#Baldur's Gate: Descend into Avernus

[readingoodbooks]

«Did they know where you were going?» «No,» Shael didn’t stop looking around her, ready to react at the slightest hint of threat – after all, here she was no simple scout or thief, but a sort of bodyguard of the cleric, left behind after an important skirmish with a bunch of Death Knights which had taken the adventurers by surprise, despite all the precautions taken. There was a pair of creatures requiring immediate medical attention and the two of them had offered to remain behind to ensure that the healing process would have started correctly.

[meepetteoneonly]

Raphael and Tiamant (the DND dragon goddess and archdevil) theory

So I will once again refer to all the pieces of the puzzle already discovered and shared by @certifieddilfenjoyer and another layer of theories and questions about Raphael...

(Sorry for spam, I just wanted to add it to my theory collection but I also want to make a separate post, because I am so excited!)

We already know, that Vlaakith made a deal with some devil in order to carry out the coup against Mother Gith, i.e. mother of Orpheus. However, the important information is also what Lae’Zael tells us after we are attacked by Githyanki at Wyrm’s Lookout the night before we reach Baldur’s Gate.

Once we successfuly defeated Orpheus’s protectors and Emperor uncovered himself, Lae’Zael tells us, that what we know about Orpheus is only half of a story and that Gith managed to defeat Illithids because she made a deal with Archdevil Tiamant. Also, she explains that it was Tiamant who gifted Githyankis their red dragons.

Furthermore, she tells us that Mother Gith stayed in Hells and that Tiamant’s envoy helped Vlaakith with her mission to become the queen.

Tiamant’s enovy. A devil with wry charm who did a deal with Vlaakith (according to the disk we find in Astral Prism near Orpheus). I wonder, who that may be… 

Now - who is this Archdevil Tiamant? I didn’t know either, but Forgotten Realms wiki had my back again:

Tiamant was the lawful evil dragon goddess of greed, queen of evil dragons and, for a time, reluctant servant of the greater gods Bane and later Asmodeus.

Do we know how Gortash become chosen of Bane, btw?

Tiamat was a unique chromatic dragon, who had one head for each primary color of the most common species of chromatics (black, blue, green, red, white). Each head was able to operate entirely independently of each other and had the powers of a member of the respective race of dragonkind.

Primary colours are subtle theme that is common to Orpheus’s bubble, the bubble we can see inside Astral Prism for the first or so time we get inside.

Also, „Astral Prism… or Prison“, as Gortash put it in his notes�� Prism is triangular piece of glass that disperse the light into primary colours.

Tiamat had three manifestations in Avernus as well, one of which never left the gate to Dis. She also had a lair in Avernus, on the Nine Hells, known as Tiamat's Lair.

Tiamat's Lair was the divine realm and prison of Tiamat in Avernus, the first layer of the Nine Hells, according to the Great Wheel cosmology. The realm was a large cave system within a tall mountain, hidden in the hills of Avernus. It held the only known portal that led to the second layer, Dis. 

Avernus. Here we are. Interesting, isn’t it?

The lair was also inhabited by Tiamat's mates and their descendants. The realm was generally avoided by demons, who were aware of Tiamat's lack of interest in the Blood War.It was, however, occasionally visited by devils offering gifts, hoping to seal bargains with Tiamat.

Do we know anyone who is always up to a bargain?

Tiamat wanted to take control of the Realms, and even as she was thwarted again and again by her enemies, she didn't give up. As of 1491 DR, however, her primary goal was to break free from the Nine Hells.

Having once been an archfiend living on Avernus, Tiamat was loosely allied with Bel and lent him many Abishai to fight in the Blood War. She resented Mammon for converting some evil dragons away from her. She helped Asmodeus forge his Ruby Rod.  She developed an enmity with Asmodeus and the archdevil Bel after they betrayed her.

The crafting of the rod required the shard of evil and a huge ruby to be soaked in the blood of a thousand sacrificed mortals, quenched in Tiamat's acidic saliva, and polished with 777 angel tears.

That’s a little weird but I guess it is better to have a ruby quenched in super-powerful dragon goddess’s saliva than to have no ruby at all.

Also, Orphic hammer is decorated with red gems as well. And infernal chains binding Orpheus and Hope are attached to some red rocks. Rubys, prehaps?

Finally, Raphael doesn’t seem to be someone into crafting and forging, so there has to be someone who forged the shackles and muzzle for Orpheus and Astral Prism. Given that Astral Prism was probably created at the same time Tiamant was doing business with Gith, maybe it was her… Or maybe she helped Raphael? 

As regards the blood of secrificed mortals, I wonder, was Mephistopheles up to something similar with the Rite of Profane Ascension? 

Ok, let’s continue… 

The church of Tiamat was regimented by a strict hierarchy of ranks and titles. Her clerics were occupied by the twin tasks of acquiring an ever-increasing hoard of wealth for the faith and sabotaging the faiths of other deities. As a result, they occupied most of their time with an unending series of thefts, assassinations, acts of vandalism, and arson. In Unther and Chessenta they were primarily concerned with seizing as much power as possible, while in western Faerun, the cult's agents were focused on subverting the Cult of the Dragon.

Which is interesting. The Cult of Dragon attacked Baldur’s Gate and when Wyll came to the rescue, he end up being tied to Mizora. If you speak with Wyll about the event, he tells you that Mizora didn’t care for the city, but Zariel sent her for some reason.

The Forgotten Realms wiki provides: … However, to avoid disappointing Asmodeus again and to prevent a conflict with Bel, Tiamat refused, instead offering to be Asmodeus' champion and devouring all who opposed him (and offering covert aid to Zariel to prevent Bel from becoming too powerful). So, did Zariel sent Mizora to help Wyll with Cult of the Dragon to do Tiamant some favour? 

This was everything I managed to put together after I rushed to research this Tiamant lady right after Lae’Zael spoke about her in the game. 

So my theory is that Raphael somehow serve Tiamant (or served) or that he has some kind of bargain with her. But the only weak proof is that Tiamant’s envoy helped Vlaakith and that this envoy had wry charm… That’s not much.

I also found this super cool fanart of Tiamant by an artist Jexion and in my opinion, I could see Raphael on his knees for someone like that...

[strawberrypinky]

fire and ice. [gortash x tav] - part 3 [victorious]

A silent tear fell from her eyes, which Enver quickly wiped from her in pretend gentleness, rough callouses against her soft skin before he turned them to face the crowd with a victorious smile.

Finally, Enver grinned; he had won.

A/N: TUMBLR - YOU VOTED!

This was supposed to be the first smut chapter, but then it got so long that I asked you whether or not to split the chapters up, so now the smut was moved to chapter four. My apologies, lol. This chapter is fairly tame (and slightly shorter) as a result. Even Enver got a small break for once. That said, the next chapter will have major content warnings, so please read them before diving into it.  Today we're getting normal Enver shenanigans, including (but not limited to) blackmail and threats.

As always, this story is also available on Archive of Our Own.

Word Count: 6.6k

! CW: Forced Marriage, non consensual kissing. Gortash hating Scottish accents.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine

It was all going according to plan.

The Cult of the Absolute was mercilessly spreading along the Sword Coast and the lands of Faerûn, True Souls born day in, day out in the depths of Moonrise as Ketheric grew the Army he had been divinely tasked to assemble. Orin, as much as Enver pained it to admit, was a surprisingly efficient killer on all accounts and managed to spread an equal measure of terror and dread over the city with her slayings in the Absolute's name. Enver's generous royalties towards the Gazette certainly helped spread the news of the casualties, yet the brutality of Orin and her assassins left even the most unyielding initiates of the Fist aghast. Murder had, for the longest time, been somewhat of an ecosystem in the Gate, but ritualistic killings were an oddity few turned a blind eye to. And while the Patriars were still sitting comfortably in the pretend safety of their lavish manors, Enver knew it was only a matter of time before Orin targeted them, too.

He had slowly begun to lull them into a contrived sense of security - The Steel Watch an excellent show of patriarchal paradigm as the people of the Gate elevated Enver to the station of Lord upon the presentation of the prototype of the Watchers. Not even Thamior Liardon could refute the growing appeals of the Patriars (unless he wanted a riot on his hands), and Enver took vindictive pleasure in the scarcely concealed enmity on his face as he declared him Lord Enver Gortash for the very first time in parliament.

When Duke Ravengard left Baldur's Gate because Thavius Kreeg invited him to finally end several disputes plaguing Baldur's Gate and Elturel and the city fell to the Hells, Enver almost dared to feel hope for the first time in a long while. Hoping was a near unconquerable instinct - like each breath, a lung will draw so long as there is air available - but Enver had learned to cease hoping in place of actually striving for his own goals. Hope had died long ago in Raphael's claws. What had been born out of the ashes was something far greater. So, while Enver did not feel hopeful when Ravengard descended into the depths of Avernus, he pertinaciously schemed as the Patriars now remained remarkably insouciant with the promise of safety guaranteed by his Steel Watch. As idiotic as they all were, none of them noticed they were practically paving the way for him, making his job much easier than it should have been.

Unfortunately for him, the remains of his plan did not go over as easily as it should have.

The Astral Prism continued to be undetected, and none of the forces he had sent out found the Gith artefact, thus leaving the entire Absolute Hoax at tremendous risk. Enver was now heavily relying on Ketheric Thorm to find the thing, as any other search had turned out fruitless. Not even the Emperor had returned with the artefact - though the aberrant Illithid had not returned to Baldur's Gate at all. For all Enver knew, the Nautiloid had crashed somewhere, and the Illithid died along with it. Not that he cared, but it was bothersome, just the same. It would have been a lie to deny he wasn't anxious over the prospect of the artefact being lost - the accursed thing could very well pose a great threat to his destiny. He knew it was no longer held in Vlaakith's grasp, which made the prospect of its unknown location only further terrifying, and while Ketheric did well letting his filthy necromancers create an army of True Souls beneath Moonrise, the man itself was far too melancholic to care about much else than his daughter, who they had dug up as Myrkul brought her back to life, only for the girl to disappear into the shadows immediately.

Enver shuddered as he thought of Shar's blight. Few things frightened him, but the Shadow Curse unnerved him in ways he could hardly describe, and it was all over one measly girl. The first night he spent in Moonrise, protected by the unnatural and alien glow that surrounded the near-ruined tower, he wondered if he would ever plunge the world into darkness and sacrifice his own prosperity for one soul. And while his mind did stray to Elodie, he quickly realised Ketheric's folly would never be his. Her death would be a loss to Faerûn and his life, but it could never excuse the pathetic display of grief Ketheric and his lands had turned into.  

He wouldn't want her corpse to litter his path to greatness, but the unyielding devotion Ketheric had to someone other than himself was beneath Enver. He served none other than Bane - not even his wife would be the exception.

A wife he had yet to claim as his own.

Now a Lord (and soon to be the Absolute), Enver had little in the way of claiming what was rightfully his, though most of the Rah had long accepted Elodie Liardon would never be anyone but Enver's wife. He had long ensured they wouldn't dare come close, and while Duke Liardon had always been seething, Elodie at least seemed to have enjoyed the freedom it granted her. The Gazette was, yet again, due to Enver's considerable charity, gradually spreading rumours of impending nuptials of a Lord. While no names had been specifically mentioned, Enver had ensured nobody could interpret the 'long-standing relationship' (or whatever Ettvard called it) for anyone but them. He was surprised Thamior had not done anything to silence the rumours surrounding them, but the man was nearly vapour at this point - he had not seen him for days on end. The Duke had even been remarkably absent from several parliament sessions, multiple of which were held as crisis meetings due to the terror the Absolute was spreading along the Sword Coast, and whenever Enver tried to reach the Duke to finally get the "Yes" he had waited for too long - and if he continued to deny Enver his destiny, well... His parents had proven to be exceptionally loyal and caring since having a tadpole shoved behind their eyes.

And still – Enver was increasingly incensed over Thamior Liardon evading both his duties and Enver day in and day out. His subordinates had not seen the Duke leave his home much, though they had espied members of the Guild leaving the Liardon estate in the wee hours of the morning. It was a strange sight, perhaps even unnerving, and Enver half suspected the Duke was working with the mercenaries to get Elodie out of the city and thus out of Enver's grasp. The man must have been aware of his dwindling options, and unless he made good on his promise to choke on Raphael's cock, he had little reason or defence to deny him Elodie. He did try; Enver would give him that. Whenever Enver showed up at the Liardon Estate, their chamberlain would open the doors, meeting his eyes and denying him entry.

"Lady Elodie is not available. I'm afraid you will have to return at a more opportune time, my Lord," the man uttered each and every time before the heavy doors of the estate shut and sealed before Enver could respond.

In truth, it almost amused Enver, even if the game was increasingly exasperating. If Thamior Liardon truly believed he could prevent Enver from fulfilling his destiny, he was a greater fool than he had initially assumed, but it would make victory taste far sweeter. The infuriatingly vainglorious smile would vanish from Thamior's face at Enver's machinations – a victory he would relish almost as much as finally turning Elodie Liardon into Duchess Gortash. His subordinates were instructed to report any and all curious sightings, scraps of gossip and any whisper of Guild activity back to him – Elodie would not leave the city under his watch.

Several tendays passed, and the most his subordinates had reported was a handful of members of the Guild had spoken about impressive amounts of coin Duke Liardon had promised, yet even the mercenaries his Black Gauntlets had maimed were unaware of what the Duke had asked of the Guild in particular.

He was all the more surprised when Black Gauntlet Holtz traipsed into his room late into the night.

He sat in his own estate, a rare occurrence these days, in front of his fireplace, letting the pages of invasion plans be illuminated by the flickering embers as he nursed a glass of Jasmarim Shadow Wine as he deliberated over various strategies, wondering if he should take Elturgard or Amn first. He sighed as he took a drag of his pipe, blowing the smoke into the air. The ornate door to his chambers opened, hasty steps hurrying towards him. He barely spared the woman a glance before his gaze returned to the parchment in front of him, mildly perturbed to be disturbed at such a late hour. Black Gauntlet Holtz, while a devout follower of Bane, was a headache to be around - ugly as a toad and with a voice as grating as it was irritating. The sole reason Enver kept her around in the first place was simply because she had proven to be very adept at keeping his Gondian workers particularly motivated. In the periphery of his vision, he could see the woman bowing deeply out of respect towards his station, her eyes not averting from the ground.

"I do hope you have an exceptional excuse for coming to my quarters at this hour," Enver huffed. "Much less for abandoning your position at the Foundry."

"Y-yes, ma Lord," the woman's voice was shaking, piquing Enver's curiosity as he picked up on her evident unease.  

"Get on with it then," he sighed, blowing a puff of smoke in the air.

"A wis doin' ma rounds at the Foundry whan A saw somethin' strange on the scry screens. A thoucht A wis imaginin' things, but," she was shaking now, clearing her throat several times before she continued to speak. "The Scryin ee at the goblin camp... A saw Lady Liardon thare."

Enver stiffened, turning away from his work before staring at her with unblinking eyes. "Excuse me?"

"A- A kept watching, ma lord. Couldnae believe it. She's a fine lass, ye know. Couldnae believe it at aw. She shouldnae have been thare. But it wis her - A swear on the black hand o Bane!"

"And pray tell, Gauntlet, what would my fiancée be doing in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by Goblin trash?"

"I dinnae know!" the woman disclosed, dropping to her knees. "I think she has a tadpole! The ee resonated, ye see! Killit aw the goblins wi strange people A have niver seen before! but it wis her, ma Lord! A swear on Bane, it wis her! A coud niver mistake yer bonnie bride for someone else."

Enver stood up, swallowing hard as he turned towards the windows with a frown. A tadpole in Elodie's head? And she was killing Goblins? It was an absurd notion. If she genuinely carried a tadpole, she would be under the Absolute's control, unable to do anything but follow the brains' command – the Goblins would have been her allies, not her adversaries. He took another long drag, puffing out the smoke in deep thought.

"A came straicht here whan the ee wis destroyed, ma Lord. A knew ye wad want tae know," Holtz continued.

"The Nautiloid," Enver suddenly intervened, an epiphany interrupting his thoughts. "The Nautiloid that passed through Baldur's Gate more than a tenday ago."

"It crashit i the Western Heartlands, ma Lord. Our scout says he doesnae think anyone survivit the crash."

"It crashed?" Enver whipped around angrily. "It crashed, and nobody thought to tell me?!"

"A - A didnae know!" Holtz's head shot up, eyes wide. "The bampot only mentionit it tae me now."

Enver stepped closer to her now, his tone even with a cutting edge. "And you are absolutely certain you saw my fiancée in the camp?"

"Ay," the woman nodded furiously. "A coud niver mistake her for someone else, e'en whan coverit i goblin guts."

Enver wrinkled his nose in disgust; the picture of Elodie bathed in red was wholly unpleasant. Repulsive, even. He couldn't imagine Eau de Goblin Guts smelled delectable either - most definitely not like her usual soap and perfume. He turned his back towards Gauntlet Holtz again, the gears in his mind turning as he tried to make sense of what she had uncovered. If Elodie had been tadpoled, she must have been missing for nearly three tendays if his memory of the Nautiloid passing through Baldur's Gate served him right. Almost as long as Thamior Liardon had welcomed members of the Guild into his home.

At once, it made sense.

The Duke was not working with the Guild to get Elodie out of the city; he was trying to get her back and likely had no idea where she was. It did not explain why she had decimated an entire encampment of Goblins, though a lingering suspicion gnawed at the back of his mind. He was torn - conflicted. Tadpoling his wife had never been part of the plan; she would have followed Bane willingly under his guidance, and they would have established a dynasty of tyranny. But if anything, her abduction made for fabulous blackmail material, and while Enver had outgrown his thuggish ways long ago, he decided he would make an exception just once and pay Duke Liardon a personal visit.

"Sir - I mean Lord Gortash! You cannot go in there," the querulous Chamberlain of Thamior Liardon yapped.

Enver had chosen to spurn the fellow, simply strutting past his station before his master's office with flippant nonchalance. A pleased smirk had placed itself on his face; the invaluable knowledge he had carried with him had lifted his spirits significantly. As he reached the oak doors of his office, he swung them open in a grand gesture, stepping into the gaudy place of the Liardon patriarch. The woody and spicy oriental scent Enver had grown accustomed to in his office assaulted his senses, the remnants of the firey fragrance of the fireplace wafting through the air. Duke Liardon sat behind his perfectly waxed desk, weary and rugged as if he had not slept in weeks. His clothes looked haphazardly thrown together, and his tired eyes met Enver's with pique and ire.

"Lord Gortash, I am quite busy. I must ask that you leave," he snapped.

Enver's smirk only widened. "I'm sure you have a moment for an old friend, Thamior."

"We are not friends," the Duke retaliated, raising himself. "You'd do well to remember that."

"Oh – You will adore me soon enough." Whether Enver meant the tadpoles or Elodie's resurgence, he wasn't quite sure himself.

"Sir –" the Chamberlain had hurried in after Enver, gasping as he held his chest and clutched it. "You must leave."

"Actually, you will leave," Enver commanded. "I have rather urgent business with Duke Liardon."

"It will have to wait," the aforementioned men interjected. "My calendar is full."

Enver chuckled darkly. "Even if I could make your greatest problem disappear? Actually, scratch that. I could ensure she would reappear."

Something flickered behind Thamior's eyes – astonishment, curiosity, wariness. The man's eyes bore into his as he ignored the Chamberlain as if looking for any trace of buffoonery, yet Enver's even smirk and relaxed posture did little to assuage what hopeful doubt he might have harboured.

"Leave," Thamior abruptly commanded his Chamberlain; eyes full of burning hatred, not straying from Enver as he bit his tongue until the doors to his office had closed once again. "What do you know? Do you have her? I swear, Gortash, I will torch you in the fires of the Hells myself if – "

"I do not harbour her," Enver interrupted him. "But I know where she is, and I could return her to you entirely unscathed."

"Could?" Thamior asked, eyebrow raised.

Enver chuckled in response. "My price is very reasonable."

"No," Thamior paled, his tone almost pleading as he realised what Enver would ask of him. "I will not condemn her to a life with you."

"Then I guess she is on her own out there," he told him with a teasing lilt. "It will be interesting to see if she survives or if you one day will bury her captivating corpse in your family's mausoleum. Ah, such tragedy. Do spare me an invite for the funeral if you manage to recover her body."

"You are fucking vile," the Duke pressed out, his face red in anger, his eye twitching.

"I would be an exiguous arms dealer if I did not illustrate just how big your loss is in comparison to your gain. I don't come cheap, Thamior. And yet, I am offering you a reasonable solution on a silver platter."

"And asking me to condemn her to everlasting misery."

"I can assure you, she will not be miserable," Enver assuaged him half-heartedly. "As my wife, she would remain protected at all times. Naturally, our children would be too."

"She doesn't want this," Thamior muttered defeatedly, his eyes averting in shame. Enver almost became giddy - finally a yes.

"She would have no dreams at all if she perished on the path she is on right now," Enver added, his words malignant to the elven man's ears. Perhaps it was unnecessarily cruel, but he relished seeing defeat in the Duke's eyes.

The elf's eyes clenched shut, his jaw tensing before he turned around as if unable to speak the words he knew he needed to. It was deliciously cruel - a pleasurable stimulant of its own, and Enver had rarely relished a victory as greatly as this.

"And she will return entirely unharmed?" Thamior asked quietly.

"I swear," Enver grinned.

The Duke's shoulders sagged, a long exhaling breath leaving his lungs before he turned around again, his eyes glittering with unshed tears of failure and remorse. "Please bring her back to us. All I ask is that you treat her kindly."

"Naturally," Enver reeled, chuckling darkly. "How wonderful our families will be united at last. You better inform your wife of the impending nuptials. I imagine Elodie will return rather swiftly."

The Grand Chamber of High Hall was a foreboding place as the patriars of Baldur's Gate were chattering amongst themselves, the schmoozing only accompanied by the clambering steps of his Steel Watch against the stone. Enver stood next to the throne, which would soon be his, a pleasant smile on his lips as he awaited for his ordination to begin. The Chamber was decked out in banners of glittering gold, shimmering in the afternoon sun and reflecting off the gaudy flower arrangements Duke Portyr had insisted upon. Enver did not care for them; the smell of chrysanthemums and bluebells and whichever else flowers had been picked overwhelming amidst the musty smell of the ancient halls and chattering of patriars. The lavish spectacle would be torn down just a day later and replaced by flowers commemorating his nuptials, though, as Enver noticed, his bride – and her companions – had yet to arrive.

She had surprised him; Enver would admit that. He had not expected her to find the path to Moonrise Towers, nor had he expected her to kill Ketheric Thorm and free his source of invulnerability - an aasimar of Selûne – thus ending a century of torment and gloom that had plagued Reithwin and Thorm's grounds. Elodie and her ragtag group of companions had taken the Netherstone off of Thorms corpse, which Enver suspected was now rotting in the Colony beneath his ruined tower. Part of him was near riddled with anxiety – though Elodie had always been a formidable presence, she must have evolved enough to physically fight her way back to Baldur's Gate with teeth and claws. All so she could end him, and the plan he had so fastidiously worked for. He was somewhat grateful she would be his wife in three days' time – calling her  'enemy' was something he truly did not want. If she had been capable enough to slaughter an invulnerable man who had risen from the grave before for good, he shuddered to think of what else she would be capable of. It was a notion that frightened him to the core, even if he would never admit it to himself, much less her.

She had arrived in Rivington a mere two days past, and Enver had only glimpsed her through the eyes of his Steel Watch, radiant and compelling, though it did not compare to her presence when she finally waltzed through the doors mere minutes before his inauguration, both her parents and her companions at her side.

A sheer tempest of a woman, Enver shivered in delight when she stepped towards her seat in the front. She looked different, yet somehow entirely the same. A softly draped, off-shouldered champagne-coloured chiffon gown adorned a body which was lightly more muscular than Enver remembered, evidence of the resilience that had led her back to him. Her silvery hair was longer, falling down to her waist with intricate braids adorning the crown of her head, but her eyes were her most striking feature still. Defiant green stared right back at him, hatred burning passionately behind her eyes, never once dissipating, even when she sat down, and Ulder Ravengard began the ceremonial part of the afternoon.

It excited Enver far more than it should have.

After he was finally declared the first Archduke of Baldur's Gate, the patriars flocked to him like sheep, but he pushed through with a pleasant smile before finally reaching the one person he had waited for, held by her mother and father and no less furious than she had been prior to the ceremony. Her companions were all between different shades of vexed and irate, though the pale elf almost seemed amused by it all. Karlach's presence astonished him, but he ignored her in favour of his bride.

"My ravishing fiancée," Enver declared loudly, a proud smirk on his face as he heard a posse of noblewomen giggle at the ostensibly romantic gesture. Their betrothal had been announced nearly instantaneously after Thamior had agreed to it, but after pretending the young half-elf was 'preparing for the nuptials elsewhere', it was the first time they had been seen together since.

"Gortash," she hissed venomously, a chastising 'Elodie' promptly following from her mother.

His smirk only widened as he stepped closer. "How wonderful you have returned to my side at last."

"Isn't it just?" her mother swooned before Elodie could say a thing. "I am ecstatic to finally welcome you into the family, your Grace."

Elodie scoffed, her father's lips drawn in a line for a brief second before he forced a smile.

"Indeed, Lady Liardon," Enver nodded. "Now, as joyful as we all are today, I must speak to my fiancée and her... camaraderie. Alone."

Enver could see the silent protest forming on Thamior Liardon's lips, but a single glance silenced him into submission. Enver removed Elodie's hands from her father's, noticing how they, too, had roughened up and become slightly calloused over the time she spent in the dirt. Her eyes narrowed, sharper than ever, as he tightly gripped her hand, assuring her family they would return momentarily before rushing her and her companions into a small office just off the main hall.

The door had barely closed behind the party before Enver leapt aside as a fiery bolt shot towards him and hit the stone wall in place of his chest.

"You foul little bastard," his fiancée bellowed, another bolt shooting from her hands, which Enver scarcely escaped. "How dare you?!"

"Careful, Darling," Enver growled, "I admire your resilience, but I will not be threatened by my own fiancée. I urge you to reconsider. Immediately."

Another bolt shot from her, electric and designed to maim, before the pale elf placed a hand on her shoulder and uttered something Enver couldn't quite catch, though his eye twitched upon seeing the marble hand upon her naked skin, no matter how innocent the touch might have been. Every inch of her belonged to him – the pretty boy had no right to lay his claws near her. She ceased her aggression, crossing her arms in front of her before glaring at him like she wanted to burn him to cinders, alive and screaming, for several long and silent moments.

Enver was certain he had never been more aroused.

"I understand congratulations are in order," Enver spoke after a while, addressing the group before him. "Thorm's defeat hasn't gone unnoticed. You're known - for who you are and for that Netherstone you carry."

"Happy to be of service," the pale elf quipped humorously.

"Astarion," Elodie hissed angrily. The man only held up his hands in surrender.

"Not to mention that little Gith artefact you carry," Enver carried on, ignoring the quarrel. "The quakes are a clear warning. If nobody steps in soon, the Brain will free itself from the authority of the crown. I expect it'll start with turning the Sword Coast's infected - you among them. That prism of yours won't last indefinitely."

The group stiffened, the Githyanki among them only snarling in warning though she remained silent otherwise. It pleased Enver to see even Elodie could listen – even if she was in no position to outright refuse or deny him.

"Next – The Grand Design," Enver continued. "The Mindflayer Empire reborn. If we're lucky, we'll become slaves. If we're unlucky, well – "

"And whose fault exactly is that, hm?" Elodie spat angrily.

Enver ignored her. "Together, we can still restore authority over the brain."

"We're not interested in bargaining with the likes of you," Elodie said, frowning at him.

"The likes of you stand to benefit from the likes of me. Never mind that you," his gaze bore into her, "Will be my wife in just a few days."

"I would rather die."

"So you'd rather plunge the Sword Coast into chaos and paint this city in blood? Because I can assure you Orin is treacherous." He held no qualms about pushing her into a corner to side with him, forcing her into submissive compliance, specifically if she would not do so willingly. It came to him as easy as breathing, the very essence of his being craving to dominate her. He craved to see her sag into submission – a place she would be safe and sound and, above all his.

"Let's be allies, said the viper to the frog," Karlach yakked.

Enver could see Elodie's jaw clenching, fury steaming from her as she contemplated his words. Choice was an illusion to her, but if she could agree to alliance for her companions she'd spare them all unnecessary grief.

"I trusted you once, Gortash," she near whispered. "I trusted you, and all it got me was an illithid tadpole that has nearly killed me time and time again. I won't make that mistake again. A temporary alliance is all I will grant you - nothing more."

"Splendid," Enver grinned, choosing to ignore her display of defiance. He'd rid her of it soon enough. "This will be a beneficial partnership indeed. I cannot wait to officially seal it in just a number of days."

"You are far more mad than I ever gave you credit for if you think I will willingly marry you."

"You don't have to be willing, Darling," Enver chuckled. "You will say 'Yes' when the vicar asks, because you have no other choice."

Enver was positively beaming on the day Elodie Liardon would finally become his.

Rarely had he ever been in higher spirits; not even Orin's threats of bloodshed could dampen his mood. Though elusive, his Steel Watch and subordinate followers of his Lord were ordered to ensure the incestuous Bhaalspawn would not interfere with the festivities he had long anticipated. His estate was buzzing, servants and clergy members alike preparing for the soon-to-be Archduchess to join the household. The High Imperceptor had assured Enver the chapel beneath his estate was prepared for their union in the eyes of Bane; a celebration designed to be conducted without non-believers present. For Enver, it was the only ceremony that mattered anyway, but the people of the Gate would not tolerate covert nuptials – not that they knew he worshipped Bane in the first place. Thus, he would first marry Elodie in the Ducal Palace to placate the Patriars with trivial celebrations amidst an impending war, a wasteful notion, but those continued to be in fashion with the elite in both times of splendour and trouble. In a way, the gentility had always been easier to control – accepting the most flagrant violations of reality, if only because they were unable to grasp the reality of most, nor were they particularly interested in the proles to notice anything but themselves and their pomp.

The streets of Baldur's Gate were bustling, decorated with ivory banners and various flower displays adorning the cobbled paths and window sills. People were hurrying from place to place, paperboys waving around a special edition of the Gazette – in short, there was ecstasy in the air.

The Ducal Palace was glittering in the midday sun, polished to perfection inside and out. The elegantly designed windows were adorned with grand spires upon the parapets, decked out in lush flowers, twinkle lights that would be turned on at night, and ivory bows and banners. Enver scrunched his nose in distaste, but he had given little input to the charade of the public wedding, as he was far too busy planning his real ceremony and continuing his takeover of Baldur's Gate. For a few moments, he supposed, he would be able to endure the ostentatious revelry. The Grand Chamber had been decorated in much the same way: the pews were glamoured with ivory ribbon, streaked with golden and bronze thread, and endless flowers were decorating the ceiling and temporary altar at the end of the hall. The decorations must have cost a fortune, though Enver would dare to guess they hardly put a dent in the Liardon family's vaults. The air was perfumed with a fragrant blend of orange blossom, freesias, sage and lily of the valley, and the Plum Prosecco that guests were offered as an aperitif.

The Halls quickly filled with the Patriars and fine merchants, glancing at Enver as he stood at the altar next to the vicar who would bind them in front of society in a bespoke suit Figaro had made for him in record time. His parents had been led to the Hall by trusted Gauntlet, standing off to the side with perfectly poised and proud smiles and clothes they wouldn't have been able to afford if they had sold him six times over. Elodie's companions and her mother arrived last, and Enver was surprised at how well the group was dressed in spite of their late arrival and the shenanigans they had been up to since. Last he had heard, they had rid Ramazith's Tower of its ruler, Lorroakan, and a Tiefling from Elturel had taken his place. An impressive feat – Enver would ensure to keep the girl on a tight leash. He would keep her focused on the Netherbrain and the dynasty they would build together, not on some idle errands.

At last, Elodie entered the Hall, led by her father and accompanied by the harmonious melody of a string quartet and for a second Enver felt disarmed by her beauty. A tightly corested off-shouldered gown in a blush pink colour, with fanciful and ornate gold and bronze threadwork depicting various flowers and Lathanderian symbols cascading over the skirt and torso in a seamless display. A flower crown had been placed atop her silver hair, swept up in delicate curls though partially hidden by a matching veil, embroidered with even more Lathanderian symbols. He'd have to burn both, of course, for Bane would not allow heresy in his household. But for a single moment in time Enver allowed himself to simply appreciate her magnificence. The pair stepped up to the altar; Thamior slowly placed Elodie's hand in Enver's, the elven man's hand trembling before his gaze met Enver's for a split second.

I place her life in your hands, it said. Please treat her well.

Enver only smirked in response, tightening his grip on her hand before turning towards the vicar.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of the Gods and in the face of this congregation to join together this man and this woman in blessed matrimony," the Vicar's voice was achingly loud, echoing through the hall as he began his tedious speech. "Which is an honourable estate, signifying the mystical union that is betwixt a man and his wife, which holy estate the Gods adorned and beautified with their presence and is commended to be honourable among all men and therefore is not by any to be enterprised or taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly or wantonly. But reverently, discreetly, soberly and in the fear of the Gods, duly considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained."

Enver internally rolled his eyes, already regretting consenting to this ceremony. He could feel Elodie's burning hot stare; he did not need to look to know there was everlasting hatred on her face, aimed at him as he likely wished to set him on fire. Good, he silently thought. Hatred was the very essence which fed their Lord - hatred's embrace would be the climax to his victory. A blow struck against everything she had ever been before he had owned her.

The Vicar continued, his voice loud and echoing within the hall. "First, it was ordained for the increase of mankind according to the will of the Gods and that children might be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Divine and to the praise of their sacred name."

Enver could feel Elodie stiffen at the mention of children, her breath quickening before she tried to pull her hands away as if suddenly fear-stricken. His hold tightened on her, a curious glance to his right as he wondered if children terrified her. He could scarcely glimpse her face beneath the opaque veil, but he thought he might have seen horror reflected in her eyes.

"Secondly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help and comfort to the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and in adversity, into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore, if any man can show any just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let him now speak or else hereafter forever hold his peace."

A pin could have dropped in the room, eerily silent after the words were spoken. Enver discreetly glanced behind Elodie, watching her companions restrain themselves with all their might as they glared daggers at his back. Displeasure was not enough to describe the fury on their faces – Enver wasn't quite sure what they would have liked to do first: slaughter him or rescue her. Yet they stayed quiet, silently screaming "I object" over and over again in their tadpoled heads.

Content with the silence, the vicar turned to Enver and Elodie. "I require and charge you both as you will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, you do now confess it."

He heard a sharp intake of breath from his left and immediately tightened his grip on Elodie's hand in an unmistakable warning; he would not tolerate disobedience, least of all, from her. She glared at him from beneath her veil, and Enver only chuckled in response.  

"I told you, Darling. You have no choice," he lowly whispered as the vicar prepared the final act of the ceremony.

"Fuck you," she spat out in a quiet hiss before returning her attention to the man in front of them.

"Enver Gortash. Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife? To live together in the holiest state of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her in sickness and in health and forsaking all other keep thee only unto her, for as long as ye both shall live?"

"I will," Enver nodded, his voice steady and confident, a pleased smirk on his lips. He could hear Bane's humming approval in the back of his mind, pleased that his Chosen had fulfilled part of his divine duty.

The Vicar returned his attention to Elodie. "Elodie Liardon. Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband? To live together in the holiest state of matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honour and keep him in sickness and in health and forsaking all other keep thee only unto him, for as long as ye both shall live?"

For a split second, she hesitated before she took a steadying breath and, with a defeated mumble, answered: "I will."

Enver's heart jumped erratically, his pleased smile growing impossibly large on his face. His girl. His. Finally, she had ceased to swim against the current of her destiny, and the predestined had happened. What would have been a dream for young Enver Flymm had blossomed into reality in his bed of ambitions. His victories were not single and solitary births; they were the outcome of many years of striking testament to his god-given preeminence and resilience.

"Bless, oh Gods, this ring and grant that he who gives it and she who shall wear it may remain faithful to each other and abide in thy peace and favour and live together in love until their lives end."

Enver was handed the ring that would adorn Elodie's hand; it was a glittering deep oval emerald set on a golden ring. Bane's colours, specifically picked for her. He slipped it onto her left ring finger, the resplendent emerald now clinquant on her hand where it would sit forever.

The Vicar raised his hands above them in blessing, loudly declaring: "Those whom the Gods hath joined together let no man put asunder."

He then smiled at Enver, content as a new melody began to play, filling the hall with jubilance. "You may kiss your bride, your Grace."

He chuckled in response, turning towards Elodie before he gently lifted the veil from her face. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears of fury, glaring at him, cheeks reddened though most would likely confuse her for a blushing bride, and yet he had never seen a woman more beautiful. His heart fluttered for a second before he wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her close, his lips finding hers in a fluid motion. With the urgency of a man starved, his lips claimed hers, unwilling to ever let her go again. The feeling was both cataclysmic and serene as their lips collided with wretched urgency, both in surrender and conquest - the dichotomy hardly fathomable to Enver himself. She gasped against his lips and Enver only pulled her closer before, eventually, the titters and the throat-clearing in the audience caused him to begrudgingly part from her lips, the crowd erupting into applause.

A silent tear fell from Elodie's eyes, which Enver quickly wiped from her in pretend gentleness, rough callouses against her soft skin before he turned them to face the crowd with a victorious smile.

She was the acme of a thousand victories. Finally, Enver grinned; he had won.

[reeseykins]

Backend of Forever

Ellesime (Durge) resists her longing for both Astarion and Halsin when she unearths the truth of her murderous parentage, intent on saving the two elves she cares for the most from her inner darkness. After defeating the Netherbrain, and a drunken confession one night, Astarion and Halsin make a coordinated move. The three finally come together, all quite aware that this isn't just casual sex, but the beginning of something greater. See this on Archive for notes. ~6k words. Tags: Explicit; Threesome - F/M/M; Angst and Hurt/Comfort; Angst with a Happy Ending; Porn with Feelings; Porn With Plot; Sharing; Blood Drinking; Bisexual Male Character; Trauma; Blow Jobs; Penetration; Double Penetration; Double Vaginal Penetration

Snippet from the middle when it starts getting sexy:

“Darling, we’ve been talking,” he leaned in conspiratorially, gesturing to himself and Halsin. Halsin placed the small plate he had retrieved from the kitchen on the table across from them, then sat down gently next to her, filling up all the remaining room on the couch. He poured her a small draught of wine as Astarion stretched his arm out onto the back of the couch, not quite touching her yet subtly drawing them tighter together.

The whole thing felt strangely performative. Astarion was clearly putting on his ridiculous slut façade, and she could sense – almost feel – that Halsin was wound as tight as a spring about to be sprung.

“You wouldn’t believe what we’ve been discussing,” Astarion continued. He flashed her a smile, but his persona faltered when their eyes met. “Well, we’ve been talking about, well….about you, as a matter of fact.” He glanced at Halsin, calling him in for backup.

“We both think of you often.” Halsin started. When she turned to look, she was surprised at the intensity in his eyes, and how his chest rose and fell with every deep, nervous breath. “We talked about how both of us thought that you….well, that you….” Halsin started to stumble over his words, seeming like a much younger and more inexperienced elf than she knew him to be.

They ended up speaking over each other clumsily. Astarion said something about how magnificent she was, while Halsin made a comparison of her beauty to some obscure (but apparently lovely?) creature. They laughed together awkwardly for a second, and as quiet started to descend Halsin made a declaration.

“We want you. More than anything.”

Ellesime thought that defeating the Netherbrain would be the end for her. In fact, she hadn’t thought much beyond that – she almost welcomed death, which felt fitting after the truth about her dark heritage had finally been revealed to her. But death didn’t come for her – at least, not a second time in as many months.

The first few weeks after were a blur. Everywhere she went people bought her drinks, or gave her a hearty slap on the back, or offered her whatever small token or treasure they happened to have handy. One young mother handed Elle her baby. She obviously didn’t know that the woman now holding her precious child had once roamed Baldur’s Gate, gutting the innocent for no reason other than to sate her lust for murder and blood.

She tried to push those thoughts away. All of her friends were thinking about the future – she needed to stop thinking about her past, especially since most of it was lost to her anyways.

For the first week her remaining friends stayed close. Wyll and Karlach were in Avernus, and Lae’zel had ridden off on the back of a red dragon to bring down Vlaakith, but the remaining troupe were there with her, seemingly as loathe to leave each other’s company as she was.

Jaheira and Minsc, old veterans and their newest traveling companions, said their goodbyes first.  That was the impetus for Gale to get moving; he set out for Waterdeep the next day, anxious to put some distance between himself and the lure of the Netherstones, which were still out there in the harbor. Shadowheart lingered a few days more, but eventually she, too, said her goodbyes, and left Baldur’s Gate with her parents to start making up for lost time.

That left Halsin and Astarion. She knew they each had business elsewhere that they were eager to get to, but they stayed. Elle didn’t push them for an explanation. Being completely alone with her thoughts was not something she was looking forward to.

***

Over the past months she had developed a bond with the two elves, especially in the early days of their adventures together when she had almost no memory of her past at all. Being elven herself, and nearly 240 years of age, she had found their company the most comfortable – her heritage was essentially the only thing she knew about herself with certainty.

Astarion was incorrigible and a terrible flirt. Although clearly a rake and a tease, she knew there was more to him, and she found his charisma endearing. She allowed him to feed on her, which felt much more intimate than she anticipated, but before it could become something more, Astarion started to draw back. He confessed that he had been trying to manipulate her and was ashamed of it. Forgiving him came naturally to her, and from then on, they were almost never apart. Any potential romance they might have had mellowed. The attraction was still there, but they both took a step back from it, letting it simmer just under the surface.

Then Halsin joined their unlikely band. He was guarded, at first, quiet and thoughtful, but as he traveled with them, he slowly started to let down his stoic façade. Elle found him easy to talk to, full of interesting stories that distracted her from everything else. Many nights, she stayed up around the campfire, her, Halsin, and Astarion, sharing a bottle of whatever wine they could get their hands on, talking into the wee hours of the morning.

Of course, his personality wasn’t the only thing about Halsin she liked. She had to catch herself, far too many times, from letting her eyes linger on his muscled arms, or his broad chest, or the bulging muscles in his thighs when he stood up. She caught Astarion ogling him once, although he was trying hard to seem nonplussed. She teased him later and they laughed and laughed, then Astarion tried to make her blush by describing, in lewd detail, what they could both do to him if they were so inclined.  

But then the urge reared its murderous, vile head. She was able to ignore it, at first, but it tugged at her constantly, whispering in her ear, to murder, murder, murder. It was an itch on the bottom of her foot she didn’t want to scratch.  And when she finally did, when she killed that poor tiefling bard in cold blood, deep disgust take root inside her.

She closed herself off, locked herself up tight, and crammed all of it down deep. There was no room for romance, or even for lust or simple sex – she wouldn’t tarnish these people she cared so much about with her depravity.

Halsin and Astarion gave her space. She kept it from them at first, and she could tell they were puzzled by her sudden change. They orbited her, like distant planets around a star, watching. She stopped staying up with them at night and retired to her tent when everyone else went to sleep.

As she forced herself away, she saw them grow closer. They still gathered around the fire, and once she saw Astarion’s hand come to rest gently on Halsin’s thigh. Another time, Halsin brushed a stray lock of white hair behind Astarion’s ear.

Good, she thought. Focus on each other. Forget me.

She did a decent job of convincing herself that she was fine with the way things were, and that she would never—could never—have anything with either of them, when the time came to face Orin. She defeated her treacherous sister and defied her Father, her God, Bhaal. And she paid the ultimate price.

Shadowheart sat with her and held her close when they had returned to camp that night, her touch grounding Elle.

“We all thought we’d lost you.”

“I know.”

Shadowheart paused and wet her lips, pondering something.

“I’ve never seen Astarion or Halsin like that.”

Elle’s head shot up from its place on Shadowheart’s shoulder. “Like what?”

She paused again, thoughtfully. “Astarion screamed. Halsin was weeping. When the barriers came down, they both ran to you. I thought they were going to fight over who was going to pick you up, but then they both just crumpled over you. They were in a sorry state when Withers arrived.”

Elle hadn’t been sure how to process that information. She ended that night looking for the two of them, almost feverish, suddenly hopeful. Maybe now she could tell them how she felt, now that the evil part of her had been purged. It would all be right. She would tell them adored them both and didn’t want to picture a day without them, that she wanted to kiss them and love them and break them apart into tiny pieces as she fucked them into oblivion.

Then she found them. Naked, tangled together, Halsin’s arm wrapped around to hold Astarion up against him as he took him from behind. She turned back to her tent, alone, and didn’t speak of it to them. Then, or ever.  

***

After their victory, the two elves stayed close. Halsin accompanied her during the day as she wandered somewhat listlessly through the streets, unsure what to do with herself, and Astarion joined them as soon as the sun set.

They usually returned to the Elfsong Tavern and split a few bottles of wine between them. Since they stayed up later than the tavern would accommodate, they became accustomed to retreating to Elle’s suite to continue their revelry. Most nights she was content to just listen to the two of them, even when she was too lost in her own thoughts to contribute to their conversation.

She hadn’t expected jealousy. She thought she was too good for all that; after all, she had complete control over the whole situation and had made her choice – at least, that was what she told herself. But as she sat on her couch and watched the two elves across from her, smiling and laughing and touching each other in an all-too familiar way, she felt a darkness twist inside her, squeezing her heart. She gulped down more wine than she should have, trying desperately to quiet the hammering feeling in her head.

Then Halsin casually put a hand on Astarion’s thigh and something in her cracked in half.

With the swagger only someone on the verge of a drunken blackout could muster, she stood up and pointed viciously at them. “You two are insufferable!” She stumbled over her feet, although she hadn’t meant to move at all, and pressed her finger to Halsin’s chest. “Don’t just RUB it in my face. I know you two are together and YOU know … you fucking know,” she slurred. She turned and leveled her gaze (and her accusatory finger) at Astarion. “You know how I feel and how I couldn’t and . . .”

Her rant fell apart as she took in the sight of them, warmed with drink, shirt collars loose and exposing their chests invitingly,  beautiful eyes wide and suddenly very much locked on her. They were both just so damned gorgeous. “Gods, I would love to fuck you both stupid….”

Her memory ended there. She awoke the next morning after her meditation tucked under her covers tightly, still in all her clothes, with a walloping headache. Alone.

Maybe,she thought, I can find a nice, big rock to crawl under while I wait to die of embarrassment.

The next night, Elle perched on her couch, swirling her remaining wine around the bottom of her glass. She was lost in thought as she considered how to apologize for her ridiculous behavior and assure them it had only been the drink talking. She kept coming up short; she wasn’t comfortable lying to them.

She looked around her room and realized with a start that she was alone. She knew Halsin had gone downstairs to get the two of them some cheese and bread, but she wasn’t sure where Astarion had got off to. As if summoned, the door swung open and they filed in, Astarion in the lead. He sauntered towards her and plopped down on the couch next to her with a wry smile.

“Darling, we’ve been talking,” he leaned in conspiratorially, gesturing to himself and Halsin. Halsin placed the small plate he had retrieved from the kitchen on the table across from them, then sat down gently next to her, filling up all the remaining room on the couch. He poured her a small draught of wine as Astarion stretched his arm out onto the back of the couch, not quite touching her yet subtly drawing them tighter together.

The whole thing felt strangely performative. Astarion was clearly putting on his ridiculous slut façade, and she could sense – almost feel – that Halsin was wound as tight as a spring about to be sprung.

“You wouldn’t believe what we’ve been discussing,” Astarion continued. He flashed her a smile, but his persona faltered when their eyes met. “Well, we’ve been talking about, well….about you, as a matter of fact.” He glanced at Halsin, calling him in for backup.

“We both think of you often.” Halsin started. When she turned to look, she was surprised at the intensity in his eyes, and how his chest rose and fell with every deep, nervous breath. “We talked about how both of us thought that you….well, that you….” Halsin started to stumble over his words, seeming like a much younger and more inexperienced elf than she knew him to be.

They ended up speaking over each other clumsily. Astarion said something about how magnificent she was, while Halsin made a comparison of her beauty to some obscure (but apparently lovely?) creature. They laughed together awkwardly for a second, and as quiet started to descend Halsin made a declaration.

“We want you. More than anything.”

Elle looked back and forth between them, unable to wrap her brain around what they were saying.

“But, I thought….” She folded her hands together to try to look composed. Neither of the men spoke as they watched and waited for her to finish her thought. She felt a blush creeping up her chest to her neck as she suddenly became acutely aware of each place their bodies touched.

“I thought you two were together. I might have accidentally come upon you, that night after I…after I died.”

There was a long pause. Astarion looked like he was going to choke on his tongue.

Thankfully, Halsin jumped in. “Astarion and I were both distraught. We knew you weren’t ready for anything…intimate. So we found comfort in each other.”

 “We wanted you, the whole time. We’ve never stopped thinking about you, darling. Never.”

Elle couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“It can be, well, whatever you like,” Halsin explained earnestly. “We could just…try it, for once, and see how it goes. How you like it.”

The corners of Astarion’s lips turned upwards and he leaned in closer to her, once again playing the audacious flirt. “We know you were drunk but, how did you put it? We’d like to fuck you stupid.”

Elle’s eyes must have been wide as saucers. For a moment, the room went deathly still.

It was now, or never.

With deliberate slowness, she reached up her hand and placed it to Astarion’s cheek, cupping his face tenderly. She squeezed the top of Halsin’s thigh with her other hand, then turned and looked at him with what she hoped expressed the depth of her longing.

Astarion leaned forward and grazed his teeth over the crook of her neck just as Halsin gathered her face to his in an open-mouthed kiss.  She broke away after a long moment and turned back to the vampire, gently seeking out his mouth. Their hands were on her then, caressing her as she relished the feel of Astarion’s tongue sliding against hers.

He pulled back slowly and held her gaze with an almost overwhelming intensity. “You smell delicious. I can barely contain myself.”

To her great surprise, Halsin offered up his muscled forearm, his eyes both gentle and assured.

“Do you mind, darling? It takes the edge off.” She nodded in assent.

He sunk his teeth into Halsin’s big arm, sucking eagerly. Halsin closed his eyes and titled his head back, ever so slightly, a quiet moan escaping his lips. The feel of them so close lit her on fire, and she admired them from her close-up vantage point. One was large and muscular and darkened by days in the sun, the other lithe and pale, with the corded physique of someone used to attacking from the shadows.

Halsin’s eyes flicked open and caught her staring. She felt as if the whole world had slowed down as he leaned in again for a kiss. At first his lips were feather-light on hers, but she bent her head back and opened her mouth to him, and soon felt his tongue pressing insistently against hers.

Astarion pulled away from Halsin’s arm, satiated. “You two are gorgeous together,” he said, and Elle could feel the true admiration in the tone of his voice.

Halsin broke off their kiss and smiled at her as he slid off the couch, running his hands along Elle’s thighs and up to her hips. He hooked his fingers into her waistband and looked up expectantly, almost mischievously at her.

“May I?”

She could barely form the words but nodded vigorously. She could feel Astarion’s low chuckle resonate through his chest.

“He really is so surprising, once you get him in bed. You wouldn’t believe the size of his –”

“Astarion!” Halsin exclaimed, feigning embarrassment. It only made Elle breathe harder as Halsin peeled her leggings off and cast them aside.

She felt vulnerable, exposed, as she realized her small clothes were the only remaining barrier between them. Halsin leaned in and planted a lingering kiss on her inner thigh, then dragged his lips ever so slightly farther up her leg. At last, he moved his mouth to hover over the thin layer of fabric that blocked his access to her. He looked up at her through his eyelashes and paused.

“You are sure? You want this?”

Again, Elle found she could barely form a coherent statement. She leaned back into Astarion’s embrace and could feel his hard cock grinding against her lower back – the contrast between Astarion’s neediness and Halsin’s restraint was maddening. Halsin hovered below, his mouth mere inches from her. She mustered all her composure, but her words still came out sounding like a ragged mess.

“Oh gods, yes, please!”

She could feel, more than see, his smile as he pressed his mouth up against her through her undergarments. Just as his mouth closed over her, Astarion ran his palm up over her cheek and twisted her face towards his, lips parted and searching for hers. Their tongues touched, and then Astarion let out a groan as he leaned in to give her a deeper kiss. It was more frantic than before, messier and with more teeth, and she loved every moment of it. He tugged off her shirt, only breaking their kiss for a second as he lifted it over her head and quickly found her mouth again.

Halsin hooked his fingers inside her underwear and tugged ever so slightly, pulling them away from her playfully. The feel of the cloth on her clit, now wet from Halsin’s kiss, made her buck her hips up involuntarily. Finally, after teasing her through fabric for what felt like forever, he pulled them aside and dove in, his tongue lapping deeply into her.

To her great embarrassment, she let out a surprised squeak. Astarion laughed into their kiss, then whispered in her ear. “You like that, don’t you? You don’t even know the half of what we’ve been planning for you.”

Halsin didn’t let up, his tongue moving up and down, left and right, constantly twirling and twisting and keeping her guessing as to what was coming next. She leaned back and rolled her body, desperate for more of his broad tongue. Astarion was rock hard against her, grinding insistently.

“How does she taste?” Astarion asked.

Halsin paused and looked up, glassy eyed, gaze flicking between the two of them, and then suddenly he was stretching up, capturing Astarion’s mouth with his own in a passionate kiss.

“What do you think?”

Astarion licked his bottom lip deliberately and smiled. “Delicious.”

Elle’s stomach fluttered as she melted backwards into Astarion’s embrace.

Halsin was quick to move back to his previous position. He slipped off her underwear in one deft, fluid motion, then put his hands on her inner thighs and spread her legs wide. She felt embarrassed as he exposed her utterly, but the feeling faded when she looked down and saw Halsin’s hungry stare. She hooked her leg over his shoulder as he dove in, his mouth ravishing her with licks and nips and kisses until she was arching backwards again in Astarion’s lap.

Astarion slipped a hand down and coated two fingers in her wetness in between Halsin’s long, slow licks. He gently began to rub at her clit, circling it slowly. She was overwhelmed with feeling – the feel of Astarion behind her, his hands on her; Halsin’s strong hands pressing open her thighs, his tongue darting to and fro and then inside of her teasingly.

Finally, Halsin sucked her lips into his mouth and nibbled her clit gently, sending her over the edge. Astarion squeezed her breasts as she came. She tried so hard to muffle her long, loud orgasm, tried to bury her face in Astarion’s neck, but her whole body was vibrating, and she could barely keep it in. At some point, she realized, she had wrapped her legs around Halsin’s shoulders and pinned him in place.

“Sorry –” she started, as she unhooked her ankles from behind Halsin’s head.

“Do not apologize,” Halsin said as he stood. Elle scooted forward on the couch, giving Astarion some room to sit up. She couldn’t hide the stupid grin that spread over her face.

“Are you still up for some more, darling, or did we wear you out already?” Astarion asked. He was playing coy, but she could tell his request for confirmation was serious.

She leaned back and gave him a deep kiss, then nipped at his earlobe as she pulled away and hopped up, quickly twining her arms around Halsin’s neck.

Astarion rose from the couch and sandwiched her between them, his hands roving down her back to her unclothed thighs, then back up to squeeze her round bottom. Halsin leaned down to kiss her, practically folding over her to bring his lips to hers. Somewhere along the way, she noticed, Halsin had taken off his shirt.

Astarion leaned in, kissing along her shoulder, and the two elves looked over her shoulder and found each other’s mouths again. This time Astarion seemed to dominate as he angled his face upwards to meet Halsin’s. Although the druid towered over them both, somehow Elle could feel his surrender as he relaxed in her arms and into Astarion’s relentless kiss.

When they finally parted lips, Halsin wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her into his arms. A moment later and she was on the large bed, her auburn hair flying everywhere around her. She laughed – no, giggled – feeling lighter than she had in ages.

 “It’s time for me to return the favor. If that’s alright with you two,” she said. She was sure her ridiculous grin was not giving off the self-assured confidence she was trying to project.

It didn’t seem to matter. The two looked almost feral as she reached out to rub them through their trousers.

“I like watching you two together,” she continued mischievously as she began working at the laces. They took her suggestion immediately; Astarion reached out and gripped at Halsin’s chest hair, as Halsin reached around him and grabbed a handful of Astarion’s ass. As they played with each other, she freed Astarion from his trousers and without so much as a warning swallowed him whole.

Astarion cried out and bucked his hips involuntarily, forcing his cock to the back of her throat. Elle hummed around it as she slid up and down, wetting it thoroughly so she could take it all the way in again. She fumbled with the laces on Halsin’s trousers with her free hand.

“A little help?” she asked, in between taking Astarion’s cock in her mouth.

Halsin hurried to oblige and pulled off his pants with a few swift tugs. She reached for him with her hand, still pumping her mouth up and down Astarion, and then turned to stretch her mouth around the tip of Halsin’s cock, grasping Astarion in her hand.

Halsin reached out and tentatively cupped the back of her head. Astarion was holding back too, clearly trying very hard not to buck into her hand.

“I’m not made of glass, boys. Don’t hold back. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

“If you’re sure?” Astarion asked, searching her expression.

She could feel Halsin shudder with anticipation. “We’d never . . . want you to do . . . something you didn’t want to,” he managed to sputter out, clearly distracted by her tight grip on his cock.

“I know – I trust you both completely. I want this – so much.” She could see them both let out a deep breath and relax, and she honestly loved them both a little more in that moment.

With that out of the way, she tugged them both a little and encouraged them to inch closer to her. As they shuffled on their knees into place, she brought the tips of both cocks up to her lips and swirled her tongue along them, looking up at them through her eyelashes coquettishly.

She kept her eyes on them as she drew them both into her mouth. Halsin had to remove his hand from kneading Astarion’s ass and steady himself on the smaller elf’s shoulder. Astarion leaned into him and ran his hand down over Elle’s soft hair before grabbing a handful at the roots.

Her lips stretched, almost a little too much, but their reaction was well worth it. Astarion’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a drawn-out moan, as Halsin threw his head back, eyes closed, in bliss.

She took turns, quickly drawing one of them into her mouth and then switching to the other, her hands never leaving them. She pressed the tips of their cocks together again and swirled her tongue over them and around, once, twice, then licked a stripe down Astarion’s cock and back up and over, down Halsin’s.

They let out a short stream of curses and she felt wildly pleased with herself. She leaned in to kiss Halsin right where his leg met his abdomen, peppering a line of quick kisses down until she buried her face in the space between his leg and his balls.

She felt Astarion move, and when she looked up she found him closer to her, eyes practically gleaming with delight as he took up a position down next to her.

“Didn’t we talk about doing this once, way back when?” he said, as he opened his mouth wide and let Halsin’s cock graze the tip of his tongue. Elle hummed in confirmation as she drew one of Halsin’s balls into her mouth. Halsin tossed his head back again, trying to hide his enormous grin.

She angled herself so she could continue teasing him, licking and sucking on his balls, as Astarion deftly sucked Halsin in to his mouth and all the way down. Halsin fisted his hand into Astarion’s hair roughly and fucked into the vampire’s mouth until he gagged. Astarion looked almost triumphant as he slid his mouth off the larger man with a pop.

Elle took over from him and drew Halsin into her mouth and to the back of her throat with a grunt. After a minute, Astarion took another turn, and she went back to licking playfully from underneath.

“Gods, you two,” Halsin moaned, his hands scrabbling to touch as much of them as he could while still staying upright. “I don’t – I can’t – I don’t want to come like this,” he confessed breathily.

Astarion pulled off, his lips curling devilishly with delight, and pulled himself upright to whisper something quietly into Halsin’s ear. Elle could hear Halsin hum with affirmation, and then they both turned their eyes to her. She had the sudden feeling of being their prey, and gods be damned if she didn’t want to be caught.

“Let us fuck you,” Halsin rumbled. Something about Halsin – normally so measured and polite – using such language made her burn inside.

She stretched herself out on the bed and curled her finger to them.

“Come and take me,” she said. It should have sounded silly, but she suddenly felt like a goddess as the two of the most gorgeous men she had ever encountered lavished her with affection.

They laid down on either side of her, hands roving over her skin, lips meeting fleetingly and then moving on to kiss every part of her they could reach. Finally, Halsin put a hand on her right hip and rolled her onto her left side, then gripped her waist tightly and shimmied her backwards towards him. The feel of his larger body spooning her, his strong arms encouraging her to arch back towards him, was blissful. Astarion laid along her, facing her, and captured her mouth in a deep kiss. She was distracted by the overwhelming feeling of the two of them surrounding her – their heat, their weight, the tangle of limbs and hands and bodies.

Halsin nudged his cock in between her legs, and she let out a short gasp as she felt the tip nudge against her entrance. She arched her back, coaxing him forward, and he pushed himself in slightly with a loud groan. Astarion broke away from plundering Elle’s mouth and chuckled.

“How does that feel, darling?” he purred.

“Incredible –” Elle moaned

“Amazing –” Halsin rumbled.

All three of them started to laugh, most of all Astarion.

“I was asking Elle! But I’m glad to know what I’ve got to look forward to,” he smiled, and nibbled her neck playfully. She could feel Halsin’s breath stutter with a choked off laugh, but then he gripped her hip hard again and pushed himself in, bottoming out. She let out a quick noise of surprise.

“I’m sorry – gods, I am so sorry . . .” he fumbled.

“Halsin, shut up and fuck me.”

He did not disappoint. At first, he fucked her slowly, deeply, pulling back and then plunging all the way in. She moaned in rhythm with his thrusts, relished every inch of him. His slow, steady pace left her panting for more. She wiggled her ass up against him and pushed herself back onto his thick cock, trying to encourage him to pick up his pace. His lips brushed lightly over her shoulder and he pumped in more forcefully, rocking the two of them in unison.

Astarion propped himself up on his arm and tangled his other hand into Halsin’s hair impishly. The older elf hummed his approval at the touch and twisted his face up to catch another kiss from him over Elle’s shoulder. Astarion broke away and grinned down at Elle.

“May I have a turn?”

Elle nodded, and before she knew it Halsin had pulled out of her completely, leaving her feeling empty and oh-so-wanting. With a gentle push, they encouraged her to roll over onto her right side, mirroring the position she was just in, but this time with her backside flush against Astarion and her face in Halsin’s broad chest.

Halsin wasted no time as he gathered her breasts in his hands and lavished them with kisses. She could feel Astarion adjust, and then the sensation of his hard cock was there, replacing that feeling of fullness she was desperate for. She was dripping wet from all the attention she had received, and he slid right into her, fully seating himself deep inside her in one quick movement.

Astarion sucked a breath in through his teeth and let out a quiet moan. He stilled, holding himself there, and she clenched and fluttered around him, teasing him with the sensation.

“I think you’ve stunned him speechless,” Halsin smiled, laughter apparent in his voice. Elle watched Halsin’s expression as he peeked over her shoulder at their now-quiet companion. Astarion took a deep, slow breath and pressed his forehead to the spot between her shoulder blades, and she saw Halsin’s smile fade.

“Astarion, love, come back to us,” Halsin murmured as he reached over to pet his arm. Elle turned ever so slightly and kissed his upper arm, the only part of him she could reach in this position.

“We can stop, we don’t have to keep going. You’re incredible Astarion, I only want what you want.” After a long pause, he pulled back his head from its resting spot, his glassy, distant look fading away. He bucked against Elle, eliciting a surprised moan from her, and smiled in an utterly genuine way she hadn’t seen before.

“You two are just…too good to me,” he said, and Elle could feel the tension in him unwind. “I want this so much – you feel so tight, I just…needed a minute. To get out of my own head.”

Halsin leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, then pressed one quickly to Elle’s cheek as he settled back down against her. Astarion fucked into her urgently, his sharp hip bones bouncing against her in a way she was sure would leave bruises the next day. After a few minutes, he slid an arm around her middle and held her closely as he continued to take her from behind. Halsin stayed close, vigilant, running a gentle hand up and down her body, then switching to stroke Astarion’s arm just as reverently.

Her body was on fire. She was sure she looked an absolute mess by now, covered in sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead and her neck, but she didn’t care. She arched her head back in pleasure as Astarion continued to stuff her full, and Halsin trailed kisses up from her breasts to her neck, stealing the breath from her lungs. Although she was sandwiched between her two elven lovers all she could think was that she wanted more, more, more.

Astarion’s thrusts stuttered, then seemed to slow and pump into her more deliberately. Both Halsin and Elle could clearly sense that he was on the edge.

Elle wasn’t even sure where the words came from, but she started to babble a mix of encouragement and filth, begging for him to fill her with his release. It was meant for Astarion, but Halsin was driven just as mad; when she reached her hand down to stroke his cock, she realized he had a hand wrapped around it already and was pumping furiously.

Astarion pressed forward, as deep as he could go inside her, and let out a clipped yelp as he spilled himself inside her. The feel of it filling her made her insides clench and release, and she shivered. His heavy breathing calmed after a long moment, and he pressed kisses along her shoulders as he slipped out of her.

She noticed that Halsin had stopped stroking himself when Astarion came – Elle could feel his hardness slide up against her thigh, leaving a trail of dampness, and was amazed by his restraint. He ran a finger down her jawbone and stared deeply into her eyes. “How else can we please you? Should I take you from behind, on your knees? Or maybe…” he trailed off and ground himself against her suggestively. Astarion sucked in a breath and held it as Halsin continued. “Maybe you could take both of us at once?”

She couldn’t control how fast her heart started beating, nor could she stop the wordless moan that escaped from deep in her throat.

“Is that a yes, darling?” Astarion whispered to her, loud enough for Halsin to hear.

“Gods, yes!”

Halsin crushed his lips against hers, tongue pressing into her mouth ravenously, and he jerked his hips against her again, punctuating his need.

“I may need a minute, but I’m sure you two can stay occupied while I get ready.” Astarion’s voice was sing-songy and flirtatious again as he shuffled up on to his knees, clearing more room for them to maneuver.

Halsin broke away from kissing her and held his large hand to her cheek. “On top of me,” he breathed. He kept his eyes locked with hers as he shifted to lay down flat on his back, guiding Elle up to straddle him backwards. She stretched her legs to either side of his and braced herself with her left hand against his chest. She reached down between them with her other hand and lined up his cock with her, then slowly sank down onto him.

When she felt like she could take no more of him, she opened her eyes (not realizing she had even closed them) and saw Astarion watching, chest heaving and mouth hanging agape. His cock was already starting to rise, hard again so quickly from watching the two of them together.

Her whole body trembled as Halsin started to languidly lift her hips and fuck up into her. In a flash of movement, Astarion was on them, his tongue pressing insistently to her clit. His clever mouth circled her, then roamed down as Halsin lifted her up and slid himself almost all the way out of her. She could feel Halsin’s low rumble of pleasure as Astarion dragged his tongue down his length, then slowly back up it, in time with his upward thrust.

Elle reached for Astarion, scrambling, until her hand found purchase in his soft, curly hair. “Get up here!”

He stood, a little unsteady with the soft bed underneath them, and took a minute to find a comfortable position amidst their tangled bodies. She felt him tentatively pressing the tip of his cock against her entrance—the stretching feeling was almost immediate and nearly overwhelming, but she wanted to feel them together so much she cried out for more. Halsin slowed, letting them adjust.

He worked his cock into her slowly, just a fraction of an inch at a time. Halsin groaned, long and loud, as Astarion’s cock lined up against his and started to push in to her. The feel of them both inside of her had her hyperventilating, lost in a fog of pleasure and pain. Their heat surrounded her, filled her.

It was impossible for Astarion to get all the way inside. Her mind was willing, but her body could only go so far. Impossibly stretched, impossibly full, impossible, impossible her mind repeated.

“That’s as far as I can go, darling,” Astarion said lowly, the effort to control himself clear in his clipped tone. “Is it alright?” His body shook with the effort of holding back, as he waited for her permission. Halsin’s grip on her waist had loosened, and she felt him gently rubbing her, soothing.

“I don’t think I can go for long but please – don’t stop.”

Astarion leaned in and captured her mouth in a kiss. She felt Halsin behind her, kissing up and down her spine, as he slowly started to move inside of her again.

“We’ve got you,” Halsin whispered reverently into her skin.

With the two of them supporting her, Halsin beneath and Astarion above, she let herself go boneless, trusting them completely with her body. Halsin rocked up slowly, pumping into her, as Astarion pulled back, careful not to come all the way out of her. They reversed, Astarion pushing in as Halsin pulled back, in perfect unison. It was slow, careful – much less frantic and wild than she expected. The kisses they covered her in felt worshipful. The room was quieter now than it had been for the past hour or more as they drank each other in.

“I’m close,” Halsin whispered, not wanting to break the spell that had fallen over them.

“Come – come – come” Elle begged. Astarion’s eyes squeezed shut and she could tell he was almost there too. Her body hummed. She couldn’t stop begging them for it, over and over.

Halsin’s hips jerked, and he let out a deep, guttural groan as he spilled inside her.  She felt its warmth filling her, and then suddenly Astarion threw back his head and moaned, thrusting slowly through his own release. She realized she had cried out as her own pleasure rippled through her.

It was an effort for them all to disengage gracefully. Astarion almost collapsed on top of them but caught himself and managed to pull himself out gently before he flopped down on the bed. Elle leaned up and let Halsin’s cock slip out, then shuffled to the side and landed on her back in between them. As she caught her breath, she threw one arm out to rest on Halsin’s chest and entwined a leg with Astarion.

It took her several long, slow breaths before she could form a coherent sentence again.

“You two are amazing. Not to mention, incredibly gorgeous together.”

She wasn’t prepared for the surprisingly soft looks both elves gave her. Her heart felt fit to burst inside her.

“We’ve only ever wanted….well, this,” Astarion said, gesturing vaguely to the three of them on the bed together.

“We’ve always wanted you here with us,” Halsin added, as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

“Well,” she said, as she pulled the two closer. “I’m here now.” They stayed together that night, naked and entwined. For the first time in ages, Elle didn’t feel alone.

[nightmarist]

more zevwyll propaganda:

Wyll is the Blade of Frontiers and of course will help anyone he can. he grew up in a city surrounded by stories of essentially fairytales that were real, heroes and villains, his own father is a hero who now leads a city guard, Wyll must absolutely love to think about the Flaming Fist as heroes and protectors.

Zevlor is a commander of the Hellriders, another infamous group of city guard who are known to have actually gone into Hell to fight devils alongside an angel (Zariel). While this event was before Zevlor's time, it is the factor in their infamy and many people in Elturel grow up being Horse People(tm) because they want to get an upper hand in trying to join the riders. He is an older man in position of power over the very kind of fairytale hero knights Wyll grew up with.

Zevlor passes no judgements to anyone, or at the least is very smooth about not making his judgements known. He is very pragmatic and straight forward as an experienced commanding officer and as a Paladin, even without an oath, he takes on the tieflings as his charges to aid them with a deep sense of community - who else will help them if not their own kind?

Wyll goes out of his way to help the tieflings. I also HC that he had likely hoped to find his father among them, since Ulder was sent to Elturel and thus descended into Avernus with the purpose of Baldur's Gate being left to defend itself.

I LOVE the idea that Wyll, exile of Baldur's Gate, is helping the tiefling exiles from Elturel. From one exile to another. Unwanted by the people they thought would care the most.

They are both deeply earnest and have strong resolve over helping others to the point of self-sacrifice and martyr complex.

Wyll being good at helping children, he was so gentle with Umi and the other kids and even wants his own someday.

Zevlor was specifically worried about the children in the attack, which is a fair concern for anyone, and while we can sit here all day about the ifs and buts of removed or changed content, I want to point out he used to be a school teacher before he was changed to a Hellrider. I like to imagine his retirement from soldiering begin one he can have his own school in Baldur's Gate, especially for the disparaged or underprivileged. If they have children together they would have the sweetest, caring, protective fathers.

Wyll is basically a prince of Baldur's Gate. please imagine a Prince x Knight dynamic between them. Fiercely loyal. A devil-touched prince with a "devilkin" at his side for the haters.

Zevlor being a much older man and closer to Wyll's father's age would probably make Ulder even more mad. <3

Finding calm, solace, and comfort in each other after having to bear the burdens of their exile, putting aside themselves for the sake of others, sacrificing so much to save and help people, and with each other they can finally just Be.

Being enthralled!

Wyll tricked by Mizora to give up his own soul as a teenager to save another child, being forced to make a horrible decision that rended his exile, and again by Mizora to nearly kill an innocent tiefling - Karlach - and upon refusing to harm an innocent he was punished, forced to undergo painful transformation, the utter humiliation and the extreme lack of of autonomy and trauma to his becoming a fiend. He would rather undergo mutilation and harm and punishment than hurt the innocent.

Zevlor is a tiefling. But he’s an old tiefling. He didn’t undergo the transformation but it was barely a generation before him, his own parents probably, that thousands or more were forced undergo change at Asmodeus’ hand in dnd lore. The book about the event is by his bedroll. He was forced to break his Hellrider oath of serving Elturel when Elturel exiled him and it thus broke his paladin oath. A part of him was lost, hollowed out. And he was tricked by the Absolute, believing the one thing that could make him whole was within his grasp, that if he succumbed to being its thrall then his people could be spared.

[gale-dekarios]

What is Rose's biggest flaw?

Hi anon!! Thank you so much for asking :3

Rose's biggest flaw is probably how he retreats when he's feeling any strong negative emotion. He really has no concept of how to deal with emotions like anger or sadness or hurt, so he has a tendancy to just... not. Usually by fleeing, or deflection, or denial, depending on the context. In his mind, life is perfect and he's happy all the time with no room for anything else ever, because if he admits he's not okay then he has to deal with all of the bullshit he's been surpressing, and it's just too much to handle at this point.

This ended up being really long, bc asking about my ocs is very much a "give an inch, take a mile" sort of deal, so I'll leave the rest under a readmore x) SO sorry anon

It normally doesn't impede him too much, Rose is actually a pretty positive and happy guy, but when it matters, oh boy.

He's still very much in denial about how much his best friend Milo's death actually impacted him. He'll admit to being sad about it, sure, but he's barely processed it and the way he talks about it, you'd think it happened years ago, not a few months. He has this detachment between himself and that event, barely ever speaking about it unless prompted, perpetually stuck at the denial of his own feelings about it, or how traumatic it actually was. She didn't go peacefully into that gentle night, she died when Elturel descended into Avernus, on a day Rose was supposed to be with her if he hadn't decided to take that damn extra run of gigs at a local tavern that paid pennies for the amount of work he actually did. All that stood between him and never being able to say goodbye to his friend was pushing back a trip to Elturel for a week. Gale didn't even know about Milo until he met Rose's family for the first time. He just. Doesn't bring her up. Doesn't want to deal with the fact he lost her.

Another example is probably Gale and Rose's first proper argument. This was well after they moved to Waterdeep, but before they got married. They'd had minor arguments before, but they were resolved pretty quickly and without much hassle. Gale had gotten into a really busy period of life. Between work and some research projects he had going on, they barely had time to speak to each other. Rose was beginning to feel a little lonely, but was managing okay for the most part. Then when they were finally getting little moments to talk to each other, the conversations would be short and quite clipped. Rose was feeling the stress of them being so disconnected and was being petulant about it, Gale was too distracted and exhausted to actually consider how he was coming off, that sort of thing. And it. Just. Kept. Happening.

At this point Rose is totally in his own head. He's managed to fully convince himself, without ever once actually communicating with Gale how he was feeling, that he'd made a massive mistake moving to Waterdeep, that Gale was getting bored of him, and that they were completely incompatible with each other.

There was a massive blowout argument. About anything except the fact that Rose's feelings were hurting. And instead of dealing with those emotions, those insecurities... Rose straight up left. Packed a bag whilst Gale was out and got a room in a tavern, waiting to board the next ship heading to Baldur's Gate the next morning.

Obviously that didn't happen. And Gale very much did force Rose to articulate what he was feeling like a goddamn grownup. And he did. Clumsily, but he did. And Gale apologised. And Rose apologised. And they had the very sweet make-up sex that accidentally whoospie-daisied them into having their firstborn son because Rose forgot to take his birth control in the weeks that they weren't talking to each other. And Rose never became perfect at communicating his negative emotions, but he worked on it, and he never fled like that again.

Speaking of. When their son is born, he has Gale's nose, Rose's chin, and the sparkle of something magical in his eyes from them both. They name him Milo.

[voloslobotomyservice]

Divya

[DIHV-yuh] (she/her)

Class: Way of the Four Elements Monk

Race: Asmodeos Tiefling

Age: 23 years

Background: Acolyte

Game Progression: Act Two (gotta go back for Underdark tho)

Raised in the Church of Ilmater, Divya always knew she wanted to be a monk. Her parents encouraged her to go through with it, as well as her siblings. When she turned sixteen, she devoted her life to monkhood and lived in the church for almost eight years.

Before her time in the monastery, she was friends with Darcy, who was four years older than she was. However, one day, she vanished, never to be seen in the city again.

When the city of Elturel descended into Avernus, all tieflings were cast out, including Divya. She was informed of another church in Baldur’s Gate, which she set off to go yo with a few other tieflings in tow. But when they arrived to the city, they were in for a surprise: a nautiloud ship, snatching innocent civilians with its tentacles. They tried to run, but they were no match for the alien ship.

Now she has a tadpole in her head and one goal in mind: to get back to the city and rejoin the church, where she feels she belongs. And in Ilmater fashion, help anyone along the way who may need it, even if they trail off from their mission a bit.

Despite being chosen as their leader, Divya is a bit socially awkward, not speaking to anyone about anything more than their burdens for nearly eight years. Sometimes during socializing, she may come off as weird or just uncomfortable (that’s because she is). Thankfully, with the help of Karlach and Wyll, she’s able to break out of her shell and become more confident in her position as the party’s tactician. She still has plenty of awkward moments, though.

Read some more fun facts about her here! 🤠

Wyll swept Divya off of her feet immediately, and they’re now in a very committed relationship 💜

(this page is still a work in progress and will be added to over time!)

[cellphishthekaiju]

Writing Patterns

rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

I was tagged by @roughlytwentytwofrogs

1. Fire Falling from the Sky (Baldur's Gate 3)

“Vlaakith gha’g shkath zai!” The warrior snarled as Shadowheart parried his blade, the polished steel glinting in the dim light before the githyanki gurgles and collapses, bloodied blade sliding out of the warrior as he slumps over, Caldor grimacing with concentration; having come up behind the alien warrior to strike the fatal blow.

2. Vyper's Mask (Original Sapphic BDSM Romance)

Synport.

3. Favored Princess (Baldur's Gate 3)

What the hell was she thinking?!

4. I Am the One (Dragon Age: Origins)

The world slowly came back into focus, ears ringing and the back of her head throbbing painfully from where it had smacked the stone floor.

5. Wrong Turn at Faerun (Baldur's Gate 3)

The Moonsilver Solstice was Kalach’s favorite holiday.

6. Kiss Me Until You're Drunk (Baldur's Gate 3)

Shadowheart woke in a cold sweat, her right hand seized up and clawed in pain as the black scar on the back of her right hand weeps black ichor.

7. Descend Beyond Avernus (Baldur's Gate 3)

Two Months Prior…

8. A Questionable Use of Dominate Person (Baldur's Gate 3)

“You want to… what?” Hestra retorts, not sure she heard her githyanki paramour correctly.

9. Tear up the Town (Love, Death, Robots)

Sonnie looked at the bottle in her hand.

10. Possessive (Baldur's Gate 3)

The victory tastes like ash in Shadowheart’s mouth.

Hmm, the pattern seems like a favor my 'hook' to focus on the main protagonist in some manner... or at least one of them, if there's multiple. It seems to, always, happen in the middle of an event, action, thought, etc.

What do you guys think?

Also check out the fics, cause why not? they're there.

Also gonna tag @larissel @robeca-black @dilutedpilk & @cobalt-cactus... cause this was kinda fun to do.

[maegalkarven]

Thinking of Ravengard Ward AU where things proceed to the point of the events of the game with several results:

Levi, convinced by Gortash fighting off Bhaal is only possible with the Crown of Karsus and growing desperate with every day (as Bhaal pushes to control him with growing force), ventures into Mephistar to steal it from Mephistopheles.

While he is gone Ravengard goes to Elturel and, as Elturel falls to Avernus, descends there too. Duke's second son Wyll, an aspiring ranger, ventures into Hells alongside with counselor Florrick in a quest to find Ulder Ravengard. Levi returns from Mephistar to find all of his family gone. He wants to rush after them to Avernus, but Bhaal's hold on him is getting worse with everyday, and he's running out of time. He hopes his brother and Florrick know what they're doing.

With Ravengard missing and Florrick out of the city, Enver Gortash conspires to have proclaim the duke dead, making Leviathan Ravengard his heir and successor.

The Absolute Plan is set into motion, with only one god (Myrkul) involved. Levi and Gortash are forced to work with Ketheric bc the illithid colony is literally Under His House. Levi plans to betray the man and clean the shadow-cursed lands because this is what Jaheira and the harpers would have wanted. He when plans to use the newly gained with Absolute power to destroy Bhaal, Bane and Myrkul in one go. Gortash plans to obtain the power alike gods without any restrictions gods are forced under.

The first illithid-infected people start to appear. Jaheira and Minsc go to investigate, Minsc gets infected. Levi plans to use him as a leverage against Jaheira and Wyll if (then) they will disagree with his plans.

The incoming wedding of Duke Leviathan Ravengard and Lord Enver Gortash is announced. Lord Gortash is then going to be proclaimed the first Archduke of Baldur's Gate, with his husband's full support.

Wyll and Florrick meet Karlach and team up with her. Wyll is horrified to find out the guy who is dating his older brother sold Karlach to the deviless. Together they find Duke Ravengard and hijack the nautiloid.

The following (with all the in-game steps) events are:

Wyll and the team (Wyll is the leader) reach BG just in time to be informed of the passed wedding and the incoming inauguration of Lord Gortash.

They are horrified what has happened to the city in their absence. Ravengard, Wyll and Jaheira try to talk sense into Levi, Levi argues back what none of them know what it's like to have the God of Murder in their head all the time. What Bhaal was showing him more things these days, what he knows his destiny - he is a pureblood bhaalspawn, made out of Bhaal's dead flesh, he is destined to destroy the world. He is trying to convince them this is the only way he can do it, what this way he can destroy all gods for good, his Father included. What with the power the stones and Absolute gives them, he and Gortash can become new gods, can change the very rules of the universe - and wouldn't it be great?

The huge argument follows and Levi storms out, angry.

The next time they see him is at the inauguration, when, instead of proclaiming Gorash the new Archduke, Levi murders everyone but Gortash (who by this point is used to his husband's murder sprees and is successfully defended by Steel Watch) in the Hall.

Wyll and co walk into the Hall, expecting confrontation, but finding Levi in a pool of blood as Gortash tries to make him come out of the stupor.

Levi raises a desperate gaze at his brother and says: "Don't you see? It's getting worse. Bhaal is so angry. This is the only way. Why can't you see? Why no one but Enver can see it?!"

[tarisbackyard]

They should have given BG3 a subtitle, ya kno. All the releases except the first one got one.

Tales of the Sword Coast

Siege of Dragonspear

Shadows of Amn

Throne of Bhaal

Including the spin-offs:

Dark Alliance

Murder in Baldur's Gate

Descend into Avernus

Legends of Baldur's Gate

(probably forgetting one)

Idk what BG3's subtitle would have been, but it needed one.

[ferinehuntress]

So, out of desire to kind of expand into some more DnD forms of Barbarian subclasses, looking at different backgrounds and all, Karlach is going through a bit of a change.

1) Karlach is not a Zariel Tiefling. She is a Variant Tiefling, her lineage comes from Soneillon, Queen of Whispers, a Succubus Demon Lord. Hence, her more hypersexual desires and activity. This changes her abilities at the beginning. Instead of Infernal Legacy and +1 to intelligence this is what she will have

Feral. Your Intelligence score increases by 1, and your Dexterity score increases by 2. This trait replaces the Ability Score Increase trait

Hellfire. Once you reach 3rd level, you can cast the Burning Hands spell once as a 2nd-level spell. This trait replaces the Hellish Rebuke spell of the Infernal Legacy trait.

2) Karlach is not an outlander background, it is changing to that of a Soldier Background. Karlach did not grow up in the wilds, she lived in Baldur's gate, so this makes NO sense to me. So instead, she is a Soldier Background, which is this

War has been your life for as long as you care to remember. You trained as a youth, studied the use of weapons and armor, learned basic survival techniques, including how to stay alive on the battlefield. You might have been part of a standing national army or a mercenary company, or perhaps a member of a local militia who rose to prominence during a recent war.

Rank: Commander in Zariel's Army

Skill Proficiencies: Athletics, Intimidation

Karlach was given the title Fury of Avernus, and she often talks to the others with the title 'soldier'. But the way she acts, she is very strategic, and she knows war. and you listen to how she talks at times, she sounds like a commander, not just a canon fodder soldier on the front lines. to me, Karlach has experience and knowledge of leading a war she never wanted to. Most canon fodder soldiers don't get special titles either, that tends to be people higher up who have made a 'big notice'. So yeah, Karlach is a Commander of Zariel's war by force.

3) Last but not least. Karlach's subclass. Instead of Wildheart (which I don't see NAYWHERE in my searches) I found Path of the Beast.

Barbarians who walk the Path of the Beast draw their rage from a bestial spark burning within their souls. That beast bursts forth in the throes of rage, physically transforming the barbarian. Such a barbarian might be inhabited by a primal spirit or be descended from shape-shifters. You can choose the origin of your feral might or determine it by rolling on the Origin of the Beast table.

I really like this one, as it allows me to play more into Karlach's family and how they are very much more into appreciating what they have, not being very materialistic, and their nuturing love for animals that Karlach gained. This also gives more to her more beastly nature as well, that she has a natural beast within her due to someone down the line being an archdruid. This digs more into that animalistic nature that I love to give all my characters. I'm thinking Karlach's inner beast is either a wolf or Bear, or perhaps a little of both.

[readingoodbooks]

Looking Back to the Past - Dungeons & Dragons

«Shael, darling, where are you? I’m home!»Dandreal had finally returned after almost a month spent in a village not far from where she lived with her wife, an Elf belonging to an important dynasty in Evermeet; the White Wolf, named Ice, who followed Shael like a shadow; and the little winged elephant who had decided to accompany the Aasimar from her journey into the Avernus. The house to which…

[argetcross]

BG3 Ending Spoilers

I don't know who's made it to the end, so putting all my thoughts and feelings under a cut to be safe:

So guess who was a noble idiot, sacrificed themselves to become a mindflayer, and then subsequently got left behind by half of their friends???

THIS BITCHHHHHHH

It's like, when the Emperor is telling you to ascend and pushing you to do so, Keres was like no no, hell no, I'm keeping my autonomy.

But the moment you fail to dominate the Elder Brain, completely and utterly, and then be told you have to betray Lae'zel and the Githyanki by letting the Emperor consume Orpheus? I feel like the bad decision spiral just went deeper at that point. Saying no to the Emperor and then being called out by Orpheus (for not letting myself be killed by his honor guard) made me desperate to prove I wasn't doing the wrong thing......

Which led to taking on the mindflayer transformation.

Which fucking sucked. Orpheus was fully my friend at that point, but everyone else was confused and put-off. The allies gathered to fight and make the last stand didn't know what to make of me. Astarion was immediately pretty taken aback (which hurt quite a bit, considering the "forced to become a monster" parallels are quite something).

There's also the element of watching all the red dragons descend on the capitol that feels... really bitter sweet, playing as a Red Draconic Sorcerer. Seeing what you once were a part of, a descendant of the creatures, fighting and protecting the city against an enemy you now look like.

So that was all pretty shitty.

But I committed. It was the noble thing to do, to take on the burdens of everyone and not make anyone do what I wouldn't, and we defeated the Netherbrain.

And then the ending.

There's a choice of what to do, now that you're a mindflayer. And you want to live. (But I gotta say, choosing to die felt somewhat cathartic, especially after what happens next. At least it feels like a noble heroic sacrifice instead of being left alone. Shame only Gale tries to stop you from killing yourself. Not a single other word, guys??)

But obviously I wanted to see how things played out so I kept going.

I don't know what I was expecting with Lae'zel, but it was gut-wrenching to watch her go. Even asking her to stay, she's like, I can't. You are ghaik now no matter how noble you are. And there was a look she gave when climbing up a dragon, where, just for a moment, it felt like we were remembering the journey and battles we fought together, but that connection cooled and fizzled away.

Okay, so we lost one of our friends, but that's okay, I hope? Wait no, Karlach is burning up now, shit.

All her lines, her holding onto this friend who is now this sad little squid, made me cry real tears. So Wyll jumping in and volunteering to go to Avernus, Wyll who just escaped Mizora's influence and who has no more powers as a Warlock and my heart just gave up.

In that moment, I saw the option to go to Avernus with her and I picked it without hesitation.

And that was actually a kind of good ending! Better to be an illithid in hell with your friends than an illithid in Baldur's Gate without friends and generally being disliked. Also I bet imps have brains. Shouldn't be too hard to stay fed.

So it was all good until, I was like wait. Shit. I forgot my boyfriend. Going to hell with Karlach and Wyll means leaving Astarion behind. There was no ending card, I have no idea what happened to him, that's no good. So I had to reload. Was there an option to bring him along? I doubted it (nor do I think he'd want to), but I wanted to know what happened to him considering the last scene I got with him was him running sad from the sun.

...And then it bugged out on me.

which is. Fine. Hearing his voice in a darkened room as he gently let me down was Fine. I wasn't thinking wistfully back to being in hell with my friends, nope, siree.

Like I get it. It's mature of him to not rush into a romance with a mind flayer when he's clearly uncomfortable. And it's very very sweet the friendship lines. I feel like the entire playthrough, we were just edging our way between sexless romance and QueerPlatonic Partners. So in some ways, it's fucking hilarious. In the last possible moment, friendship proves it is indeed, magic.

BUT MAN OH MAN DID IT KIND OF STING. I think moreso because everyone was gone. Karlach and Wyll were in the Hells. Lae'zel has gone to the Astral Plane. Shadowheart is probably off with her parents. Gale is. Not around. Probably off to talk to Mystra.

And poor squiddy Keres who sacrificed her body and all chances of a normal life is stuck in hiding in Baldur's Gate. At least she and Astarion are hiding in the sewers together I GUESS. Like it just seems kind of lonely. Maybe they'll become the best of buds again, but honestly Astarion probably will want to stretch his wings and do other things.

So, the ending choices for becoming a squidkid is really:

a) Go to Superhell with your best buds and leave your boyfriend alone in Baldur's Gate with no friends.

b) Stay with your boyfriend who dumps you because he's not into tentacle porn, he becomes your immortal friend for life, and you both run a very successful mortuary/Guild business.

Oh, the choices in an RPG. 😔

(Larian, please fix the epilogue, I want to replay the endgame so badly. Free me from squidkid super hell.)

[strawberrypinky]

WIP Wednesday

✨ Casually dropping some more Enver shenanigans as I'm working on chapter three of fire & ice. I couldn't fix him, but whatever's wrong with him is honestly funny enough ✨

aka yes this is a sneak peek at chapter three of "fire & ice" aka my TavTash fic

When Duke Ravengard left Baldur's Gate because Thavius Kreeg invited him to finally end several disputes plaguing Baldur's Gate and Elturel and the city fell to the Hells, Enver almost dared to feel hope for the first time in a long while. Hoping was a near unconquerable instinct - like each breath, a lung will draw so long as there is air available - but Enver had learned to cease hoping in place of actually striving for his own goals. Hope had died long ago in Raphael's claws. What had been born out of the ashes was something far greater. So, while Enver did not feel hopeful when Ravengard descended into the depths of Avernus, he pertinaciously schemed as the Patriars now remained remarkably insouciant with the promise of safety guaranteed by his Steel Watch. As idiotic as they all were, none of them noticed they were practically paving the way for him, making his job much easier than it should have been.

Unfortunately for him, the remains of his plan did not go over as easily as it should have.

The Astral Prism continued to be undetected, and none of the forces he had sent out found the Gith artefact, thus leaving the entire Absolute Hoax at tremendous risk. Enver was now heavily relying on Ketheric Thorm to find the thing, as any other search had turned out fruitless. Not even the Emperor had returned with the artefact - though the aberrant Illithid had not returned to Baldur's Gate at all. For all Enver knew, the Nautiloid had crashed somewhere, and the Illithid died along with it. Not that he cared, but it was bothersome, just the same. It would have been a lie to deny he wasn't anxious over the prospect of the artefact being lost - the accursed thing could very well pose a great threat to his destiny. He knew it was no longer held in Vlaakith's grasp, which made the prospect of its unknown location only further terrifying, and while Ketheric did well letting his filthy necromancers create an army of True Souls beneath Moonrise, the man itself was far too melancholic to care about much else than his daughter, who they had dug up as Myrkul brought her back to life, only for the girl to disappear into the shadows immediately.

Enver shuddered as he thought of Shar's blight. Few things frightened him, but the Shadow Curse unnerved him in ways he could hardly describe, and it was all over one measly girl. The first night he spent in Moonrise, protected by the unnatural and alien glow that surrounded the near-ruined tower, he wondered if he would ever plunge the world into darkness and sacrifice his own prosperity for one soul. And while his mind did stray to Elodie, he quickly realised Ketheric's folly would never be his. Her death would be a loss to Faerûn and his life, but it could never excuse the pathetic display of grief Ketheric and his lands had turned into.  

He wouldn't want her corpse to litter his path to greatness, but the unyielding devotion Ketheric had to someone other than himself was beneath Enver. He served none other than Bane - not even his wife would be the exception.

[mythrae]

for the character development ask game: 1 and 8?

roger that 🫡

for this I’ll answer for Divya and Taversia since I’ve been pretty heavy on Mythrae/Salome recently!

link to character development asks here!

1. Where in the Faerûn is your Tav from?

Taversia is from Baldur’s Gate, where she spent a good portion of her adult life as a member of the Flaming Fists. Divya is from Elturel, which she was exiled from once the city descended into Avernus.

8. Who are they suspicious of?

Taversia: Shadowheart (at first bc of the artifact), Kagha, Raphael, Mizora, the paladins of Tyr, Zhentarims, Jaheira (at first bc of the druid’s suspicion against her, now they’re close friends), current Flaming Fist members, Gortash… she’s very sus of many people lol

Divya: her story hasn’t progressed past Act 1 yet (🥲) so she doesn’t have as many suspicions against others. But definitely Kagha, Raphael, Mizora so far

[melihel-shadowhorn]

Melihël Shadowhorn Character Sheet

" There is no easy way from the earth to the stars "

✦ Name: Melihël Shadowhorn  ✦ Race: Levistus tiefling ✦ Class: sorcerer, stellar soul ✦ Alignment: neutral good ✦ Age: 32 ✦ Gender: cisgender female ✦ Sexuality: pansexual / grey asexual  ✦ Favorite color: yellow / gold ✦ Likes: magic, stars, lemon crust pie, her familiar ✦ Dislikes: devils and demons, tight spaces, crowds ✦ Hobbies: drawing, singing, stargazing ✦ Appearance: Height/weight: 1,65 m / 59 kg Eyes: left yellow, right light blue, both flaming Hair: white, long, wavy, braids Horns / tail: two sets of black horns, points dyed yellow / medium long, pointy end ✦ Extra: dark freckles on all over her body / a visible scar on her left cheek going down her jaw / her skin and breath feels always cold because of her fiendish bloodline

✦ Personality: in the past, she was a rebellious student, hating the costrictions she had to follow in the academy.

During the years, her temperament cooled down, becoming not only more mature, but usually calm and collected, quiet one would say, private, enjoying more the company of stars or few than a crowd, opening up to just the ones she loves most.

She is selfless, helping always those in need and always ready to lean a shoulder: a kind gesture goes a long way. She is the type to tryto understand one's point of view before judging.

She hated those who tries to take other's freedom and still has unresolved trauma about Elturel in Avernus.

✦ Bio:

✦ Past: born in Elturel, her father, Kairon, was a hellrider, her mom, Rieta, an artist, both levistus tieflings. Her father earned his last name in battle and Melihel proudly uses it till this day in his memory. Somehow, they chose an elfic name instead of an infernal one. She had 3 older sisters and brothers, who she loved deeply. 

She got accepted in the famous Blackstaff academy because of her rare cosmic powers and studied in the same years as the famous prodigy Gale, who outshadowed her. She tried to make friends with the prodigy... But he was always crowded with others, and then completely disappear.

Melihël got home years later with her diploma and with her new raven familiar, Morniar, just enough in time to see her family die as her beloved city descends into Avernus, where she survived somehow with the help of the hellriders, lead by a tiefling named Zevlor, a colleague of her father's, until the city was somehow brought back onto the Material plane. She still has nightmares of the time in Hell.

✦ Present: Exiled from Elturel as every other tiefling after a new wave of hatred and mistrust against the fiend race, she decided to stick together with the refugees and Zevlor, determined to take her people safely to Baldur’s gate.

✦ Future: still undecided, but surely somewhere quiet to live with Zevlor (from whom she has a big crush from the day he saved her)

✦ For Tavs: she joins them to defeat the goblins and free the way for her people, stays because she enjoys travelling with Tav and their companions. Separates temporarely at the end of Act 2, deciding it was best help the refugees until the end. Will come aid if asked.

Wip. May add more info later.