “You’ve been brooding for hours now. Even I can’t meditate with the weight of it pressing on the air.”

You turned to see Jaheira stepping toward you, her expression unreadable. In the dim light, her silver-streaked hair glimmered, and her green eyes seemed to pierce straight through you. She was dressed for rest, her usual armor replaced by simpler clothing, though she still carried the air of a warrior—always poised, always ready.

“Jaheira,” you said, your voice catching slightly. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I—”

She waved a hand, cutting you off as she settled beside you on the ground. “Enough of that. What is it, truly? You’ve been distant. Distracted. I’ve faced enough troubled souls in my time to recognize one sitting before me now.”

You hesitated, the words heavy on your tongue. But this was Jaheira. If anyone deserved the truth, it was her.

“I’m scared,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not for me. For you.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she said nothing, letting you continue.

“I feel it growing inside me,” you said, gesturing vaguely toward your chest. “The violence. The urges. The part of me that… that isn’t really me. I can control it most days, but lately…” You swallowed hard. “I’m terrified, Jaheira. What if one day I lose control? What if I hurt you? I couldn’t—”

Your voice broke, and you looked away, ashamed of the tears pricking at your eyes. Jaheira was silent for a long moment, and you braced yourself for her response. Would she push you away? See you as a threat? End you there and then?

Instead, she reached out and placed a hand on your knee, grounding you with her steady presence.

“Listen to me,” she said, her voice firm but kind. “I have faced Bhaalspawn before. Many of them. Some sought redemption; others embraced the darkness willingly. I have seen what your kind is capable of—both the good and the evil.”

Your stomach twisted at her words, but she tightened her grip, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“And you,” she continued, her green eyes blazing with conviction, “are not one of those who revel in chaos and blood. I see you fighting it, every day. I see the way you hold back, even when it would be easier to let go. That alone sets you apart.”

“But what if it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice raw. “What if I fail?”

Jaheira’s expression softened, and she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a gentle murmur.

“Then I will be here to remind you of who you are. To pull you back, if I must. And if it ever comes to it, if you truly lose yourself…” She paused, her hand brushing against yours. “I will stop you before you can hurt anyone else.”

The weight of her words settled over you, both reassuring and sobering. You knew Jaheira was not one to make empty promises. If she said she would stop you, she meant it. And in some strange way, that knowledge gave you a sense of peace.

“You’re not afraid of me?” you asked quietly, searching her face for any sign of hesitation.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

“Afraid of you? Hardly. I’ve faced demons, dragons, and gods themselves. Do you truly think I’d falter in the face of one stubborn Bhaalspawn?” Her lips quirked into a wry smile. “You give yourself too much credit.”

Despite yourself, you let out a shaky laugh, the tension in your chest easing ever so slightly.

Jaheira’s smile softened, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead gently against yours.

“You are stronger than you realize, my love,” she murmured. “And you are not alone in this. I will stand by you, no matter what comes. Do you understand?”

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the gratitude swelling in your chest. For the first time in weeks, the darkness within you seemed to quiet. It was still there, a part of you that would never fully go away. But with Jaheira by your side, it would at least lessen.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The night was quiet, the campfire burning low as the stars shimmered above like scattered shards of broken glass. Gale sat across from you, absorbed in his spellbook, his brow furrowed in concentration as the flickering light played over his features. You watched him silently, your heart heavy with the weight of thoughts you could no longer suppress.

The darkness inside you had been growing louder—whispers of violence and chaos scratching at the edges of your mind. Being Bhaalspawn wasn’t just a cruel twist of fate; it was a constant shadow, an insidious force threatening to consume you. And tonight, the fear of it all was too much to bear.

Your hand trembled as you reached for the cup of tea beside you, but you barely managed a sip before setting it down, the bitter taste doing nothing to calm your nerves.

Gale noticed. He always noticed.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentle as he closed his book and leaned forward, concern etched across his face. “You’ve been quiet all evening. More so than usual.”

You hesitated, staring into the fire as if it could provide the answers you didn’t have. Finally, you spoke, your voice low and strained. “I need to tell you something, Gale. It’s… important.”

He straightened, his attention fully on you now, his worry deepening.

“Go on,” he urged softly, his tone as warm and steady as the firelight between you. You swallowed hard, trying to steady the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

“I’ve been… struggling. The darkness inside me, the urges… it’s been getting worse.” You glanced up at him, your eyes pleading for understanding. “I’m terrified that one day, I won’t be able to control it.”

Gale’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“I’m scared, Gale,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “Scared of what I might do. Of who I might hurt.” Your gaze dropped to your hands, clenched tightly in your lap. “Of hurting you.”

For a moment, there was only silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound between you. You braced yourself for his reaction, for the possibility that he might recoil, that he might see you as a monster.

Instead, Gale reached across the space between you and took your hand in his, his touch warm and grounding.

“You’re scared because you care,” he said gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Because you love.”

You looked up at him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“That doesn’t change what I am,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “It doesn’t change the danger I bring.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Gale agreed, his gaze steady and unflinching. “But it also doesn’t define you. You are more than your lineage, more than the darkness you carry.” He leaned closer, his voice soft but firm. “I’ve seen your strength, your kindness, your determination to do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. That is who you are.”

His words were like a balm, easing the ache in your chest, but the fear still lingered, a shadow that refused to dissipate.

“What if I fail?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What if one day, it’s not enough?”

Gale’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes filled with unwavering resolve.

“Then I will stand by you. I will fight for you, my love. And if it ever comes to it, if you ever lose yourself…” He paused, his voice faltering for just a moment before he continued, “Then I will do whatever it takes to bring you back.”

The weight of his promise settled over you, both comforting and sobering. Gale wasn’t naive. He understood the risks, the danger. But he still chose to stay, to believe in you.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you looked away, ashamed of your vulnerability. But Gale reached out, gently cupping your face and turning you back to him.

“You don’t have to carry this alone,” he said, his voice a soothing murmur. “Let me share the burden. Let me be your anchor, your light when the darkness feels too heavy.”

The sincerity in his words, the love in his eyes—it was more than you felt you deserved. But it was exactly what you needed.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Gale smiled, a soft, bittersweet expression. “You’ll never have to find out,” he said simply.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The night was eerily quiet, the campfire crackling softly as shadows danced across the surrounding trees. The rest of the party had already retired, their quiet snores or the occasional rustling of blankets filling the air. You, however, couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. Not tonight. Not with the turmoil twisting and clawing inside you like a living thing.

You sat by the fire, staring into its embers, your hands clenched so tightly around your knees that your knuckles had gone pale. The warmth of the flames couldn’t reach the chill in your chest, the fear that coiled there like a venomous snake.

You thought you were handling it. You thought you could keep it at bay—the dark, violent urges that came with being a child of Bhaal. But they were growing stronger, whispering in your mind, seeping into your dreams. And then there was Astarion.

Beautiful, sharp-tongued, and endlessly charming Astarion.

He was your light in this abyss, your anchor when the tides of your bloodline threatened to drown you. And that terrified you more than anything. What if one day you lost control? What if the darkness overtook you, and the person you hurt was him?

The thought was too much to bear.

“Brooding by the fire, are we?”

His voice, smooth as silk and tinged with amusement, broke the silence. You looked up to see Astarion approaching, his pale features illuminated by the firelight. He had that same easy grace, that effortless confidence, as he crouched down beside you.

But his eyes—those piercing red eyes—softened when they met yours. “Darling, you’ve been quieter than usual. And that’s saying something, given your quirk of blurting out how one day all will be ash and meat. What’s troubling you?”

You opened your mouth to deflect, to brush it off with some half-hearted excuse. But the weight of it all—the fear, the guilt, the constant battle within yourself—was too much. The dam broke.

“I’m scared, Astarion,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His playful smirk faded, replaced by a look of genuine concern. “Scared of what?”

You hesitated, your hands trembling as you fidgeted with the edge of your cloak. “Of me. Of what I am. Of what I might do.”

Astarion tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharpening. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your hand, grounding you. “You’ll have to be more specific, love. I’m not following.”

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “I’m a Bhaalspawn, Astarion. Violence, bloodshed, and death are in my veins. Lately, it’s been harder to suppress. The urges… they’re getting louder.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he moved closer, his hand now fully enveloping yours.

“And I’m terrified that one day I won’t be able to stop it,” you continued, your voice cracking. “What if I lose control? What if I hurt you?”

Astarion was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he let out a soft chuckle.

“Astarion, this isn’t funny,” you said, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

“No, it’s not,” he said, his tone serious despite the slight curve of his lips. “But the idea of you hurting me? Darling, that’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “You don’t understand—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” he interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re battling demons—figurative ones, in this case—and you’re terrified of losing. But let me tell you something: I’ve spent centuries surrounded by true monsters, the kind who delighted in inflicting pain, who relished in their power over others. You? You are nothing like them.”

“But what if—”

He silenced you by cupping your face, his touch cool but steady. “Listen to me. You have more control than you think. The very fact that you’re worried about this, that you’re fighting so hard against it, proves that you’re stronger than whatever darkness is trying to claim you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but his unwavering gaze held you steady.

“And as for me,” he continued, his tone softening, “I’m not some fragile thing that will break at the first sign of trouble. I’ve survived worse than you can imagine. If you ever lose control, if the worst happens, I’ll stop you. I’ll pull you back. But I don’t believe it will ever come to that.”

You searched his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity and a quiet, fierce determination.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“And you won’t,” he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Because you’re stronger than this. Stronger than Bhaal, stronger than the urges, stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

The knot in your chest loosened ever so slightly, his words and his presence easing the storm inside you.

“Now,” he said, his playful smirk returning, “let’s go to bed before you spiral into another fit of unnecessary guilt. You need rest, and frankly, so do I. Being this sentimental is exhausting, you know.”

Despite everything, a small laugh escaped you, the tension breaking like the first rays of dawn after a long night. And as he led you back to the tent, his hand never leaving yours, you felt a flicker of hope. Of love, and the urges lurched in response - it made you smile.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The moon hung high above the camp, its light spilling through the gaps in the trees and painting the world in shades of silver and shadow. Most of the group had retired for the night, the soft murmur of Gale's incantations and the crackling of the fire the only sounds breaking the stillness. You sat alone near the edge of camp, your hands trembling as they gripped your knees.

The pressure inside you had been building for weeks. Suppressing the violent urges that came with being Bhaalspawn was an exhausting battle, one fought every moment of every day. But tonight, it felt different. Heavier. Darker. The whispers at the edge of your mind were louder, tempting you with promises of release, of power, of blood.

And then there was Wyll.

Wyll, who had become your safe haven, your light in the dark. The thought of him—his warm smile, his gentle touch, his unwavering sense of justice—usually kept the worst of it at bay. But tonight, those same thoughts brought a new wave of fear crashing over you. What if you slipped? What if you hurt him? What if the monster in your blood lashed out at the one person who made you feel human?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear Wyll approach until he spoke, his voice soft and filled with concern.

“Darling, what are you doing out here? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You looked up sharply, startled to see him standing before you, his silhouette framed by the moonlight. He was dressed casually, his usual armor replaced with a simple shirt and trousers, but he still carried that same regal air, like a knight from a storybook.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice hoarse. Wyll frowned, his dark eyes studying you intently.

“Something’s troubling you,” he said, kneeling beside you. “I can see it. Talk to me.”

You hesitated, your throat tightening as the words threatened to choke you. But this was Wyll. If anyone deserved the truth, it was him.

“I’m scared,” you finally said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Not of someone else. Of me.”

Wyll’s frown deepened, but he didn’t interrupt, waiting for you to continue.

“I feel it growing inside me,” you confessed, pressing a hand to your chest. “The violence. The bloodlust. The part of me that’s tied to Bhaal. Most days, I can keep it at bay, but lately… it’s been harder. I can’t stop thinking about what might happen if I lose control. What if—” Your voice broke, and you looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “What if I hurt you?”

Wyll was silent for a moment, and the fear in your chest tightened. But then he reached out, gently taking your hand in his.

“You won’t hurt me,” he said softly, his voice steady and sure.

“You don’t know that,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I don’t even know that.”

“I do know that,” Wyll said, his grip on your hand tightening. “Because I know you. You’re not defined by the blood in your veins or the darkness you fight. You’re defined by your choices, by the person you’ve chosen to be. And that person would never hurt me.”

“But what if I can’t control it?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What if one day it’s too much?”

Wyll’s expression softened, and he reached up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek.

“Then I’ll be here to pull you back,” he said. “I’ve fought devils and demons, faced horrors that would drive most people mad. Do you really think I’d falter in the face of this?”

His words brought a lump to your throat, and you struggled to hold back tears.

“I’m not as strong as you think I am,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wyll smiled, a warm, reassuring expression that seemed to chase away the shadows in your mind.

“You’re stronger than you know,” he said. “And you don’t have to face this alone. We’ll fight it together, just like we’ve faced everything else.”

For the first time that night, the weight on your chest began to ease. Wyll’s unwavering faith in you, his belief in your strength, was enough to quiet the whispers in your mind.

“You’re too good for me,” you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

Wyll chuckled, his thumb brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Nonsense. If anything, I’m the lucky one. Now, come on,” he said, pulling you to your feet. “Let’s get some rest. The night may be dark, but the dawn always comes.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The camp was calm that evening, the embers of the fire casting a warm glow on the surrounding trees. The quiet murmurs of your companions settling in for the night mixed with the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. You sat a distance away from them, perched on a rock at the edge of camp. The weight in your chest felt unbearable, like an anchor dragging you down, deeper into the murky abyss of your thoughts.

For weeks, you’d fought it—the growing darkness, the violent whispers of your lineage that clawed at the edges of your mind. As a Bhaalspawn, the pull toward destruction was an ever-present shadow, lurking just behind your every action, every thought. It was one thing to suppress those urges in battle, but here, in the stillness of camp, when you were surrounded by those you cared about most, the fear took on a sharper edge.

What if one day, the darkness won? What if you hurt someone? What if you hurt Halsin?

The thought alone made your stomach twist with dread. Halsin, with his boundless compassion and unshakable calm, was your anchor, the one thing that made you believe you could rise above the blood that coursed through your veins. He saw the good in you, even when you struggled to see it yourself. The thought of losing him—of being the reason he suffered—was too much to bear.

You heard his footsteps before you saw him, the gentle crunch of leaves beneath his boots a familiar sound that sent a flicker of warmth through your chest. You didn’t look up as he approached, but you felt his presence as he settled beside you on the rock, his broad frame a comforting silhouette against the night.

“You’ve been quiet,” Halsin said, his deep voice soft and laced with concern. “More so than usual. What troubles you, my heart?”

You swallowed hard, your hands twisting in your lap as you tried to find the words. For a moment, you considered brushing it off, telling him it was nothing. But this was Halsin. If anyone deserved the truth, it was him.

“I’m scared,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. Halsin turned to look at you, his golden eyes studying your face with gentle patience.

“Of what?” he asked, though there was no judgment in his tone—only understanding. You hesitated, your throat tightening.

“Of myself,” you said at last. “Of what I might do. Of what I might become.”

Halsin’s brows furrowed slightly, but he remained silent, waiting for you to continue.

“I can feel it,” you said, gesturing vaguely to your chest. “This… darkness inside me. It’s always there, whispering, urging me toward violence. I can control it, for now, but… what if one day I can’t? What if I lose control, and I hurt someone? What if I hurt you?”

Your voice broke on the last word, and you looked away, ashamed of the tears that pricked at your eyes.

Halsin was silent for a moment, and you braced yourself for his response, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. But then, to your surprise, he reached out and took your hands in his, his touch warm and grounding.

“Listen to me,” Halsin said, his voice steady and calm. “I have walked this world for many years, and I have seen both the best and the worst it has to offer. I know what it means to carry a heavy burden, to feel as though you are fighting a battle within yourself every day. But you are not defined by the blood in your veins or the whispers in your mind.”

You looked up at him, your breath hitching as you met his gaze. There was no fear in his eyes, no hesitation—only unwavering belief.

“You have a choice,” Halsin continued. “Every day, you choose to rise above the darkness. To fight it, even when it feels impossible. That is what makes you strong. That is what makes you you.”

“But what if it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice barely audible. “What if I fail?”

Halsin smiled softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Then I will be here to catch you. To remind you of who you are and the goodness you carry within you. And if the worst should ever come to pass…” He hesitated, his expression turning serious. “If you truly lose yourself, I will do what must be done to protect those you care about. But I do not believe it will come to that. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

His words washed over you, easing the tightness in your chest ever so slightly.

“You’re not afraid of me?” you asked, your voice small.

Halsin shook his head. “Afraid of you? No, my heart. I am in awe of you. You face a battle every day that most cannot imagine, and yet you continue to fight. That is not something to fear—it is something to admire.”

The weight in your chest began to lift, replaced by a flicker of hope. Halsin’s faith in you was unshakable, and for the first time in weeks, you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could overcome this.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice thick with emotion.

Halsin leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You are not alone in this,” he murmured. “And you never will be. Whatever comes, we will face it together.”

As he pulled you into his arms, the warmth of his embrace chased away the lingering shadows in your mind. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel at peace.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a bit of a long one for y'all, I struggled slightly with some repetition, but i hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

Check out my redbubble shop here !

[moonselune]

Thank you so much for writing my yandere request!! It was an absolute treat to read!!!

Aww I'm so glad you like it and thank you for sending it in and your sweet words xox

[moonselune]

I think out of all of the dark characters Gale is the one that scares me the most. His anger and jealously has caused the deaths of thousands. Caused the destruction of cities, and there is always this undercurrent of him seeing his lover as nothing more then an extension of him. That feeling is there with his kid too. That the child he has is just a stepping stone in his ever growing ambitions. I think some of the terror also comes from the whole god thing. Like how do you even begin to fight against a god? At least the others are mortals. The only one who might be almost as hard to fight against would maybe be Ascended Astarion, but god Gale really does feel like he's on another level. For real though I can't praise you enough at just how good you are at making the dark versions of these characters feel truly unsettling. I'm always in awe at just how good your writing is.

Ahhhh OMG thank you so much!! I can't lie I do feel evil when I make them so evil.

Some of them, i'm like rubbing my hands together, like this is delicious (Astarion, Wyll, Halsin, Minthara) and then other times I'm like I am evil, my creations are eating away at my own humanity (Gale, Shadowheart).

As well with God Gale trying to find loopholes/ ways to hurt him back is just so much harder because as you said, the others are limited by some bounds of mortality - they can be hurt. But Gale, Gale is just something else entirely.

I'm so glad you enjoy them !!

[moonselune]

GOD what you said abt gale is so real… like there’s no wrath like white man wrath (aside from maybe white woman wrath but this isn’t a critical race theory class anyway) like even in-game when you get him the book of karsus or whatever, the one that tells him about the crown. if you ask him not to use it, he says (AND I QUOTE) “don’t be a hindrance after being such a big help.” i remember the exact line because it PISSED ME OFF, but i think it’s a subtle nod to the explosive nature of his ambition like he WILL throw his people to the side just to get what he wants, EVEN HIS LOVED ONES (it was a galemance run, which made me more pissed off gkdkgkf)

Ohhhh I remember when I did a galemance run and he said this to me and I think in game I pushed him over bcs WHO TF DO YOU THINK YOU ARE

yeah you are absolutely right, he is getting what he wants and in a way society can sort of forgive/accept that.

This is such an interesting pandora's box to have opened.

[moonselune]

(Not a request, but a nice imagine that has been rotting away and I need to get out so I stop thinking about it :3)

It’s a rainy day in Baldur’s Gate, so you decide to take a nice candlelit bath and read little. After a few minutes of enjoying the coziness and warmth of the water, a head of white curly hair pops through the door. Astarion has a bottle of wine, 2 glasses, and a couple floor cushions. He says nothing while setting everything down and pouring the wine, all the while you’re just watching him confused until he finally sits and passes you a glass. You take it and offer a small thank you, in return he begins to start gossiping with you about all the things he’s heard and rumors going around the city.

OH. MY. GODS.

I need that injected into my veins.

[moonselune]

not a request, but I was wondering if you'd ever consider adding Orin to the Dark!bg3 series? maybe reader/tav is a plaything she keeps alive with magic each time she bleeds them dry? idk i think she could really work with the series

OoooOOooo i definitely see that as a concept, I may when requests open back up write it - but I feel Orin is too much of a manic character to get really deep into. Plus I have such a Minthara bias that it would definitely get in the way of it ahahaha

Thank you so much though for dropping by my inbox :)

[moonselune]

i definitely think god gale is the most dark/evil because i mean … he was about to destroy an entire city from a temper tantrum like that’s TERRIFYING

I think God Gale particularly benefits from the well known terror of white man rage.

And I'm just going to leave it at that

[moonselune]

Formal Apology ! I realised i must have missed a save at some point because by the gods the pov was all over the place and even had my OC's name in it. Hopefully should be fixed now x

Thank you to everyone who read that and still gave it a like but even bigger thanks to @alicelufenia who pointed it out 💜

Love y'all x

Menzoberranzan Nights (NSFW)

Sub!Gale x Top!F!reader

(reader is from an unnamed noble drow house)

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

CW: smut, pwp, overstimulation, praise kink, slight breeding kink, Gale is a sub, this is so smutty y'all | MDNI

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Gale sat on the edge of the bed in your chambers, his heart pounding with nervous anticipation. He had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, his mind racing with worries and regrets. You had brought Gale back to your noble house in Menzoberranzan, you had to meet with your matron and the situation was simply unavoidable. So you had prepared Gale, dressing him in robes that would help him fit in and got him an array of books for him to read through, setting him up in your bedchambers. Gale had joked about whether you were going to leave him a bowl of water as well. You kissed him, promising not to be long and told him under no circumstances does he leave this room.

But, of course, Gale thought he knew better. He thought this was a perfect opportunity to observe lolthsworn drow matriarchal life, to see how you grew up. His plan was simple, to be seen and not heard and just keep his head down.

The concubines of the estate had other ideas, however. They had heard that one of their esteemed daughters of the house had brought back a surface pet and how they loathed the competition, especially from a human.

It didn't take long before they found him, his pale pink skin a stark contrast to their dusk and ice tones. They had teased and taunted him, picked at his robes, his hair. Throwing barbed words and snide remarks, assuring him that they would ensure you would never want to look upon him again. Just as a blade was drawn, your sharp voice cut through the air like a whip. The concubines cowered and stammered, trying to play it off that they were helping Gale, who had found himself lost in the estate.

You told Gale to return to your chambers immediately and that you would deal with the concubines first before dealing with him.

This is how Gale found himself, sat on the edge of your bed, heart beating like a caged bird. He had only seen that look on your face a few times. Mostly on the battlefield and once after the two of you had a heated argument that had melted into an encounter that left Gale unable to walk the next morning.

As the door creaked open, Gale's breath caught in his throat, and he rose to his feet, ready to beg for forgiveness.

You entered the room, your presence commanding and formidable. Gale's words stumbled over each other as he tried to apologize, but before he could utter a single syllable, you closed the distance between the two of you in swift strides.

With a rough and possessive grip, you grabbed Gale by the collar, silencing his apologies with a fierce kiss. The force of your lips against his sent a jolt of electricity through his body, overwhelming his senses with the intensity of your desire.

Gale stumbled backward, his back hitting the edge of the bed as you pushed him onto the soft mattress with urgency. His heart raced with a mix of fear and exhilaration as he surrendered to your dominant embrace, his mind reeling with the intoxicating sensation of htouch. Biting his lower lip as you pulled away, you sat up and straddled him at his hips.

`'What did I tell you not to do?"

"Leave your chambers without you."

"And what did you do?"

"Leave your chambers without you."

"The concubines are petty, jealous things. They'll do anything to get ahead of each other. Seeing a beautiful human like you be my dowager is like a knife twisted in their prideful hearts. You are lucky that I appeared when I did." You lectured him, looking down at him with half lidded eyes.

"I assure you I would have been able to handle-mph!" Gale's words were cut short by your fingers pushing into his mouth, pushing his tongue down.

"Your hubris, my love, has no place here. Not while you're in Menzoberranzen, not while you're in my chambers, not while you're mine." You told him, you removed your fingers from his mouth and admired the saliva before bringing it to your own lips. Gale lay back in shocked admiration, his hands snaking onto your hips as a familiar coil begins to build within him. However, he is promptly stopped when you grab his wrists and pins them to the side of his head. "Tut tut, and here I thought you were a quick learner."

"S-seems I'm in need of a good teacher." Gale breathed out, shuddering under the passionate ferocity of your red eyes. He kept his hands pressed against the bed even as you released them. The corner of your mouth quirked up in approval and you rolled your hips forward causing friction between their cores.

"I cannot offer you good - but ruthless, exhaustive and pleasurably yearnful - that I can offer." You dragged your finger nails down Gale's chest, pulling his tailored robe apart with ease, exposing his bare skin to you. You looked upon him like a predator who had finally caught their prey, ready to devour their well-earned feast.

Gale swallowed with a nervous excitement as he felt your nails drag across his skin. He could no longer ignore the pleasure that stirred within him but dutifully he kept his hands pinned to the bed.

"Perhaps I am too harsh on you, how can I expect you to act like a concubine of House Baenre when I haven't been treating you as such?" You scraped your nails lightly, creating patterns with the inflamed skin. "You know there is a reason why the concubines clamour for my attention, bend to my every whim so eagerly, and detest you so vehemently."

You leant down and peppered the red scratch marks with kisses before licking a long stripe up Gale's sternum causing him to gasp and as he did, you hummed in satisfaction.

"Whereas the other matrons of my noble house use the concubines for their mere pleasurable whims, seeking only their satisfaction." You swiped your fingers across Gale's exposed nipple, smiling as his breath hitched. You began to rock your hips backwards and forward grinding on his hardening bulge. "I much prefer using them entirely until they are begging me to just devour them. Is that what you want my love?"

"By the Gods yes," Gale rushed and his hands twitched above him, desperate to grab you but he sensed better. You laughed, not cruelly or mockingly but darkly, like prey that had stumbled dutifully into your trap. To his relief you grabbed Gale's hands and placed them roughly on your hips, incentivising him to squeeze as roughly as he wanted to. It was clear that that would be his only form of control.

You leaned down and kissed Gale's neck softly before biting viciously, being sure that it would leave a mark. You continued this down his body, continuing your hip movements and causing filthy whimpers from Gale. Once you were happy that he was properly marked, you relented looking at your handiwork with pride.

"Undress me." The command was quick and blunt and Gale wasted no time in obeying, as soon as the words had left your mouth he had your clothes off, his hands piously finding their way back to your hips. Your breasts fell perkily into his eyeline, teasing him. He began to feel left out that his clothes were still on, but you picked up on it immediately and pouted mockingly at him. "My poor love, what a shame for you that you look so beautiful when you're needy."

As you teased him your hand snaked past his back and your fingertips toyed with his briefs. Gale, wanting to earn your favour and encourage your touch, leant up and kissed your stomach only to be brutally pushed back down.

"So impatient," You lightly scolded and removed your fingers from his briefs. Gale couldn't help but whine, gripping your hips with fervor, trying to ignore the joy it brought his love. "But I am not one without mercy."

You offered him your hand, putting it in front of his face. Gale snaked his hand from your hip, up your side and down your arm until he clasped his fingers around yours as if to press a mere kiss to it. But he knew such poor worship was not deserving of the deity above him.

He pressed numerous chaste kisses to your finger leading to your fingernails before taking your fingers in his mouth. He knew this had earned your favour as you began to toy with his briefs again with your free hand. Gale continued to kiss and suck your fingers, only pausing to moan when you finally touched his bare aching member. As your touch continued you pushed further into Gale's mouth until he was almost gagging on your fingers. You smiled and eventually removed your fingers, swapping hands with the one that was toying with his tip. The added slick of saliva with his precum caused Gale to shiver and he involuntarily jerked his hips forward. Undeterred you continued to grip his tip, thumbing it with a torturous delicacy.

Your cunt was dripping as you continued to straddle and rock Gale's hips, his painfully erect cock pressing up against the plush of your ass. How badly he craved to be in you, how badly he began to crave release.

You continued to torture his tip, looking back accordingly to witness the dribbles of precum and Gale tried his hardest to hold back his whimpers.

Eventually leaving his tip alone, you paid attention to his balls, both full and aching from your teasing. You held them in one hand, giving them a taunting squeeze that illicit deep moans from the wizard as he continued his pointless thrusting.

"Please, my love, my goddess I beg of you-"

"-Of what my darling? All you need is to ask." You told him sweetly, as if the honey of your words masked your cruelty. As just as Gale went to speak, you increased the grip on his balls causing him to moan out in delight and his words lose their way on his tongue. You allowed him to recover before moving to the base of his cock and stroking it tightly just as he went to speak. He was close, you knew he was, but he wasn't allowed to come just yet.

Cruelly just as Gale's orgasm had begin to build you quickly got off of him entirely, walking away from the bed. Gale all but cried out and followed like a lost puppy, scrambling from the bed to grab your hand and pull you back.

But that wasn't the game you were playing.

As soon as Gale moved to pull you back, you swiftly immobilised him, causing him to fall to his knees. Satisfied you sat on the edge of your bed and simply held out a leg to him. Gale took it with gratitude and immediately began to kiss up your leg, his cock throbbing painfully.

As he diligently made his way up to your thigh he tried to hide how he positioned your leg into his crotch as he attempted to create friction to pursue his pleasure. You were well aware of this, of course, and relished as the blush of desperation and humiliation flooded your lover's cheeks, he was quite literally trying to hump you leg like a dog in heat.

You played along for a short while until you sensed his all too familiar coil about to snap. At which point you placed your foot on his chest and pushed him downward, straddling his hips whilst ruining his climax.

Gale threw his head back in frustration as a string of curse worse flooded his mouth. He was desperate, truly desperate. You could have asked him to condemn Mystra and devote himself to Lolth and he would have in a heartbeat.

"Oh my love," You cooed as tears pooled in the corner of Gale's eyes. Your hands cupping his face, relishing how his cock throbbed painfully against your ass. "You are doing so well for me, such a beautiful pet you are, my darling wizard."

Ordinarily Gale would have protested at such condescension but all he could do was lean into your touch and nod his head. You rewarded him with a soft kiss to his lips, turning vicious as you tugged his bottom lip with your teeth as you pulled away. Gale gasped and chased your lips upwards. You lifted up so you were now sat on his lap, his cock resting in front of your wet cunt.

You kissed him again, this time harder, tongue dominating his mouth, as you did your hands trailed down his glistening abdomen, fingertips resting lightly on his cock. Gale responded accordingly, filthily moaning into your mouth, like a whore. You continued to kiss him roughly, all teeth and tongue. A stark opposite to the way your fingers deftly played with his weeping cock. You focused your touch on the pulsing mushroom head, practically playing with the precum that surrounded it, lightly fingering the slit it was leaking from.

Gale continued to pant and moan into your mouth, his hips slyly rutting upwards into your touch. It earned him several bites on his lips, one drawing blood, but he did not care.

Finally, like a miracle had been gifted to him from the heavens, you began to languidly pump his cock, allowing his orgasm to build again. Gale drew back from your lips for air and pressed his forehead against your shoulder, eyes screwing shut as he chased the high, the wet slapping noise coming from below him driving him closer to the edge. But he would not be fooled again.

"Please my love, please," The begs fell almost naturally from his mouth and spilled into your skin as he pressed pathetic kisses across your breast in an effort to persuade you. You smiled and continued your pumping earning a primal grunt from your lover, but as soon as the praise stopped, overtaken by his pathetic whimpers and cries for release, you withdrew your hand and watched as he fell apart. "No...no-no..."

Whining, he pressed a kiss up your neck, his own hand instinctually moving to finish the job - a fatal mistake. You smacked his hand, before moving it to his neck. It snaked up to his jaw and tightly forced him to look up at you. He could see your red eyes flitter over him, analysing him, before your look of disappointment turned into a cruel smirk. With one hand gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at you, you other hand returned back to his cock and you returned to the rhythmic languid pumping.

Stuck in your clasp, quite literally, Gale gasped as he felt the familiar wave of pleasure begin to build in him, his thighs now shaking, tears of pleasure freely falling. You forcefully pulled Gale towards you and dominated his mouth once more, and Gale thought he would die from the onslaught of building pressure and the increasing lack of oxygen.

He moaned into you, hips involuntarily bucking as he finally reached his peak, spurts of thick white cum decorating his body and yours Dutifully, you continued to pump his cock, milking him for all that he had until his cock was creamed in his own fluids.

Gale moaned and flinched at the overstimulation of your touch, nestling his damp forehead into your chest for comfort. When you were done you stood up, letting your hand trail up Gale's body till your index finger caught on his chin and tilted his head upwards. You quirked your head behind you, motioning for him to follow you back onto the bed.

Kindly, you helped him up, but the sincerity of your actions was merely a front for your real plan. With a playful shove, you pushed him onto the bed, with Gale landing on his back. A groan tore through him from the sensation of the silk sheets on his sensitive skin.

You joined him, your body hovering above his, admiring how his cock lay twitching against his stomach, practically white with the amount of cum on it. Praises slipped dilligenty from your tongue. “Oh Gale, my love, all mine.”

It seemed sense had started to come back to the wizard as he let out a short breathy laugh. His hand caresses your thigh. “Truly I’m all yours.”

“You always know what to say.” You smirked and you leaned down to place a soft yet passionate kiss on Gale’s lips. You felt Gale relax completely under your touch, probably believing you had had your fun with him.

How wrong he was.

You pulled away and peppered kisses across his face and down his neck, crowning the blooming hickeys with your lips. Between kisses you continued to compliment him, knowing the reaction it stirred within him.

“Your intellect beats any high wizard of my house.” Though your words were potentially blasphemous, though if Lolth herself tooke issue and demanded explanation then, there was plenty of evidence that you were simply corrupting the previous chosen of Mystra.

Gale hummed and put a hand on the small of your back, relishing in the pleasure he felt from your words and touch.

“Your heart is boundless, your desire ceaseless and your ambition, by the gods Gale, your ambition is indomitable and I utterly adore you for it, my love." You murmured to him, hips sneakily beginning to roll into his as you sat up, hands planted on his chest.

Gale tilted his head at you, trying to figure out what wonderful machinations were forming in your mind. He knew you well enough that no matter how sincere your words were, there was always something behind them, and he hadn't missed how you were still slowly rocking against him. You removed one of your hands and took Gale's, holding it as you placed it on your own sternum and pushed down till your hands rested on your abdomen.

"So perfect, and worthy, I believe.." You smiled down at him. Before Gale could figure out what you had meant by your words, you moved forward and slipped Gale's creamed and hardening cock into your sopping cunt. It slipped in with ease and Gale threw his head back into the pillows, a guttural moan tearing through him. His cock was already overstimulated, now he had you tight walls clamping around him. He thought he was going to die.

You gasped, your smile widening in pleasure, one hand remaining on your abdomen with his the other moving to Gale's free hand and interlocking it, increasing the speed of your bouncing.

"You know the concubines would slaughter to be you right now, your spilled seed finding its way into my womb. The chance of your child to swell inside of me. It is their highest honour, their greatest ambition." You panted, you had been teasing yourrself the entire time by toying with Gale and now you were finally taking what you wanted. "A prestige I give you so freely and know you will deliver on."

"Yes, ah fuck, my love-" Gale grunted as the pain and pleasure of overstimulation intermingled, your safe word teetering on his lips. Yet how could he deprive himself of hearing such primal words? From feeling such primal things? With a newfound vigour he met your hips with eager rutting, the hand that once rested on your back, now moved to your hip and he gripped it with a bruising ferocity.

"Ah-yes!" You moaned, head thrown back as Gale sat up, his mouth latching onto your breast, kissing it sloppily, biting it hungrily. You cupped the back of his head, fingers tangling into his brown locks of hair, holding him close. However. the waves of building pleasure did not distract you entirely from your intentions. "Fill me, Gale, l-let my womb hold our children."

Gale moaned again, moving onto your other breast, filthy words leaving his mouth that you thought would have been too impure for him to ever come across, let alone say.

"Gale, I-I'm close" You gasped as the coil of pleasure threatened to snap. Gale continued, dutifully, holding onto you as if his life depended on it. Obscene wet noises came from the joining of your skin and shared bodily fluid - and it was music to each of your ears. The two of you held onto each other tighter, lips interlocking in a passionate and desperate embrace as you came, seeing white, you cunt gripping and gushing around Gale's cock sending him over the edge, fulfilling his order, as ropes of thick cum painted the linings of your cunt.

As the two of you came down from your high, Gale fell back onto the bed drawing you close to him. As you caught your breath, you pressed a firm kiss to the side of his jaw before removing yourrself from him, shared fluids staining the silk sheets.

"..That was phenomenal.." Gale breathed out as he pulled you back close to him, in disapproval you playfully nipped him - this is not how this went. You moved him so his head lay nestled on your breasts and Gale could not protest - nor did he want to. He quite literally had nothing left in him to verbally or physically to play pretend. Besides he was more than happy to remain there. He snaked his arms around your waist, one hand resting on your abdomen.

Though he knew your words were most likely thrown out in passion, they had engraved themself in his very being. "Be careful, my love, if the rest of our nights are spent like that, I may never want to leave Menzoberranzen."

You let out a small chuckle, fingers combing through Gale's silver-streaked hair. "That's if you can survive the rest of our nights here, my love."

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woooweee so this is one of my first pieces of writing for an OC I had, which I have adapted to be x reader, which may explain some pacing issues but anyways i hope you guys liked it ! - Seluney xox

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[moonselune]

Menzoberranzan Nights (NSFW)

Sub!Gale x Top!F!reader

(reader is from an unnamed noble drow house)

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CW: smut, pwp, overstimulation, praise kink, slight breeding kink, Gale is a sub, this is so smutty y'all | MDNI

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Gale sat on the edge of the bed in your chambers, his heart pounding with nervous anticipation. He had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, his mind racing with worries and regrets. You had brought Gale back to your noble house in Menzoberranzan, you had to meet with your matron and the situation was simply unavoidable. So you had prepared Gale, dressing him in robes that would help him fit in and got him an array of books for him to read through, setting him up in your bedchambers. Gale had joked about whether you were going to leave him a bowl of water as well. You kissed him, promising not to be long and told him under no circumstances does he leave this room.

But, of course, Gale thought he knew better. He thought this was a perfect opportunity to observe lolthsworn drow matriarchal life, to see how you grew up. His plan was simple, to be seen and not heard and just keep his head down.

The concubines of the estate had other ideas, however. They had heard that one of their esteemed daughters of the house had brought back a surface pet and how they loathed the competition, especially from a human.

It didn't take long before they found him, his pale pink skin a stark contrast to their dusk and ice tones. They had teased and taunted him, picked at his robes, his hair. Throwing barbed words and snide remarks, assuring him that they would ensure you would never want to look upon him again. Just as a blade was drawn, your sharp voice cut through the air like a whip. The concubines cowered and stammered, trying to play it off that they were helping Gale, who had found himself lost in the estate.

You told Gale to return to your chambers immediately and that you would deal with the concubines first before dealing with him.

This is how Gale found himself, sat on the edge of your bed, heart beating like a caged bird. He had only seen that look on your face a few times. Mostly on the battlefield and once after the two of you had a heated argument that had melted into an encounter that left Gale unable to walk the next morning.

As the door creaked open, Gale's breath caught in his throat, and he rose to his feet, ready to beg for forgiveness.

You entered the room, your presence commanding and formidable. Gale's words stumbled over each other as he tried to apologize, but before he could utter a single syllable, you closed the distance between the two of you in swift strides.

With a rough and possessive grip, you grabbed Gale by the collar, silencing his apologies with a fierce kiss. The force of your lips against his sent a jolt of electricity through his body, overwhelming his senses with the intensity of your desire.

Gale stumbled backward, his back hitting the edge of the bed as you pushed him onto the soft mattress with urgency. His heart raced with a mix of fear and exhilaration as he surrendered to your dominant embrace, his mind reeling with the intoxicating sensation of htouch. Biting his lower lip as you pulled away, you sat up and straddled him at his hips.

`'What did I tell you not to do?"

"Leave your chambers without you."

"And what did you do?"

"Leave your chambers without you."

"The concubines are petty, jealous things. They'll do anything to get ahead of each other. Seeing a beautiful human like you be my dowager is like a knife twisted in their prideful hearts. You are lucky that I appeared when I did." You lectured him, looking down at him with half lidded eyes.

"I assure you I would have been able to handle-mph!" Gale's words were cut short by your fingers pushing into his mouth, pushing his tongue down.

"Your hubris, my love, has no place here. Not while you're in Menzoberranzen, not while you're in my chambers, not while you're mine." You told him, you removed your fingers from his mouth and admired the saliva before bringing it to your own lips. Gale lay back in shocked admiration, his hands snaking onto your hips as a familiar coil begins to build within him. However, he is promptly stopped when you grab his wrists and pins them to the side of his head. "Tut tut, and here I thought you were a quick learner."

"S-seems I'm in need of a good teacher." Gale breathed out, shuddering under the passionate ferocity of your red eyes. He kept his hands pressed against the bed even as you released them. The corner of your mouth quirked up in approval and you rolled your hips forward causing friction between their cores.

"I cannot offer you good - but ruthless, exhaustive and pleasurably yearnful - that I can offer." You dragged your finger nails down Gale's chest, pulling his tailored robe apart with ease, exposing his bare skin to you. You looked upon him like a predator who had finally caught their prey, ready to devour their well-earned feast.

Gale swallowed with a nervous excitement as he felt your nails drag across his skin. He could no longer ignore the pleasure that stirred within him but dutifully he kept his hands pinned to the bed.

"Perhaps I am too harsh on you, how can I expect you to act like a concubine of House Baenre when I haven't been treating you as such?" You scraped your nails lightly, creating patterns with the inflamed skin. "You know there is a reason why the concubines clamour for my attention, bend to my every whim so eagerly, and detest you so vehemently."

You leant down and peppered the red scratch marks with kisses before licking a long stripe up Gale's sternum causing him to gasp and as he did, you hummed in satisfaction.

"Whereas the other matrons of my noble house use the concubines for their mere pleasurable whims, seeking only their satisfaction." You swiped your fingers across Gale's exposed nipple, smiling as his breath hitched. You began to rock your hips backwards and forward grinding on his hardening bulge. "I much prefer using them entirely until they are begging me to just devour them. Is that what you want my love?"

"By the Gods yes," Gale rushed and his hands twitched above him, desperate to grab you but he sensed better. You laughed, not cruelly or mockingly but darkly, like prey that had stumbled dutifully into your trap. To his relief you grabbed Gale's hands and placed them roughly on your hips, incentivising him to squeeze as roughly as he wanted to. It was clear that that would be his only form of control.

You leaned down and kissed Gale's neck softly before biting viciously, being sure that it would leave a mark. You continued this down his body, continuing your hip movements and causing filthy whimpers from Gale. Once you were happy that he was properly marked, you relented looking at your handiwork with pride.

"Undress me." The command was quick and blunt and Gale wasted no time in obeying, as soon as the words had left your mouth he had your clothes off, his hands piously finding their way back to your hips. Your breasts fell perkily into his eyeline, teasing him. He began to feel left out that his clothes were still on, but you picked up on it immediately and pouted mockingly at him. "My poor love, what a shame for you that you look so beautiful when you're needy."

As you teased him your hand snaked past his back and your fingertips toyed with his briefs. Gale, wanting to earn your favour and encourage your touch, leant up and kissed your stomach only to be brutally pushed back down.

"So impatient," You lightly scolded and removed your fingers from his briefs. Gale couldn't help but whine, gripping your hips with fervor, trying to ignore the joy it brought his love. "But I am not one without mercy."

You offered him your hand, putting it in front of his face. Gale snaked his hand from your hip, up your side and down your arm until he clasped his fingers around yours as if to press a mere kiss to it. But he knew such poor worship was not deserving of the deity above him.

He pressed numerous chaste kisses to your finger leading to your fingernails before taking your fingers in his mouth. He knew this had earned your favour as you began to toy with his briefs again with your free hand. Gale continued to kiss and suck your fingers, only pausing to moan when you finally touched his bare aching member. As your touch continued you pushed further into Gale's mouth until he was almost gagging on your fingers. You smiled and eventually removed your fingers, swapping hands with the one that was toying with his tip. The added slick of saliva with his precum caused Gale to shiver and he involuntarily jerked his hips forward. Undeterred you continued to grip his tip, thumbing it with a torturous delicacy.

Your cunt was dripping as you continued to straddle and rock Gale's hips, his painfully erect cock pressing up against the plush of your ass. How badly he craved to be in you, how badly he began to crave release.

You continued to torture his tip, looking back accordingly to witness the dribbles of precum and Gale tried his hardest to hold back his whimpers.

Eventually leaving his tip alone, you paid attention to his balls, both full and aching from your teasing. You held them in one hand, giving them a taunting squeeze that illicit deep moans from the wizard as he continued his pointless thrusting.

"Please, my love, my goddess I beg of you-"

"-Of what my darling? All you need is to ask." You told him sweetly, as if the honey of your words masked your cruelty. As just as Gale went to speak, you increased the grip on his balls causing him to moan out in delight and his words lose their way on his tongue. You allowed him to recover before moving to the base of his cock and stroking it tightly just as he went to speak. He was close, you knew he was, but he wasn't allowed to come just yet.

Cruelly just as Gale's orgasm had begin to build you quickly got off of him entirely, walking away from the bed. Gale all but cried out and followed like a lost puppy, scrambling from the bed to grab your hand and pull you back.

But that wasn't the game you were playing.

As soon as Gale moved to pull you back, you swiftly immobilised him, causing him to fall to his knees. Satisfied you sat on the edge of your bed and simply held out a leg to him. Gale took it with gratitude and immediately began to kiss up your leg, his cock throbbing painfully.

As he diligently made his way up to your thigh he tried to hide how he positioned your leg into his crotch as he attempted to create friction to pursue his pleasure. You were well aware of this, of course, and relished as the blush of desperation and humiliation flooded your lover's cheeks, he was quite literally trying to hump you leg like a dog in heat.

You played along for a short while until you sensed his all too familiar coil about to snap. At which point you placed your foot on his chest and pushed him downward, straddling his hips whilst ruining his climax.

Gale threw his head back in frustration as a string of curse worse flooded his mouth. He was desperate, truly desperate. You could have asked him to condemn Mystra and devote himself to Lolth and he would have in a heartbeat.

"Oh my love," You cooed as tears pooled in the corner of Gale's eyes. Your hands cupping his face, relishing how his cock throbbed painfully against your ass. "You are doing so well for me, such a beautiful pet you are, my darling wizard."

Ordinarily Gale would have protested at such condescension but all he could do was lean into your touch and nod his head. You rewarded him with a soft kiss to his lips, turning vicious as you tugged his bottom lip with your teeth as you pulled away. Gale gasped and chased your lips upwards. You lifted up so you were now sat on his lap, his cock resting in front of your wet cunt.

You kissed him again, this time harder, tongue dominating his mouth, as you did your hands trailed down his glistening abdomen, fingertips resting lightly on his cock. Gale responded accordingly, filthily moaning into your mouth, like a whore. You continued to kiss him roughly, all teeth and tongue. A stark opposite to the way your fingers deftly played with his weeping cock. You focused your touch on the pulsing mushroom head, practically playing with the precum that surrounded it, lightly fingering the slit it was leaking from.

Gale continued to pant and moan into your mouth, his hips slyly rutting upwards into your touch. It earned him several bites on his lips, one drawing blood, but he did not care.

Finally, like a miracle had been gifted to him from the heavens, you began to languidly pump his cock, allowing his orgasm to build again. Gale drew back from your lips for air and pressed his forehead against your shoulder, eyes screwing shut as he chased the high, the wet slapping noise coming from below him driving him closer to the edge. But he would not be fooled again.

"Please my love, please," The begs fell almost naturally from his mouth and spilled into your skin as he pressed pathetic kisses across your breast in an effort to persuade you. You smiled and continued your pumping earning a primal grunt from your lover, but as soon as the praise stopped, overtaken by his pathetic whimpers and cries for release, you withdrew your hand and watched as he fell apart. "No...no-no..."

Whining, he pressed a kiss up your neck, his own hand instinctually moving to finish the job - a fatal mistake. You smacked his hand, before moving it to his neck. It snaked up to his jaw and tightly forced him to look up at you. He could see your red eyes flitter over him, analysing him, before your look of disappointment turned into a cruel smirk. With one hand gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at you, you other hand returned back to his cock and you returned to the rhythmic languid pumping.

Stuck in your clasp, quite literally, Gale gasped as he felt the familiar wave of pleasure begin to build in him, his thighs now shaking, tears of pleasure freely falling. You forcefully pulled Gale towards you and dominated his mouth once more, and Gale thought he would die from the onslaught of building pressure and the increasing lack of oxygen.

He moaned into you, hips involuntarily bucking as he finally reached his peak, spurts of thick white cum decorating his body and yours Dutifully, you continued to pump his cock, milking him for all that he had until his cock was creamed in his own fluids.

Gale moaned and flinched at the overstimulation of your touch, nestling his damp forehead into your chest for comfort. When you were done you stood up, letting your hand trail up Gale's body till your index finger caught on his chin and tilted his head upwards. You quirked your head behind you, motioning for him to follow you back onto the bed.

Kindly, you helped him up, but the sincerity of your actions was merely a front for your real plan. With a playful shove, you pushed him onto the bed, with Gale landing on his back. A groan tore through him from the sensation of the silk sheets on his sensitive skin.

You joined him, your body hovering above his, admiring how his cock lay twitching against his stomach, practically white with the amount of cum on it. Praises slipped dilligenty from your tongue. “Oh Gale, my love, all mine.”

It seemed sense had started to come back to the wizard as he let out a short breathy laugh. His hand caresses your thigh. “Truly I’m all yours.”

“You always know what to say.” You smirked and you leaned down to place a soft yet passionate kiss on Gale’s lips. You felt Gale relax completely under your touch, probably believing you had had your fun with him.

How wrong he was.

You pulled away and peppered kisses across his face and down his neck, crowning the blooming hickeys with your lips. Between kisses you continued to compliment him, knowing the reaction it stirred within him.

“Your intellect beats any high wizard of my house.” Though your words were potentially blasphemous, though if Lolth herself tooke issue and demanded explanation then, there was plenty of evidence that you were simply corrupting the previous chosen of Mystra.

Gale hummed and put a hand on the small of your back, relishing in the pleasure he felt from your words and touch.

“Your heart is boundless, your desire ceaseless and your ambition, by the gods Gale, your ambition is indomitable and I utterly adore you for it, my love." You murmured to him, hips sneakily beginning to roll into his as you sat up, hands planted on his chest.

Gale tilted his head at you, trying to figure out what wonderful machinations were forming in your mind. He knew you well enough that no matter how sincere your words were, there was always something behind them, and he hadn't missed how you were still slowly rocking against him. You removed one of your hands and took Gale's, holding it as you placed it on your own sternum and pushed down till your hands rested on your abdomen.

"So perfect, and worthy, I believe.." You smiled down at him. Before Gale could figure out what you had meant by your words, you moved forward and slipped Gale's creamed and hardening cock into your sopping cunt. It slipped in with ease and Gale threw his head back into the pillows, a guttural moan tearing through him. His cock was already overstimulated, now he had you tight walls clamping around him. He thought he was going to die.

You gasped, your smile widening in pleasure, one hand remaining on your abdomen with his the other moving to Gale's free hand and interlocking it, increasing the speed of your bouncing.

"You know the concubines would slaughter to be you right now, your spilled seed finding its way into my womb. The chance of your child to swell inside of me. It is their highest honour, their greatest ambition." You panted, you had been teasing yourrself the entire time by toying with Gale and now you were finally taking what you wanted. "A prestige I give you so freely and know you will deliver on."

"Yes, ah fuck, my love-" Gale grunted as the pain and pleasure of overstimulation intermingled, your safe word teetering on his lips. Yet how could he deprive himself of hearing such primal words? From feeling such primal things? With a newfound vigour he met your hips with eager rutting, the hand that once rested on your back, now moved to your hip and he gripped it with a bruising ferocity.

"Ah-yes!" You moaned, head thrown back as Gale sat up, his mouth latching onto your breast, kissing it sloppily, biting it hungrily. You cupped the back of his head, fingers tangling into his brown locks of hair, holding him close. However. the waves of building pleasure did not distract you entirely from your intentions. "Fill me, Gale, l-let my womb hold our children."

Gale moaned again, moving onto your other breast, filthy words leaving his mouth that you thought would have been too impure for him to ever come across, let alone say.

"Gale, I-I'm close" You gasped as the coil of pleasure threatened to snap. Gale continued, dutifully, holding onto you as if his life depended on it. Obscene wet noises came from the joining of your skin and shared bodily fluid - and it was music to each of your ears. The two of you held onto each other tighter, lips interlocking in a passionate and desperate embrace as you came, seeing white, you cunt gripping and gushing around Gale's cock sending him over the edge, fulfilling his order, as ropes of thick cum painted the linings of your cunt.

As the two of you came down from your high, Gale fell back onto the bed drawing you close to him. As you caught your breath, you pressed a firm kiss to the side of his jaw before removing yourrself from him, shared fluids staining the silk sheets.

"..That was phenomenal.." Gale breathed out as he pulled you back close to him, in disapproval you playfully nipped him - this is not how this went. You moved him so his head lay nestled on your breasts and Gale could not protest - nor did he want to. He quite literally had nothing left in him to verbally or physically to play pretend. Besides he was more than happy to remain there. He snaked his arms around your waist, one hand resting on your abdomen.

Though he knew your words were most likely thrown out in passion, they had engraved themself in his very being. "Be careful, my love, if the rest of our nights are spent like that, I may never want to leave Menzoberranzen."

You let out a small chuckle, fingers combing through Gale's silver-streaked hair. "That's if you can survive the rest of our nights here, my love."

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

woooweee so this is one of my first pieces of writing for an OC I had, which I have adapted to be x reader, which may explain some pacing issues but anyways i hope you guys liked it ! - Seluney xox

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[moonselune]

Before I started this blog I wrote a super smutty pwp Baenre!OC x Gale fic and I may have to just adapt it to x reader, how are we thinking about sub!Gale ??