#Shadowheart is the imposter

[thatratgo]

Always in rpgs. Straight 90% of the time.

[sorcerous-caress]

LIAR. SQUARE UP 👊👊 - Shadowheart anon

I honestly don't know who is who anymore.

[moonselune]

Idea! Romanced Companions reacting to a shapeshifter attempting to seduce tav. Only when they transform to what tav is most attracted to, It's literally just an exact copy of whoever tav romanced

Something possessive jumped out of me when I was writing this so might be slightly different to what was expected hehe

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Karlach was engrossed in a lively conversation with Wyll, her laughter ringing through the campfire-lit clearing. Their discussion about battle tactics and recent victories was abruptly interrupted when Karlach noticed a stranger approaching you. Instinctively, her hand moved to the hilt of her axe, her keen eyes narrowing with suspicion as the figure drew closer.

To her astonishment, the stranger transformed right before her eyes, taking on Karlach's own form. Anger flared within her as she watched the audacious shapeshifter assume her likeness in an attempt to seduce you. With a growl of displeasure, Karlach stepped between you and the imposter, towering over them with her imposing presence.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" she barked, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. She pointed a finger at the shapeshifter, her stance unyielding.

The shapeshifter stammered, clearly caught off guard by Karlach's fierce reaction. "I-I was just…"

"You were just making a big mistake," Karlach interjected, her tone low and dangerous. "There's only one Karlach, and you're looking at her, in all her glory. Get lost before I make you regret it."

With that, the shapeshifter wisely chose to retreat, disappearing into the shadows of the camp. Karlach turned to you, her expression softening as she approached, her arm wrapping protectively around your shoulders.

"You alright, babe?" she asked, concern evident in her voice. "Don't let these idiot cultists get to you."

You nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude for Karlach's fierce loyalty. "I'm fine," you assured her, leaning into her comforting embrace.

She brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, her touch gentle yet reassuring. "Good," she murmured, her fiery eyes meeting yours. "You're mine, and no one's going to mess with that."

Despite the intensity of the moment, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Let's get back to Wyll," she suggested, her voice returning to its usual strength. "He's probably lost without my expert advice."

As you walked back together, her arm still securely around you, you couldn't help but marvel at Karlach's protective nature and the depth of her affection. It was moments like these that reminded you just how fortunate you were to have her by your side, fiercely guarding your heart against any who dared to challenge her claim.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart knelt by the campfire, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tended to her wounds from the day's battle. The air around her was tense with the aftermath of combat, yet she remained focused on her task. Her keen senses alerted her to movement, and she looked up sharply to see a figure approaching – a figure that soon transformed into an exact replica of herself.

Her eyes widened momentarily in surprise, then narrowed with suspicion and barely restrained fury. Shadowheart stood up swiftly, her hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her dagger, her grip tightening with resolve.

The shapeshifter, now wearing Shadowheart's form, approached you with a disarming smile. "I know what you truly desire," they whispered, their voice honeyed with deceit as they closed the distance between you.

Shadowheart's voice cut through the air like a blade of ice. "You think you can deceive me?" Her tone brooked no argument as she stepped decisively between you and the impostor, her posture defensive and protective.

The shapeshifter faltered, caught off guard by Shadowheart's unwavering composure. "I-I can be what they want," they stammered, attempting to maintain their facade.

"You are nothing but a cheap imitation," Shadowheart hissed, her dagger gleaming in the firelight as she held it steady, a silent threat. "Begone, before I decide to end you."

Realizing the danger, the shapeshifter hastily retreated, their illusion shattered by Shadowheart's unwavering determination. Once the threat had dissipated into the darkness of the camp, Shadowheart turned to you, her stance relaxing slightly though her guard remained.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice softer now, filled with genuine concern. She reached out tentatively, as if uncertain of your reaction, yet her touch conveyed reassurance. "I won't let anyone come between us."

You nodded, grateful for Shadowheart's swift protection and unwavering loyalty. "I'm fine," you replied, feeling a rush of relief at her comforting presence.

She nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Good," she murmured, her gaze meeting yours with a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. "You're safe now."

As you stood together in the quiet of the camp, the warmth of the fire casting flickering shadows around you, you couldn't help but admire Shadowheart's strength and resolve. Her fierce protectiveness, combined with her vulnerability in moments like these, made you realize just how deeply she cared. In her own quiet way, she had shown you once again that you were not alone in this journey – that she would always stand by your side, ready to defend you against any threat, real or illusionary.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

Astarion reclined near the crackling campfire, idly sharpening a dagger with precise strokes when his keen senses alerted him to an approaching figure. His sharp eyes narrowed with suspicion as he watched the stranger draw nearer, then gasped in disbelief as the figure transformed seamlessly into an exact replica of himself, down to the smug curve of his smirk.

The shapeshifter approached you with a confident stride, mirroring Astarion's sultry charm with unsettling accuracy. "Isn’t this what you desire?" they purred, their voice a distorted echo of Astarion's own, as they trailed a finger provocatively down your arm.

Astarion's amusement quickly turned to indignation. He sprang to his feet, dagger flashing in his hand as he closed the distance in an instant. "Flattery will get you nowhere, darling," he drawled, his tone laced with a dangerous sweetness that belied his lethal intent.

The shapeshifter blinked, clearly caught off guard by Astarion's swift reaction. "But I thought—"

"You thought wrong," Astarion interjected smoothly, pressing the dagger's tip against the shapeshifter's throat with a precise and threatening grace. "Leave now, before I make you regret ever coming here."

Realizing the gravity of the situation, the shapeshifter hastily retreated, their illusion shattered by Astarion's unwavering determination. Once the threat had evaporated into the shadows of the camp, Astarion turned to you, his expression softening as he approached with a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Are you alright, my dear?" he asked softly, his usual teasing edge softened by genuine worry. "I can't have anyone thinking they can replace me."

You chuckled softly, reassured by his protective instincts and touched by his genuine concern. "I'm fine," you assured him, reaching out to squeeze his hand in gratitude for his swift defense.

Astarion smirked, the tension easing from his shoulders as he returned the squeeze. "Good," he murmured, a playful glint in his eyes returning. "After all, no one can match up to the original, can they?"

He leaned in closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "Though I must admit, seeing someone try to mimic my irresistible charm is quite flattering."

You rolled your eyes fondly, unable to resist teasing him back. "Oh please, you love it when someone tries to be as devilishly handsome as you."

Astarion chuckled, the tension of the moment dissipating into playful banter between the two of you. With his arm now draped casually around your shoulders, you felt a rush of warmth and reassurance. Despite the danger that had briefly intruded upon your camp, you knew you were safe in Astarion's capable – and occasionally teasing – hands.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Gale sat cross-legged on a weathered log, deep in thought as he pored over the ancient tome spread out before him. The soft glow of arcane symbols illuminated his face, casting shadows that danced across the campsite. His scholarly reverie was abruptly shattered by the approach of an unfamiliar figure. His sharp intellect registered the anomaly before his eyes widened in disbelief as the figure transformed into an exact replica of himself, down to the intricate patterns of magical tattoos that adorned his skin.

The shapeshifter, now wearing Gale's form, exuded confidence as they strode towards you with a disarming smile. "I can be everything you need," they declared, their voice carrying the cadence of Gale's own scholarly certainty, reaching out as if to draw you closer.

Gale rose to his feet in one fluid motion, arcane energy crackling around his fingertips. His expression hardened with resolve as he stepped decisively between you and the impostor, his stance authoritative and protective. "This ends now," he stated firmly, his voice carrying the weight of command.

The shapeshifter blinked, momentarily taken aback by Gale's sudden assertiveness. "But I thought—"

"You thought wrong," Gale interrupted, his tone unwavering. "There is only one Gale, and you are not him."

With a flick of his wrist, Gale conjured a swirling vortex of arcane power that surged towards the shapeshifter, compelling them to retreat hastily, their illusion shattered. Once the threat had dissipated into the night, Gale turned to you, his features softening with genuine concern.

"Are you alright, my love?" he asked tenderly, his scholarly demeanor momentarily replaced by a gentler expression. "I can't have anyone thinking they can replace me."

You nodded, touched by Gale's protective instincts and grateful for his swift defense. "I'm fine," you assured him, stepping closer and reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his arm.

Gale's gaze softened further, his lips curling into a small, relieved smile as he covered your hand with his own. "Good," he murmured, his voice a quiet reassurance. "After all, there's no duplicating true scholarly prowess."

He chuckled softly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he glanced back towards where the shapeshifter had fled. "Though I must admit, seeing someone attempt to replicate my intricate tattoos is rather amusing."

You couldn't help but smile back, grateful for Gale's steadfast presence and the depth of his affection. As you stood together amidst the lingering traces of magical energy, you knew that no matter the challenges that lay ahead, Gale would always be there – both scholar and protector, steadfast in his love for you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll sat cross-legged near the edge of the camp, his skilled hands methodically polishing the blade of his rapier. The glint of the campfire danced off the silvered steel, casting a flickering light over his focused expression. His senses on high alert, he noticed a figure approaching—a stranger whose form shifted before his eyes into an exact replica of himself, scar over the eye and all.

His grip tightened instinctively on the hilt of his rapier as he stood up, muscles tensing beneath his leather armor. His brows furrowed with suspicion as he took in the audacity of the shapeshifter's deception. "What kind of trickery is this?" Wyll demanded, his voice cutting through the quiet of the night like a blade of ice.

The shapeshifter, now wearing Wyll's form, smiled with an unsettling familiarity, attempting to mimic Wyll's charismatic charm. "I thought you might appreciate a familiar face," they said smoothly, extending a hand towards you in a gesture of false intimacy.

Wyll stepped forward, his posture protective and resolute as he positioned himself firmly between you and the doppelganger. "There is only one Blade of Frontiers," he declared sternly, his gaze unwavering. "And it’s certainly not you."

With a swift, practiced motion, Wyll unsheathed his rapier, the blade catching the firelight as he leveled it at the impostor with unwavering precision. "Leave now," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument, "or face the consequences."

Realizing their ruse was exposed, the shapeshifter hastily retreated into the darkness, their illusion shattered by Wyll's steadfast resolve. Once the threat had dissipated, Wyll turned to you, his demeanor softening as he sheathed his rapier and approached with gentle concern.

"Are you alright, love?" he asked tenderly, his usual confidence softened by genuine worry. He reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch warm and reassuring.

You nodded gratefully, comforted by Wyll's protective presence and touched by his unwavering loyalty. "I'm fine," you reassured him, offering a small smile to ease his concern.

Wyll returned the smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a mixture of relief and affection. "Good," he murmured softly, his hand lingering on yours as he squeezed it gently. "You know I'll always have your back."

As you stood together in the quiet of the camp, the crackling of the fire providing a backdrop to your shared moment, you couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for Wyll's courage and dedication. His swift defense against the shapeshifter had not only protected you physically but reaffirmed the depth of his love and commitment. In his arms, you knew you were safe and cherished—a feeling that strengthened the bond between you, forged amidst the trials of your journey together.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Lae'zel's keen eyes scanned the perimeter of the camp with hawk-like intensity, her warrior's instincts finely attuned to any potential threat. When she spotted the approaching figure, her gaze narrowed with suspicion, and her grip tightened instinctively on the hilt of her sword. Her initial curiosity turned swiftly to ire as the figure transformed before her eyes into an exact replica of herself, mirroring her fierce demeanor and steely resolve.

The shapeshifter, now wearing Lae'zel's form, approached you with bold confidence, their voice echoing Lae'zel's commanding tone. "You know you can't resist me," they purred, their eyes fixed on you with unsettling intensity.

Lae'zel surged forward in an instant, her blade drawn and poised for battle. "You dare to mock me with this charade?" she spat, her voice laced with barely contained fury.

The impostor recoiled, caught off guard by Lae'zel's swift and ferocious response. They attempted to retreat, but Lae'zel pursued relentlessly, slashing at them with calculated precision. "There is only one Lae'zel," she declared fiercely, her strikes relentless and unforgiving. "And you are not worthy to even speak my name."

With a final swipe, the shapeshifter narrowly escaped, fleeing into the darkness with their illusion shattered by Lae'zel's unyielding determination. Once the threat had dissipated, Lae'zel turned to you, her expression softening marginally as she sheathed her sword and approached with a rare display of vulnerability.

"You are mine," she stated firmly, her voice holding a mixture of possessiveness and protectiveness. "Do not forget that."

You nodded, touched by the depth of Lae'zel's loyalty and the fierceness of her defense. Her unwavering commitment to your safety and her intense dedication resonated deeply, forging a bond between you that transcended words. As you stood together amidst the quiet of the camp, the tension of the encounter giving way to a sense of solidarity, you knew that with Lae'zel by your side, no challenge could threaten your connection or your shared journey ahead.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

Minthara's keen eyes swept the campsite with a vigilance honed by years of command, her gaze piercing through the shadows to spot the approaching figure long before they neared you. As the shapeshifter transformed into an exact replica of Minthara herself, duplicating her sharp features and the cold disdain in her eyes, Minthara's lip curled in unmistakable contempt.

The shapeshifter, now wearing Minthara's form, approached you with a calculated mimicry of her icy charm. "You know you desire me," they whispered seductively, their voice carrying the chilling allure that Minthara wielded like a weapon.

Minthara stepped forward with swift, purposeful strides, her presence imposing and her expression stone-cold. "You are a poor imitation," she hissed, her hand drifting to the hilt of her weapon. "And I do not tolerate pretenders."

The shapeshifter's facade wavered under the intensity of Minthara's glare, their confidence giving way to uncertainty. "I-I can be whatever they want," they stammered, attempting to salvage the illusion.

"You will never be me," Minthara snarled, her blade drawn now and pressed against the shapeshifter's throat with lethal intent. "Leave," she commanded, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "and pray I do not hunt you down."

With a final, chilling warning, the shapeshifter fled, their deception exposed and their retreat hastened by the threat of Minthara's wrath. As the tension of the encounter ebbed away, Minthara turned to you, her demeanor softening imperceptibly but significantly.

"You belong to me," she stated quietly, her voice a rare blend of possessiveness and vulnerability. "And no one else."

You nodded, feeling the weight of Minthara's protectiveness and the depth of her commitment. Her fierce defense of your bond left an indelible mark, solidifying the strength of your connection amidst the trials of your journey together. As you stood together in the aftermath, the firelight casting flickering shadows over the camp, you knew that Minthara's unwavering devotion would always be your steadfast anchor in the tumult of your shared adventures.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

Halsin knelt by a wounded animal, his hands tender and skilled as he tended to its injuries with the gentle touch of one intimately familiar with the ways of nature. His brow furrowed slightly as he sensed a disturbance, his keen senses detecting the subtle shift in the camp's atmosphere. Rising slowly, his movements deliberate yet fluid, he observed with a mixture of concern and determination as the figure in the distance transformed seamlessly into a perfect replica of himself.

The shapeshifter, now wearing Halsin's form, approached you with a disarming smile that attempted to mimic Halsin's warmth and wisdom. "I know what you like," they murmured softly, stepping closer with unsettling familiarity.

Halsin's voice resonated with quiet authority, his tone carrying the weight of years spent attuned to the natural rhythms of the world. "This deception will not stand," he declared firmly, his eyes unwavering as he moved closer to intercept the impostor.

Caught off guard by the real Halsin's presence, the shapeshifter faltered, their illusion cracking under the intensity of Halsin's gaze. As the druid's form shifted seamlessly into that of a bear, a low, menacing growl rumbled through the clearing, sending the impostor recoiling in fear.

The shapeshifter abandoned their facade in a panicked retreat, fleeing from the camp with the echo of Halsin's protective wrath still ringing in their ears. Returning to his elf form, Halsin approached you with a calm reassurance, his hand coming to rest gently on your shoulder.

"You are safe with me," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm against the lingering unease of the encounter. "Do not let such trickery disturb you."

You nodded, grateful for Halsin's stalwart presence and the steadfast comfort he offered in the face of uncertainty. His unwavering commitment to your well-being and his innate understanding of the natural world were pillars of strength that grounded you amidst the shifting tides of adventure and intrigue that defined your journey together. As you stood together in the tranquil aftermath, the bond between you strengthened by each shared trial, you knew that with Halsin at your side, there was nothing you could not face with courage and resilience.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope y'all like it - Seluney xx

[trappedinafantasy37]

There are multiple gods in the game that you can directly interact with and they all have ties to the narrative. You can interact with Shar via Shadowheart. You can interact with Mystra via Gale. You can interact with Myrkul via Ketheric when he takes on the avatar form. You can interact with Bhaal via Durge and in the fight with Orin. You can interact with Bane after killing Gortash and using "Speak with Dead" in which the soul you speak to is not Gortash, but Bane himself. I would include Vlaakith in this list but Vlaakith is not a god, she is a lich presenting herself as a god. And, of course, there is the Absolute which doesn't really become a god until it ascends into the Netherbrain (although that is debatable).

But, did you know that Lolth will also interact with you? As far as I am aware, Lolth is the only non-story related god in which you do have interactions with. One of them is only available if you are a Lolth-sworn drow, and the other is only available if you are a Cleric of Lolth (you do not need to be Lolth-sworn for it).

The first instance is in the goblin camp with the spiders in the pit. This does require that you are a Lolth-sworn drow and that you have the ability to speak with animals. When talking to the spiders, you will have the option to present yourself to the spiders as Lolth herself. If you fail the persuasion check, Lolth gets pissed off as she was listening to you and is not happy that you tried to present yourself as her. And she tells the spiders you are an imposter and they attack you. But if you succeed the check, Lolth doesn't do anything and the spiders will think you are Lolth. So, Lolth doesn't really have a problem with you pretending to be her. But if you are going to pretend to be her, you better do it right. If the spiders think you are Lolth, you can ask them about what's going on in the goblin camp and the spiders only talk about one thing. They immediately tell you that there is another drow in the camp who has forgotten her way and that she is forsaken. And, as I said, Lolth is here. She heard the spiders admit this. Lolth does nothing about it.

The second instance is in the Underdark with the Phalar Aluve. When you interact with the sword, you have two different checks, a Strength check and a Religion check. If you do the Strength check, you can just pull it out of the stone and be on your merry way. If you perform the Religion check, the narrator will tell you different things depending on certain conditions. If you are a Lolth-sworn drow and/or a Cleric of Lolth, the narrator will tell you that the religious rite to pull the blade from the stone is blasphemous as it pays honor to the weak. If you are of any other race and/or cleric of any other god, the narrator will tell you that the sword is of Eilistraee and the rite pays honor to the fallen. The religious rite is that you spill a little bit of your blood and the sword will rise out of the stone on its own. If you do this as a Cleric of Lolth (you don't need to be Lolth-sworn) you will feel hundreds of spiders crawl all over you as Lolth is warning you not to do shit like that ever again. Not only did you perform the religious rite of another god, you performed the religious rite of a god she hates. And she is letting you know how much she hated that.

These are the only two instances in the game that I have found in which Lolth interacts with the player but there are plenty of other moments in which Lolth could interact with you, but doesn't (such as with the Phase Spider, the baby spiders in Grymforge, Kar'niss, or the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar). Of these two moments where Lolth does interact with you, one of these instances is in the goblin camp, and the other is in the Underdark not too far away from the goblin camp. I don't think it is much of a coincidence that these two interactions occur in close proximity to Minthara. Almost as if Lolth has a reason to be in that area specifically to watch and monitor things, and you just so happened to be there. And the only things that compel her to interact with you is because you pissed her off. But, as long you don't piss her off, she will do nothing and she will say nothing.

When Minthara was being tortured by the Absolute, she prayed to Lolth and begged Lolth to give her the strength to fight her enemies. But Lolth does nothing and Lolth says nothing. In fact, that was the full extent of Lolth's "punishment" for Minthara, nothing. All Lolth did was not answer Minthara's prayers and not show up when Minthara needed her the most. Lolth did not torture Minthara like the Absolute did, Lolth did not turn her into a drider, nor did Lolth eat her. All she did, was nothing. And yes, Lolth is known for abandoning drow and no longer interacting with them. A drow has to do something incredibly awful in order for Lolth to just back away from them entirely. But you cannot convince me that Lolth is going to let one of her Baenre's go so easily. It's not as if Minthara has done anything truly awful either to make Lolth that mad.

According to Minthara, she herself has sinned against the Spider Queen, but it's not as if she chose to abandon Lolth, she was forced away and mind controlled into being devoted to another god. But would this make a difference to Lolth? Does it really matter if Minthara was compelled to have faith in another god besides Lolth? It isn't until Minthara is freed and feels the absence of Lolth that she chooses to no longer follow Lolth. Minthara even mentions how turning against Lolth is a big no-no in Menzoberranzan. Minthara herself at one point has hunted down and killed those who turn their backs from Lolth so she knows the same will be done to her if she were to ever return home. In fact, if you are a Lolth-sworn drow or a Cleric of Lolth, you are given unique dialogue options with Minthara to kill her because she is a traitor to Lolth and these options continue to show up until you recruit her into your party and she joins your roster. Despite all of this, Lolth does nothing. Minthara spews anti-Lolth rhetoric left and right, and Lolth does nothing. If you take Minthara to the tabernacle, she will spit on a shrine to Lolth, and Lolth does nothing.

Minthara is also able to walk through the Gauntlet of Shar, which is in the Underdark, and Lolth does nothing. Sure, you could argue that its connection to the Shadowfell and the fact that Shar is there via Shadowheart is enough to keep Lolth away. The lore of DnD does not make it quite clear what the relationship between these two goddesses are. But I am willing to bet that Lolth is smart enough not to step on Shar's toes because Shar would annihilate her. However, there is a small little section of the Gauntlet where it actually does spit you out directly into the Underdark and into Lolth's territory. Minthara can walk right out there just fine, and Lolth does nothing.

But most importantly, Minthara's default ending is her returning to the Underdark with the sole purpose of destroying House Baenre and then killing Lolth. Destroying House Baenre could lead to a chaotic and political disaster in Menzoberranzan, and Lolth does nothing. Minthara quite literally wants to kill Lolth and has intentions to do so after taking House Baenre, and Lolth. Does. Nothing!

If Minthara goes into the Underdark and destroys House Baenre, this will cause chaos and death. And the Baenre's won't be the only ones she has to destroy, but any and all allies of House Baenre in which they do have a lot. And Lolth will feed off of all the death and carnage and chaos that Minthara is about to bring to Menzoberranzan because Lolth loves chaos more than she hates traitors.

Maybe, Lolth has not abandoned her as Minthara thinks she has. Maybe, Lolth has done nothing and said nothing because Minthara has not actually upset her. Maybe, Lolth has done nothing and said nothing because Minthara is already doing everything Lolth wants her to do. And all it took, was making Minthara think that Lolth abandoned her. There was no need for Lolth to answer Minthara's prayers, because Minthara always had the strength to fight her enemies.

[secretlywritingstories]

This thing won't have you, it won't win | BG3 Astarion one shot

Summary: You had tried to kill Astarion because he was the one you cared for the most. Now you'd vowed not to sleep to keep him safe. It doesn't take long for him to notice and confront you.

Tags: During canon Act 3, resisting the urge, late night conversation, show of trust

Warnings: Past suicidal idealisation and talk of dying/being killed

Word count: 4.8k

Read on AO3 or below

It should feel like victory to have made it this far. A mere walk away from getting into Baldur’s Gate. Part of you hadn’t sure if you were ever going to make it here, but now it was within your grasp. You might even have been there already, if you hadn’t insisted that you should approach the gate with fresh eyes and set up camp in Rivington for tonight.

Most of your companions had very good reasons to want to be in the city as soon as possible. Shadowheart wanted to search for her parents, Wyll wanted to rescue his father, Karlach wanted to confront Gortash, Lae’zel wanted to meet with Voss, Gale wanted to find answers in Sorcerous Sundries and Astarion wanted to confront Cazador. You’d promised to assist all of them with their missions, even if you weren’t sure why they trusted you.

Especially now that they’d seen the destructive dark urge brimming under your skin. Though, they did all seem to move past it too quickly. So very full of trust when you were just as dangerous as the monsters you all had been hunting. It had only been a couple of days since you tried to murder Astarion in his sleep, and they all sleep soundly or trance comfortably next to you again.

They were so trusting. It would be so easy to take advantage.  

Granted, a lot had happened since then. Taking down Ketheric Thorm was no easy feat, nor was the battle inside of the prism that revealed that your supposed dream guardian was none other than a mindflayer. It’s just monsters everywhere you turned these days. After today, you could add Orin to that list.

A shapeshifter with the ability to imitate any of you. She could be any of your companions right now, feigning sleep and plotting her move. That should be the reason you were staying awake restlessly, but wasn’t. You were fairly confident that you could sniff out an imposter if needs must.

It was something she said that added to your sleeplessness. When you found her impersonating that Flaming Fist. In the moment, you tried not to let the words burrow under your skin but now they did. She called you her sibling.

Even though she could shapeshift, you doubted she meant that she was a fellow tiefling. No, her words spoke of something much more sinister. A deeper bond. One likely made of servitude. And you knew which of the Dead Three that she served.

Bhaal. The lord of murder.

And a killing urge had been burning in your chest ever since you woke up on that nautiloid. It’s been the only thing that you’d felt yourself tethered to. The urges compelling you to take lives and delight in the gore. It’s the most real thing about you, and it felt like it was the only thing you would find whenever you tried to look into your past.

It was what that stupid self-acclaimed butler, Sceleritas Fel, kept telling you about yourself too. As if this used to be something you did with pleasure. You were good at it. What did that say about you?

“Darling?”

The way you twisted around, weapon raised and poised to strike could just be a testament to all of the trauma and fighting you’ve had to undergo these past weeks. It would surely be enough to make anyone skittish and paranoid.

But you felt how your body moves with practiced ease, and it took all of your focus to adjust your swing to avoid contact when you spotted Astarion’s red eyes. Granted, he could probably survive a slash of your dagger, but you didn’t trust yourself not to keep going if you started spilling his blood.

“You got a death wish?” you snarled.

Your grip on the dagger was so tight that it almost hurt. Just like it would hurt to plunge it into Astarion’s heart. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would make such a beautiful mess. Blood everywhere. Oddly, he’d probably appreciate the view too.

“I did,” Astarion said and despite how you just tried to attack him, he found a spot next to you. He ducked into you tent to share your bed roll. “Before.”

The word was loaded and it made your jaw flex. You had a feeling that you still didn’t know the true extent of Astarion’s torment at Cazador’s hands but you’d got more than enough to paint a vivid picture. It made sense that he wanted to die before.

200 years was a very long time. It’s the kind of time that you couldn’t even grasp. You didn’t think you’ve been alive for that long, but even if you had, you wouldn’t know. Sometimes, it really did feel like your brain was only a few weeks old. Everything before it was black.

No, not black.

Red.

Bathed in it.

You were just as bad as the damn ox with his inner visions of carnage.

A touch on the back of your hand pulled your attention back to Astarion. His touch was so gentle that you barely felt it. You weren’t sure how he could touch you like that when you almost took his life just days ago.

When you would have made quick work of him just like you did poor Alfira. Alfira who just wanted to join the party, see the world and play her lute. The same lute that still sat in the camp chest, bloodied edge untouched.

You’d blacked out for that. No recollection at all but the blood on your hands and the sick delight twirling around in your chest was more than enough to confirm you were the culprit. It should have been the first warning. The others should have kicked you out of the camp.

Even if you now knew it would have turned you into a mindflayer without the prism’s protection. Though, it had flown to you before, and the Emperor seemed rather attached to you. So maybe you’d have killed all of the others if you’d wandered off and it had decided to follow you.

“Maybe you should kill me,” you found yourself saying to Astarion and withdrawing the hand under his touch.

You didn’t deserve gentleness. Not when you might have laid waste to whole cites, bathed in the blood of children and done it all with a sick grin on your face. It felt like something you would have done.

Well, not you now, but you then. And you were not sure if there is all that much of a difference. Fighting was becoming more difficult with each passing day.

“Way too late for that,” Astarion said, drawing his hand back to himself. “If you wanted to die at my hand, then you should have let me drain you that first night.”

Right. Back then, he could have killed you. You had presented yourself to him and let him sink his teeth into your neck. Part of it felt wrong, like you shouldn’t be handing him such an obvious chance to hurt you.

But he’d stopped when you’d asked. And every time since that, he’d just taken enough to recover his strength, not even disturbing you in your sleep.

“Can’t turn back time,” you muttered.

If you could, you’d go further back. Figure out what had happened to you. You had more pieces now, and you knew you’d landed in a pod in the mindflayer colony and been experimented on. A sneaking suspicion told you that maybe Orin had been involved in landing you in there with the way she acted around you.

But if you had truly been her sibling and delighted in killing like your urges told you, wouldn’t you have been on the same side? Why would she have turned on you?

Astarion let out a soft huff. “I would not want to,” he said and reached for you again. This time, it wasn’t just fingers gracing the back of your hand. No, he grabbed your hand and pulled it into his lap. Held on tight enough that you couldn’t just slip it away easily.

You could get it free. His fingers probably broke rather delicately. Snap, snap, snap.

No. You liked his hands. You didn’t want them destroyed. You pinched your eyes together and willed the thoughts away. It was something you were getting better at, at the very least. You were starting to have practice.

But it had been something different when it came to the full slaughter. You hadn’t been able to anticipate what happened with Alfira. You had just barely managed to warn Astarion that he was about to be next.

And when you’d come to all tired up and angry, it had felt like you were in some sort of primate, feral state. But it had still felt like you. Just unleashed. Like it was always going to be brimming underneath the surface. It had been caught just in time, but you might not be as lucky next time.

“I’m going to hurt you,” you said to Astarion and felt how it cracked something open in your heart.

You’d told Sceleritas Fel that you hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Astarion about how you cared for him yet. It was the truth, but it was probably better if he didn’t know the true extent of it.

You were so selfish for even getting involved with him when your past was blank but stained. When you had to worry about tadpoles in your brains and the elder brain being controlled by lunatics. Two now, instead of three but still. There should be no time for romance or attachment at all.

It didn’t seem to matter, because you couldn’t deny that you cared deeply for Astarion. In fact, you cared for every single one of your companions and all of them were in danger because you couldn’t control this part of you.

“I’ve got thick skin. You know, you’ve seen my scars,” Astarion said, voice almost dancing over the words, even as he pulled forth his own trauma for you. “Is this why you haven’t been sleeping?”

You snapped your head sideways to face him. “What?”

He was right of course, but you’d mostly been sneaky with you lack of sleep. You still let keeping watch rotate and you lied down in your tent, pretending to sleep. It was taking its toll, but it wasn’t anything that a few healing potions couldn’t fix. It was a good thing that you were far more precise with your arrows than your spells. Those hadn’t been recharged in a while.

“Halsin noticed,” Astarion said, just a touch too casual. “You’ve got to remember that I’m not the only elf in the camp anymore. Him and Jaheira aren’t as willing to look the other way.”

“Concerned?” you asked, propping a knee up in front of you, leaning on it and tilting your head to the side. You tried to pull your hand back over to yourself, but Astarion kept hold of it. Not hard, just enough that it couldn’t slip away from him without you putting more force behind it.

You didn’t.

“Always, that big hunk of an elf. He has quite the soft spot for you. Going on about how he had high expectations and you exceeded even those,” Astarion said, and he was too tense about it.

Jealous maybe?

He hadn’t seemed to care back in the groove when several of the other companions started to veer for your attention. He hadn’t brought it up until that dance with Wyll where he’d asked you to choose between them. You’d chosen Astarion without blinking.

It had been easy.

All of the other companions had their beauty, charms and even dark demons, but Astarion was the only one who seemed to get you. He accepted you, even when you weren’t always put together right. He’d proved that even more when he’d comforted you after you’d tried to kill him.

You wondered if this was a wound for him and Halsin was a tool that you could press into it. Drive a wedge between you and Astarion. If you broke up, then he might no longer be the one you cared for the most. He could be safe from your sharp claws wanting to dig in and draw blood.

Though, if you did that, maybe it would just be someone else next time. Your care for Astarion was extraordinary but you truly cared for everyone in camp. Even the kid you’d allowed to stay here on a whim. Yena. A damn bleeding heart you were, even if it was not the kind of blood that you desired to spill.

It was the second time you’d brought a child into camp. Arabella had made it away okay but it was not sure that Yena would. Perhaps that was why Astarion had wanted to turn her away.

He would never admit it, but you were discovering a soft side to him. Just like now, with how he was holding your hand, thumb gently stroking over the back of it. A little quiet moment for just the two of you. You’d been spiralling and he’d come to find you. Sit with you, so the night didn’t seem so daunting.

You should be driving Astarion away but your heart couldn’t take prying into his insecurities. It felt too cruel. You might be bloodthirsty and have urges but you didn’t want to be cruel.

At least not the you who didn’t remember what you’d been like before.  

“Do you think I’m a worshipper of Bhaal?” you asked him, gnawing on your lip.

“Because of what that maniac shapeshifter said?” Astarion asked.

“Orin,” you corrected, even though you knew he must know her name. He liked to play aloof and like he wasn’t paying attention but he always did.

“No,” Astarion said. 

“What? it’s the most sensible explanation,” you argued.

“Well, remember what you asked, love. You asked if you’re a worshipper. Present tense. You’re not.”

“Semantics.”

“No, I do not think so. You don’t know your past but you do know what you’ve been acting like in these weeks.”

He was trying to be sweet but maybe he had fallen for whatever charade you’d been putting on. Yes, you’d tried to be honest with your companions about what was going on with you, but you knew they couldn’t truly grasp the extent of it. Just how brutal it got inside of your head.

“Just because I don’t remember doesn’t mean that it’s not true. And I doubt you just leave Bhaal behind. Look how complicated it got with Shar for Shadowheart,” you pointed out.

“And look how she’s now. New hairdo and everything!” Astarion said with a high-pitch giggle.

He was clearly trying to lighten the mood, but you wouldn’t let him. This was too dangerous.

“She was a Selûnite first,” you reminded him. “Taken against her will when she was just a child. Brainwashed into worship.”

Astarion clicked his tongue and gave your hand a squeeze.

“And who’s to say that you weren’t?”

You didn’t mean to laugh but it jumped out of you. You almost admired his optimism and faith in you. You didn’t think that he’d be the kind to look on the brighter side of things, yet here he was. Maybe he really was changing.

“Because I like it,” you admitted in a tiny voice. “I revel in it. I crave it. The urge is all-consuming sometimes. And it’s…”

Your throat felt tight. Not like you were about to cry but like you were about to scream. Scream out all of the frustration and fear sitting so tightly in your chest.

“Tell me,” he requested so gently.

How could you deny him?

“It’s not this thing,” you said recalling his words from that night. They had burned into your brain so much and you’d clung to them like they were a lifeline, even if it felt like it was made of twine.

This thing won’t have you.

It won’t win.

But it would. Because as much as you wanted to trust it and believe him, it didn’t feel like a thing. Something external. It would have been so much easier if you could cheat yourself into believing that. This was something done to you. A thing making you do horrible thing. A forced worship. A butler guiding your murderous hand. Any of the options was better than what felt like the truth if you dared look close enough.

That it was just you. Not a thing in you, but part of you. Intricately woven into your very fabric in a way that it could never be separated. It would win because the only way to kill it would be to kill yourself.

“It’s me,” you whispered.

Astarion let go of you hand and you thought that maybe he was finally recoiling in fear and disgust when he understood that all the death and destruction lived in your bones. But then he came close again. Much closer than before. Kneeling. Right in front of you and reaching up to gently cradle your face.

A thumb swiped across your cheek.

It felt wet.

Tears.

You were crying. No, what? You weren’t even sure you could do that. You hadn’t so far since you’d woken up. You had been ready to chalk it up to the fact that you were mindless and traumatised, or maybe just incapable of it. Like you could either be a murderous lunatic or a cry-baby but not both.

Clearly, you had been wrong.

You hoped it wasn’t the only thing you were wrong about. But you shouldn’t cling to that hope. You should be protecting Astarion and create distance between the two of you. So, you wouldn’t have the urge to drive a stake through his heart again. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you went to sleep and woke up with his blood on your hands.

Maybe it would make you snap into your old self. Bloodthirst ruling above all when you’d taken the life of the person you cared for the most.

Astarion’s eyes were so expressive and he looked like he wanted to say words of comfort but he was holding back. You appreciate that. You didn’t want platitudes right now, because you felt just vicious enough to twist them and spit them back in his face.

But you let him hold your face and look at you, even if it hurt to be seen like this.

“You know what I thought when I first saw you?” you asked, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to look at him as you shared this confession.

“What a handsome elf,” he said, a wry twist to his words.

You huffed out the tiniest laugh.

“Not too far off,” you said and swallowed. Licked your lips, exhaled. “What a perfect pretty corpse he’d make.”

You were echoing a thought that had resurfaced that night you’d felt driven to kill him. A fantasy that you couldn’t shake from your brain. You didn’t feel like you wanted him dead. In fact, you wanted to protect him but your thoughts told you a different thing.

Astarion didn’t let go of your face, but he let out a soft hum. Considering. You didn’t dare open your eyes to see the expression on his face.

“Stay here,” he said, gently letting go of you, “and keep your eyes closed.”

You had been proclaimed the leader by every single companion, even if you had never fought for the position. You didn’t have to listen to anyone. They had to listen to you. But still, you sat with your eyes closed and waited just like Astarion had asked.

The night air was crisp and almost comforting. Tomorrow, you’d reach Baldur’s Gate and you could find an inn. You’d leave your camping days behind you. You had a feeling that you’d miss it. 

Astarion came back and it felt as if he was making more noise than he needed as to not startle you again. He could move deadly silent if he wanted, as he’d proved against your enemies many times. They never knew what hit them when he came out from the shadows.

“Hands,” Astarion asked and you weren’t sure what he was asking for but you lifted both your hands, palms up.

He took hold of them and he pressed a handle of a weapon into your waiting hands. Not one of your own, they all had handles smoothened from use. No, this texture was rough, like uncut wood.

Astarion hadn’t said that you could open your eyes but they snapped open all the same, and you opened them just in time to see him kneeling in front of you again. Only this time, there was a stake between you and your hands on the handle of it, while he guided the sharp tip to the centre of his chest.

When you realised, you tried to thrash away and toss it aside. It would kill him if you drove that through and you weren’t in control of your impulses. What in the hells was he thinking? He had said he didn’t want to die anymore but then he handed you the very thing that could kill him.

“Astarion,” you said, in warning, when he grabbed your elbow with one hand and curled your hands back around the stake firmly with his other.

“This is what you should have done when you found out that I was a vampire spawn,” he said, and you’d never quite heard his voice sound so quiet. His usual melodic tones stripped away, it seemed to bare and vulnerable. “It is what most people would have done if they’d woken up to a vampire trying to feed on them.”

You couldn’t exactly disagree with that, but honestly the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. A part of you had been almost thankful, because it meant someone else in camp was hiding a dark secret. That you weren’t the only one driven by your urges.

You’d uncovered more of your companions’ secrets now, but Astarion had been the first. A glimmer of hope that you weren’t quite so alone. Of course, you hadn’t killed him. You understood what it was like having bloodthirst driving you.

“I didn’t want to kill you,” you said, and the words sounded strange in your mouth. You meant them but it still felt unnatural.

Astarion’s expression softened into a smile and he looked like he knew something that you didn’t. But instead of flaunting that, he was trying to make a point. You weren’t sure that you liked where this was going but you were still bound and breathless to watch. Poised with a weapon to end him with just one good thrust.

“And a stake to the heart is what would have happened the morning after too, if you hadn’t stuck your neck out for me figuratively as well as literally. Our companions would have killed me.”

“They wouldn’t have,” you argued because you knew the good hearts of your companions.

Even back then, when everything had been new and confusing and you were just figuring each other out. They wouldn’t have killed him, would they? You didn’t want to think them capable of killing Astarion, but all of you had blood on your hands by now.

Sure, it was mostly blood of cultists hellbent on causing war and destruction or monsters trying to take your lives, but it was still lives lost. And with each fight, you fed into that urge to kill just a bit more. It wasn’t enough to fully satisfy it clearly, but it was a slight release all the same.

But you didn’t want to drive this stake through Astarion. You wanted to let go of it and pull him into your arms. Hold him instead. Close enough that some of your hellish warmth could seep into his cold skin.

“You are dangerous,” Astarion said, looking into your eyes with purpose. “But so am I. So is everyone in this camp. Trained killers the lot of us. Complicated pasts. You’re not special.”

His voice tilted up, gaining a humorous lilt and it made you laugh. It sounded kind of choked up and wet. His red eyes had never looked as soft as they did while gazing into yours.

“You are,” you whispered, almost inaudible but he’d hear it. “Special.”

“You can try to kill me anytime,” Astarion said. “I don’t think you’ll go through with it.”

What a novel and lovely idea. As if your love for him could keep him safe when it was exactly the thing condemning him to your murderous attentions.

Your love for him.

It was love, wasn’t it? You didn’t have anything to compare to, but it felt like that, even out here in the wilderness, tadpoled brains and an ever-present ticking clock. However unlikely, it felt real.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” you told him and hoped that he could see the sincerity in your eyes. Make him understand the threat he was standing opposite.

“You don’t either,” he said, lip twisting up to a smirk and you guessed that he had a point with that.

He moved the hand from your elbow and instead laid both of his hands on top of yours. He let himself press just a bit more into the stake, enough that it was catching on his sleepshirt. A flimsy fabric. It would do nothing to stop the stake from driving through it. Smooth like butter. It would sail right home, poison his heart and stop it a second time.

Stop it for good.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“And yet, I’ve never felt so alive,” he said and leaned just a tiny bit closer. “You are not your past, even if you don’t remember it. So, the urges are a part of you. Big deal. You still get a choice who you want to be right now. Just like I do. Let’s keep making choices together. This is what freedom is about, isn’t it?”

It felt like a stake was driven through your heart, knocking all of the air from your lungs with one fell swoop. He was paraphrasing something you’d said to him. That he’d be responsible for his own choices now that he was out from under Cazador’s thumb.

For good and for bad.

He was right. It wasn’t so different from you. You were still the one making the choices. You were allowed to cast the die on your present and your future, just not your past.

The nagging grating voice in the back of your head still told you that you could drive the stake in and kill Astarion but you shut it right up, like you had done dozens of times already. You just had to keep resisting that part of yourself. You could do that.

“Let go,” you told Astarion and he pulled his hands from yours.

He looked at you, chest open and inviting for malice, but you tossed the stake aside and instead grabbed hold of his face. You cradled it like he’d cradled yours, holding it like he was the most precious thing in all of Faerûn. He might just be.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you said, leaning your face closer to his.

You wanted to spill every warning you could think of but you knew that he already knew a lot of it. He’d seen you in action, tied up and snarling like a feral beast. You at your most dangerous and at your most vulnerable. And he’d taken care of you.

He’d chosen to take care of you when he had ever right to kill you.

You had to choose to take care of him, even if your urges screamed to kill him.

 “Kiss me.”

Astarion’s smile turned soft and he reached behind your back until he could pull you right up against him into his lap. His hands stayed behind your back, holding onto you gently, as your tail whipped back and forth in anticipation.

“You’ve got this, and I’ve got you,” he whispered as he leaned in to press your lips together.

Those were other words echoed from that night when you almost made the worst mistake of your life. You hadn’t really heard him then. Too hung up on how he didn’t understand that the urges controlled you so deeply, so intricately, but now you were finally ready to hear him.

“And I’ve got you,” you whispered back, as you broke the kiss just for a moment.

When you kissed him again, you felt how his lips tilted up into a smile.

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

My love, 

It has come to my attention that you seem to be engaging with the devil once again. You know this as well as I: Raphael cannot be trusted. 

I am not angry with you, but I am angry. Foolish of me to think that I alone could keep you from the devil’s grasp. Foolish of me to think that I might’ve ended him, tearing his heart from his chest. He was always a heartless creature – it would seem he had little need of it anyway. Removing it made it easier for him, I think. It was foolish of me to presume I could take him on alone. 

If I am to remove the threat of Raphael entirely, I must find a way to truly beat him. I cannot match his power – I must transcend it. 

I know that following you to the House of Hope may…complicate things. However, I assure you, you will not be alone. Not if I have anything to say about it. 

Do what you must, my love. I trust you, but I do not trust him. Be smart. Be quick. Strike at the opportune moment – and you might just find the gods blessing you with their favor. 

As much as the picture of Raphael’s beating heart withering away sated my desire to be rid of the devil, I think the thought of you bringing about his destruction fills me much, much deeper. I can show you just how much, when the devil is dealt with. 

Be devastating, my dear. 

Yours Forever,

Gale

Shaking a little as I read this.

Listen to me. Listen close. I am going to walk out of there covered in blood that's not mine.

Nothing fucks with me. Least of all him.

Just don't abandon me when it's all over. Alright?

And for gods' sake, tell Astarion to chill. he's so worried about you. And Karlach's off on a wild goose chase for an imposter, and Shadowheart is convinced I'm going on a DATE with Raphael, ugh- and Lae'zel! Well Lae'zel thinks all you boys should fight to the death. Even Halsin and Wyll got involved.

Lae'zel's wrong. I'm the weak one.

I just want you to stay.

[tsaritza-mika]

I can't have been the only one who thought of this when that patch went thru... XDDDD

Shadowheart: NO! NO!! MY ACCOUNTABILI-BUDDY!! Gale: Well that doesn’t make you look very good, now does it, Shadow? Shadowheart: I LOST HER WHEN LIGHTS WENT OUT!! I SWEAR!! Karlach: Oof, really doesn’t look good for you, Shadow... Orin: IT WAS ME!! I DID IT!! Gortash: Actually, I can confirm that Shadow was circling around Admin yelling for Alfira Orin: I’M THE IMPOSTER!! Halsin: Quiet Orin, we all know you’re Jester this round; how do you know Shadow’s innocent Enver? Gortash: Because I could hear her from Cams Tav: I can actually confirm that, I passed by him in Cams before lights went out Shadowheart: Ugh... So where was the body, Tav? Tav: I found Alfira’s sweet, little hamslice down in Speci~ Astarion: I hate to say it Tav, but you’re looking pretty sus to me. Where the hells were you in all this? I haven’t seen you all last round! Wyll: Says the guy who’s likely the Imposter... Astarion: Wh- WYLl!! WHAT THE FUCK!? Wyll: Oh don’t act so shocked, we all know it’s you, Astarion Astarion: I- SERIOUSLY!? GALE! Back me up here! We did lights together! Gale: ...uh... Astarion: I WAS RIGHT THERE!! Tav: You were acting pretty sus that round, Astarion... Astarion: I HAVEN’T EVEN SEEN YOU THE WHOLE ROUND TAV!! Orin: THAT’S BECAUSE IT WAS ME!! Astarion: Oh for fucks sake, Orin...! Gortash: Yes, yes, sure, Orin. You killed Alfira, we get it. Now sit down and shut up while we blame the literal bloodsucker Astarion: Thank yo-wait! WHAT!? Karlach: I don’t want to think badly of you Astarion, but I haven’t seen you the whole round either, so I dunno... Halsin: I am so disappointed Astarion... Astarion: WHY AM I THE IMPOSTER WHEN NOBODY HAS GIVEN ANY PROOF!? Shadowheart: Astarion how could you!? Honestly! Astarion: I FUCKING TURNED ON THE LIGHTS!! Gale: So we’re all voting Astarion, then? Astarion: GALE YOU FUCKING CUNT!!

[lunar-wandering]

Shadowheart AU

If not obvious this is a Shadowpeach centric AU. It’s mainly a comedy but the way I’m gonna lay this out is gonna make it feel like an angst AU at first purely because it makes the punchline funnier that way.

Anyways, so;

Macaque just straight up doesn’t speak for the first half of this AU, aka, all of the canon show thus far. He covers his mouth with his scarf, and does mumble sometimes, but it’s too quiet for anyone to hear.

Wukong, knowing that the Macaque that he knew would absolutely never shut up, is under the impression that this one is an imposter, aka someone pretending to be his dead friend. Macaque can’t tell him that this is not the case, as he refuses to speak.

Macaque does have a method of communication though. He uses note cards.

Wukong, in episode 9: there's no way that's the real Macaque, the Macaque I know would've NOT shut up while doing all this awful stuff Macaque: (pauses in the middle of being about to throw an attack, digs through his pockets, pulls out a piece of paper and yeets it at Wukong's face) Wukong: gAH- Wukong, peeling off the paper and looking at it: .... -(The paper says "You're a dumbass")- Wukong: ....did you fucking have this prewritten??? -(another piece of paper smacks Wukong in the face- this one having ‘YES’ written on it)-

Macaque has a heart shaped clip on his scarf, Wukong has a heart shaped clip in his hair. (Pictures of the designs will be at the bottom of this post)

Macaque’s clip turns blue when Lady Bone Demon partially possesses him, and when he’s freed by the Samadhi fire it turns grey and breaks in half, causing his scarf to come loose from around his shoulders, so he has to cling to it to prevent it from falling.

Wukong's clip shatters when he's possessed. His hair, normally kept in a braid in this AU, also ends up loose. (He continues to wear it mostly loose afterwards). When he's freed, Macaque rebraids that tiny bit and takes out one half of his heart clip thingy, and uses it in replacement of the one Wukong lost. The half a heart in Wukong's hair turns purple and the one Macaque puts back on his scarf turns golden pink.

Wukong was too tired to protest the action in the moment/was lost in thought over the idea of his old friend being alive and decided to indulge in the illusion for a bit, and then later he just... can't seem to want to get rid of the heart clip. He stares at it like "this isn't from the real Macaque, it's from an imposter" but still just, has this part of him that so desperately wants to believe in the illusion so he just... leaves it.

Post Lady Bone Demon's defeat, Wukong begrudgingly lets Macaque hang around even though he's still under the impression that he's, yknow, not the real Macaque. Even so though, he did help out, and MK is weirdly deciding to let him hang around, so Wukong lets him stay.

Wukong finds out Macaque is the real Macaque after seeing him sitting on Flower Fruit Mountain with his glamours down, playing with the monkeys like he used to. He promptly leaves for like, 4 days to process this revelation.

He also kicks a tree half way across the mountain during this time.

Okay. Time to reveal the main plot point. The reason Macaque doesn’t talk. Drumroll please.

Macaque is cursed to end every sentence with “I love you”.

Obviously since this is Macaque and he wouldn’t want to be caught dead saying “I love you” in ANY context, he decided to just shut up entirely.

This of course leads to scenes earlier in the AU such as;

Wukong: how dare you. how dare you impersonate him. do you know how much he meant to me? He was my world. Macaque, under his breath: tch, says the one that killed me- I love you Wukong, genuinely didn’t hear: w h a t?? Macaque, too flustered to do anything else: (punches Wukong in the face)

What’s REALLY fun about this AU is that in this AU specifically. Wukong’s love language is words. So after Macaque’s curse get’s revealed they’re both just dying 24/7.

It’s hysterical really. Like;

Wukong: i swapped your coffee with decaf mint flavoured tea Macaque: i fucking hate you, i love you Wukong: getting mixed messages but i love you too-

And then there's twenty seconds of silence and then Macaque has his head on the kitchen counter and is clinging trying to use it to keep himself from fully melting into the shadows and Wukong is putting his hands over his face and quickly walking away because he said "i love you too" on IMPULSE.

Wukong is the LAST PERSON to find out about the curse by the way. Everyone else found out about it because Macaque slipped up and said “Thank you, I love you.” when someone handed him something, and although the others thought nothing of it at first, Macaque immediately tried to backpedal and stumble his way out of what he just said, and since he has to end every sentence with “I love you” he basically ends up outing himself.

The way Wukong does find out about the curse is something in and of itself though.

Y’see, Macaque wanted to apologize to Wukong. For obvious reasons. He'd already done so for the others through doing requested favours and stuff and writing apologies to them but he had NO IDEA how he should start trying to apologize to Wukong.

So he goes to Sandy for advice, and, well, as it happens, Wukong happened to be secretly chilling on top of one of the crates on Sandy’s boat when this occurred.

Macaque: ........how do i tell Wukong I'm sorry -I love you? Sandy: well telling him you're sorry will probably take a while, you've had a long history with him and theres a lot to make up for, starting with smaller actions and favours first might work. Now though, telling him you love him would take quite a bit longer- Macaque: thATS NOT WHAT I MEANT THAT WAS THE CURSE AND YOU KNOW IT- I LOVE YOU Sandy, patting Macaque on the head: mhm yep i love you too lil monkey

Wukong falls off the crate he was sitting on and down into the water, but neither Sandy nor Macaque notices.

Wukong tries to just ignore it at first. Macaque starts doing small chores and favours around Flower Fruit Mountain and Wukong tries his absolute best to pretend that this is normal.

Eventually this accumulates to Wukong forcing Macaque to verbally apologize to him on his doorstep, except this backfires horribly because hearing the first “I love you” being technically directed at him absolutely murders him on the spot. Macaque doesn’t even notice Wukong break over it because he himself gets so flustered after two sentences that he instinctively teleports away.

Them actually talking through their issues actually takes at least a week because they both keep getting distracted by Macaque’s curse and have to take hour long breaks after only a couple minutes of conversation.

There’s a couple more things other than that but I think I’ll stop this post here by saying that when they kiss each other they leave behind little heart shaped marks on each others faces.

Oh. One last thing actually.

Once they get back together, Wukong calls Macaque “his Shadowheart” in this AU.

Anyways here’s the low quality design notes I have for this AU.

[ferinehuntress]

◈　 ⇢  @shimmerbeasts　 ⋯　 Unprompted Ask ♡ 　　⸻　"You know I never got the point of this exercise."

The 'Dark Justicar' flicked their fingers against the tip of their spear. Twirling it around in a needlessly flourishing gesture, they lowered the tip beside their feet as they began to circle the chained-up and dewinged aasimar at the centre in the Gauntlet of Shar. Their robe swang softly in the chilly air of a starless night.

"I mean, don't get me wrong... Aylin, was it?", the knight said as they looked the pale, grime-covered woman in her shabby robes up and down, "I see why having a living target, which cannot die, might be a good idea. At least for the first few rounds or so." The Dark Justiciar chuckled as they inspected their spear. "Most only come up with one or two ideas of how to kill something. Maybe five if you are really, really lucky. But even then it is just an alteration of the same few ideas, you already had."

The knight smirked and their eyes shimmered in warning. Suddenly, they took to a sprint and came darting forward. Swinging the spear, its bright stainless steel tip burrowed itself into Aylin's throat. It did not yet spill any blood, however, for once this was not the point here. The fingers on the free hand of the Dark Justiciar twisted and curled as if their sinews were pulling themselves together more than they ought to.

They smiled and remarked: "Plus, what is the whole point in learning how to kill something if that something cannot even be bothered to stay dead? It is an insult towards the participant's skills, or rather lack thereof, and it is an even bigger insult to my Father's intentions."

Aylin's head hung down, growling through gritted teeth. Her fangs flashed, wolfish as icy blue eyes looked up at this so-called Dark Justiciar. No, she knew she wasn't one, there hadn't been a sharran in this shadowfell for almost a century. Something had happened to them, she heard Shar's curses and rage and was no longer able to use the gauntlet for her benefit. A part of her had been amused by the anger, and she had become the sole source of Shar's torment. Her mind was constantly taunted by her aunt's words. And then, the whispers of the sharran who would kill her, she saw her face, she knew who she was. Shadowheart.

This was not Shadowheart; whoever it was had managed to get through the gauntlet, to find the Shadowfell. Silver blood trickled down her back, dotting the ground underneath the mykrulite magic that contained her. Phantom spasms against her spine where wings should have flapped, but none did. This... charlatan had stripped her of her wings, but they would grow back once more. It was her nature to continue to heal, never dying and an immortal source of power and life. It's why Ketheric had her bound, stealing her life, her strength, and her vitality. "How coy of you, to take the face of that which you do not comprehend. What's it like, shapechanger, to grasp the edges of a face like a mask? Masquerading around as if you even understand the depths of that armor you pretend to wear," 

Aylin's head lifted, pulling on her arms that were pulled taunt, hanging in the center of the circle. The whisp of magic, like smoke, twisting around her ankles, siphoning her power and magic through the eerie shadowed green element through the shimmering circle below. There was no escape, she had been trapped, for days. months. decades. Aylin knew it had been a long time, and Shar reminded her of it.

"I have had my fill of mutilation and torture; you, little one, are but a speck of dirt in the life I have lived. You all frolick upon the battle of torture and death as if it is a gift to bear such actions upon another. It'll be your undoing," She leaned forward, as best she could, glaring down at the so-called knight, an imposter in Sharran's armor. The sudden movement caused a blade to meet the center of her throat, pressing firmly against her skin and threatening to cut. And yet, Aylin gazed at the smirking knight completely unphased. 

Aylin smirked her lips, at the tone of her lips. "So yet another follower of the dead three. Though I have never heard of one of them siring a child with the mortal flesh. You must truly wish to be viewed as a goddess even though there is not a single drop of godly blood in your veins. Once again, a pretender vying for the fame of their god. Your father can't have me. I am immortal as the world itself. You may have my blood, but that is it. Ketheric, Balthazar, you. All the same," Aylin snipped her words, a sharp tone on her lips as she glared. Despite being bound by chains and magic, her voice sounded with determination, and refused to let her words be restrained. She may be the nightsong by the Sharrans but she refuses to sing on purpose. 

"Remove that mask of yours, pretender, and tell me who you are?"

[rocketonthemoon]

shadowheart imposter syndrome i have been thinking about this nonstop ever since i started playing bg3 like 5 runthroughs ago. when i romanced her during a durge run, i was thinking about the intersection of durge have to suppress these desires (if you're doing a good play) and feeling like such a poser and scam artist and then shadowheart feeling inadequate after being so chosen for the biggest tasks of any sharran ever. anyway just had to drop in because of your tags lmao

I'm only on my second run (technically 1.5 cause I never actually finished the first one but I missed basically all of act 2 so I just decided fuck it) but Shadowheart's bluster just SCREAMS "I don't know what I'm doing" to me. Combine that with how quickly she's willing to trust you - something sharrans aren't supposed to do? - and then her suppressed memory I just have to believe that she's constantly battling with her guilt and desperately needing to prove herself to Shar.

[thessalian]

Faerun!Alisaie vs A Whole Lot Of Mess

Wandering through the streets of the Lower City

Wyll: Did we have to go tomb-raiding? Really?

Alisaie: I trust precisely nothing underground in this city right now.

Shadowheart: Which is why we're taking the walking tour, I imagine.

Alisaie: Pretty much. If we had a ship with Shadow Curse clinging to it docked nearby, it's a good idea to check the docks in general and--

Sahuagin: *attack*

Citizens: *cower*

Gale: ...Really?

Alisaie: Okay, this doesn't generally happen, so I guess we're searching around the docks for the source of a fish-people invasion now. But first... HEY! COME GET SOME, YOU SUSHI PLATTER WITH DELUSIONS OF SAPIENCE!

Wyll: Okay, I love the blade-work, but I did miss the literally deadly insults. *Eldritch Blasts a sahuagin into next week*

Stabnation: *ensues*

Awhile later, further down the docks...

Gale: Well. This is netting us a whole lot of nothing. Except for raiding a supply shipment of illegal nonsense.

Alisaie: I want to find all the ins and outs to the undercity before I go hunting Orin down there, so... Huh. What's that commotion over there?

Shadowheart: That's ... Volo.

Alisaie: Huh. I wondered why he wasn't hanging around our room at the Elfsong. What the fuck is he doing out here?

Volo: *tied to several barrels of smokepowder* Help! Help!

Wyll: Annoying the populace, apparently.

Absolutist: FEARMONGER! LIAR! VOLOTHAMP, YOU MUST DIE!

Alisaie:...Volo...thamp?

Volo: Volothamp Geddard; now will you do something about this?!?

Alisaie: So ... you have a thing against bards, then?

Absolutist: Frankly, yes.

Alisaie: *sigh* Everyone's a critic.

Absolutist: Wait-- You're a--?

Alisaie: College of Swords says hello, shitbag. *shanks*

Absolutist: *throws torch onto alcohol 'fuse'*

Alisaie: Oh fuck-- WYLL!

Wyll: On it! *Misty Steps to Volo*

Stabnation: *ensues*

And, once the stabbing is done...

Alisaie: They don't step in when innocent people are being attacked, but they give me funny looks for looting the corpses of people I killed in self-defense? What is wrong with people?!? Last time I checked, there wasn't a decree about leaving someone's coin to pay for their burial or anything...

Wyll: I think there were fewer dead people at the time, and the coffin-maker wasn't dealing with a month of backlog.

Alisaie: We don't dump criminals into mass graves anymore? Eh, whatever. I suppose we should check in on Volo.

Volo: You're welcome!

Alisaie: ...Excuse me?

Volo: A daring rescue was just the thing you needed to add to your legend! I have things to impart but in private! Yes! I'll be back at your camp! ...Um ... where is your--?

Alisaie: *sigh* Elfsong Tavern, upper rooms.

Volo: Fabulous! *exits in an Elfsong-wards direction*

Shadowheart: Did you have to tell him where we were staying?

Alisaie: Maybe he doesn't have anything important to tell us, but at this point, I'm not taking any risks. Now, let's head in that general direction via the Society of Brilliance. Blurg always has the best components and... Huh.

Wyll: Huh?

Shadowheart: Yes, we should probably go investigating the singing. Sounds like a Water Queen funeral. Got any offerings you'd like to make?

Alisaie: Song, respect, my sword to avenge them if they were killed--

Allandra: Yes! That one! Evil poisoned creatures came and--

Alisaie: Okay. I get it. I'll find whatever did this. Promise. I just really do need to speak to the Society of Brilliance and get a decent night's sleep. This should be fine because the gods are at least supposed to understand mortal needs and mortal frailties.

Gale; Shadowheart: *grumble*

Alisaie: I said 'supposed to'.

And, walking towards their rooms...

Alisaie: I really don't like this. Too many people are just plain missing and--

Lae'zel: This child is the imposter!

Alisaie: ...the fuck? Lae'zel, Gortash said it was one of our allies, not a little kid who barely knows half of what we've been doing-- Oh. Right. Okay, Orin, c'mon out and leave the kid alone.

'Lae'zel': *shanks the kid anyway*

Alisaie: Oh you nasty little--

Orin: *taking her true form* So I have a deal for you--

Alisaie: Where is Lae'zel?!?

Orin: Safe for now. But here's the deal. You finish off Gortash for me, then you come down to me and you and I fight it out for the stones!

Alisaie: What, no "Rule at my side" bullshit?

Orin: Oh, no. I want to make you bleed. I want you to make me bleed. We will flay each other in glorious battle and the pain and the blood and the--

Alisaie: Oh for fuck's sake shut up! How exactly am I supposed to trust you?

Orin: *shrug* Don't disappoint me, or your friend suffers. *poofs*

Alisaie: Well ... fuck.

Shadowheart: She and I never really saw eye to eye, but...

Alisaie: I know, I know. We will fix this. I just need a night to figure out how. One way or another, both of those two dickwaffles are going down, but finding the best way without getting Lae'zel killed is ... tricky.

Jaheira: I admit to being new with this entire party, but ... you didn't seem the least bit surprised when the false Lae'zel held a child at knifepoint.

Alisaie: She does that.

Shadowheart: Seriously. She does that.

Astarion: How many holes will I have poked in me by various people's weapons if I ask if we're really invested on saving someone who's been ... honestly, nothing but antagonistic, that I've seen.

Alisaie: Well, you two have seldom if ever worked together, so maybe consider there's shit you haven't seen. Also, if you want pragmatism, what's Kith'rak Voss going to say when he finds out we let a murder-happy asshole kill one of his only allies? We've already got half the gith race wanting us dead; we don't need the other half too.

Astarion: Buuuuuut you're doing it because you're a hero and she's a friend.

Alisaie: And I am giving you pragmatic reasons to let you save face and never have to admit you're worried too.

Astarion: ...Right. Insight Queen. I'm shutting up now...

Alisaie: Right. I am going to try to sleep, but first I should see if any of Volo's stuff is useful at all.

Volo: Lovely little set-up you have here! I'll just make myself at home, shall I?

Alisaie: But--

Volo: So which bed is mine?

Alisaie: But you said--

Volo: Ooh, vegetable soup!

Alisaie: .........I am going to bed so I don't yeet you out the nearest window!

[sorcerous-caress]

no I am the real shadowheart anon - shadowheart anon

Oh my god, there are two of them now.

[moonselune]

Inspired by the latest ask, how about romanced companions not being able to react to a shifter trying to seduce Tav in their form but Tav seeing right through them because they know their partner and a cheap copy cannot indeed replace them.

I'd just like a romanced companion to go "how did you know it wasn't me?" 😍😍😍 Especially Shadowheart. ❤️

I only managed to do the Karlach, Astarion, Wyll and Shadowheart for this as I ran out of inspo but I hope everyone enjoys it!

Karlach:

The shapeshifter approached, taking on Karlach's fiery visage. They strutted towards you, attempting to mimic her confident swagger and warm grin.

"Hey there, love," the imposter purred, trying to sound like Karlach. "Miss me?"

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest, overall just unimpressed. "Nice try, but Karlach's horns aren't that crooked, and she doesn't call me 'love' in that tone. Also, your smile doesn’t have that same warmth."

The imposter's expression faltered for a moment, but they quickly tried to regain their composure. Before they could respond, the real Karlach's booming laughter filled the air. She stepped forward, her presence commanding and intimidating.

"Nice one! You really thought you could fool my sweetheart? Pathetic," Karlach said, her voice dripping with disdain.

The shapeshifter's confidence wavered further under Karlach's intense gaze. "I-I can be what they want," they stammered.

Karlach's eyes narrowed, her broad shoulders and impressive height making her an even more imposing figure. You leaned against her form in slight glee, oh how you loved it when your girlfriend got scary. "You were just making a big fucking mistake, love" she growled.

The shapeshifter, clearly rattled, quickly fled the scene. Karlach turned to you, her expression softening as she wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a warm hug.

You smiled, feeling safe in her embrace. "I knew it wasn't you the moment they spoke."

Karlach chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Good. Because no one can replace the real me."

"And I wouldn't want them to."

Astarion:

The imposter slinked towards you, adopting Astarion's elegant posture and mischievous smirk.

"Darling, it's been too long," they purred, reaching out to caress your cheek.

You smirked, tilting your head. "Astarion's voice doesn't tremble like that, and his eyes sparkle more. Also, he wouldn't be caught dead wearing those boots. And, he doesn’t call me ‘darling’ with such obvious desperation."

Astarion appeared from behind a tree, chuckling as he approached. "Oh dear, did you really think you could pull that off? My darling knows me far too well."

The shapeshifter stammered, clearly taken aback. "B-but I thought—"

"You thought wrong," Astarion interrupted, pressing his dagger to the shapeshifter’s throat. His voice was dangerously sweet. "Flattery will get you nowhere, darling, and to be clear your attempt is nowhere near flattering."

The impostor blinked, taken aback by Astarion’s swift and threatening demeanor. "I-I can be what they want," they tried again.

Astarion’s eyes flashed with irritation. "And yet you will never be me," he hissed. "Leave now, before I ruin my favourite shirt."

The shapeshifter, clearly outmatched, quickly fled under Astarion's fierce gaze. He turned to you, his expression softening.

"Are you alright, my dear?" he asked, his voice now gentle. "I can't have anyone thinking they can replace me."

You smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I knew it wasn't you the moment they spoke. No one can replace the real Astarion. No one could possibly be that dramatic."

"Oh really?" Astarion's smirk returned, and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "Let me show you how dramatic I can really be."

Wyll:

The shapeshifter morphed into Wyll, complete with his charming smile and confident stance.

"Ah, there you are, my love," they said smoothly. "I've missed you."

You snorted, shaking your head and stepping away from the crude imitation. "Wyll has a scar over his eye, not under it. And he doesn't call me 'my love' with that much bravado. Also, he would never wear that shade of red."

The imposter's smile faltered slightly, but they tried to recover. "What do you mean, my love? It's me." they insisted.

Wyll emerged from the shadows, his rapier gleaming in the moonlight. "You heard them. A poor imitation at best," he said, his voice icy and mocking.

The shapeshifter blinked, startled by Wyll's sudden appearance. "B-but I thought—"

"You thought wrong," Wyll interrupted, his rapier now pointed at the impostor. "There is only one Blade of Frontiers, and it’s certainly not you, not with that lack of style." With a swift motion, he stepped between you and the shapeshifter, his eyes narrowing. "Leave now, or face the consequences."

The impostor, clearly outmatched, quickly fled under Wyll's stern gaze. He sheathed his rapier and turned to you, his expression softening.You smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I knew it wasn't you the moment they spoke. No one can replace the real Wyll."

Wyll's smile returned, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Good, my love. Because I'm here to stay."

Gale:

The shapeshifter transformed into Gale, complete with his intricate magical tattoos and confident demeanor.

"My dear, it's been far too long," they said, extending a hand.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Gale never extends his hand to me, it's not like I'm an old buddy of his and his tattoos glow a bit more. And he'd definitely start with a more elaborate greeting. Also, he wouldn’t wear such plain robes. He has much more style than that."

The imposter's confident facade cracked slightly, but they tried to maintain their composure. "I-I can be what you want," they insisted.

Gale approached, a smirk playing on his lips as he conjured a ball of fire. "Indeed. Did you truly think such a rudimentary imitation would fool my darling partner?"

The shapeshifter blinked, clearly startled. "B-but I thought—"

"You thought wrong, evidently" Gale interrupted, his voice laced with authority. "There is only one Gale of Waterdeep, and you are not him."

With a wave of his hand, Gale sent a blast of fire towards the shapeshifter, sending them fleeing. He dispelled the magic and turned to you, his expression softening.

"Are you alright, my love?" he asked gently. "I can't have anyone thinking they can replace me."

You smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I knew it wasn't you the moment they spoke. No one can replace the real Gale. Besides they were far too modest"

"Oh wow, too modest?" Gale's smile returned, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I'm sure that is not what you were saying last night."

You slapped his chest and he drew you into a more passionate kiss, as if he was affirming his claim on you. He made sure that the kiss was anything but modest.

Shadowheart:

The shapeshifter approached, adopting Shadowheart's cautious demeanor and cool expression.

"Come, we need to talk," they said softly, reaching out a hand.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Shadowheart's voice is smoother, and she doesn't initiate contact like that. Also, she'd never say 'we need to talk' without a reason."

The imposter's calm exterior cracked slightly, but they tried to maintain their composure. "I-I can be what you need, dearest, just trust me," they insisted.

Shadowheart stepped out from behind a tent, her eyes narrowing. "You heard them. You're nothing but a cheap imitation," she said coldly.

With a swift motion, she drew her weapon and pointed it at the impostor. "Leave, before I decide to end you," she hissed.

The impostor, clearly outmatched, quickly fled under Shadowheart's intense glare. She sheathed her weapon and turned to you, her expression softening.

"Are you alright?" she asked gently. "I won't let anyone come between us."

You smiled, reaching up to touch her cheek. "I knew it wasn't you, silly. the moment they spoke. No one could ever fool me. Though I can't lie, it would have been kinda hot to see the two of you fight over me."

"Well thank god I know a mirror spell or two then." Shadowheart laughed and pulled you into her embrace, beginning to feverently kiss up your neck. You shrieked but happily allowed her assault.

Love you all mes chers - Seluney xoxox

[narrated]

tallulah relates with shadowheart on a kind of strange level. having been tasked with something by your god but very little knowledge of what said task actually is or your purpose, so there’s not much else you can do but trust them. while shadowheart obviously had a different upbringing and is a lot more grounded in her faith, there’s a strain that tallulah understands. she has her halberd and the scales on her shoulder that supposedly mark her as chosen by umberlee, but beyond that, she has little to go off. she doesn’t even have confirmation from umberlee herself on what her purpose is.

it just feels nice that there’s someone else who’s a cleric and also winging it to a certain extent. considering tallulah basically tripped into this with no warning or guides, it’s somewhat of a help. she feels less like an imposter for merely mentioning she’s a cleric.

[zenatness]

I've seen people (who typically haven't played the previous games) argue that it's been 100 years and people change and that "she used the mirror of loss and forgot XYZ and that's why she's changed so much." And I'm just... but why would she do that though? She doesn't have a superior to order her to do so and she's perfectly fine with going against Shar's wishes. And even if she were to forget the events in BG1 and 2, she's still at her core someone who is capable of rejecting a god if she's ordered to do something she doesn't agree with. It's a lazy excuse.

I'd rather have seen Shadowheart's negative memories of her being revealed to be false when you reach the House of Grief. That it was a test to see if she would still complete her mission and return - a test to ensure that her faith in Shar was more important than any sense of loyalty to the Mother Superior.

Or Viconia could have been investigating the Bhaal cult, seeing how she's got some experience with that. She could have been how we find out that Orin isn't the original chosen of Bhaal and a bit about the Dark Urge before their untimely disappearance.

Or she could have been an imposter, be it doppelganger or just another drow, who was using Viconia's name and reputation for their own gain. Or, or, or... etc

Viconia - Plot Support extraordinaire

Just to preface this as I don't want this to seem like I am hating on BG3 as a diehard fan of the original series because I really do love BG3. I've completed it twice now and think it will absolutely be joining my annual rotation of BG1/SOD/BG2 playthroughs but it has its problems, much in the same way that the originals themselves have problems as well.

So after my Sarevok post I wanted to treat Viconia to the same critical analysis as unfortunately I think she also gets the short end of the evil plot stick. I get it, evil characters can be hard to get right but again similar to Sarevok, in my opinion, her character regresses to evil Shar mook number one rather than actually being Viconia. Worse still she's entirely at the mercy of being wrapped up in ShadowHeart's backstory.

Anyway this is a bit of a deep dive into Viconia's issues in BG3. Spoiler warning for both BG3 and BG2.

1. No Grey DeLise.

Again, similar to Sarevok, another prolific voice actor that has done recent video game work seemingly not approached for the role. I can't help but think that some of this is down to the rushed nature of act three generally and Larian just having to get whoever they could for the job in the time that they needed it. Unlike Jaheria and Minsc there's no attempt to mimic her original VA or get someone who sounded like her so she ends up sounding completely and utterly different.

This version of Viconia sounds haughty and stuck up which while the original Viconia VA has a degree of arrogance, she is also pretty sultry. Haer'dalis even comments that she has 'the throaty voice of the most expensive courtesan' and Viconia deliberately plays on the stereotype of the sensual female drow with certain male party members for her own benefit e.g the male Bhaalspawn, Edwin, Sarevok and even Anomen (I cover this a bit here and here).

2. Her in game design...just isn't great.

Let's be honest, combined with the voice, Viconia's design basically makes her unrecognisable. She looks like a generic old drow lady to the point that I did have 'Is that meant to be Viconia?' moment when I first met her.

Now I appreciate there is minor controversy with Viconia's original BG2 portrait (which is probably the most recognisable image of her) because the artist actually used a famous porn star as the base for it.

For info, this was a common practice at Bioware at the time as they used to use lots of different images as bases for portraits. They finally got into legal trouble for it in NWN where due to various copyright claims they had to change quite a few portraits.

More recently, I think that Beamdog actually did quite a good job of recreating a faithful adaption of her original portrait in Siege of Dragonspear while presumbably navigating the original copyright issue.

In comparison to her BG3 portrayal, my first impression was she looks incredibly old. Now as far as I'm aware we've never been given a canon age for Viconia but we do know she was around for House DeVir being defeated by the Do'Urden house so she has to be at least 100 years old by the time of BG1... but her character level is between 2 and 6 (depending on the party's XP) so a relatively inexperienced cleric. With that in mind I definitely assumed she was on the younger side (maybe 200-300?). Either way 5e elves can live between 750 to 1000 years although there are instances in the Forgotten Realms books of drow living to over 2000. Either way if you tack on the additional 120 years for BG3 in my mind it would definitely put her in the middle aged category but not necessarily anywhere near the end of her life. Critically she would be aging much slower than Jaheria but with those wrinkles she looks WAY older than her. I honestly feel cheated of an interaction between the two about how hagged and old Jaheria looks in comparison to herself.

In terms of her outfit, although initially she wears the Sharite mask and hooded outfit, which is good for concealing her identity, we eventually end up with Viconia in a spider adorned dress. This seems like a strange choice given the spider motif when she literally stopped worshipping Lloth for Shar - maybe she's being ironic? The lack of armour,when she's a cleric that knows there's a good chance she's about to have a fight seems kind of stupid. If you do choose to fight her, she then looks entirely comical in her light dress accompanied by an enormous oversized shield and mace.

For me though this really identifies her design problem: her leather armour was a critical part of her original design. Given that we only see portrait style headshots of BG characters, the decision not to include her leather corset with the three straps and the head band is really what makes her unrecognisable. It would be like removing Minsc's head tattoo or Jaheria's braids or Sarevok's armour (which even with all the problems I talked about in my post, at least he got to keep that).

My hope is that some enterprising modder out there makes a more BG2 accurate version of her in future. Larian, please give my lady her leather armour back or maybe even a justicar outfit!

3. Ignores her BG1/2 alignment, motivations and twists her original epilogue.

Now I do appreciate BG3 deliberately assumes that the events of BG1/BG2 are a little bit fluid, which Jaheria confirms this when she talks about the bards that tell stories of her slaying gods or bedding them depending on which one you listen to. But the game goes onto confirm certain events in Viconia's history that don't really make sense:

A.) The game confirms that Viconia did travel with the Bhaalspawn but not for the entirety of the game. Minsc informs you that after trying to dissect Boo she was expelled from the group. I have to admit this story didn't gel with me at all because it implies Viconia is some sort of chaotic evil idiot (reminder: Viconia is neutral evil with a 16 INT score and 18 WIS score in BG2) who would deliberately provoke a giant raging berserker man by murdering his beloved pet. Like that's the sort of thing I could see Xzar (who is completely and utterly mad) doing but not Viconia. What benefit would she get out of it? Maybe it would be a good tribute for Shar but that would be a pretty short term benefit. In fact in BG2 Viconia offers begrudging respect to Minsc for his effectiveness in battle, she knows he's powerful and she wants to be on the right side of that. Minsc for his part does what he does with many of the female characters, particularly in BG2 and makes her a proxy substitute for Dynaheir offering to protect her. That's not to say she won't insult people (Aerie and Jaheria or characters who she perceives as weak often get the brunt of it) but she's generally smart enough to stay out of an actual fight. Important to note that in any of NPC conflicts that end in a fight in BG1/2 (e.g. Kivan, Ajantis, Keldorn) it's never Viconia that's starts the fight.

B.) The Waterdeep cult.

In Viconia's epilogue, which you only get if you kept her for the end of Throne of Bhaal and you didn't romance her, Viconia goes on to do a few things which you can see below (obviously massive spoilers for BG2) :

So it feels like Larian has taken the first part of this ending but nothing else, which really leaves a lot of questions. We know Shar isn't entirely happy with Viconia based on her diary entries so why is Shar still giving powers to a woman that basically killed a whole bunch of her followers? Why is Viconia still working for a goddess that hates her? Why is she so accepting of Shar's plot to groom Shadowheart as her replacement? Why on earth hasn't Viconia got the fuck out of dodge, which is pretty much what she has been shown to do in the past? And this comes neatly onto my next point.

4. Viconia is just a plot device for Shadowheart.

I love Shadowheart and I love her arc but honestly Viconia being the Mother Superior just felt like a way of inserting her into the game in a way that didn't really fit especially when Viconia's diaries in BG3 show that she knows that Shar intends for Shadowheart to essentially replace her as one of her prominent followers/chosen. The whole plot ignores two critical points about Viconia and her backstory:

Firstly the reason Viconia left the Underdark in the first place was because she refused to sacrifice a child to Lloth and Lloth turning her brother into a drider after he saved her from being sacrificed. Now Viconia is many things, she's self serving, cruel and dedicated to her own survival at the expense of anything and anyone else (quintessential neutral evil through and through) but at the same time she threw away her position, caused the downfall of her house and got most of her family murdered to save a child. You're telling me she would then willingly go along with Shar's plan to deliberate plan to kidnap and repeatedly torture a child for YEARS whilst also training said child to replace her? My girl doesn't have many lines in the sand but harming children definitely seems like one of them. I actually wandered whether Shadowheart not liking to harm children / prefers saving them is not just about her being a secret Selunite but also a potential a hint of Viconia's influence.

Secondly, that plot seems to ignores Viconia's other primary driver, which is to survive: it's why she leaves the Underdark, it's why she travels with the Bhaalspawn, it's why she worships Shar and it's why she murders an entire cabal of Shar's followers after one person betrayed her. Now if we ignore that she has qualms about children, you're telling me that she would instead essentially train her replacement to be an amazing cleric who is 99% likely to murder her? I'm pretty sure Viconia would have tried to kill Shadowheart way before her becoming a justicar or simply skipped town as she has done before.

The alternative?

Personally I would have liked to have seen Viconia ultimately involved in a plot to overthrow the Mother Superior or maybe doing something even crazier like going after Shar herself out of revenge following her fall from grace after the events of the Waterdeep cult. Maybe she works with the Absolute to get her revenge and keep her divine powers - hell who better to help Ketheric with the Nightsong in Shar's temple then an ex priestess of Shar?

If not the Absolute then Shar's got plenty of enemies and Viconia has converted before. Maybe she could have joined the team to achieve a particular goal while giving fans of the original series the opportunity to have one of the original evil characters to join the crew. I would have loved to see the contrast with Minthara who is still fairly fresh from leaving drow society and a complete blunt instrument compared to Viconia's more subtle ways. Maybe Viconia would take the paladin under her wing, maybe introduce her to a new patron god (something I don't think is ever explained is how Minthara still retains her divine powers given neither Lloth or the Absolute are fueling them anymore). Shevarash the elven god of revenge, would be a fantastic fit for both of their back stories (which would also be a nice little throw back to Viconia's heated / sometimes fatal arguments with Kivan in BG1) presuming that Viconia could get over her disdain for the elven pantheon by that point in the timeline. The fireworks with Jaheria of course would be grand while Minsc I feel would be very conflicted given his mind's tendancy, as noted above, to sub in any female magic user as Dynaheir.

[taergalive]

How the Companions Would Play Among Us

Gale: tries to do his tasks as quickly possible. Sometimes gets himself killed on purpose to make doing the tasks easier. When he's the imposter, he relies heavily on sabatage, hoping no one will fix the reactor on time.

Wyll: plays detective, keeping a close eye on everyone to keep them accountable for their actions when bodies start showing up. Two people enter electrical? He'll stick around to make sure no one gets killed. When he's the imposter, he's reluctant to kill. Deaths are spaced out. He pays close attention to the chores people do so he has an alibi.

Lae'zel: doesn't play. Jk she doesn't bother with the chores. She follows the others around, trying to catch them in the act. When she's the imposter, it's a blood bath. Two minutes into the game the first meeting is called and there's already three bodies. Doesn't usually defend herself when sus'd

Shadowheart: doesn't trust anyone. Will avoid being in a room with any amount of players. Just does her tasks and is on her way. Is quick to sus Lae'zel or Astarion. When she's the imposter, she tries to lay the grounds of suspicion on others, playing coy. "I saw someone vent, but I didn't get a good look at who. Might have been either green or blue."

Astarion: tries to figure out who can be trusted enough to pal around, more to prove his own innocence. "Watch me scan in medbay/empty trash/etc." A major ham when it comes to accusations, to the point where he always sounds sus. When he's the imposter, abuses vents like crazy. Toys with people, making them feel safe around him before finally striking.

MC: always hosts the game so they can change the settings around to make the game either easier for them or more interesting ;)