#Shadowheart x Tav

[scarletttries]

When Baldur's Gate 3 Companions Fall in Love...(Baldur's Gate 3 Request)

Pairings: Astarion x Reader, Wyll Ravengard x Reader, Gale Dekarios x Reader, Shadowheart x Reader, Karlach x Reader

Author's Note: It's been a while! I haven't posted in a while but I've got some time at the moment and I'm just finishing a first playthrough of BG3 so wanted to write some headcanons for our charming companions. Consider me open for any BG3 request too, let me know if you want to see more pieces like this :)

Astarion:

- Travelling with you makes Astarion feel grateful he's had hundreds of years to perfect his flirting technique. He knows exactly how to let you know what he's thinking without ever giving away too much of himself, how to flash his smile without ever lowering his guard. He thinks once again he knows exactly how to capture your attention, and possibly your body, without losing an ounce of control. That is until you say something that catches him completely off guard...

- "I'm really sorry to hear that." You should have laughed at his expense, his self-deprecating humour and haunted tales from his past worn like the toughest armour over silky open shirts. But you hadn't laughed, or scoffed, or replied with some equivalently sarcastic tone. Instead you'd offered empathy, a warm look and an extended hand that somehow didn't feel like pity to Astarion either.

"Well that's enough self-pity for tonight my dear." He quickly excused himself from the campfire, turning his back as he entered his tent to hide any visible blush his cheeks may muster from the way you said good night. Of course his blood didn't circulate that way any more, but he was almost sure he could feel his heart rising in his chest as it had when he was still a mortal man. No, this didn't feel right at all.

- It would be easy for Astarion to pretend he was only interested in a night of carnal pleasures with you because of all the beauty you possess, and he'll let everyone else think him a shallow man just the same. But when he lets his mind wander freely it's your kindness he finds himself dwelling on, or your firm but fair moral code that seems to carry you through these intrepid lands without doubt or tribulation. He almost wishes he had met you sooner, so sure that his life (and after-life) could have turned out quite different with you by his side at those strange early steps.

- Suddenly all his effortless flirting feels a lot more challenging and he can't decide if he should risk a small amount of sincerity to let you know how we feels, or just to double down on letting you know one night with him would ruin you for any other lover. Luckily both approaches are met with the affection he craves, and slowly but surely Astarion starts to feel like he might be able to have something real for once.

Wyll:

- Ever the hopeless romantic, Wyll was already a firm believer in love at first sight by the time he ran into you and experienced it firsthand. He fears he cannot be too bold, his staunch commitment to his duties governing his life in a way that does not leave much room for any other kind of commitment. He tries to let his feelings settle at the back of his mind, in the hopes that in time they will become nothing but a dull ache he can learn to live with.

- That could not be less of the case for poor Wyll though, your face filling his every nightly dream and your voice echoing through his mind in every moment of silence. His heart grows heavier and heavier with each passing day you travel together and soon it feels almost inevitable that he will be yours, even if he can't quite bring himself to admit it yet. Once he has accepted that thought he must wrestle with the possibility that you might not feel the same and you will be added to his list of those he cares for most that have rejected him with scorn.

- Still he lets the lighter thoughts carry him through the toughest of times; what it might be like to hear you offer your own feelings back, how it would feel to see you smile only for him, what kind of life the two of you might be able to build in a simpler times, what he could finally do if you agreed to a wedding night together. He lets himself ruminate on that more often that he'd like to admit, all gentlemanly efforts banished from his mind when he sees you walk around his camp.

- While he builds up the courage to make his feelings known, you might catch him practicing the steps of an intricate dance one night when he thinks everyone is fast asleep.

Gale:

- Gale has known love and loss before, the intensity of his past life making him consider keeping his heart closed off from others forevermore. But the gods have a funny way of keeping Gale on his toes, and introducing him to you certainly did that.

- At first you are just the warmest of friends to him: an ever-willing audience for his lifetime of tales and knowledge, a reliable companion for the throes of battle, a selfless treasure seeker who helps him fend off hunger. But over time he finds himself desperately scanning his mind for more and more facts that it would be worth waking you up to share, more tales to capture your attention, anything the two of you might do together to keep your focus on him and no one else.

- It's about when he wonders if the two of you might just camp in one tent together, that he realises he no longer views you as simply his closest friend. No, you have long passed that threshold into an entirely new realm of love. It feels so different to anything he has felt before, like your company is the warmest summer breeze after decades of stormy lightning in his heart. It feels safe and easy to be with you, like he could be content with almost nothing as long as you were by his side, looking at him with your near endless appreciation. Gale can't be sure exactly what to do about it, but he hopes the next time you draw back the opening on your tent and usher him in for another night of exchanging tales, that you might permit him to never leave.

Shadowheart:

- It's hard to know love when you barely know yourself. That's what Shadowheart tells herself when she finds her mind wandering back to you after your memorable first impression. She has so much to learn about herself, and while she's grateful for the reliable company and kind sounding-board you provide, there's simply no room in her life for anything more.

- And yet the more she uncovers about herself, the more important it seems to have you by her side. It's like she cannot exist in this new fully realised version of herself if she doesn't know you. If she doesn't get to see herself through your eyes, to hear what you think, to have your presence beside her as he continues to take more and more steps forward down this path home.

- Without ever trying you have become the other half of Shadowheart, and by the time she realises it, she knows you must have the same awareness. There could be no way that you aren't as in tune to the depth of your bond as she is, leaving her only one question. Not if to address it. But when.

Karlach:

- Though Karlach may not have a traditional heart anymore, she is more than capable of falling for the travelling companion that seems to bring out the best in her at every step. After years spent working for the devil and his underlings, having someone in her life that strives to make the world better and put her strength to good use is like the first sip of water after countless nights in the arid desert of the hells.

- Karlach knows she's as strong as they come, so she finds her eyes frantically searching you out in battle, pushing herself on and raging forwards to always keep you safe, to get you behind her, to make sure you go on to keep her company another day.

- Her time in this plane of existence may be more limited than some of the other characters, but that only means Karlach knows how important it is to truly 'live.' While the other companions may bide their time and carefully deliberate how best to inform you of their inconvenient feelings, when Karlach knows your heart is true, she's going to let you know she is all yours at the earliest, and steamiest, opportunity.

[moonselune]

I absolutely love how you write for the bg3 companions!!

Can we get romanced companions reacting to seeing Tav being approached by an abusive ex, who grabs them violently when Tav tries to walk away from the confrontation? They are grabbed violently by the hair, neck, wrist, etc? Thank you!!

omg yessssssssss tw everyone this will contain themes of abuse and domestic violence so if you are uncomfortable with that please click off and I will see you in the next one xox

Karlach:

The tavern was warm and lively, filled with the buzz of laughter, clinking mugs, and the hum of an old bard strumming away in the corner. You sat close to Karlach at a small, dimly lit table, her broad grin as radiant as ever. Her laughter boomed over some silly tale you'd told, her joy contagious as the two of you sipped from your mugs. The night was going perfectly—until they showed up.

You didn’t see your ex at first, but you heard their voice, a cold and unwelcome shard of your past cutting through the tavern’s warmth. “Well, well. Look who it is.”

Your stomach dropped. Turning slowly, you saw them, standing just a few feet away with that same cruel smirk you’d hoped to never see again. They looked the same, too—bitter, angry, and clearly still holding a grudge. Karlach’s laughter faded as she noticed your sudden shift in demeanor. Her eyes flicked between you and the person now looming over your table.

“Not here,” you said softly, your voice steady but laced with warning. “Don’t make a scene. Just leave.”

They laughed, a sharp, mocking sound that turned heads. “Oh, I’m making a scene?” they sneered, stepping closer. “You think you can just walk out of my life and act like nothing happened?”

You tried to stand, but before you could, their hand shot out and grabbed your arm, fingers digging into your skin.

“You’re not going anywhere,” they hissed.

The motion was so sudden that the tavern seemed to freeze for a moment. The mug in Karlach’s hand thudded onto the table, her expression darkening in an instant.

“Get your hands off them,” she said, her voice a low, warning growl.

Your ex sneered at her, but before they could say anything more, Karlach shot up from her seat. She shoved them back with one powerful hand, forcing them to release you. The force sent them stumbling, their eyes widening in shock.

“You okay?” Karlach asked, her warm brown eyes filled with concern as she turned to you. Her hand came to your cheek, her thumb brushing gently against your skin.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though your voice wavered slightly. “Let’s just—”

Before you could finish, your ex stormed back, their face twisted in rage. They lunged toward you, but they didn’t get far. Karlach’s fist met their face in a flash of fiery determination, the impact so loud it echoed through the now-silent tavern. Your ex crumpled to the floor in a heap, unconscious before they even hit the ground.

Karlach flexed her fingers, looking down at them with disdain.

“Idiot,” she muttered, then turned back to you. “C’mon, love. Let’s get out of here.”

You nodded, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for your coat. As the two of you walked out into the cool night air, Karlach slipped an arm around your shoulders, her presence grounding you.

“Sorry about that,” you murmured after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t think they’d—”

“Stop,” Karlach said gently, her voice firm but kind. “You don’t owe me an apology for their bullshit. What’s their deal, anyway?”

You hesitated but eventually sighed. “We were together a long time ago. It… wasn’t a good relationship. They were controlling, mean. It took everything I had to leave.”

Karlach’s jaw tightened, and you could see the flicker of rage in her eyes as she looked straight ahead.

“Should’ve killed the arsehole,” she muttered under her breath.

You chuckled softly, though it was tinged with nervousness. “You don’t have to solve everything with violence, you know.”

She looked down at you, her expression softening.

“Not everything,” she said with a small grin. “But that? They had it coming.” Her arm tightened around you. “No one gets to treat you like that. Not while I’m here.”

A warm wave of gratitude washed over you as you leaned into her, the safety of her presence more comforting than words could express. “Thank you, Karlach.”

“Always, love,” she replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. As the two of you walked home, you felt lighter, knowing you were no longer alone in facing the ghosts of your past.

Minthara:

The streets of Baldur's Gate were alive with the din of activity: merchants haggling in the marketplace, children darting between the crowd, and the occasional bard strumming a jaunty tune. You walked alongside Minthara, her presence commanding, as always. Her arm curled around your waist with a possessiveness that was both protective and tender. Her silvery hair caught the evening light, and her voice, low and firm, reached your ear.

“We are being followed,” she murmured, her lips brushing your temple. “Someone’s gaze lingers far too long on you.”

Your heart sank, a sinking pit of familiarity clawing at your gut. You subtly glanced over your shoulder under the guise of adjusting your scarf, and that’s when you saw them: your abusive ex. Their figure lingered in the shadows, weaving through the crowd like a snake, their eyes fixed on you with that same unsettling intensity you had tried so hard to forget.

“Dammit,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. The weight of the moment sank in, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

Minthara’s amber eyes narrowed as she studied your expression.

“Who is that?” she asked, her voice icy and sharp.

You hesitated, considering whether to brush it off, but you knew better than to lie to Minthara. “Do you remember the scar just above my hip?” you asked softly, barely above a whisper.

Her grip on your waist tightened as she nodded, her gaze fixed on you, unreadable yet intense.

“They gave it to me,” you admitted, keeping your voice steady. “It happened the day I tried to leave them. We fought, and—” You stopped, the memories creeping too close. “They’ve always had a hard time letting go.”

Minthara’s body went rigid. Her hand, still wrapped around your waist, stilled entirely, her nails pressing into the fabric of your tunic. Her jaw clenched, and before you could stop her, she uncoiled with terrifying precision and sprinted toward your ex.

“Minthara, wait!” you shouted, but it was useless. She was already closing the distance.

Your ex barely had time to react before Minthara tackled them to the ground with the force of a lioness taking down her prey. The crowd scattered, gasps and shouts echoing in the marketplace as she delivered blow after calculated blow. Each strike was vicious but efficient, aimed with the precision of someone trained to dismantle an opponent piece by piece. Her movements were smooth, brutal, and terrifyingly beautiful in their ruthlessness.

“Touch them again,” Minthara snarled, her voice low and venomous as she pressed her forearm against your ex’s throat, “and I will ensure that death would beg for you before I allow it.”

She delivered one final punch, leaving your ex groaning and crumpled in the dirt, their face bloodied and swollen. Satisfied, she stood, brushing her hands off as if she had merely swatted a fly. She strode back toward you, the calm precision of her movements making the crowd part before her like waves.

When she reached you, she lifted her chin, a faint, dangerous smile curling her lips.

“The injuries I’ve given them will take decades to heal,” she promised, her voice still simmering with fury. “And perhaps a century to scar.”

You stared at her, part of you unsure whether to admonish or thank her. Finally, you sighed, shaking your head. “Minthara, you didn’t have to—”

“They hurt you,” she cut in, her voice softening only slightly as her gaze bored into yours. “That is reason enough.”

She reached out, brushing her thumb against your cheek with unexpected tenderness. “You are mine to protect. That wretch deserved every ounce of pain I inflicted.”

Despite the ferocity of her words, the warmth in her touch reminded you why you trusted her so deeply. With a soft sigh, you nodded, leaning into her hand.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, the weight of her actions settling in. Her smile widened, pride glinting in her eyes.

“Of course, my heart. No one who dares harm you will ever go unpunished.” She took your hand and began walking again, her steps measured and sure. As the chaos in the marketplace faded behind you, you couldn’t help but feel safer than you ever had before.

Lae'zel:

The bustling market was alive with noise: merchants shouting out their wares, children weaving between the stalls, and the occasional clang of metal as blacksmiths displayed their crafts. You and Lae’zel moved through the chaos, her sharp eyes scanning for supplies while you trailed beside her, taking in the sights. It was a moment of relative peace amidst your usual adventures.

And then, like a thunderclap on a clear day, you saw them. Your ex.

Before you could react, they were in front of you, their face lighting up with a joy that felt out of place—wrong, even. “There you are!” they exclaimed, pulling you into a hug so suddenly that you didn’t have time to resist. Their arms wrapped around you tightly, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat as panic set in. It wasn’t the embrace of an old friend—it was a claim, a reminder of the control they once held over you.

“I’ve missed you,” they said with a grin, pulling back to look at you. “We have to catch up sometime.”

They left without waiting for your reply, disappearing into the crowd as if they hadn’t just turned your world upside down. You stood there, motionless, your heart pounding and your thoughts racing.

Lae’zel, who had been perusing a nearby stand, turned to you. Her amber eyes immediately narrowed, her expression shifting from mild annoyance at the interruption to something far more dangerous.

“What is this?” she demanded, stepping closer. “You look like you’re about to fight a dragon with a pitchfork. Who were they?”

You couldn’t speak at first. Your throat felt dry, and the words were stuck, lodged somewhere between fear and shame. Finally, you managed to stammer out, “That… That was my ex.”

Lae’zel’s eyes sharpened, her gaze cutting through you like a blade.

“And this is your reaction to a past lover? You are no stranger to affection, but you looked as though the mere touch of them turned your blood to acid.” Her voice lowered, her tone becoming more dangerous. “What did they do to you?”

You tried to explain, but the words faltered. Your lips moved, but the memories caught up with you, dragging you back into a place you didn’t want to revisit. You didn’t need to say it, though—Lae’zel saw the truth in your silence.

She cursed violently in Gith, the harsh, guttural sounds slicing through the air. Her hand tightened around her weapon, and her whole body tensed like a predator ready to strike.

“They hurt you,” she said, her voice barely above a growl. “I will take their head and present it to you as a trophy.”

She turned, already scanning the crowd for their retreating form, but you reached out, grabbing her arm.

“Wait,” you said, your voice trembling. “Just… wait a moment.”

Lae’zel hesitated, her muscles twitching with the need for action, but she stayed. Her eyes never left you as you closed yours and took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within. She stayed close, her presence grounding you as you forced yourself to let go of the fear and focus on the present.

After a few moments, you opened your eyes and gave her a weak smile.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I just needed a moment.”

Her gaze softened slightly, but the fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed.

“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. “Because I will not let this stand.”

You nodded, a small gesture, but it was all she needed. With a fierce grin, she turned on her heel and stalked into the crowd, her focus like a blade honed to perfection.

It didn’t take long for her to find them. You followed at a safe distance, your heart racing but unable to stop her now. She caught up to them near a fruit stall, grabbing them by the shoulder and spinning them around. They barely had time to react before Lae’zel shoved them against a wooden post, her face inches from theirs.

“You dare to touch what is mine?” she snarled, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of everyone nearby. “You have left scars on them that I cannot abide. For that, I will use your head as my footrest.”

The ex stammered, their confidence evaporating under her ferocity. Before they could say anything more, Lae’zel delivered a sharp blow to their stomach, doubling them over. She stepped back, letting them fall to their knees, then stood over them like a conqueror surveying her victory.

Satisfied that her message was clear, she turned and walked back to you, her expression fierce but triumphant.

“It is done,” she said simply. “They will not trouble you again.”

You let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over you despite the chaos. “Thank you,” you said, reaching out to take her hand.

Her grip was firm, reassuring. “No one hurts you and walks away unscathed,” she said. “Not while I draw breath.”

With that, she led you away, her protective presence a shield against the world.

Shadowheart:

The party was vibrant, full of chatter, music, and laughter. The hum of lively conversation filled the grand hall as you and Shadowheart wove through the crowd, wine glasses in hand. You hadn’t been entirely thrilled about attending, but Shadowheart’s soft insistence and the promise of shared moments made it worthwhile.

That was until you saw them—your ex.

They were standing near the center of a small group, regaling their audience with some elaborate tale, their gestures animated and their voice dripping with charm. Your stomach turned when they noticed you, their expression lighting up with the kind of false familiarity that set your nerves on edge. They sidled over, slipping seamlessly into your space, and before you could react, they had drawn you into their circle.

Shadowheart, ever watchful, stayed close, her sharp eyes flicking between you and your ex.

“We can leave,” she murmured under her breath, her voice calm but concerned. “Say the word.”

You shook your head, managing a strained smile.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured her, though your grip on your glass tightened slightly. You didn’t want to ruin the evening for her.

As the conversation swirled, your ex began telling a story—one about you. They spoke as if the two of you were still an item, peppering their tale with biting remarks and veiled insults.

“Oh, you should’ve seen them back then,” they sneered, “always so scatterbrained. Couldn’t even get through a simple task without my help.”

The group laughed awkwardly, clearly sensing the tension. Your face burned with a mix of anger and humiliation, but before you could find your voice, Shadowheart stepped forward, her demeanor cool and composed, but her eyes as sharp as daggers.

She interrupted smoothly, her voice cutting through the conversation like a blade.

“That reminds me of a story from my past,” she said, her tone conversational yet chilling. The group turned to her, captivated by the quiet authority in her voice. “There was a time when I dealt with an exceptionally arrogant prisoner. They fancied themselves clever—always talking back, thinking they were in control. So I decided to teach them a lesson.” She paused, taking a sip of her wine as if the next part were merely an afterthought. “I ripped out their tongue and fed it to them.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The group stared at her, their eyes wide, as the weight of her words hung heavy in the air. Your ex, who had been so confident mere moments ago, visibly paled, their mouth opening and closing as if searching for a retort.

Shadowheart tilted her head slightly, a faint, dangerous smile playing on her lips. “It’s remarkable how much quieter some people can be after a simple… correction.”

Your ex stammered something unintelligible before hastily excusing themselves, practically fleeing from the room. The tension broke, and you couldn’t help but laugh—a genuine, bubbling sound of relief and delight. You turned to Shadowheart, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection.

“Thank you,” you said, grinning. “The look on their face… I’ll treasure that forever.”

Shadowheart leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a tender yet possessive kiss.

“I love you,” she said softly, her words a vow as much as a declaration.

Then she pulled back slightly, her eyes glinting with something dark and resolute.

“Hold my wine,” she said, pressing her glass into your hand. “There’s something—or rather, someone��I need to deal with.”

Before you could protest, she was gone, her dark hair flowing like a shadow cutting through the crowd. You watched her go, a mixture of admiration and mild terror filling you. Whatever she had in mind, you knew one thing for certain: no one would dare cross her—or you—ever again.

Jaheira:

The warm hum of Jaheira's household had always been a comfort to you. The chatter of the children, the occasional laughter, and the scent of a home-cooked meal mingled with the faint floral aroma of the plants she meticulously tended. You were setting the table, ready to sit down for the evening meal with Jaheira and her family, when an insistent knock sounded at the door.

The sound froze you in place. It wasn’t the friendly, casual knock of a neighbor or friend. No, it was sharp and demanding, like someone who felt entitled to be heard. Dread pooled in your stomach, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t that person anymore. You were stronger now, surrounded by people who cared for you.

Still, when you opened the door and saw your ex standing there, their familiar sneer twisting their features, that old fear reared its head.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, keeping your voice firm. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

Your ex scoffed, taking a step closer. “I’ll decide where I should be,” they spat. “We have unfinished business.”

Your heart raced, but you held your ground. “Leave,” you repeated, gripping the doorframe tightly. “Now.”

Their response was to shove you—hard. The force sent you stumbling back, and you hit the ground with a painful thud, the breath knocked out of you. Your ex marched inside, their eyes scanning the room like they owned it.

“Get out!” you shouted, your voice shaking more than you’d like.

The commotion brought Jaheira’s children rushing into the room. Jhessem and Tate were at your side in an instant, their small hands helping you sit up as they looked at you with wide, worried eyes. Fig, ever the fiery little warrior, grabbed her wooden sword and brandished it at your ex, her small frame trembling but determined.

“You leave them alone!” she yelled, her voice high-pitched but fierce.

Your ex laughed, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. But the laughter died when Jord and Rion stepped forward, their presence filling the room with an almost tangible force.

Jord, tall and broad-shouldered, the half-orc planted himself between the children and your ex.

“You’ve got two seconds to get out of this house,” he said, his voice low and rumbling with warning.

Rion, her sharp features twisted into a glare that could cut stone, pointed a finger at your ex.

“You do not belong here,” she said, her tone icy. “Leave before I make you.”

Despite the bravery of Jaheira’s children, you quickly pushed yourself to your feet, positioning yourself between them and your ex.

“This isn’t their fight,” you said firmly, your voice stronger now as you faced your abuser. “Leave them out of this. Leave us alone.”

Your ex sneered, taking a step toward you, but before they could say another word, the sound of measured, deliberate footsteps echoed from the staircase. Everyone turned as Jaheira descended, her eyes sharp as a hawk’s.

She took in the scene at a glance—the children bristling with protective anger, you standing tense and pale, and your ex, whose presence tainted the very air. Her expression darkened like a storm cloud.

“What is this?” she asked, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

Your ex, ever the fool, sneered. “Just having a little chat.”

Jaheira’s gaze flicked to you. “Are they threatening you?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Before you could answer, your ex made the mistake of laughing. “This is none of your business, old woman.”

Jaheira didn’t respond with words. Instead, she raised a hand, her fingers curling in a subtle motion. Thorned vines erupted from the floor, twisting and writhing like living snakes. They wrapped around your ex with terrifying speed, pinning their arms to their sides and tightening until they yelped in pain.

“Get them out of here,” Jaheira commanded, her voice like steel.

The vines obeyed, dragging your ex toward the door. They thrashed and cursed, but the thorns only dug in deeper. With a final, satisfying motion, the vines flung them out into the street. The door slammed shut behind them, and the vines retracted as if they had never been.

Jaheira turned to you, her eyes softening. You immediately started to apologize, guilt bubbling up in your chest. “Jaheira, I’m so sorry—I never thought they’d come here. I never wanted to put you or your children in danger—”

“Stop being ridiculous,” she interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. She stepped closer, her hands cupping your face as she looked you over. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” she said, her hands dropping to your shoulders. “You’ve been through enough tonight. Rest now.”

“I’ll make some tea,” Jord said, already heading toward the kitchen with calm efficiency.

Fig tugged at your sleeve, her wooden sword still clutched in her hand. “We’ll always help you,” she said, her voice small but fierce.

You managed a smile, ruffling her hair. “Thank you, Fig.”

Jaheira wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you toward the sitting area.

“You’re safe here,” she murmured, her voice steady and soothing. “No one—no one—will ever hurt you again.”

As you sank into the cushions, the tension slowly leaving your body, you felt the warmth of Jaheira’s family around you. They had rallied to protect you without hesitation, and for the first time in a long time, you felt truly safe.

Gale:

The cozy, labyrinthine aisles of Sorcerous Sundries stretched out around you, their shelves laden with ancient tomes and scrolls that hummed with latent magic. The scent of old parchment and ink filled the air, grounding and soothing. You and Gale had been immersed in your own quiet exploration, each lost in the treasure trove of knowledge. Every so often, you’d exchange a snippet of discovery—a passage here, a glyph there—but for the most part, it was a shared silence, warm and comfortable.

As your fingers trailed over the spine of a particularly aged tome, its title caught your eye: The Heart of Aetherial Bonds. Intrigued, you flipped it open and found a passage that immediately reminded you of Gale. The words were poetic, a reflection on the ties between love and magic, the way one could amplify the other. A small smile tugged at your lips. He would love this.

“Gale,” you called softly, tucking the book under your arm as you began to weave through the aisles, searching for him.

Your steps were light as you rounded a corner, spotting a familiar silhouette a few shelves away.

“There you are,” you began, but as the figure turned, the words died in your throat.

It wasn’t Gale.

Your blood ran cold as you recognized them—your ex. The person who had haunted your past, whose shadow you had thought you’d escaped. Their eyes lit up with a twisted glee, and before you could move, they stepped forward and grabbed your arm in an iron grip.

“I can’t believe it,” they said, their voice dripping with possessive satisfaction. “I’ve been searching for you, and here you are.”

“Let go of me,” you said firmly, trying to pull away. Their grip only tightened, the familiar pain radiating up your arm.

“You’re coming home,” they hissed, their tone leaving no room for argument.

Your heart pounded as you pushed against their hold, your voice shaking. “You’re hurting me—let go.”

But just as before, they didn’t listen. Their other hand reached to grip your shoulder, and for a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm you.

Then, the air shifted. A crackling sound filled the room, sharp and electric, like the air before a storm. A chill ran down your spine as the oppressive grip on your arm faltered. Both you and your ex turned toward the source of the energy.

Gale stood at the end of the aisle, his form illuminated by a pulsing, arcane light. His expression was unlike anything you had seen before—fierce, unyielding, his eyes glowing with a raw, dangerous power. Magic swirled around him, forming tendrils of energy that snapped and sparked against the air.

“Release them,” he said, his voice a low, commanding growl.

Your ex hesitated, their bravado wavering as the sheer intensity of Gale’s presence bore down on them.

“This isn’t your business, mage” they spat, but their voice lacked conviction.

“Oh, but it is,” Gale said, his hands lifting as the magic in the air intensified. “You’ve made it so.”

Before another word could be uttered, a blinding flash of energy erupted from Gale’s outstretched palms. The searing light enveloped your ex, their scream cut short as their form disintegrated into ash, leaving nothing behind but a faint, acrid scent and a smudge of dust on the floor. The magic dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the air still and silent.

Gale was at your side in an instant, his hands gently cradling your face as he looked you over.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice soft now, filled with worry.

You shook your head, tears welling up as the adrenaline drained from your body.

“I—I’m okay,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as the weight of what had just happened settled over you. The tension in your body melted as you buried your face in his chest, the faint scent of his robes and the comforting hum of his magic grounding you. Your shoulders shook as quiet sobs escaped, the fear and relief spilling out all at once.

“It’s over,” Gale murmured, his hand gently stroking your back. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You clung to him, the sound of his heartbeat steady and calming against your ear. After a while, your tears slowed, and you pulled back just enough to look up at him. His face was a mixture of concern and quiet anger, his protective instincts still on high alert.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said, your voice trembling but sincere.

He smiled softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You’ll never have to find out.”

Astarion:

The lively hum of the tavern wrapped around you like a familiar cloak, its warmth and noise a welcome respite from the chaos of adventuring. You sat at a corner table with Astarion, his sharp wit and flair for drama turning a mundane evening into something delightfully entertaining. Together, you exchanged hushed gossip about the other patrons—their fashion choices, their whispered secrets—and laughed at his outrageous commentary.

“Oh, look at him,” Astarion murmured, tilting his head toward a burly man near the bar, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “I’d wager he’s had one too many pies—and just one too many wives, judging by that tan line on his ring finger.”

You snorted into your drink, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And yet, you adore me,” he said with a playful smirk. He lifted your glass with a flourish. “Speaking of adoration, I’ll be a dear and fetch you a refill. Don’t miss me too much.”

You grinned, watching as Astarion sashayed toward the bar, his charm radiating even in the simplest of tasks. Leaning back, you took a moment to enjoy the bustling atmosphere, but your peace shattered as a shadow fell over your table.

Your stomach churned as you turned to see your ex standing there, their presence as unwelcome as a dagger in the back. Without waiting for an invitation, they slid into Astarion’s vacated seat, their grin sending a chill down your spine.

“Well, well,” they said, leaning closer. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You stiffened, your pulse quickening. “Leave,” you said coldly, standing abruptly. “This isn’t the place, and I have nothing to say to you.”

But as you turned to leave, their hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking you back with a cruel force. A sharp yelp escaped your lips as pain flared along your scalp.

“You think you can just walk away from me?” they snarled, their grip tightening. You tried to swing at them, but panic muddled your movements, and they easily avoided your weak attempts to break free. The room seemed to close in, the once-lively chatter of the tavern fading into a distant hum as fear took hold.

And then, just as suddenly, the pressure on your scalp vanished. You staggered forward, catching yourself on the edge of the table, and turned to see your ex frozen in place. A knife glinted at their throat, a thin line of blood already welling against the blade’s edge. Behind them stood Astarion, his expression icy and predatory.

“I’ve been dying for a fresh kill tonight,” Astarion purred, his voice dangerously low. “And it seems you’ve volunteered. How considerate.”

Your ex’s bravado crumbled as they began to stammer, their hands raised in shaky surrender. Astarion’s grip on the knife didn’t waver, his sharp eyes flicking to you.

“Darling,” he said, his tone almost conversational, “this one’s causing you trouble, isn’t he?”

You met his gaze, your scalp still throbbing but your heart swelling with gratitude. Nodding slowly, you gave him permission with a single, deliberate motion of your head.

Astarion’s smile widened, and he dragged your ex out of the tavern with an almost casual ease, ignoring their sputtered protests. The crowd parted instinctively, sensing the danger in his stride. You stayed behind, nursing your scalp and taking deep breaths to steady yourself. The minutes felt like hours, but eventually, Astarion returned, brushing off his hands as though he’d simply taken out the trash.

“All taken care of,” he said, his tone light as he reached for you, cupping your face gently. “Let me see—did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “I—I could have handled it.”

Astarion raised an elegant eyebrow, his hand trailing down to rest on your shoulder.

“Oh, please, my love,” he said with mock exasperation. “You’re many things, but you’re not a liar. Let me have this one.”

You sighed, relenting. “Thank you, Astarion.”

He smiled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “You’re welcome, darling. But seriously, are you okay? That brute—”

You interrupted him with a nod, placing a hand over his. “I am now. Because I’m with you.”

His expression softened, the predatory edge replaced by something tender.

“Always,” he murmured, his voice a promise. With a protective arm around your waist, he led you out of the tavern, away from the echoes of the past and into the safe haven of his presence.

Wyll:

The ballroom of the Ulder Ravengard's estate was a vision of opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light over marble floors polished to a mirror sheen. Noblemen and women in resplendent attire swayed to the music of a skilled orchestra, their laughter mingling with the hum of conversation. You and Wyll had been thoroughly enjoying yourselves, weaving through the room, gossiping about fashion choices and laughing at poorly-hidden flirtations among the elite.

Wyll, as always, moved with an effortless charm that drew people to him like moths to a flame. He introduced you to old friends, clinking glasses with ease, his laugh rich and genuine. His warmth was contagious, and you found yourself at ease in a social world that might have otherwise intimidated you. But when Wyll excused himself to chat with a group of friends near the wine table, you waved him off with a smile, happy to people-watch for a while.

A light tap on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. A hand reached out, beckoning you to the dance floor. You assumed it was a friend or an acquaintance and allowed yourself to be led. But as you turned, your stomach plummeted. Your blood ran cold.

It was them.

Your abusive ex stood before you, their grin as sharp and cruel as you remembered. It was a grin that promised pain masked under a veneer of charm. You instinctively tried to pull your hand away, but their grip only tightened, their fingers digging into your wrist.

“Don’t look so surprised,” they said smoothly, their voice low and venomous. “You didn’t think you could escape me forever, did you?”

“This isn’t the time or place,” you hissed, keeping your voice quiet to avoid drawing attention. “Let me go.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” they replied, their grip tightening further as they began to lead you into a slow, swaying dance. Their tone was soft, deceptively sweet, but their eyes glinted with malice. “You owe me this much, at least. Don’t make a scene. Wouldn’t want to embarrass your fancy boyfriend or his oh-so-important father, would you?”

Your heart raced as they leaned in closer, their breath hot against your ear.

“You think you’ve moved on, don’t you? That you can just walk away from what we had? You’re mine, and you always will be.” You tried to twist out of their grip, panic rising in your chest.

“Let go of me,” you spat, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed.

Their smile only widened. “Oh I don’t think so,” they said, their voice dropping an octave. “You’re going to regret leaving me.”

You braced yourself, half-expecting them to lash out. Your eyes squeezed shut as you prepared for a blow that never came. Instead, a loud, sickening crack echoed through the ballroom, followed by gasps from nearby guests.

Opening your eyes, you saw your ex sprawled on the polished floor, clutching their face. Blood gushed from their nose, staining their pristine clothing. Standing over them, his posture rigid with fury, was Wyll. His usual easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced by a simmering rage that made the air around him feel electric.

“Touch them again,” Wyll growled, his voice low and deadly, “and a broken nose will be the least of your worries.”

Your ex scrambled backward on the floor, their bravado shattered as they stared up at Wyll in terror. Before they could say anything, a pair of Flaming Fist guards appeared, having been alerted by the commotion. Wyll waved them over, his eyes never leaving your ex.

“Take them,” Wyll ordered, his voice firm. “They’re disturbing the peace.”

The guards didn’t hesitate. They grabbed your ex by the arms and hauled them to their feet, ignoring their sputtering protests and threats. As they dragged your ex away, Wyll finally turned to you, his expression softening in an instant.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked gently, stepping closer to cup your face in his hands. His warm brown eyes scanned you for any sign of injury.

“I’m fine,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky. “Wyll, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to cause a scene—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You don’t need to apologize. This isn’t on you.”

The weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, brought tears to your eyes. He pulled you into a tight embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head as he whispered soothing words into your ear. The rest of the ballroom seemed to fade away, leaving only the comforting warmth of his presence.

When you finally pulled back, he brushed a stray tear from your cheek and gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded, your breath evening out as the panic subsided. “Thank you, Wyll.”

He kissed your forehead tenderly before taking your hand in his.

“Come, my love,” he said, his voice returning to its usual warmth. “Let’s get you a fresh drink. We’ve both earned it tonight.”

And with that, he led you away from the gawking crowd, his protective arm wrapped securely around you, a silent promise that no harm would come to you as long as he was by your side.

Halsin:

The forest was tranquil, the golden light of the afternoon filtering through the dense canopy of leaves. You moved between patches of wildflowers, humming a tune as you gathered handfuls of blooms for the orphans back at the grove. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers and moss, and for a time, you felt entirely at peace.

Your basket was nearly full when a faint rustling behind you caught your attention. You paused, glancing over your shoulder, but the forest appeared empty. Shrugging it off as a rabbit or some other harmless creature, you bent down to pluck a cluster of bright yellow flowers. You didn’t notice the shaggy, wiry wolf stalking closer, its pale eyes fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.

Suddenly, the wolf sprang from the underbrush, a blur of fur and teeth. You gasped as it collided with you, the force of the pounce knocking you to the ground. Its heavy paws pinned you to the forest floor, the breath driven from your lungs as you struggled beneath its weight.

Before you could scream, the wolf began to shift. Fur melted into skin, limbs elongated, and in moments, you were staring into the face of your abusive ex. The recognition hit you like a blow to the chest, your blood running cold.

“You,” you breathed, horrified, and immediately began to struggle.

They leaned closer, their wild eyes gleaming with an unnerving fervor.

“Did you miss me, darling?” they crooned, their voice dripping with mock affection. “I’ve missed you so much. I couldn’t let you go, not like that.”

“Get off me!” you snapped, shoving at their chest with all your strength. Your heart pounded as you tried to call for help, but their hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you.

“Shh,” they whispered, their grin twisting into something darker. “Don’t make this difficult. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

Panic surged through you, and you did the only thing you could think of—you bit down hard on the palm of their hand. They hissed in pain but didn’t flinch away, instead smirking as if they found your resistance amusing.

“Still feisty,” they murmured, their tone infuriatingly condescending. “I’ve always loved that about—”

Their words were cut off by a deafening roar, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the forest. A massive brown bear charged out of the trees, barreling into your ex with bone-crushing force. The impact sent them flying, their body slamming into the trunk of a tree with a sickening thud.

The bear was relentless. Your ex shifted back into their wolf form, snarling as they tried to defend themselves, but they were no match for the sheer ferocity of Halsin. His claws tore through fur and flesh with savage precision, his roar echoing through the woods as he drove your ex deeper into retreat. When the wolf finally lay broken and bloodied, it whimpered and slunk away, disappearing into the underbrush.

Halsin remained in bear form for a moment longer, his massive chest heaving as he watched the wolf flee. Only when he was certain the threat was gone did he shift back, his towering frame immediately rushing to your side.

“You’re hurt,” he said urgently, dropping to his knees and cradling your face in his large hands. His amber eyes scanned you for injuries, his expression a mixture of worry and fury. “What did they do to you?”

“I’m okay,” you said, your voice trembling as the adrenaline began to fade. “I’m just… shaken up.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His embrace was almost crushing, but you didn’t mind—you needed the grounding warmth of his presence as much as he needed the reassurance that you were safe. You buried your face against his chest, clinging to him as your body trembled.

“I should have been here sooner,” Halsin murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your forehead. “I’ll never let anything like this happen to you again.”

You rested your head against his chest, letting his warmth and steady presence soothe your frayed nerves. “You were here when I needed you,” you reassured him. “That’s all that matters.”

Halsin pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. He didn’t let go, and you didn’t ask him to. In that moment, being in his arms was the safest place in the world.

[If you or anyone that you know of has experienced behaviors like this please do not hesitate to contact your local authority]

oof that was a bit of a heavy one but i hope you guys enjoyed it - Seluney xox

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

[cylinderarts]

Shadowheart talked bad about Selûne one too many times

[optiwashere]

Art by @androgynousshiver 💜

We're workin' together on a BG3 winter art + fic event and they took Asheera and Shadowheart on a test drive with this style!!!

They drew the girls so adorably soft... I had to shout about it here...

The event is @bg3-winter-big-bang btw!

[eliteseven]

!!!! I’m still in shock tbh but I got GIFTED some NobleHeart clips by the incredibly kind lovely amazing thoughtful @shadowfalllen 🥹💕!!! I am a lowly console peasant and seeing these variations would’ve been otherwise impossible for me!!

[optiwashere]

hehe second xmas gift of the year to all of us :)

thank you so much for the lovely piece of the girls 💜💜💜

last art of the year and it is predictably still shadowheart related - thank u @optiwashere for commissioning me! (asheera uses she/her)

[javsarts]

Literally went from:

“Why would I ever trust the word of an Oathbreaker?”

“It’s unwise to trust a bloody Sharran”

To:

“Why hello, Lover, that sounded more debonaire in my head, I admit”

“I am yours, my Heart”

.

.

.

.

Aaaand I’m finally in Act 3 (fucking finally) with my Oathbreaker Paladin Durge run. I can only wish I’m talented enough of a writer to write a fic for these two I swear-

Edit:

Not sure if anyone cares but yeah, fic here lol

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55994872/chapters/14220

[spicyraeman]

You're as loyal as a pup and twice as pretty.

[sango-blep]

BG3's biggest flaw is that I can't take every cat i see and give it to Shadowheart

[coppsereal]

Yes, you sit right there and let me drink in the sight of you.

last night i accidentally posted this picture and then deleted it because it's not finished yet. but i come back to post it again because i want to share the cuteness of shadowheart lol

[basketobread]

i hope its not just me but does anyone else feel incredibly bad when you misclick a companion and then just leave cuz yeah thats like half of my gameplay

IT FEELS SO MEAN so of course i made a comic about it... sorry shart </3

[gildedruin]

Sketch sheet of Shadowheart and my first Tav, Enora. I played a selûnite cleric and oh man this dynamic was DELICIOUS.

[moonselune]

hi there 🙃

could you write the female companions' reactions to a normally passive (as in, pacifist, -- bard, healer, etc) tav, who genuinly dislikes violence, absolutely demolishing someone after they dared lay hands on their beloved?

not like in a, 'dont touch em!! Take dat!!' way after someone accidentally bumps shoulders with their partner, im talking about someone insulting tavs significant other, both physically and verbally, SO BAD, that tav cant help but go ballistic on em 😦

like, for example, someone berating Shadowheart, mocking her, mocking shar, kickin her to the ground n allat, and before she can even respond or fight back, the very same person who was berating her suddenly has a spear impaling them through the heart ?? As the stranger falls down, tav stands tall behind them, pulling the spear out and hurling it to the ground along with the now lifeless corpse 👽

if this is too dark feel free to ignore 💕

Ahh I love this and not too dark at all xox

Karlach:

The camp was quiet, the crackling of the fire and the occasional distant howl of wildlife the only sounds in the crisp evening air. You watched as Karlach, her fiery mane glowing in the flickering light, paced near the edge of the clearing. Her usual exuberant energy was gone, replaced with a taut line to her shoulders and a clenched jaw. It was rare to see her so subdued, and it made your heart ache.

The cause of her distress, Gortash’s lackey—a smarmy, cruel barite with a penchant for striking where it hurt most—still lingered in the shadows, his mocking laughter replaying in your ears.

“Naive and stupid,” he had jeered earlier. “To think you’d ever amount to more than a pawn, Karlach. A brute without a brain. That’s all you are, just a weapon Gortash no longer needs.”

Karlach had held her tongue—barely. You’d seen the way her fists had clenched, the way her chest had heaved as she fought to keep her Infernal Engine from roaring to life. Instead of lashing out, she had walked away, muttering about needing to cool off.

But you couldn’t let it go. Not this time.

You rose from your seat by the fire and slipped into the shadows, the hidden dagger in your boot feeling heavier than usual. Violence wasn’t your way; it never had been. But for Karlach? For the woman who had given you her heart, who carried so much pain behind her warm smiles and boundless energy? For her, you would make an exception.

You found the lackey leaning against a tree, a smug grin plastered on his face as though he thought himself untouchable. He didn’t even notice you approach.

“Lost, are we?” he sneered, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Or have you come to defend your pet?”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you closed the distance in a flash, the dagger in your hand before he could even register the movement. One swift, silent motion, and it was over. The man’s eyes widened in shock as he crumpled to the ground, his lifeblood staining the forest floor. You wiped the blade clean on his cloak, your heart pounding in your chest—not from fear, but from the fierce protectiveness that had driven you to act.

When you returned to camp, Karlach was sitting by the fire, her head resting on her knees. She looked up as you approached, her fiery eyes searching your face for any sign of what had transpired.

“Where’d he go?” she asked, her voice tinged with confusion. “The loudmouth. I didn’t hear him leave.”

You sat beside her, tucking the dagger away as nonchalantly as possible.

“Don’t worry about him,” you said softly, offering her a reassuring smile. “He’s gone now. Probably realized he wasn’t welcome.”

Karlach tilted her head, studying you for a moment. Then she smiled, a small, grateful thing that made your heart swell.

“Guess even idiots like him know when to back off, huh?” she said, leaning into your side.

You wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close as her warmth seeped into you. If she suspected anything, she didn’t show it. After all, you were the pacifist, the one who hated violence. The idea that you could harm someone—let alone end them—would never cross her mind.

As you sat there, the fire crackling softly and Karlach’s tension melting away, you felt a strange sense of peace. You had done what needed to be done, and Karlach was none the wiser. She didn’t need to know. All that mattered was that she was safe, her spirit undimmed.

You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, your lips brushing against her wild hair.

“I’ll always look out for you,” you murmured, more to yourself than to her. And you meant it—no matter what it took.

Minthara:

The dimly lit underdark tavern was alive with the quiet murmurs of its occupants, the air thick with the heady mix of incense and intrigue. Minthara stood at your side, her presence regal and unyielding even in the face of a room filled with drow - some nobles. Their venomous words and sidelong glances were nothing new—Minthara had endured their scorn since the fall of the Absolute. But tonight, one of them crossed a line.

Lady Velrith, a figure draped in finery as dark and ostentatious as her twisted smirk, circled Minthara like a predator.

“The mighty Minthara,” she drawled, her voice dripping with mockery. “Once a chosen of the Absolute, now… what? Cast aside by the very gods you claimed to serve? Even Lolth herself wouldn’t sully her name with your devotion.”

Minthara’s hands clenched at her sides, her jaw tightening as she prepared to retort—or strike. Her amber eyes glinted with barely contained rage, but before she could act, you stepped forward.

“Enough,” you said, your voice calm yet laced with a warning. Velrith turned her gaze to you, clearly unimpressed by your intervention.

“And who is this?” Velrith sneered, looking you up and down. “Minthara’s little pet, come to defend her honor? How quaint.”

Your grip tightened on the hilt of your dagger, hidden beneath the folds of your cloak. You were not one for violence—it was something you abhorred, something Minthara often teased you about. But this time, this venomous noble had gone too far. Minthara was yours, your heart, your everything. No one insulted her and lived to gloat about it.

Without a word, you lunged. The dagger moved like a whisper, slicing through the air and finding its mark in Velrith’s throat. Her eyes widened in shock as she staggered, clutching at the wound, blood spilling between her fingers. She collapsed to the floor, lifeless.

The chamber fell into stunned silence. You stood over the noble’s body, your chest heaving as you looked down at her. The room seemed to shrink around you, every eye locked on the scene. But none mattered except Minthara’s.

When you turned to her, she was staring at you, her expression a mixture of astonishment and something else—pride.

“You… killed her,” Minthara said, stepping closer. Her voice was quiet, but the weight of her words hung heavy in the air. “You, who flinch at the mere thought of bloodshed.”

“I did,” you replied simply, wiping the dagger on a scrap of cloth before sheathing it. “She insulted you. I couldn’t stand by and let that happen.”

Minthara’s lips parted, as though she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. For a moment, the ever-composed drow was at a loss. Then, a slow, almost predatory smile spread across her face.

“You stole my kill,” she said, her tone light but edged with amusement. “But I find I cannot be angry with you. Not when you’ve proven yourself so… capable.”

“I wasn’t going to let her speak to you like that,” you said, stepping closer to her. “You deserve better.”

Her amber eyes locked onto yours, and she reached up to cradle your face in her hands.

“You surprise me, my love,” she murmured. “You, with your pacifist heart, spilling blood for me. I could not ask for a more devoted partner.”

Her words sent a warmth through you, even as the weight of what you’d done lingered in the back of your mind. She leaned in, brushing her lips against yours in a kiss that was both possessive and tender.

“Next time,” she whispered against your lips, “leave the killing to me. But… thank you. For reminding them, and me, that I am not to be underestimated.”

The two of you left the chamber together, her hand resting on your arm as though to shield you from any further hostility. Though you had shocked her, you had also proven your devotion in a way few ever could.

Lae'zel:

The air in Creche Y'llek was sharp with the scent of steel and the faint tang of psionic energy. Githyanki warriors moved through the halls with an air of superiority, their every movement deliberate and precise. You stayed close to Lae’zel, her presence steady and fierce as ever, though you could sense the tension coiling in her like a spring. This was her home, but it was no safe haven—not anymore.

“Traitorous filth,” a sneering voice cut through the air, stopping the two of you in your tracks.

A gith warrior, clad in gleaming armor, stood with arms crossed, his expression twisted into a contemptuous sneer. His name was Ver’sath, a seasoned warrior and a guard they had encountered at the entrance, and his eyes burned with disdain as they locked onto Lae’zel.

“You dare walk among us, tainted by the ghaik’s spawn?” Ver’sath spat, his voice dripping with disgust. “Your very breath defiles this creche.”

Lae’zel’s jaw tightened, but she stepped forward, her gaze like steel. “I am no ghaik, Ver’sath. I bear the parasite, yes, but it does not rule me. I will cleanse myself and prove my worth.”

Ver’sath snorted, taking a step back as though the mere proximity of her presence was offensive. “You are already lost, Lae’zel. A ghaik puppet masquerading as gith. I wouldn’t sully my blade or my honor by crossing steel with you.”

The insult hung heavy in the air, and you felt your blood boil. Without thinking, without considering the consequences, your hand darted to your weapon. Before Lae’zel could respond, you surged forward, the blade singing as it left its sheath.

The movement was swift, fueled by a fire you rarely allowed to burn. Ver’sath’s eyes widened in shock as your weapon pierced his chest, the blade slipping between the plates of his armor. He staggered back, a choked gasp escaping his lips as he collapsed to the ground.

Silence fell over the corridor, broken only by the sound of his lifeless body hitting the stone floor. You stood there, breathing heavily, your weapon dripping with blood.

“Lae’zel,” you began, turning to her, but her expression stopped you short.

Her golden eyes blazed with a mix of fury and disbelief. She grabbed your wrist, yanking you aside.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” she hissed, her voice low but intense. “We are in a creche! Such actions will not go unnoticed!”

You met her gaze, guilt and defiance warring within you. “He insulted you. He—”

“I did not need your protection,” she snapped, though her grip on your wrist softened. “This place is not like the surface. Here, there are rules—strict ones. You jeopardize both of us.”

“But he called you…” you trailed off, the weight of your impulsiveness settling over you. “I couldn’t let him speak to you like that. I couldn’t stand it.”

For a moment, Lae’zel said nothing. Then, with a heavy sigh, she released your wrist.

“You are a fool,” she muttered, her tone softer now. “A reckless fool. But… you acted from loyalty, and for that, I cannot truly fault you.”

Her gaze lingered on the fallen Ver’sath before returning to you.

“Come,” she said, pulling you away. “We must move quickly before his absence raises questions. But hear me, my love—do not act so rashly again. I can handle the scorn of weaklings like him.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you followed her. “I only did it because I care.”

She glanced at you, the corner of her mouth twitching in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “I know. But let us survive this place, so you may continue to care another day.”

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart rarely showed fear. She was a woman forged in darkness, raised to endure pain and thrive in chaos. But as she knelt on the damp cobblestones of the alley, surrounded by sneering Sharrans, her shoulders trembled ever so slightly. Their taunts echoed off the walls, cruel and cutting.

"Look at her," one sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "A failed servant of the Dark Lady. What a disgrace. Did Shar discard you like the trash you are?"

Another kicked her in the side, and Shadowheart grunted, but she refused to cry out. "Pathetic," the second hissed. "Begging for scraps of redemption when you were meant to walk the shadows."

The third leaned close, gripping her chin roughly and forcing her to meet his gaze. "Do you miss her embrace, girl? Or did you run because you knew you weren’t worthy?"

Shadowheart’s hand twitched toward her weapon, but she was outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and worse, they knew her weaknesses. She felt their jeers carving into her like knives, cutting far deeper than any blade ever could.

But then, a voice cut through the din like a blade through silk. “Take your hands off her.”

The Sharrans turned, their expressions shifting from derision to surprise as you stepped into the mouth of the alley. You weren’t carrying a weapon; you never did. You were a bard, a healer, someone who mended wounds and sang away sorrow. To them, you were no threat at all.

And yet, there was something in your eyes—a stillness, a quiet storm—that made them pause.

"Or what?" one of them sneered, recovering quickly. "You’ll sing us a ballad?"

Your gaze flicked to Shadowheart. She was watching you, her face pale but her eyes wide with something like warning—or perhaps pleading. And then your attention snapped back to the Sharrans.

It happened so fast they didn’t have time to react. In one fluid motion, you grabbed a discarded spear leaning against the alley wall—likely dropped there by the very fools now surrounding Shadowheart—and hurled it with deadly precision. The first Sharran crumpled to the ground, the spear embedded in his chest.

The others blinked in shock, their bravado faltering. Before they could act, you closed the distance. Your movements were a blur, driven not by technique but by sheer, unrelenting determination. You snatched the spear from the lifeless body and swung it in a wide arc, knocking the second Sharran to the ground. He tried to scramble to his feet, but you drove the butt of the spear into his skull with a sickening crack.

The last Sharran, the one who had dared lay hands on Shadowheart, stumbled back, his confidence shattered.

“You’re mad!” he spat, drawing a dagger. “You’re just a bard—!”

His words were cut short as you thrust the spear forward, impaling him through the heart. He looked down at the weapon protruding from his chest, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words. Then he fell, lifeless, onto the cobblestones.

You stood there, breathing heavily, the spear still clutched in your hands. Blood dripped from its tip, pooling around your feet. Shadowheart pushed herself upright, staring at you in stunned silence.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, your voice softer than she expected. You turned to her, your hands reaching out, but when you saw the blood on them, you hesitated.

Shadowheart shook her head, stepping closer. “You…” Her voice faltered, her usual poise slipping. “You just…”

You dropped the spear, letting it clatter to the ground as you moved to her side.

“They touched you,” you said simply, as though that explained everything. “No one touches you.”

For a moment, Shadowheart didn’t know what to say. She had always seen you as the gentle one, the light to her shadow, the person who hated violence and refused to carry a blade. And yet here you were, standing over the bodies of her tormentors, bloodied but unbowed.

“You didn’t have to—” she began, but you cut her off with a look.

“Yes, I did,” you said firmly. “And I would do it again.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. Instead, she closed the distance between you and pulled you into a fierce embrace, her hands clutching the back of your tunic as though afraid you might disappear. You held her just as tightly, the adrenaline in your veins slowly giving way to the aching reality of what you’d done.

“You’re a fool,” she murmured against your shoulder, her voice thick with emotion. “A reckless, beautiful fool.”

“And you’re worth every risk,” you replied, your lips brushing against her hair.

For once, Shadowheart didn’t argue.

Jaheira:

The evening at the tavern had been pleasant—cozy firelight, a few shared drinks, and soft murmurs of conversation between you and Jaheira. That was until a brash mercenary swaggered in, loud and boisterous, his voice cutting through the calm like a blade. His gaze had landed on Jaheira almost immediately, and the mocking began.

“Well, if it isn’t the elder druid herself,” he sneered, leaning on the edge of your table. “Tell me, Jaheira, do you need a cane to walk the forest now? Or do you just lean on the young one here to keep from breaking a hip?”

Jaheira’s lips tightened, her calm exterior betraying the faintest flicker of irritation. “Is there something you need?” she asked coolly, clearly unimpressed by his attempt to bait her.

The mercenary chuckled, ignoring her measured tone. “No need to get prickly, grandmother. Just surprised to see someone your age still kicking about. Aren’t you tired of pretending you can keep up with the rest of us? Retirement suits your kind better.”

Your hands clenched under the table. You hated violence, avoided it when you could, but the disdain in his voice and the way he looked down at Jaheira lit a fire in your chest. Before Jaheira could respond—before she could dismiss him or turn him into a toad with a flick of her magic—you stood up, your chair scraping against the floor.

“Step outside with me,” you said evenly, your voice calm but cold.

The mercenary blinked, surprised by the sudden challenge from someone who looked so unassuming. “What’s this?” he laughed. “The pacifist wants to have a word?”

“Now,” you insisted, your tone brooking no argument. The quiet intensity in your gaze must have unnerved him, as his smirk faltered before he shrugged and followed you out.

The alley behind the tavern was dark, the cold night air biting at your skin. The mercenary turned to face you, still smirking. “So, what’s this about? You gonna give me a little lecture? Maybe cry about—”

His words were cut off as you moved faster than he expected, the dagger in your hand finding its mark before he could react. A choked sound escaped him as you withdrew the blade, letting him crumple to the ground. You wiped the dagger clean on his tunic and left him where he fell, the anger in your chest finally settling as you turned back toward the warm glow of the tavern.

Jaheira looked up as you reentered the room, her sharp gaze immediately locking onto you.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

“Nothing,” you replied, slipping back into your chair with an air of nonchalance. “It’s taken care of.”

Jaheira’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she reached across the table, her thumb brushing against your cheek. When she pulled her hand back, there was a faint smear of red on her fingertip.

“I see,” she said dryly, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the situation. “And I suppose I shouldn’t ask for details?”

“Probably not,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair.

Jaheira studied you for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she reached for her drink, raising it in a small, almost imperceptible gesture of gratitude.

“I don’t need to know,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “But… thank you.”

You smiled, a warmth blooming in your chest that had nothing to do with the firelight.

“Always,” you said simply, and Jaheira’s small smile widened just enough to light up her face. The incident, though dark, faded into the background as the two of you resumed your evening, the connection between you stronger than ever.

I hope everyone is having a very happy holidays, here are some bg3 ladies for you all. Hope you enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

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

[shirojikimattari]

Yeah, Shadowheart worshipping Tav after a spiritual crisis is sweet but

Shadowheart being worshipped?

The only right way to love her.

[NSFW after cut]

///okay so obviously coloring iand writing spice not my strongest suit but it’s my first time making an NSFW webcomic please don’t attack me or I will withdraw back into m underground burrow deep in the marshlands.

For the uninitiated, Tav is a Selûnite Monk with the intelligence of potato given free will.

[eliteseven]

Fuck it, here's every Nobleheart kiss/hug variation ever

[lav3nder-bees]

Nothing like doing your goth gfs makeup before getting your ass handed to you on the battle field

i.e I wanted to doodle something between finishing schoolwork and it kind of got away from me