#Jaheira: will you show me how you lost a finger or will you show me what your nine fingers do? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[harpershigh]

"i've got a new knife.. want to see it in private?" (nine fingers [very surprising] for the whisper thing.. OOPS, SORRY)

Whisper something in my muse's ear

Jaheira tilted her head slightly, the corners of her lips curving into a knowing smile. She didn’t pull away, her voice low and laced with a suggestive amusement. “That depends, Astele — are you planning to show me the blade or how well you handle it?”

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Not Man, Nor Monster

Masterlist Word count: 1.5 k Halsin x Reader x Astarion (but he isn't really in it. just the dynamic) Read on AO3

Summary: You tried so hard, but in the end you couldn't stop Astarion's ascension. It weighs on you harder than you had imagined. Halsin helps you get through it.

Normally, camp is a place to unwind. A place where the outside world doesn't exist, except for those nights where the outside world infiltrates camp. Luckily, those nights are few and far between.   Tonight is a different situation. There are two empty tents. One is permanently empty, the other temporarily abandoned to find peace in nature. The one belongs to Astarion, the other to Tav. The rest of the group thought about going after either of them to try and talk this through, but Jaheira made the wise decision to let everything cool down before starting a conversation.  There's a blanket of tension and gloom thrown over the camp as everyone tries to dance around the subject at hand. Jaheira, Halsin, and Gale sit around the campfire, all three hopelessly lost while looking for something to talk about while a bottle of mermaid whiskey gets passed around in circles that seem to go a little too fast. Scratch and Honey, the owlbear Tav jokingly named after Halsin's favourite snack, scatter around but aren't playing as they usually do. It seems even the two of them can feel the tension. Scratch had to be called back multiple times while trying to go after Tav.  Gale finally breaks the silence: 'So what do we do now?' Jaheira shows a pained smile as the mermaid whiskey is passed to her. The bottle is almost empty by now.  'We drink and we wait,' she speaks. Halsin shivers. Quite the sight to see someone that big shiver.  'This doesn't feel right.' As if on que, a bloodcurdling scream is heard from the forest. It is loaded with regret, pain, and heartbreak. The scream goes through bone and marrow, sending a cold shiver down the spines of everyone at camp. Shadowheart comes running towards the campfire, panic in her eyes.  'I think someone should check up on them,' she hastily says, almost getting ready to run into the woods but Halsin gets up and nods to her. She looks defeated and maybe a little annoyed. Jaheira pats the spot on the ground where Halsin was sitting as he walks calmy towards the forest. 'But I-'  'It's better if he goes,' Jaheira interrupts, 'those two are inseparable.' Shadowheart knows it to be true but still looks hesitant as she sits down. Jaheira passes her the mermaid whiskey. She toys with the bottle for a second before finishing it off. 

'Tav, are you here?' Halsin doesn't have to ask, he is one with the forest and knows every creature there. He simply does it to be polite, to give Tav a chance to tell him to piss off if they so please. He finds them curled up and sobbing, laying in the middle of a small clearing. They look up at Halsin with big, red eyes. He hates the sight and would kill Astarion for doing this to Tav but they are more important than his murderous rage right now.  He sits down next to them and they lay their head in his lap. Halsin gently brushes his fingers through their hair, allowing them to let it all go, let everything slip out.  'He told me he'd make me his spawn, after everything we've been through. He tried to do to me what has been done to him. I should've never helped him with the ritual. I am so stupid.'  'No darling, you couldn't predict this. You see the good in everyone, that's what makes you so incredibly special. It is one of many reasons why I love you.'  'You know, that's the worst part. He told me he loved me before proposing to make me his spawn. How can someone be so incredibly cruel? He was healing and this just changed everything.'  'It pains me to see you like this. No one deserves that kind of treatment.'  'But I do. I am far too naïve to fight this fight. I shouldn't be leading a group of people into battle. I'm not strong enough. I make too many stupid decisions.' Halsin can feel as the pain and sadness Tav feels turns into rage and self-hatred. It's something he's never seen of them before. They're normally the sunshine smile at camp, the motivator, the helper. He must've been blind to forget they're a person with fears and insecurities too. Blinded in the light of their smile as to not see the shadows behind it.  'My heart, if not you then who? You are the only one in this camp without a clouded opinion. The only one who weighs every option evenly and thinks ahead. Sometimes I feel like you can see into the future.'  'Even so, I let someone with such a black heart cloud my judgement for so long. I can only be grateful that you saw through all of it. Not everyone at camp is as forgiving as you are.'  'My love, I am not forgiving in the slightest. I hold grudges until the end of time but you always see reason.'  'Halsin, please. I know you're trying to make it better, but I just want to wallow in my feelings until I can't feel anything anymore.'  'Are you sure?'  'No, but your words usually soothe me. Now they only piss me off. I don't want to hate you.' Their breath hitches in their throat as the sobs come up again. Halsin lays himself down in the grass and pats his chest. Tav takes the invitation and lays their head on his chest, curled into his body with his arm around them, holding them tight. It feels like a safety blanket, like a cloud numbing the feelings of before. The big feelings weighing on their chest seem to lose their weight as a spell of tiredness lifts over them. Surely, Halsin has something to do with it, as well as the protective spell they feel encasing them in their spot, but they don't mind. And slowly night becomes day. 

'They're not back yet,' Shadowheart asks Jaheira while they're both suiting up.  'No, and I doubt we'll head out today.' Jaheira can tell that, while she's trying to be respectful and loving, it annoys Shadowheart that Tav can't shove their feelings to the side in favour of the greater good. 'They'll be fine soon. They're strong but you have to realize that they've been playing the part of listening ear for weeks now. Maybe even months. They've listened to everyone's troubles and tried to fix them. Astarion was a real piece of work but even I could see he was starting to regain self-worth and love for life. Besides, they were together for some time. They did everything they could to make Astarion as comfortable and happy as possible and he still stabbed them in the back. That's not something you come back from easily.'  'What do you mean?'  'You did not hear what he proposed to her last night?'  'No, it is not my business.'  'You should make it your business,' Jaheira grumbles, 'he told them he loved them and he'd make them his spawn to love forever.'  'I see. It makes more sense now.' 

Morning light wakes Tav with a comforting thumping under their head. They open their eyes to see Halsin still peacefully sleeping. The protective spell he covered them with has long worn off and so has the sleeping spell he put on them. A smile spreads on their lips as they push themselves up to press the sweetest of kisses on his lips. They did not want his help yesterday but are more than glad he put them to sleep. Nothing they thought or said was rational yesterday.  'You are going to give me toothaches if you keep kissing me that sweetly.'  'I thought you liked sweet.'  'I never said I do not.' A content feeling flushes over Tav as they lose themselves in this moment. There is still good in the world.  'I've been dreaming,' Tav tells halsin, 'I dreamt about a world overgrown with lush greenery and people living in peace with each other and everything around them. There was no Astarion, no elder brain, no tadpoles. Just you and me sitting on the porch of a tiny house we built looking out onto a lake. Sometimes we would go out and roam, uncover the forests around us and finding new spots each and every time. And you told me you loved me every day and I said it back every time.' Halsin smiles and tightens his arm around Tav.  'That sounds like heaven.'  'I wish it were possible.'  'Maybe it is. Maybe we'll find a way after all of this is over.' They stay quiet for a while.  'I think we'll need to kill Astarion after all of this is over. I fear he might be worse than Cazador.'  'As much as I wish it were different, I think you are right, but we'll get there when we get there.'  'Deal.'  'Are you ready to return to camp?'  'Not yet. Let's just stay a little longer.' 

[marigoldbaker]

'show me how much you missed me'

Jaheira and Khalid

bg3 jaheira meets alt her-age khalid. don't think toooo hard about it. (nsfw under the cut!)

She does not know how to hold herself. She is so acutely aware of her age, her lined face, her brittle body. She jokes about it because jokes take the bite from the words, and she is in well enough shape to keep up with the Harpers, but she is not the strong, beautiful young woman she was when she was married to him.

Is married to him. She never truly stopped being married to him. Yet there was a woman whose beauty knocked Khalid sideways, and she has not been that woman for a century. How can she know that he will want--that the man of her dreams, for dreams are all he has been, will even be stirred to anything by--

Khalid says, "Jaheira. Look at me?"

She keeps her eyes on the floor, heart pounding.

Khalid says, again, gently instructive, "Jaheira, look at me."

Their fingers are twined together. If her eyes are away from him, she must have some reminder of him physically here, else she will be certain that this is another dream, that she will lose him again. His hands are still so sturdy and strong. The age on them only makes her heart soar, thinking of him living a full, rich life, never cut brutally short. Her life has been bitter and cold. She cannot imagine him enjoying the visible reminders of that.

Khalid's hand tilts her face up to his. He presses his forehead to hers. At that simple touch, all of Jaheira's anxieties fall away, that old love blossoming within her like a long-lost friend.

He whispers, "There she is. I missed you, dearest."

The easy, sharp-tongued rebuttals do not come as easily as they did a century ago. She stutters--and he is the one man in the world who will never laugh at the High Harper this shaken, this afraid.

"Sh-show me," she whispers. Her heart hammers in her chest. "Show me. How much you missed me."

Khalid smiles, slow and sweet, like he has only been waiting for her to ask. He draws her into a kiss that knocks all thought from her.

She stills, softens, under his hands. Safe, for the first time in a hundred years. He will not let anything happen to her. He will not laugh if she falters; he could never think less of her, for any reason. His touch is just as she remembers. How is that possible? She has worried for so long that the real man could never live up to the halfway-mythic figure she remembers. To learn that he is what she grieved, has always been worth that space she held--

Oh, it aches, but wonderfully. She always knew herself right to love him this much. To miss him as she has.

Khalid's fingers do not falter as he unbuttons her blouse. She remembers him much more tremulous in their youth, and this change in him makes her heart soar with love and pride. He has done this a thousand times before. He does not doubt her love for him. She wonders how long it took them to reach that point together.

The noises she makes as his fingers brush her skin! Every touch sends a jolt of terrified longing through her; she presses herself closer, and he never laughs, never draws back from the ceaseless pit of need that she is, just touches her more often. More firmly. He kisses her neck, her throat, guides her to lie back against the pillows and kisses with slow, wonderful purpose down her body.

As he moves lower, no longer above her, her breath hitches and she tries to pull him back up, into her arms, holding him there so she is certain of his safety. He raises his eyes to hers and breathes, "Easy, my love. I'm here. Let me take care of you."

Just those words are enough to render Jaheira helpless. She falls back into the pillows as his kisses trail lower still.

The noise she makes when his mouth is on her--oh, a good thing indeed that they are tucked away from the rest of the world, because it is simply impossible for her to hold her tongue and cage her heart in a moment like this. She sobs, her fingers curling hard in his hair, pressing him against her, and he does not object, never objects, loves her so much she feels it like lightning in her veins. This, too, is just as good as she remembers. Better. He knows her body. She does not have to tell him what she likes.

He kisses her, strokes her, a slow pleasure that lacks all of the urgency her body has demanded in the century without him. There is no one else in this world she can imagine slowing down for. Slow gets you killed. Caring got him killed. But he is here now. They are here together.

He reaches up with his free hand, grips her thigh. She reaches down and twines their fingers tight, holding him fast.

[blackjackkent]

Minsc, buddy! \o/

"Breathe deep, Boo! The smell of hero sings from every stone in this place!"

Some of the routes through this conversation imply that Rakha hasn't seen Minsc since the Netherbrain, but I think actually that she and Minsc spend a fair amount of time together in Baldur's Gate. Minsc (as we'll see shortly) is keeping himself quite busy all over the city, just as Rakha is, so the two of them find it easy to run into each other.

He drops by her house for a meal a lot, or the two of them go to visit Jaheira together, or Rakha enlists his muscle on some of the rebuilding efforts she participates in. Or sometimes they will just wander the city and talk - or, rather, Rakha will listen while Minsc talks, since he mostly carries the conversation in these instances. He tells her about the work he is doing alongside the Guild, or about Boo's shenanigans, or places he has been in the city that might need support.

She has always seen him as a bit of an aspirational figure during her darker times - how wild and strange and mad he is and nevertheless good. These days, she is not quite so wild herself - but she is still strange and fully conscious of that fact. So she still admires him and tries to take some inspiration from him, even if she will never quite be able to emulate his manner.

Today, though, Minsc's attitude is all celebratory.

"To meet again where your journey began, my friend - an honor. For Minsc and his hamster both." He beams brightly at her, and then gestures at the small, unfamiliar halfling standing at his side. "Oh - and for Happy also."

The halfling gulps. "Yes, erm. Honored, of course," he mumbles.

By now Rakha knows a number of Minsc's Guild contacts in the city; this one, though, is unfamiliar. "Who is this, then?" she asks, bemused.

Happy flinches with a soft, fearful noise, and Minsc laughs jovially.

"Hah! See how your very presence snatches the breath from his chest? And it is no wonder! It is just this day that Happy learned of your legend - while we gazed down upon the very city you saved!"

"He d-dangled me from the High Hall," Happy mumbles. "Upside-down. For two hours."

"The Guild should not go creeping in high places if they do not have the stomach for them, hm?" Minsc says with a chuckle. "It is well for Happy the strange portal appeared when it did. Minsc's arm was growing achesome."

Rakha raises an eyebrow. "You're still chasing after the Guild?" she asks. "I thought you'd made your peace with them." It is the subject of much of their talk, in fact; Minsc is still getting his head around the nuances of good and evil that allow him to work with criminals in pursuit of good effects, but he has for the most part settled into a comfortable rhythm.

"So I have!" Minsc says cheerfully. "Though it is a peace made more from blade and boot than it is any sense of brotherhood. Nine-Fingers forbade any looting of the illithid's fleshy vessels, and so Minsc guards what remains of the battle-site, even from her. But... where Minsc might once have thrown any sneaking scoundrels from the tower-top, now I tell them of you."

He smiles broadly at her. "How you ruled the wickedness within. How they might do the same."

Rakha feels a quiet little flicker of warmth at this. She still doesn't really feel herself someone worthy of admiration... but she is touched that Minsc treats her victory over the beast and the tadpole as something worth boasting of.

"Yes, yes - I'll rule it! I'll be better!" squeaks Happy, on whom the nuances of this conversation are somewhat lost.

Minsc makes a show of thinking about this. "Though, of course, it is still for Boo to decide if they live or die..."

"Oh... Oh gods..." Happy mumbles.

Minsc chuckles. "But enough, my friend! I cannot tell your tale if I do not know the whole of it! Minsc and Boo would know where you have been, what you have done!"

(A/N: Again - bit weird here since I think Rakha and Minsc hang out a bunch in the city. But we shall say that he is asking her to summarize her recent adventures so he can add them to his tale. XD )

Rakha smiles ruefully with a slight shrug. "Happily putting all this behind me," she murmurs.

"Bah, Boo does not believe your bitter words!" Minsc says earnestly. "You stepped through the dusty one's portal willingly enough, no? And without Minsc even there to toss you."

True enough, Rakha reflects. She may wish to put her past behind her - the terrible things she has done, and the terrible battles she had to fight to escape them - but these people, and the person they have helped to make her, endure. As they should.

"Now, halfling." Minsc turns briskly towards Happy, lifting his voice with his best attempt at a professorial air. "Boo will not have you embarrassing him in front of his friends. So you ought to know the *rest* of the company you keep!"

"Wyll Ravengard, the Blade of Frontiers. Devil-horned and angel-hearted!"

"Lae'zel of Creche Killer - true child of Gith and true friend to Boo, though she will 'chk!' and say it is not so."

"Gale, who now names himself a *god*. Though in truth, Minsc has known few wizards who did not think of themselves so."

"Shadowheart! Two gods tugged at her soul, but she managed to keep it all for herself in the end. Wait... Boo... did she do something with her hair?"

"Halsin, Archdruid of Arch... somewhere. He is a much better man than he smells."

"And there, the champion of... having tentacles! Karlach! (She was once very tall and strong, like Minsc, but we still like her as she is.)"

"And finally... Jaheira. If this is a name you do not already know, then not even Boo can save you."

(A/N: Aww. XD Also LOL that Minthara gets completely skipped. XD Presumably this is because Halsin's here, but I checked the dialogue files and Minsc's line about her is: "And Minthara. Yes. She is here, also. Repenting of her wicked ways and performing charitable acts, no doubt!" which is also pretty funny. XD )

"Study them well, sneak-thief, for the best among them will be a guide for your Guild! Heroes who put the city before themselves, who never falter in their duty. And, more than this..." Minsc trails off and then fixes Happy with an imperious look. "Who never arrive to a party without even a gift for the host."

Happy gulps. "But-- wait--"

Rakha, who did not bring a gift either, raises an eyebrow, but Minsc just grins at her.

"Go, my friend. Be among our friends. There is much work yet to be done before this one is fit to join them."

[blackjackkent]

The Archivist is also missing from the Archive, which is fine because it makes it a breeze to steal those gauntlets that Helsik wanted.

And, frankly, everything else in the Archive, while we're at it.

There's actually a lot of very interesting books in here that Rakha would love to be able to sit down and read, were she not currently under Massive Threat from the possibility of Raphael returning home at any moment.

I do rather like this one:

which is Raphael writing a bunch of AU fanfiction about himself becoming Archdevil in a bunch of different ways. XD

Also a fan of Korilla's description of Rakha's party in one of her reports:

"Stumbling around like lost babes (easily distracted ones at that)." XD

Wyll gets the fancy Amulet of Greater Health, which means he is now the tankiest person in the party.

All right, let's grab the Hammer and get this show on the road.

-----

Narrator: There it is. The Orphic Hammer, right within reach. [ARCANA] A magical field surrounds the item, preventing you or anyone from touching it. You surmise it's controlled by a vocal component - magic words.

Not a difficult surmise, given that Rakha found a note with the actual magic words on it already. But she can definitely see the actual spell at work here, too - the way the Weave closes tight around the Hammer, preventing any access. It's a harsh, sharp-edged sort of spell, and so is the Hammer itself, and for a little while she just stands there looking at it.

"Tsk'va," Lae'zel hisses. "Why do you hesitate? Take the Hammer, and with it we shall free the Prince of the Comet from his chains!"

"And little Hope as well!" Minsc rumbles. "She must not be allowed to languish in this place - Boo will not hear of it, and nor shall Minsc!"

Wyll squints at the field keeping the Hammer encased. "I wager there's going to be trouble once we open this up."

Jaheira smiles wryly. "There has already been trouble. What difference shall a little more make?"

Rakha does not join in the banter, just lifts her hand and rests it carefully against the translucent magical barrier. It sparks and shocks painfully against her palm, but she holds it there nevertheless for a moment, setting her jaw.

Speak the magic words: 'Give me my heart's desire.'

She mutters the phrase low, almost inaudible to her companions, as if whispering a secret to the magic itself.

Narrator: The magic blinks away at your words.

Nothing else happens. The room is strange and silent, expectant. Rakha leans forward and takes the Hammer in one hand, lifting it from the pedestal. It's strangely light in her grip, and she can feel the buzz of power through its handle.

(A/N: Turns out this is really anticlimactic when you've already killed everyone in the house so there's no one around to raise the alarm. XD )

"Yes!" Lae'zel hisses excitedly. "The Hammer is ours! The means to Orpheus's release is in our hands. To the Undercity! Voss must hear of our victory."

Her fingers flex into fists at her sides. "When we next enter the Astral Prism, we will break Orpheus free."

Yes, Rakha thinks. And then we will be free of the Emperor.

It is still such a complicated subject to attempt to think about. She trusted, valued, the Guardian and then the Emperor - and the Emperor betrayed that trust in the end. She doesn't really know what to expect when they free Orpheus; Raphael said that the gith prince would be willing to help them, but Rakha doesn't trust Raphael either.

In the end, this is a leap of faith on Lae'zel's behalf and a rejection of the Emperor, both wrapped up together.

And, quite frankly, there's no turning back now. Raphael is almost certainly going to know what's happening by now, and he is NOT going to be pleased.

Lae'zel seems to be thinking along the same lines. "For now, keep focused," she says, visibly putting aside thoughts of the future for the immediate moment's concerns. "Raphael will come to take back his treasure. This is our chance to find out how much this devil bleeds."

A faint smile touches Rakha's lips. Even now, even after they have been through so much and come so close to splintering on a number of occasions, she and Lae'zel are still very much alike in some ways. And one of them is this - that when someone needs punishing, neither of them will hold back.

Perhaps, even with the beast gone, I have a violent heart... but at least I am not alone in it.

[blackjackkent]

Heading back out into the area outside the Bhaalist temple, and just remembered I never posted @rhysintherain's other contribution to Rakha's story!

(See here for his drabble about Rakha and Minsc discussing her Bhaalspawn heritage.)

Quite a while back, when Rakha was still in Act 2, I formulated the headcanon that Rakha and Z'rell were in fact twin Bhaalspawn (since they have the same face model and look generally quite similar). Rhys ran with this idea and came up with a sixth one of Orin's effigies, specifically referencing Z'rell and how she came to also be tadpoled and memoryless.

Spoilers - she wasn't attacked by Orin. ;)

(This is set during Rakha's initial approach to the temple but I didn't post it at the time. D: Still kind of works now on the way out though tbh.)

-----

The Effigy of Z'rell by @rhysintherain

Another step closer to the Bhaalist temple, another gruesome display of mutilated bodies. This one is not in a dim, claustrophobic basement, but in a cavern off the undercity paths that lead ever downward.

Another note, signed in blood by Orin.

Jaheira draws a steadying breath and surveys the carnage. Two halflings, a duergar, a drow, several humans. All dressed in dark robes, the mark of the Absolute carved into their faces. An ogre, sprawled near the stairs that lead down to the cavern. Scorch marks cover the floor. At the back of the cavern, crumpled against the wall, lies a half-orc woman, a knife wound through her jaw.

Like Orin's other bloody displays, Jaheira recognises the scene immediately. She was there, after all. Unlike the others, her companions also recognise this one.

“Search the bodies,” Rakha says tersely. 

As the others begin with the ones near the door, Rakha beelines for the half-orc. 

Jaheira watches in silence as Rakha pulls two pieces of parchment from the dead woman's pockets.

She reads it, stone-faced, then growls, low and angry, crumples the page up, and throws it across the room. Then she turns on her heel and stomps out of the cavern, not waiting for the others to react.

Wyll picks up the crumpled page, once she's out of sight, flattens it between his fingers, and reads it aloud.

“‘The effigy of Z'rell, who lost herself. What use, her zeal? Her sister's mercy spoiled even her death' signed Orin the Red,” he reads. “Gods. It's true, then. Rakha and Z'rell were sisters…”

“Go,” Jaheira nods towards the stairs. “We can handle this.”

Now more than ever, I think I see the undercurrent of your plan clearly, Father. You could not have been contented with Rakha as your Chosen child, could you? She was always a blunt instrument, even at her finest. No volume of blood and singed flesh could make up for her weakness, in the end. Take her treatment of her twin and first rival. Any worthy child of Bhaal would have slain Z'rell, but not Rakha. Instead she robbed her lesser sister of her mind and memories, leaving her breathing and bumbling as a tool of the “Absolute”, rather than a pool of blood and guts, as you would have wished. She showed violence in that, but not strength, not the oblivion of your inevitable plan. Was it not twisted, divine artistry then, that I turned her own method against her? Was it not the embodiment of your will when I rose up to do the same as she had done first, sending her to the slaughter as a vacant shell of her former self? She is not spent yet, Father. The echo of her past purpose lives on, slaughtering her way to me and my highest victory. She is the puppet, and I her strings. Your “favorite” daughter will be my most profane offering yet. I will spill her blood on the floor of your temple, as she spilled so much in your name. She will die, alone and forgotten, in the halls she once ruled as your high priest. And when she falls to feed your ultimate design, viscera and bones to decorate your most holy place, none will stand between us and the end this world so richly deserves. All will be meat and bones in her image. All will be your domain: no more wretched to serve the Tyrant, no more necromancers to revere the Lord of Bones. Only you, Father Bhaal, will preside over what remains. Orin the Red