#but he felt it was the only way he could get to gortash

[ziphius]

@swordmaidOo love this, thanks for sharing so much! If a paladin isn’t delusional about their god in at least one way, what’s even the point? I love her thinking that killing Minthara will go over so well only to have that be the final straw. And for listening to gale 💀

Have you thought about doing a play though where you recruit Minthara as Shri’iia? Idk where her’s story ends because I haven’t finished a run with her, but it seems like she’s focused on revenge after her abandonment. Could be an interesting path….

I’m definitely obsessed with my oathbreaker paladin durge, Hap. He an oath of devotion paladin who upon waking immediately pledges himself to try to rid himself of his urges and to gain a clear set of rules he can follow to “be good”. 

But that bloodlust do be strong… After killing the harpies early on to save Mirkon, he’s like COOL I get to kill and be good! So that carries him though the grove and into act 2, where he starts to get more sloppy with who he can kill “for the greater good”. 

So he’s made his way into moonstone and basically just starts killing anyone he can get away with. But I guess sneaking up and killing them in cold blood is still technically “bad” for a paladin of devotion… whoops. 

At this point Hap doesn’t feel like he can stand on his own without this set of rules so he desperately prays to get his oath back, and doesn’t even want to talk to the dude he’s like get out of here I need to study up so this never happens again. Then he gets unhealthily obsessed with his oath, yay!

His arc in act thee has to do with him coming to trust himself and realizing that he's able to control himself more and more as he resists his durges, so when he breaks his oath again he’s ready to release it and live on his own. 

Anyway, you didn’t ask about my boy but I took that opportunity to write it out… No worries if you didn't read all that, lol. I’m writing up a fic about the harpy fight and how it affects Hap and having a great time with my first creative writing in so long! Love this game and love reading about your characters :) 

What did Shri'iia do that finally broke her oath? I love hearing about your bg3 character arcs, and my fav play through I was an oathbreaker durge- so I'm interested in hearing more!

so for some background context for Shri’iia - she was a paladin of Lolth who was in service to the matriarch of House Faen Tlabbar for like 100+ years or so. She’s kind of like the matriarch’s hidden weapon, no one knew about her existence except for the matriarch (bc before she was a paladin, she was just another commoner who didn’t belong to any noble house) and she was kept in the dark until her matriarch had some use for her. Like Menzoberranzan is a city that thrives in deceit and secrecy and the best weapon someone could have is a weapon that’s unknown to everyone else but completely loyal to you. Shri’iia agreed to this arrangement since didn’t belong to any noble houses prior - and she’s ambitious as hell lmfao she wanted to be at the top of their hierarchy. To her, she had everything to gain and nothing to lose - not to mention that the matriarchs were the closest beings to Lolth and through them, her will is re-enacted so how could she refuse? so she is like a well trained hound in a way, who’s completely loyal to the spider queen and her matriarch and she does not know anything else but to serve her spider queen bc Lolth is everything….!!!!

that is, until she gets kidnapped, tadpoled, and left in the surface

and the thing is, in all her years she has never once stepped foot in the surface. she hasn’t even explored the entirety of menzoberranzan bc she spent most of her days hidden away. not to mention everything she knows about the surface is from gossip and the horrible shit they tell you about how drows are hated there, and how you’ll be hunted like an animal the moment they see your red eyes, and all that terrible shit. so suffice to say shri’iia is terrified! she hasn’t even seen the sun ever before and she hasn’t touched grass either so now you’re expecting her to be fine when she’s left in a place that could kill her bc she’s a drow? not to mention the tadpole in her head? like early act 1 is just a stressful time for her and the fact that she joins up with these other tadpoled folks who could kill her anytime doesn’t make it less stressful

anyway, bc she’s so paranoid and rn she’s like a professional liar in her nature 🫶 (she’s a charlatan) she makes up this story about how she was born in the surface in some small town that has a population of less than 100, and she obviously does not worship Lolth ew and her oath? she follows a noble cause don’t worry about it (:. so she sticks by that back story to earn the other’s trust! and to save her own skin, more or less but by doing so she’s essentially hiding and being ashamed of her Lolth worship and oh that’s not -

in the ACTUAL game, shri’iia breaks her oath because she tells minthara where the grove is. in her head, what better way to punish a traitor of Lolth than to kill her where everyone is watching! 🤭🤭 like punishments for traitors has to public and humiliating like that is such a good plan (in her head!) except that she didn’t take into account that Lolth was getting tired of her ass for hiding her Lolth worship NOT to mention that she’s not acting like how a paladin of lolth should be acting like why are you listening to some man first of all (since I hc gale is the leader of the party). and by killing minthara in front of the grove she offhandedly saves the tieflings which is another 🫤🫤🫤 as a paladin of Lolth like she‘s gonna have such a bad grade in being an evil aligned paladin

So tl;dr - Shri’iia ends up lying about her entire backstory out of self preservation meaning that she has to lie about her Lolth worship. Lolth is a fickle and proud goddess who doesn’t stand by that shit and drops her ass, now Shri’iia spends the remaining half of act 1 in denial trying to win back Lolth’s favour or else she has to deal with the fact that her identity is essentially gone and she’s been abandoned by the goddess she has fully devoted herself to 🫶🫶

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (3) - Inconvenience

Chapter summary: It is poetic irony that sharing a prison cell with Astarion is what eventually gets the two of you attempting to have a much needed conversation...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Poison sucking. Blood. Angst.

Word count: 3.5k

Previous chapter . Series Masterlist . Ao3

"You're bleeding."

"I know."

"It's distracting."

"Then look away."

He scoffed. "I can smell it."

It really wasn't a desirable occurrence to end up in one of Baldur's Gate's prisons. The last time you had the displeasure of descending into one was to liberate Gortash's victims from the Iron Throne Prison.

You had rarely been on the side that needed rescuing.

But fate worked in strange ways and had you thrown into a cold and rusty cell, trying to figure out how you ended up in this situation to begin with.

The torches scattered along the pillars of stone outside the cell provided little to no sufficient light, and it only added to the looming sense of dread.

Ripping a scrap of cloth from your clothing, you wrapped it firmly around the bleeding slash across your wrist.

Astarion sat across from you, eyeing your every move with a faint smile on his lips.

"You could have just run away, you know," you began, bringing your knees up to your chin with a sigh. "You are immune to Sleep spells."

He scoffed again with an eye-roll. "Please. I allowed myself to get caught. Gods know you could use the help."

The throb in your head intensified and you winced as discomfort tore through your body, as his words hit you.

"What help? We're both trapped inside," you ground out in annoyance.

He lifted a finger. "That, my dear, is merely an inconvenience. I am quite sure I'd be able to lockpick our way out of this."

The damp-scented mattress underneath you squeaked as you leaned against the ragged wall. "Using what? Your fangs?"

Astarion clicked his tongue. "Creative, but no. I just need to find anything to help me get through that lock." He rose to his feet and moved to inspect the sturdy door with attentive eyes.

As promising as it sounded, you knew deep down that it wouldn't be an easy feat. The guards had stripped both of you down to only your shirts and trousers, and removed anything deemed too creative.

Besides, this whole ordeal had to be a misunderstanding of sorts. It would be wise to, at least, get some enlightenment.

"Maybe we should just wait for Wyll."

He turned to you, a touch of disbelief crossing his face. "His guards put us here, in case you need a reminder."

"We did nothing wrong," you said, clutching on to reason. "We are not criminals. It's all a misunderstanding, I'm sure."

Whether it was a case of you trying to believe your own words, or because there was truth to them, remained to be seen.

As a sorcerer, it would be rather easy to blast through the cell door and be done with it, but you would only entertain that option as a last resort.

"Well, I suppose it could be worse," he said in resignation, curious fingers still prodding the lock. "At least, they didn't shove us in a cell with windows."

The lack of any opening to the outside had made it hard for you to keep track of time, but given the silence and snores from the inhabitants in the adjacent cells, you reckoned the sun had yet to rise.

Astarion would be safe from its scorching rays, for the time being.

You felt something trickling down your wrist, and upon closer inspection, you realised the cloth around it was soaked with your blood.

Odd.

Astarion was still very much entertained with the hinges and structure of the cell door to take notice of your finding.

You quickly brought another rag torn from your cloak and wrapped even tighter over the existing one, applying as much pressure as you could withstand through the pain.

Very odd.

He was now squatting down, taking a closer look at the lock, fingers tugging and rattling the device.

A true rogue at heart.

"Or, I could be sharing this cell with someone far less entertaining – like Gale," he continued. "I'd just beg the guards for a stake to rid myself of my misery."

He finished off with a dramatic laugh, but you found yourself scowling deeply.

"Can you give Gale some credit where it's due? He's helping you out."

His narrowed crimson eyes met yours. "By 'helping' you mean what, exactly? Cooking abhorrent meals and reading books that would put a screeching babe to sleep? Hardly helpful, darling."

You decided to fully ignore his taunt as patience slipped from your tired mind.

"He's going to Waterdeep in a fortnight to speak with someone willing to help out with the Wish spell," you informed as calmly as possible. "I was on my way to tell you that a couple of hours ago before… well, this happened."

His features eased and he rose to his full height, his undivided attention on you.

"Truly? That sounds promising, I suppose," he said, folding his arms. "And here I thought you were simply longing for my company. My apologies, darling."

He wasn't entirely wrong, but you would never let him know.

Suddenly, the sound of metal shrieking echoed throughout the room, and a jab of pain drummed steadily in your head.

"Wake up, you loiter-sacks!" One of the guards yelled.

Pandemonium ensued.

A wave of groggy protests were heard all around. The insults and taunts came immediately after, and your eyes widened at the vulgarity of all of it, while Astarion held the most amused smile you had ever seen on him in a long while.

He truly thrived in all things chaotic.

Another voice was heard. "Shut it, will ya?! Or no food!"

It effectively subsided most of the protests, though an occasional whispered 'fucker!' slipped through the mouths of some prisoners.

Squeaking wheels of a cart came to a halt just outside your cell, and you bolted out of the mattresses, gripping the vertical metal bars.

"Can you please call for Wyll. We need to talk to him."

The grumpy man frowned. "Am just delivering food, sweetheart. Now, have yours and get back."

He shoved a bowl of what looked like powdered wood shavings. The smell was positively nauseating , and your stomach twist and turn in revulsion.

You placed your meal on the floor, not daring to take a single bite.

A laugh burst from him before he attempted doing the same to Astarion, who visibly shuddered as he dodged the man's hand.

"Ugh. I'll pass."

He snorted, grinning maliciously. "Food strikes ain't going to get you out o' here, pretty boy."

Astarion's face twisted into an outraged look, but before he could voice out a snarky remark, the same man as before was heard.

"That one's the vampire spawn."

The guard came into view, and the atmosphere in the prison cell shifted considerably. Silence took over, only broken by some vague whispers.

"Give him pig's blood."

A few gasps erupted. 

"I prefer fresh blood, thank you very much," Astarion scoffed, visibly offended. "I am not feeding on scraps."

"Astarion…" you warned him lowly, not wanting things to spiral out of control.

The delivery man shrugged to the guard and pushed the food cart out of the way so he could attend to the other prisoners.

Another guard joined in, removing his helmet to take a closer look.

"Then you'll have nothing. You are in no position to make demands, spawn."

Astarion tensed by your side but merely pressed his lips as a reply. 

"Thought so," the guard chuckled.

You gripped the bars tighter, earning their attention. "Tell us what we are charged with, then."

They both exchanged looks and the first one bared his teeth. "Playing dumb, are we?"

"We didn't do anything that would warrant an arrest!" You nearly yelled in frustration. "Call for Wyll, please!"

The older man leaned in with a snarl. "The Grand Duke is absent. He might return later today."

Your heart dropped.

"Might?"

He nodded in indifference. "His duties don't bend to the will of his friends."

"We didn't do anything wrong," you said in a shaky retort, pressing your forehead against the bars. "We didn't…"

"Look, not to sound ungrateful given our luxurious abode," Astarion interjected light-heartedly, gripping your shoulders to have you take a few steps away from them. "But you do know who we are, don't you?"

"We do, and you are not above the law."

"And which law did we break, if you don't mind clarifying, of course."

The older guard was clearly running out of patience. "Killing a civilian."

Your eyes shot up immediately, and your mouth dropped in shock.

Astarion spoke before you could, his voice bearing confusion. "What? We didn't kill anyone." 

"We found the body in the alleyway."

You gripped the bars again. "No! I used a Sleep spell – and he wasn't a civilian! He attacked me!"

He was now dangerously close to your face. "Listen here, princess. You are both in a sticky situation, and I advise you to watch your words."

Astarion pushed you back with his arm once again. "Lay a finger on her, and you might just turn into a vampire meal."

Tension increased tenfold all of a sudden, and you could only glare at Astarion who remained unmoved and determined to hold his menacing gaze.

"Maybe you'd prefer an overground cell, hm?" The guard spat in amusement. "Having the sun to keep you company. I'm certain we'd be sweeping your ashes from the floor before midday."

An intense wave of anger burst through you, and you reached through the bars, nearly gripping one of them. "Fuck you!"

They both laughed hysterically at your failed attempt.

One of them reached for a pouch and threw a vial at you. "A healing potion. Drink it, princess. You're bleeding out."

"Unless you are to be his vampire meal."

The other guard cleared his throat. "Oh, and be on your best behaviour, and don't even think of escaping. This place is riddled with traps."

"And we have our own mages," the other glared at you.

They laughed obnoxiously loud again before turning on their feet and walking out.

You glanced at the vial in your hand, its crimson content undulating faintly.

Blood kept on seeping through the makeshift bandages around your wrist. The blood flow hadn't decreased, and a couple of droplets were dripping on the floor.

"Drink it," Astarion urged you, pulling his eyes away from the sanguine mess.

You could tell he was extremely tense all of a sudden, slowly pacing away from where you stood.

The compulsion to drink blood could be blinding at times, and you couldn't blame him for wanting to keep a distance given the current circumstances.

You quickly popped the lid off the container and downed the sweetened liquid, immediately feeling a rush of warmth coursing through your body with each pump of your heart.

Unwrapping the soaked pieces of cloth, you noticed the slash had barely healed at all, and that the blood kept pouring out.

Astarion had definitely noticed your confusion, gripping your forearm.

"Poison," he finally said upon inspecting the wound.

You stared at him wide-eyed, as the realisation hit you hard.

They had poisoned you?

"No wonder the flow didn't decrease with the potion."

Panic spread quickly. "Why would they poison me?"

"It was most likely unintentional," he concluded, smearing his thumb across the layer of blood near your wound. "They must have coated their weapons with it and slashed you by mistake."

"We need to call them for an antidote."

He shook his head. "I doubt they have one at hand – one that actually works. These idiots aren't well-versed in poisons to begin with."

Unlike him.

"What now?"

His eyes met yours. "Do you trust me?"

You stiffened, alarm bells going off in your head. He would never ask this unless… "You're about to do something questionable, aren't you?"

"Questionable, but potentially life-saving. How do you fancy your odds?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "What do you have in mind?"

"I will suck the poison out."

Instinctively, you tried to yank your arm from his grip. "No."

He simply glared at you. "This is your best option, darling."

You eased slightly, knowing fully well he was far more experienced in poisons than you were, and between 'bleeding out to death' and 'trusting your vampire friend who also happens to know a lot about this subject', you were far more inclined to pick the latter.

But then…

"What about you? It can be dangerous."

He chuckled in amusement. "I'm undead. Besides, I won't swallow this blood. I am vehemently against wasting yours, but exceptions must be made."

"Just… be careful."

He nodded, and you watched in awe as he brought your wrist to his lips, enclosing them around the wound. As he started off with gentle suckles, you saw the first droplets of blood dribble down from the corner of his mouth.

His touch was cold as ice, and you felt his fangs lightly press against your skin, but not hard enough to break the barrier. After all, your open wound – even if not that deep or wide – was enough to draw blood.

Somewhere along the line, his eyes fluttered shut as he held you in place, and your heart skipped a few beats.

Oddly intimate.

He parted from you not long after, all bloodied, and spitting the remainder of the warm liquid on the floor. 

"What a terrible way to taint your blood," he said with a wince. "It tasted… rotten."

He then grabbed a hold of your cloak – or what was left of it – and wiped his lips and chin clean.

"Just horrid."

Under different circumstances, you would have reprimanded him for it, but it was a fair exchange.

The flow of blood had already begun to waver, and you heaved a sigh of relief.

"Are you well?"

He nodded dismissively with a shudder. "The things I do for you, honestly."

Surprisingly, that did bring a faint smile to your lips.

Even if only for a fleeting moment, you were reminded of the many perils you had faced alongside each other.

He had your back, and you had his. 

No matter what.

However, It still felt grim that it took an erroneous arrest and being shoved into a prison cell to catch a glimpse of the trusting bond you once shared.

One that wasn't built on a mere transaction.

He silently eyed you for a moment, with an expression that was hard to decipher.

Then, he cleared his throat and walked over to his own mattress, placing his cloak along the length of it as a way to keep the damp at bay, before taking a seat.

Classic Astarion.

"Do you reckon I can now blame Gale for us ending up in this situation?"

You arched an eyebrow, wrapping yet another piece of cloth over your closing wound. "If anything, I should be blaming you, no? We're all doing this for you."

He shrugged with a side-smile. "Fair enough."

"I didn't kill that man… I don't get it…"

"I know you didn't, but it's not me you need to convince."

You sat down in defeat, rubbing your temple. "None of this makes sense…"

"No point in dwelling on it now," he said with a click of his tongue, inspecting his nails. "Get some rest."

You blinked. "I cannot rest in a place like this."

His eyes lifted briefly. "Darling, we've had worse."

"... and better." You mumbled.

"I'll give you the 'better' once we get out of here, then. Happy now?"

You winced at his words.

"Why do you do this?" You asked, unable to contain yourself.

He dropped his hand to the side, brows furrowed. "Do what?"

"This! This constant push and pull," you said, feeling the impulsiveness take control. "I try to have a proper conversation with you, and you just… push me away."

Astarion scoffed dramatically. "This is hardly the time or the place to be having this conversation."

"I tried to have you come stay with us… even when you're feeling more… vulnerable… you never let me in," you said in exasperation, words stinging in your throat. "You just…"

The words died in your mouth at the look he gave you.

It wasn't a look of anger or annoyance or outrage.

Just… nothing.

Like he wasn't even listening to you.

"Astarion?"

As if you had just snapped him out of his thoughts, he shook his head briefly, but didn't look in your direction.

"Go get some rest."

Had you pushed too far? He didn't sound upset, but then again, he was a master in deception whenever the situation called for it.

"Astarion…"

He was gazing out of the cell door, as if something far more interesting was worthy of his attention.

"I wasn't the one who pushed you away."

You sat up straighter, heart hammering fast against your ribcag. "Then who?"

"You did."

"What?"

He turned his head to you this time. "Don't pin this on me. You had all of me, and you chose to walk away."

A growing feeling of discomfort began to rise within you, competing with the confusion that had taken root.

And then…

Moonrise Towers.

That night.

"You didn't need a lover."

He sneered. "What about what I wanted?"

"Astarion, you–"

He immediately cut you off. "Don't. I wanted to be with you. I yearned for you like I never did for anyone else, and you chose the easy way out."

You were at a loss for words.

The conversation with Gale the day before immediately came to mind.

"Easy way out? You actually think I didn't have feelings for you back then?"

"Gods, then you should have fought for me – with me!"

He was being unreasonable. The pain of rejection had certainly seeped deeply into him, and it was now resurfacing brutally.

"And I did that! By giving you time and space. Besides, we had more pressing matters back then that required our undivided attention."

He looked back at you coolly. "How many nights did we spend thinking it would be our last?"

That caught you off guard.

"How many nights did you cry yourself to sleep, not knowing if we'd live to see another day?"

You fell silent, unsure of what to say.

"Yet you preferred having that emptiness and despair for company instead of being with me," he went on, his words were as knives that cut through you ruthlessly. "So do not lecture me about pushing others away, when you so clearly excel at that."

It took you a moment to find your voice again amidst the concoction of emotions that swirled in your head.

His accusations were unfounded. You knew this. But realising that that was how he really felt about the entire situation made you feel sadness beyond comparison.

That he mistook your altruism for selfishness. 

"I did what was best for you… and for us."

You wouldn't cry. 

You couldn't cry.

"And was that what you wanted?"

"What you needed mattered more than what I wanted. That's how much I cared for you," you said, voice wavering. "And I still do. Even through all your deception and lies and manipulation… you still came first."

That seemed to have taken him by surprise, and his face softened.

"You constantly mistake what you want with what you need, not even caring about the possible consequences," you went on with newfound vigour.

He scowled yet again. "I constantly cast aside what I want in favour of others."

You scoffed in disbelief. "You're not the epitome of selflessness you think you are, Astarion."

"What I want still matters!"

"If you'd done what you wanted, you would have sacrificed the souls of seven thousand spawn!" You exploded in a fit of rage. 

You were met with silence.

Deafening silence.

"You would have become the Vampire Ascendant and lost yourself in the process."

After glaring at you for a while, he then had the nerve to laugh. "Maybe that would have been the better option."

A sudden wave of nausea settled in the pit of your stomach. "You don't mean that."

"Stop speaking for me," he said through gritted teeth, words dripping with poison. "I had enough of it for two hundred years under his command – stop it!"

Your mouth had dropped open, and you were left speechless.

"Oi! Lovebirds, quit the chit-chat." One of the nearby guards rattled on the metal bars with a mace. "I'm afraid marriage counselling is postponed until further notice."

The other prisoners laughed and whistled teasingly as he walked away. 

Decided you were done with this conversation, you leaned back and rolled down to your side, facing the wall and fighting back the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks.

You just couldn't stand looking at him.

Or even being near him.

You could only hope that Wyll would come back sooner rather than later, so you could finally get away from Astarion.

For good.

Disclaimer: sucking the poison from one's wound (in case of a snake bite, for example) has been discredited many decades ago. It's not really effective, and can do more harm than good, especially to the person doing the sucking. But for the purposes of this story, it works because fiction and magic and all that! Let's suspend our disbelief for a moment 😌

I don't keep taglists, so please consider adding this story to your alerts on Ao3 🩷

Next chapter: Solution

Series Masterlist . Masterlist

[bekaroth-reads]

Baldur’s Gate’s 3 Characters x Reader/Tav Misunderstanding

[This is basically the situation of, “As my partner-“ “Wait, we’re partners?!” Might add more characters later. Proof read but quickly. Sorry if there are mistakes]

Astarion- The two of you were planning out a way to get into a tomb that had some sort of artifact that Astarion insisted was important. “Important,” was, in fact, the only thing that he was using to describe it. This was something that was causing the most problems as you didn’t want to go through the danger of it all for something that might have been nothing more than entertainment for him. When you tried to ask him to give you more details, he snidely scolded, “Listen, as your partner-“

“I’m your partner?!” You interrupt before he could say more.

Immediately, he covered his mouth and his cheeks with his hand, embarrassment flooding in after what he had just said as he turned away. While he could usually recover from almost anything, this struck the line of being too intimate for him to handle. In fact, you were both so flustered and embarrassed from the whole thing that you had to push the planning of everything for the excursion at least a week out. It’s hard to plan adventures when you can’t even look the other person in the eye.

Gale- He thought that you were overworking yourself; and, if Gale Dekarios of all people thought someone was overworking, then it was pretty bad. Then again, you were important to him, so he was also inclined to mother-hen over everything you did. When he thought the time was right, he pulled you aside to gently scold, “I know this is very important. But, as your partner, I must insist-“

“We’re partners?!” You exclaim.

He felt awful as he sees this as him trying to force you into a relationship that you might not have wanted. And, given his history with Mystra, it makes him feel like he has taken on her role, and it makes him nauseous. You will need to take some time to get him to understand it was simply a misunderstanding and that you do want to have a relationship with him.

Raphael- He insisted on taking you to find, “better,” clothing. When you got over the initial insult of the indication that your current choice in clothes was bad, you questioned why he was so adamant on doing so.

“Because, I am a public figure. I cannot have my partner-“ He started to explain before you interrupted,

“I’m your partner?!”

This seemed to entertained him to no end. “Why of course, Little Mouse. Hurry along now.” He hummed as he gave you a tap on the nose before ushering your stunned self out the door.

Haarlep- The two of you finally had an evening to yourselves. They were sitting on the end of your bed in a soft nightshirt, reading a book. It wasn’t even that they were expressly interested in the book, but between all of the scheming with Raphael and succubus work, they couldn’t remember the last time that they had the chance to do something so simple as reading. They gave a contented sigh as they lied back, their horns bumping against your legs where you were sitting farther up on the bed. Without much thought, they sighed, “I am so glad that you are mine.”

“Wait! Are we… partners? Actual partners?” You question in surprise.

They put down their book and turned themselves to lie on their stomach so that they could look at you with gleaming eyes, your reaction seemingly tickling them.

“Well, of course! I’m never this relaxed with anyone but you.” They sat up a bit and motioned to what they had on. “I mean- just look at me! I even put clothes on for you! That’s not something that happens everyday, my sweet.”

Gortash- To say things were tense would be an understatement. Enver Gortash and you had tried to kill each other about a month ago, and you were both nearly successful. It had taken you these past three weeks to heal, and the whole time the both of you were sure the other was going to try to sweep in at any moment and finish the job. Or, you were, and it didn’t take too much imagination to see his situation as the same. You were both in a similar state when your respective parties had broken up your fight.

Now you found out that you would have to work with him publicly for a time. It wasn’t something that you were looking forward to, but it was necessary to get answers for certain things and create opportunities for your team. You were in the hall that this party was being held at; it was nothing fancy, no dancing, no meal- just a simple gathering for some of the upper class to speak with each other and perhaps have a few drinks. You were beyond surprised when Gortash connected eyes with you and instead of an angry or begrudging response, he greeted you with one of the brightest smiles you had ever seen on the man.

“There they are now! The person of the hour!” He walked over to you and wrapped an arm around your waist. There were some compliments and coos of how darling you both looked together, and how you must have been a great match. Soon after the group walked away to give you two a few moments of privacy.

“You said that we were a couple?” You whisper-yelled at him.

“Of course. Because we are.” He whispered back as he leaned closer to purr into your ear, “We did almost kill each other after all.” Gortash gave you a peck on the cheek before moving you both to mingle with the other little groups of people around the room.

[toournextadventure]

what once was mine

Summary: Karlach is back. For good this time. And she just wants to have her love back so they can finally spend the rest of their lives together like they had planned. Things just never seem to go her way.

Word Count: 8k Warnings: swearing, violence, murder, typical BG3/DND themes Pairing: Karlach Cliffgate x Reader

The birds were singing.

It didn’t matter how long Karlach had been out of Avernus. She knew she would never go back to Avernus thanks to the blueprints she and Wyll had found. By all accounts, she was free. And in the end, even that didn’t diminish the sounds of the birds singing in the air around her.

Her life had been idyllic since coming back from Avernus for the last time. It had been nearly two years since she had finished her adventure with Tav and the gang. Nearly two years since she had made the choice - which she had initially regretted but now celebrated - to fight for her life. Now, the rest of the gang had settled fairly close together, living their own lives of peace.

Something about defeating a Netherbrain really took the thrill of adventure out of a person, she supposed.

She enjoyed her days around Baldur’s Gate. At first, she hadn’t been sure if she could emotionally handle living in the city again. It held many great memories, but it also held tainted memories. The ghosts of things she could have had if not for Gortash and Zariel. The reminders of a love she had lost and couldn’t find again.

Those fears had been unwarranted, though, and she was more than happy to be living in Baldur’s Gate again. It felt like home to her, like the place she had been desperately trying to get back to. The entire gang - aside from Shadowheart and Lae’zel, who had settled in a farmhouse outside the gates - had moved in, enjoying their time together. Karlach could have guests. She could have a family again.

But Karlach could never get over losing you. Not when everything in the city reminded her of you. You were in the children’s laughter as they ran down the streets playing stickball. You were in the soft, hushed words someone gave her lover as they sat for tea. You were in the sun on the hottest of days, kissing her skin and leaving her warm and whole.

Gortash had told her about you before she had killed him. He had told her eagerly. She didn’t know if he had wanted to get her angry, or sad, or whatever else. She didn’t really fucking care, all she knew was it was his fault anything had happened in the first place.

“They’re an Oathbreaker now,” Gortash said between gasps for air. “Did you know?”

“Who the fuck are you talking about?” Karlach asked. She wished to just cut his head off and be done with him. She wanted her vengeance.

“Your pup.”

Karlach let the blade of her axe rest heavily on Gortash’s neck as his words sunk in. He was talking about you. And just the thought of something happening to you had her infernal heart roaring. Something had hurt you. Something had hurt you so badly you had broken your Oath. That was sacred. That damn Oath was your life.

“They frighten even me now,” he continued. “You should be proud.” She pressed the axe deeper into his skin. “They’ve gained quite the kill count.”

“You don’t get to talk about them,” Karlach growled.

“Maybe they’ll work with Zariel next,” he said with a sparkle in his eye and a sadistic smile. “It’s not like they have anything left to lose.”

Karlach lifted the axe, let out a guttural scream, and slammed it down on his neck. His head separated from his body with ease before rolling a few feet across the room.

She didn’t feel any better.

Tav had done her best to talk Karlach down from a panic attack, but that only worked so well. Eventually she made sense, saying that she couldn’t help you if she blew a gasket. Karlach couldn’t help but laugh because she was right. The last thing she needed was to overheat and not be able to help you. Wherever you were.

You were her next adventure. Her last adventure.

“I thought I’d find you up here,” Tav’s voice came from the other end of the rooftops. “Astarion said you hadn’t left since last night.”

“I knew he was being a sneaky bastard,” Karlach said with a smile as she pulled her knees up to her chest to make room for Tav.

“He’s worried about you,” she said. “We all are.”

Karlach sighed and rested her chin on her knees. She knew they were all worried. She could feel it in the looks they gave her and the too-soft touches. When they would hesitate, for just a second, before pulling her into a hug or patting her on the shoulder. When they choked on a sentence because, at least in their minds, it was too reminiscent of her hunt for you.

She loved that they all cared, but she didn’t think she could stomach it for much longer.

“Have you seen them again?”

Again. That word was haunting Karlach’s consciousness. It had been more than a few fortnights since she had found you and seen what had truly happened. What you had become after she had been sold to fight a war that she wanted no part in. Since she had more or less abandoned you and her parents through no fault of her own.

Karlach had done a lot of investigative work - which admittedly was really fucking shoddy - before having the slightest clue where you were. It took a lot of schmoozing, a lot of bribing Astarion with good wine, and a lot of talking with criminals before she finally heard of a supposed werewolf attack in the Lower City. Now that she could work with.

Her axe was strapped securely on her back as she stood in the middle of an intersection. It had been a while since night had fallen and the nearly full-moon had risen to illuminate the streets. If she looked carefully, she could see a few rats skittering across the cobblestone and into the sewers. In the distance, she heard laughter from the tavern a few blocks away.

Unless your internal rhythm had changed - and she assumed it hadn’t - you would be somewhere nearby. She should be able to hear the fracturing of bone and the whimpers that accompanied it. Neither you nor Karlach ever knew if it was a curse, a mutation, or you were just unlucky, but you wouldn’t only change on a full moon. You would partially change on almost full moons as well.

In an attempt to make you feel better about it, she had used to call you her special pup. You used to like it.

She hoped you still did.

Her right ear twitched at a sound that she couldn’t decipher. Listening harder, she heard it again. There you were. There was no doubt in her mind it was you. She hadn’t fought her way out of Avernus twice just to not be able to tell you apart from anyone else. Without looking anywhere else, she ran in the direction of the whimpers.

As much as Karlach didn’t think she would need it, she kept a mental note to grab her axe when she found you. If you were anything like what Gortash had tried to claim, she might need to knock a bit of sense back into you. Get you back to that kind soul she knew back in the day. But with each step she took, she got more unsure of what she would find.

Hells, she hadn’t felt that nervous since her first few nights in Avernus.

The sounds of screaming from men was enough to make her really nervous. There shouldn’t have been any screaming, at least not from other people. It should have only been you and her. You and me against the world, darling. That’s what you had always told her before she would leave for work. It should have still been that way.

It wasn’t.

Karlach would have recognised you even if she had lost her mind. You were her person, her love, she would never forget a single thing about it. The barb of your tail, the cut of your hair, the piercings in your ears that you had begged her to get with you. Matching piercings. Now that you were both older, it almost seemed childish.

She nearly tripped over a singed body because she was so enthralled by you. You. That was all it took to rid her of any sense. Gods, she had forgotten what you did to her. How just the sight of you alone was enough to set every inch of her alight. In a good way, of course.

There was an itch that she wanted you to scratch. The itch to feel your skin underneath her fingertips again. She wanted to trace your scars and kiss every random scale you had. Karlach wanted to know if your skin felt as warm as she remembered, or if it would be cooler now that she ran hot instead. And if she let her mind go to far more inappropriate places, she wanted all of that again too.

A strangled cry caught her attention again. Damn, she had gotten lost in you already. Maybe she should have taken Lae’zel up on her offer to accompany her for the night. At least then she wouldn’t be getting quite so distracted. At least not openly. Or maybe she would, she was already getting distracted again.

From where Karlach was standing, she couldn’t see your face. Only the back of your head, the tips of your horns, the clenched fist at your side, the way your ears laid flat against the side of your head. If memory served - and it did - you were at your most terrifying when your ears were tucked. You were one to try and hide any negative emotions, but your ears gave you away. Karlach had always loved it. She was undecided if she loved it in that moment.

In front of you was a man, no older than you or her, perhaps even a bit younger. He was on the ground, trying to scramble backwards away from you. Every inch he moved, you followed, your tail swinging slowly behind you. The words that came out of his mouth were rushed, but she knew begging when she heard it.

She couldn’t see your mouth, but there was a glow to your hand when you lifted it in front of him. If she didn’t want you to kill that man, she had better say something. Quickly. But what could she say? Hey there, long time no see! That would be stupid. Did you miss me? She didn’t think she could handle it if you said no.

She settled for something far more simple.

“Hello, love.”

The magical light in the man’s eyes settled into a dim glow as your own light faded. In Karlach’s mind, she pictured the look on your face. Euphoria. Pure joy that she was back, you could both enjoy the life you had always talked about. Perhaps, if you were truly feeling it, a small tear born from happiness. Her mind ran rampant with images of you running toward her, throwing your arms around her shoulders and holding her so tight you were both of one mind, body, and soul.

It wasn’t what she got.

You turned slowly, and more and more of your face was revealed to Karlach. Inch by inch she saw you. It was like the worst play she had ever seen in her life. She got to see the snarl of your lips ease, turning into something more… pitiful. If you had been anyone else, she would have described it as pathetic. The fist at your side turned into shaking fingers.

The look in your eyes was like a dagger through her heart.

“Karlach?”

Your voice quaked the same it had the night you were bitten. Terrified. Hopeless. Small. There, that was the perfect description for how you sounded. You sounded small. But if there was one thing Karlach had gotten right in her imagination, it was the tear that slid down your cheek.

It just wasn’t happy like she had wanted.

“No,” Karlach finally answered Tav. “I haven’t seen them since then.”

In a move that had always warmed Karlach’s heart, Tav leaned over and rested her head on her shoulder. It was a gentle move, one that had enticed everyone in the group at one point or another. Something that instilled far more calm than it had any right to. And Karlach was falling for it yet again, indicative by the calming of her racing heart. Er, engine.

“You’ll find them,” Tav said softly. “Maybe you’ll find them in the city having tea.” She laughed. “Wouldn’t that be quite the treat?”

Initially, Karlach had laughed. After how hard she had tried to find you the first time, it was a funny thought. To just happen upon you by chance in the city? It didn’t even matter if it was the Upper or Lower, the thought alone was enough to have her laugh. Wouldn’t that be the best luck in the world?

Perhaps it wasn’t so funny after all.

Karlach did find you having tea in the Lower City. Or, not exactly tea, but she caught you having a drink. She had made it a habit to go by taverns in the evenings not to find you, but to relax. Enjoy the scenery and the social aspect of it all. Having drinks alone in her own home wasn’t quite as enjoyable and, honestly, it made her sad.

So of course she had stopped by the Blushing Mermaid. A simple tavern full of seedy criminals and illicit business. There were nightly brawls, horrible songs, shitty people, and stiff drinks. It was some of the most fun Karlach got into since she had informally retired from adventuring. Few places gave her as much excitement as that tavern.

But when she walked into the tavern and looked for a place to sit, she saw a familiar pair of horns and tail. She didn’t think twice before walking over to where you were sitting. A small table for two, and lucky for her, the second seat was empty.

“Mind if I join you?” She asked.

You flinched.

“Not at all,” you said.

She could feel your eyes on her as she sat down across from you. Well, she didn’t only feel it, she saw you watching her. The same way she watched you. Unblinking. Like seeing you was nothing more than a dream, and if she looked away then you would disappear. Or she would disappear, she wasn’t sure what would be more nightmarish.

You locked eyes even after she sat. It was uncomfortable, to feel like you were staring into her very soul. Karlach would always remember your eyes, she had always gotten lost in them. They had the most miniscule light in them, nearly illuminating them in the dark. Not too different from her own when she heated up.

Gods, she had missed your eyes.

You eventually pushed a tankard toward her. “Here,” you said. “You look like you could use it.”

“Thanks, love,” she said, eagerly taking it and downing it. She did need it.

Uncharacteristically, a barmaid came over to the table and leaned against it. She was pretty. Not just by seedy tavern standards, but just in general. There was no reason she should be by the table. Karlach desperately hoped she wasn’t going to get roped into some ridiculous job.

“Hungry, darling?” The barmaid asked you.

Karlach bristled at the use of the pet name.

But you looked directly at Karlach and waited with expectant eyes. Oh. Oh, that gave her butterflies. Some pretty girl called you “darling,” and you didn’t stop looking at her? You certainly remembered the way to her heart, that was for sure. She did her best to push away the, well, other thoughts from her mind.

“Whatever’s hearty,” Karlach told the barmaid who looked none too happy to be talking to her. “And keep the drinks coming.”

“Put it on my tab,” you told the barmaid as she started walking off. She gave you a smile that quickly turned into a scowl when she looked at Karlach.

“The staff know you well,” Karlach said once she was certain you weren’t going to talk first. She supposed she couldn’t blame you.

Only a few weeks ago, you had probably thought she was dead.

“I spend a lot of coin here,” you said. “Talk flows like beer, for the right price.”

“And you’re looking for talk, are you?” She tried to sound flirty. Maybe it was foolish, but she wanted you to flirt back. Even for just one evening, she wished to act like nothing had ever happened.

“I’m looking for the bastards who ruined my life,” you said.

So, flirting wasn’t back in the picture just yet.

“Right,” Karlach said as she sat up straight in the chair. “I suppose that’s worth the coin.”

“And some,” you said softly.

Your left hand stayed resting on the table as you lifted your own tankard to your lips. Karlach cursed the wooden mug. It hid her view of your pretty lips from her. At least it forced her to look elsewhere. Like your hand. There were more scars than she remembered. Little ones ravaging your fingers. She wished she could have been there to kiss them better as they healed.

She wished you would let her kiss them better now.

You both smiled politely at the barmaid when she came around and set the food and wine on the table. The tavern continued to rage around you both as neither of you were willing to make the first move. Behind her, Karlach heard the start of a fight. She desperately wished to watch. Or join in.

“You should eat,” you finally said, gesturing your head toward the warm bread and stew. “Coming back from the dead must be exhausting.”

There it was. Karlach knew it would come up at some point, especially if she managed to get as close to you as she was in that moment. But knowing that it was coming didn’t make it hurt any less. To see the borderline betrayal in your eyes when you looked away quickly, focusing on anything but her.

She reached out to place her hand on top of yours in the best form of comfort she knew. You looked at her hand, and for a moment your face softened. For a moment, there was a small spark in your eyes again. Underneath hers, your hand turned around and pushed up, forcing both of your palms together. Karlach had always loved comparing hand sizes; it gave her an excuse to hold your hand.

The moment disappeared when you pulled your hand back and placed it in your lap.

“I wasn’t dead,” Karlach said softly. She hoped you couldn’t hear the hurt in her voice.

“Then where were you?” You asked, “Because you certainly weren’t here.”

There was no way to tell if you were actually tearing up, or if Karlach simply wished you were. She wanted you to have missed her. Not to hurt, but to miss her touch. To miss her smell, or waking up beside her, or even just being near her. She was desperate to know you had missed her as much as she had missed you.

She wanted you to have loved her that entire time.

“You ready for a long story?” She asked.

You nodded once, and the tale began.

Karlach knew, more often than not, that she rambled when telling stories. A lot of times she would even over-embellish to make the tale more exciting, or make herself seem more brave, more amazing than she really was. Sometimes her stories involved death, despair, and harrowing adventures that only the great Karlach could escape.

This was nothing of the sort. There were no grand theatrics or tales of grandeur. It was simply the truth. How she had been sold by someone she had trusted with her life. How she had fought a battle she wanted nothing to do with, and finally, by some miracle, managed to find a group of people that she genuinely cared about. And who cared about her in return.

You watched patiently. Gods, Karlach had missed your patience. Whether it was for something small, or large, or insignificant, it didn’t matter. When she would come to you, fuming about something that had happened, you had waited patiently for her to finish her rage before talking her through all those feelings. She missed having you to talk through her feelings with. Dealing with them on her own wasn’t as easy.

Although she almost laughed at how wide your eyes got when she talked about the whole tadpole thing.

“You all knew what was going on in each other’s minds?” You asked.

“Yup,” Karlach said, popping the “p” loudly. “Things got real interesting when the feelings started to come out.”

“No doubt you got a front row seat to some rather raunchy nights,” you said with a smile and the lightest laugh.

Oh Gods, Karlach could melt right on the spot just from that sight.

But the smile and laughter quickly died down, and you set your jaw once again.

“Gortash told me you never showed for duty that morning,” you said without any emotion. “Said it right to my face.”

So that’s what he had said. From the moment Karlach had gotten back to Baldur’s Gate, she had wondered what everyone had been told of her sudden disappearance. Had they been told that she had died on the job? That some mysterious warlock had taken control and kidnapped her? Surely he hadn’t told the truth that he had sold her for his shiny new toys.

She hadn’t expected something so… mundane.

“I would have never left without warning,” she said softly.

You chuckled humourlessly. “I knew that,” you said, “and so did your parents.” You let out a deep sigh. “But neither Gortash nor I could offer any proof one way or another.”

The noise of the tavern was more rowdy now that it was getting later into the evening. You were looking out into the crowd, and Karlach saw the strong set of your jaw. The twitch of your ear. She tried not to lose her cool when your tail brushed against hers. Keep yourself calm, Karlach, she told herself, you’re finally making progress. It didn’t help that your tail intertwined with hers and stayed that way.

“And you killed him?” You asked, finally looking back at her.

Angry you was a sight to behold. It got Karlach all hot and bothered.

“I did,” she said proudly. “Even put his head on a pike for shits and giggles.”

“Good,” you said with a nod. “He deserved worse.”

In all honesty, Karlach agreed with you. Gortash deserved worse than death. She wished she could have put him through everything she had been forced to go to. To have him fight a historical war, have him fear for his life every second of every day. Force him to live each day not knowing if the people you loved were safe.

But she didn’t want to be thinking about Gortash. Not that night. She wanted to be thinking of you. To sit with you, and enjoy being in your presence once again. It was a long shot, but she wanted to feel your hand in hers. There had been many years between your last meeting, she wanted to rediscover everything about you like it was the first time.

In short, Karlach wanted to fall in love with you all over again.

“Are you busy in a few nights?” Karlach asked.

Your head tilted to the side. It was adorable. “What?”

“Are you busy?” She asked again.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” you stammered. “Why?”

“Well,” she started, drawing the word out. “I know it’s been, ah, a little while.” She ignored the roll of your eyes. “I was wanting to go on a date.” You kept looking at her. “With you.” Silence. “We would go together.” A twinkle in your eye. “You can stop me at any point.”

Your stunning smile returned. A small smile, one that, in the past, had accompanied trouble. Gods, she loved you. She was willing to put in all the effort necessary to rekindle that romance, but she loved you. Every little bit of you. From the tip of your horns to your toes.

And she very much loved the way your fangs got caught on your lips.

But that smile fell again. Karlach wished she could have a painting of your smile so she could look at it whenever she pleased. You were far more serious this go around. The same air of triviality was gone, replaced with something Karlach wasn’t entirely sure she liked. Something had hurt you. It had hurt you deeply, and she didn’t quite know how to help.

“You don’t want a date with me,” you finally said.

“Oh, don’t say that,” Karlach tried to stop you. “I missed you every moment I was gone.”

“You missed someone who no longer exists,” you said. “That person died with their Oath.”

“You’re more than an Oath, lovely,” she said softly as she leaned forward on the table.

“You miss someone who laughed,” you continued. “Someone who had kindness in their heart and wanted to keep everyone safe.”

Karlach stayed silent.

You leaned forward on the table to match her posture. “I want to catch the bastards who ruined my life.”

“Then I’ll help you,” Karlach said. “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got some extra muscle to use.”

You shook your head. “You’re not understanding.”

“Then explain it to me,” she said. “Because I spent over a decade away from you, and I’d like to try and get some of that time back.”

“I want to watch the bastards burn,” you said. “And I don’t care who burns with them.”

The very tone in your voice was enough to freeze Karlach to her core. That was an unusual feeling. It was uncomfortable. She wouldn’t dare change her mind, but she had the eerie feeling that you were right. You weren’t quite the same as the person she had fallen in love with in her younger years.

You finally reached out and placed your own hand over hers. Karlach exhaled deeply and looked down. You were touching her. You were all but holding her hand. And she had been right, you ran cooler than her now. It was a wonderful contrast, something that sent a shiver down her spine. Oh, she wanted to feel your hands all over her, holding her tight and never letting go.

“You have a big heart, Karlach,” you said softly. “And I never stopped loving you.” Karlach felt her engine stutter. “I will not taint the very thing I love about you.”

She watched, motionless, as you stood up from the table and walked over to her side. Without the hint of fur, you looked more like she had remembered. Soft, warm, utterly beautiful. And when your lips pressed against her cheek, she wanted to cry. It was one thing to imagine the feel of your lips again, but now that she had it? She would kill to keep it.

“Stay away, Karlach,” you said when you stood back up.

You carelessly dropped some gold on the table, gave her one last look, and left the tavern. Once again, you had disappeared on her. The tavern was full, more full than she had seen in months, and she felt alone. She had watched you walk away again and still couldn’t bring herself to follow you and beg you to stay.

It didn’t take long for Karlach to realise what you had meant when you said you didn’t care who you took down in your journey. At most, it was only a tenday later that she got wind of the explosion at an old abandoned church. The explosion had killed a dozen people, three of them children. Stories made their rounds around the city of a tiefling with scales and dark spells.

Karlach knew in her heart of hearts that it was you.

She tried to catch you in the act. Fuck, she tried for months to catch you. The whole gang had even come together to try and help, keeping their eyes out for any sign of you. The only one who managed to find out part of your intention. When you had mentioned the “bastards who ruined your life,” you were talking about the local pack of Werewolves. Which made sense, as far as she knew, they were the ones who had attacked when you were younger.

The only thing none of them could piece together was your methods. Sometimes they would find the remains of a Werewolf, other times they would find unrelated bodies. How had you managed to continue moving around the city when it was fairly well known that you were, at the very least, a suspect? Did you know, or did you simply not care?

Karlach didn’t know what to do. She knew you were good. She knew you. Broken Oath or not, you wouldn’t change completely. You wouldn’t ruin your life for revenge, that wasn’t in your nature. And even if it was, Karlach believed in you. Nothing could have pushed you that far.

Regardless, Gale and Shadowheart convinced her to have her axe coated in silver. Just in case.

“I think I know where your little killer will be,” Astarion said during their regular dinner at Karlach’s house.

“Where?” She asked quickly. “Are they okay?”

“I believe they’re fine,” he said nonchalantly. He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table. “Hells, word gets around the monster world. You should be asking if everyone else is fine.”

“Astarion,” Karlach warned.

“Alright, fine,” he sighed. “There’s a party in half a tenday,” he said. “A large portion of Were creatures are supposed to attend.” He picked something out from between his teeth. “Word underground is your little darling will be there.”

Karlach practically jumped into the seat across from Astarion. He didn’t even flinch; it was rather big of him. Sometimes, whether he intended to or not, he seemed a little wary of her sporadic movements. Maybe it was because he couldn’t predict them, or maybe she was just too loud. She didn’t know. But now, after so long together, he didn’t even budge.

She was so proud of him!

“How confident are you in your source?” She asked.

He laughed. “Darling, it’s not a source,” he said. “It’s coming from a friend.”

“Sorry,” she said softly. “I just want to help them,” she said. “Before they do something they regret.”

It was deeper than that. Hells, everyone knew it was deeper than that. Even Astarion, who made it a point not to see the deeper meanings of things, could see right through her as if she were glass. She didn’t just want to keep you from doing something stupid. She wanted to get back the life she had with you before everything went to shit.

She just wanted you back.

Astarion’s hand was cold on hers, and she looked up to see he had moved closer to offer a rare display of physical comfort.

“How about I do some digging myself, hmm?” He asked. “After all, I am rather charming.”

“Just don’t push them,” Karlach said with a smile. “I can’t guarantee how they feel about vampires.”

Astarion laughed. It was a nice sound. “Lucky for me, I’m simply a spawn.”

It was rather lucky for Astarion. It was only a few nights later that he came to see Karlach, out of breath and uncharacteristically shaky on his feet. You were very much not entirely okay with vampires, but you gave him a pass. He relayed your message - telling her to stay away, as if she would actually do that - and offered to join her at the party.

She quickly agreed it would be best.

Acknowledging that she might need help was a hard pill to swallow. There was no chance, no way in the Hells that she would have to do anything to stop you. She wasn’t foolish, but she knew her worth. If she could just get you to listen then it would be fine. You could both enjoy the party and then ride off into the sunset.

When the evening of the party came around, Karlach felt rather pretty. Her dress was gorgeous and it could hide a few weapons. Beside her, Astarion looked as handsome as always, and they both appeared at the party as if they had been personally invited.

Well, technically Astarion had been, but Karlach enjoyed feeling like she was sneaking in. It was more fun.

The party itself was swinging. All the energy in the air changed the moment Karlach and Astarion stepped into the underground hall. If she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn it was a ballroom in one of the above ground castles. Gods, she was in love with it. The architecture, the people, the energy. She wanted to grab Astarion and just dance the night away.

“Shall we?” Astarion asked as he held his hand out for Karlach to take.

“Oh fuck yes,” she said eagerly.

For the life of her, she couldn’t remember the last time she had had quite as much fun as that evening. Children were laughing, people were talking, the mood was light and airy. Hells, a few kids even asked her for a dance. Her! Could you believe it? She certainly couldn’t, and it was made even more hilarious when they asked Astarion next.

Karlach excused herself for a moment to grab something to drink. Dancing was exhausting, and she was parched. At that moment, she didn’t care if it was wine, beer, or simply water, she just needed a small break. A small drink, then she could get back to the party and have her fun. Gods, she wished you were there with her-

-oh.

In all the excitement, she had nearly forgotten why she was at the party in the first place. It wasn’t for a fun and exciting date night with Astarion, even though she would certainly take him up on the offer again in the future. She was there to keep people safe. To keep you safe.

More children laughed.

Oh boy.

If you were truly around, she needed to find you. She needed to get to you before anything happened, if anything even was going to happen. Her feet carried her around the giant hall, allowing her to look in every crook and cranny for anything potentially dangerous. The entirety of her heart hoped she was wrong and you weren’t there, you were simply upset.

Her mind wasn’t so convinced.

The hope was starting to take over when she approached the final few corners of the hall. There was nothing to be found. No bombs, no barrels, no nothing. Perhaps Astarion’s friend had been wrong and you weren’t there. Wouldn’t that be a miracle? It would give her more time to find you and perhaps talk a bit of sense into you-

“-I told you to stay away.”

Never mind, no time for miracles.

“You know I’m stubborn,” Karlach said as she turned around to look at you. Unlike her, you stayed dressed for business. “You always found it cute.”

“It stopped being cute a long time ago,” you said as you practically stormed off down a hall that Karlach hadn’t noticed.

She followed you instantly.

“Mind sharing your nefarious plan?” She asked once she finally caught up to you. Gods, you could move fast.

“Leave, Karlach,” you huffed.

“You know there’s children up there, right?” She continued.

You pulled up to a stop, and even though she was watching your back, she could see the heavy fall of your shoulders. What were you thinking? Surely you weren’t really going to risk all those people. They weren’t all guilty of whatever you accused them of. It wasn’t possible. This wasn’t you.

It couldn’t be.

“Take your spawn and leave,” you finally said. “I won’t tell you again.”

Karlach stayed frozen in place as you walked forward only a little more, stopping at what appeared to be a book. A… spell book? She didn’t think you had any interest in that subject. You certainly had never shown interest before. Why would you care now?

“What’s that?” She asked as you took a page out of the book.

You sighed and refused to look at her. “A Scroll of Cloudkill,” you answered.

“You can’t use that,” Karlach said.

Her engine froze over when you finally turned to look at her. Your eyes weren’t sad, not really. They were more… resigned. And maybe a little sad. But it was silly, you wouldn’t use that scroll on everyone. It would kill people, you knew that. And you weren’t one to kill people unnecessarily.

“I told you,” you said with a shake of your head. “I don’t care who burns with them.”

Karlach had a moment, only a moment, to make a move. If she stayed there, you would head into the party and kill everyone. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow you to do it, no matter how much she loved you. Something you had always loved about her was her sense of right and wrong.

This was wrong.

She quickly stepped in between you and the hall where everyone was still laughing and enjoying their evening. You were both just far enough away that no one would hear. The look in your eyes changed as you looked at her. It broke her heart. She was determined not to move.

You crossed your arms over your chest and cocked your hip.

“I can’t let you do this, lovely,” Karlach said softly. “They’re innocent.”

“They’re as guilty as I am,” you said.

“Not the children.”

“Not yet.”

Karlach sighed. She had forgotten you were just as stubborn as she was.

“What happened?” She asked you. “What hurt you this badly?”

“Just move,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Not unless you tell me,” she argued.

Your jaw tensed. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Just tell me,” she said. “How bad can it be-”

“-I killed your parents.”

Oh.

It could be that bad.

“It was a full moon and I was distracted,” you said with a quivering bottom lip. “Your parents made the mistake of coming to help.”

No. That couldn’t be the truth.

“I slaughtered them,” you continued with a shaky voice. “Just the same as I slaughtered my own parents.” There was a fire in your eyes.

No, no, that wasn’t true. You had loved her parents. They had loved you. You all made up the happiest little family Karlach could have ever imagined. She had dreamed, night after night, of coming home to have everyone together again. Her family was what got her through all those years alone.

“If they-” you pointed toward the party “-hadn’t cursed me, they would all still be alive.”

Karlach couldn’t understand your words. Nothing was adding up. You had always taken precise precautions to keep yourself and everyone else safe during a full moon. She remembered helping you, ensuring the shackles were where they should be and were tight enough to keep you in place. You would have never done anything to risk anyone else.

“They took everything from me,” you said. “My Oath, my family, my freedom.” You exhaled harshly. “I want to watch them burn.”

You had sworn an Oath of Devotion.

They’re an Oathbreaker now.

You weren’t the same.

Karlach stood taller, reaching for the disguised silver sword she had managed to sneak in. She wasn’t the most comfortable with the type of weapon, very much wishing she had her axe, but it would do. Your eyes immediately went to the weapon in her hand, and your shoulders fell.

“I can’t let you kill them, love” she said.

For the first time in a long time, Karlach prayed. She prayed to any and every god that she could think of. Small and large, good and bad, she didn’t care. She just prayed. Prayed for you to come to your senses and come back to her. Come back to her because she loved you, and she couldn’t bear to see you so hurt.

If she looked close enough, she thought she could see a tear in your eyes.

“Fine,” you said softly. You reached over your shoulder and pulled your own sword out of its sheath. “You’ll burn with them.”

Neither one of you were willing to make the first move. Karlach was smart enough to know she didn’t have her weapon of choice, and hopefully you were smart enough to know she had the upper hand when it came to strength. You had never matched her in muscle, instead opting to be more agile. She remembered when you had spared for fun.

This tainted the memory.

You moved first. A heavy overhead chop. Karlach blocked it easily, and you stepped back. But it was enough of an opening, and she went in for it.

Neither of you had the upper hand. Even from the start, she knew you would be evenly matched in one way or another. Karlach had fought in Avernus, but you had the perks of a Werewolf and an Oathbreaker. And, as memory served, you played dirty.

She clenched her teeth when she knocked you back with a blow to the chest. She had simply used the pommel of the sword, refusing to use the blade. But you looked up and her and mumbled a few words, and Karlach felt something crawl up her legs. Roots. She was stuck.

You stood up and started walking over. “Stay.”

The engine in her chest raced. She couldn’t let you leave. Frantically, she looked around the small room, looking for anything she could use to either get herself loose or- aha! Karlach reached out and grabbed a chair. A quick prayer left her lips - both for you and herself - before she threw it.

The noise you made when the chair hit your back would have been comical if she hadn’t been trying to stop you from committing potential genocide.

The blow was enough to ruin your concentration, and the roots slithered back down Karlach’s legs, freeing her once again. You looked at her once, only once, before turning back toward the party. Now that was just fucking rude. You couldn’t even give her more than a glance after that?

She ran up behind you and, before you could fight back, wrapped her arms under yours and locked her fingers behind your head. You growled; a sound that normally would have gotten Karlach all hot and bothered. Pain radiated through her leg when you kicked out, hitting right above her knee.

Just for that, she pulled her arms higher, lifting you off the ground.

“Let me go,” you groaned between clenched teeth.

“Promise you’ll stop,” Karlach said into your ear. “Promise we’ll go home.”

For a moment, you stopped struggling, and Karlach let herself get hopeful that you agreed. She could get over all of this. She could forgive all of this. It was a simple fight, lots of couples had fights. Sure, it had been building up for over a decade so it was a little… nasty… but it was normal. You could both go home and work it out another way. A sexier way, even.

But her hopes were too high. Again. When Karlach had let her guard down, you kicked out again. Your boot connected with her hip, and instinct had her doubling over to protect the spot. It was all you needed to get out of her grasp and turn back around to face her.

The silver sword was right beside her foot. All she would have to do was grab it, and you wouldn’t be going anywhere. All she had to do was subdue you, and then you couldn’t fight back. You couldn’t get into the party, and you would listen. But she didn’t think she could do it. She couldn’t hurt you.

You turned away from her and, once again, slowly headed toward the party.

A groan left your mouth before the sword clashed to the floor again, quickly followed by the sound of your knees hitting the cobblestone. Blood flowed freely from the newly created wound on the back of your knee. It was a disgusting black colour, not typical of you at all.

Then again, nothing was typical of you anymore.

Karlach limped in front of you and picked up the sword once again. You clenched your teeth and looked up at her in shock. She had hurt you. No, she had made you bleed. She had used silver against you. It would take you months to heal from the wound, and that was assuming things went well.

The very thought made her chest ache.

“You were supposed to be the same when I got back,” Karlach said slowly. “Everything was different, but you were supposed to be the same.”

You stayed silent aside from the occasional groan.

“You know the pathetic part?” She asked. It was a rhetorical question. “If you agreed to go home with me right now, I would forgive everything.”

Something lightened in your eyes. She knew better than to hope for the better.

“I would forgive you for trying to kill children,” she continued. “All because I love you.”

You looked away.

“The thought of you got me through Avernus,” she said. Her hip ached. “The thought of you gets me through now.” She sighed. “Because they may have taken my physical heart, but you’re my real heart.”

“Karlach- hey!”

Pink ropes circled your body and constricted. You groaned when they tightened again. Karlach hadn’t done that. She didn’t even know any of those spells. Footsteps came up behind her, quickly giving way to Astarion; who just so happened to be holding a scroll.

“Stop spewing poetic,” Astarion said, “it’s beneath you.”

“Spawn,” you spat out.

“Mutt,” he shot back.

“Why are you here?” Karlach asked.

“Party’s over,” he said, “The Watch is coming.”

Oh Hells, there was just no room to breathe anymore, was there? She was trying to open her heart to you! She was trying to change your mind! They needed to butt out and let her grieve!

“We need to go,” Astarion said.

She looked down at you. The smallest trickle of blood was falling from your nose; no doubt from the constricting ropes that continued to tighten. If she left you, The Watch would catch you. It was clear everyone knew you were guilty of one thing or another. What wasn’t clear was if The Watch would rather protect you or the Underground.

Oh Hells.

“Come on, pup,” Karlach said as she grabbed you and threw you over her shoulder; much to your protest. “We’ve gotta go.”

“Must we take them?” Astarion asked.

“If we leave them, they’ll turn you in for scraps,” she said after she started walking down the hall.

“I’d turn him in for free,” you mumbled.

You grunted when the ropes constricted again.

“This scroll is glorious,” Astarion commented.

Oh Hells. Karlach was not looking forward to whatever was about to happen.

Well. In some roundabout way, at least she got you back. Some demented version of you, sure, but… Mum always had taught her beggars couldn’t be choosers.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Looks

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 667 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, doubt

--------------------

“I know they only like me for my looks, but maybe they will grow to like everything about me.” you listened to Astarion outside of Karlach’s tent.

“You know that’s not true, Astarion. They love you because you’re you.” Karlach responded. 

Your stomach twisted and your eyes brimmed with tears. You walked away, leaving camp for a bit. You loved him. How could he think you didn’t? Or for something as trivial as his looks. You needed to gather yourself before you talked to him so you wandered the forest a bit, the owlbear catching up to you at some point to keep you company.

---------------------------

You returned to camp a few hours later, everyone was in their tents sleeping or reading. Today had been tough, killing Orin and Gortash in one day would make anyone tired. You walked into Astarion’s tent, candle light still flickering within.

“Star-” you started. He was peacefully meditating on his bedroll. You sighed, sitting down next to him. Your hand ghosted over his face before you pulled the blanket up on him. “You’re so stubborn, you know that? I love your looks, that is true. But I love everything else about you too. I love your sass and little quips. Especially when they’re directed at Gale.” you chuckled to yourself, talking to him while he slept was a pretty regular occurrence since his meditations always seemed to keep him in a deep slumber. “I love the way your face scrunches up when you’re focusing on a book or your embroidery. I love your never ending thirst for knowledge. I love how you try to come off as cold and aloof but deep down you are the biggest softie I’ve ever seen. I love how understanding you are, how gentle you are. I love that you listen, truly listen to anything I have to say. You are so expressive with your love it’s hard to not notice it. You protect me, you keep me safe, you make me happy, you… you love me. More than anyone has, I think. It pains me to know you think I only like you for your looks. I would know you if I were blind and deaf. I know your heart, and I wish you knew mine. For it grows two sizes whenever you are near. I… I don’t know how to express everything I feel for you because I feel it all so deeply it’s purely indescribable. But know this - you are so much more than your looks. You are beautiful in more ways than one. I know Cazador made you use yourself and made you think you were nothing but a pretty husk for his disposal…. You never have to be that again. You get to be whatever you want, and I think you are perfect.” 

You trailed off, you didn’t realize you were crying until you stopped talking. The waver in your voice was all too telling. How were you ever going to convince him you felt all of this?

“Do you mean it?” Astarion whispered.

You jumped and sucked in a gasp, “Fuck! Don’t scare me like that.” you said as you wiped all the tears off your face before turning to face him completely. 

“Did you mean it?” he repeated, sitting up.

“Of course I meant it. I love you and I will spend my life proving it to you if that’s what it takes.” you responded instantly. 

He sighed, “I love you, all of you…. It’s just difficult to accept that you can love me for more than my body.” 

You took his face in your hands softly, running your thumbs over his cheeks. “I will love you in every lifetime, until the last star in the sky burns out. You are the only star I need.” you pulled his face to yours kissing him gently, trying to convey your feelings to him.

“I love you… thank you for loving me too.” he said as he leaned his forehead against yours.

--------------------

Naboo's Note:

A little fluff after that horny af piece. Thanks for everything! XOXOXO!!!!

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Day 7- Mirror sex

Fandom: Baldurs Gate 3

Character: Enver Gortash

Warnings: p in v, Mirror sex, praises, doggie style

A/n: Durge!Reader used, had Enver switch sides because I said so! Celebratory sex.

It was always a thought in the back of his mind that he wanted to try but given all the shit that had happened he just never got the time to ask you for this particular link of his.

But now that the Elder brain was dealt with, even though he wasn’t ruling over the people like he wanted, Enver managed to keep you by his side and that’s all mattered to him the more he thought about it.

You were the most important person in his life and now with your memories back and Bhall no longer controlling you he thought you’d both could live somewhat normal lives.

And now, now he was about to live out the fantasy of his.

“My beautiful goddess.” Enver’s breath was against your neck, his fingers running down your side as his eyes glanced to the mirror. From where he was he could see everything. “I will give you everything.” He whispered letting his lips graze your neck.

Feeling warmth creep up your neck you adverted your gaze letting your fingers dig into the sheets waiting for him to touch you.

“Don’t be shy darling.” Gortash your neck a kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist. “But you’re going to do something for me love. You’re going to get on your knees and watch me fuck you.”

Letting out a weak, you gave the man a crooked smile as you moved on your knees. “You’re awfully cocky tonight.” Your eyes glanced over to the mirror, from where you were on the bed you could your lover behind you, his fingers holding down your back though it did not take long for him to thrust into your center.

A cry leaving your lips, the pace was agonizing. His hands clutching your hips his eyes glued to the mirror. He couldn’t pull his gaze away, you were to tantalizing, to beautiful not too. The way your breasts would bounce every time he thrusts into your pussy, the little moans escaping your lips.

This was too good, it felt too good.

“Look at you my love, look how beautiful you are.” Gortash grasped your chin forcing you to look in the mirror.

Biting your lip, you could feel your walls clenching around his cock as your gaze move to the mirror. You could see him pulling his cock out only to slam back in, you could see him slip a hand where you were joined together. His thumb gliding and rubbing your clit causing more moans to spill from your lips and soon you were cumming.

Your orgasm hitting you hard as he kept you tightly against his hips. His name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

“Enver!”

A deep chuckle escaped his lips as he watched your body slump forward, pre cum teasing your entrance, your thighs covered in your juices as his fingers ran down your back.

“Such a wonderful love you are…but just you wait. I am not finished with you yet.”

[animentality]

Ahhhhh insane with the idea that the Dark Urge was forced to kill their parents, the people they loved most in the world, at a very young age, and this was only the first stage in what would be a constantly evolving notion of love and relationship with themselves.

First was grief. Regret. Feeling ashamed and monstrous and wicked. Crying at night because they had loved their parents and now they were gone, and it was their fault. Directly. That's a lot for a kid to handle.

But with Scleritas whispering in their ear, and the threat of Bhaal hanging over their head, the grief becomes fear. Terror, that it might happen again. They stay away from people they knew before, kids or adults who knew them in Baldur's Gate. Maybe they can't resist the urge but they can at least ensure they don't hurt anyone they love. Maybe they can control themselves. Maybe they can keep their wretched body still. Maybe they will not be the instrument of pure death and chaos and evil incarnate.

But then the only companionship they have is Scleritas Fel, and he's a wicked little creature, constantly bringing the worst out of them. And as time passes and they live their life in isolation, that terror starts to fade, as do memories of love and friendship and kindness. And the urge is impossible to totally ignore. So where before they felt intense guilt or fear, now there's no feeling at all. And since they're so distant from other living beings, people start looking like meat puppets to them. Empty dolls of blood and viscera and mucus. No longer the feeling of home, but carcasses in the making.

And you know, I don't think leading the Temple of Bhaal would help. I can see the Dark Urge completely forgetting about their old life, and the warm feelings of intimacy and affection. How long can you go through life feeling afraid or numb? Maybe the only joy they could find was in embracing their urge. In dedicating their life to Daddy, to the point where they had a crippling fear of disappointing him. If they couldn't be happy, then they could at least be perfect. They could at least have purpose. They were once afraid of how monstrous they could be. Now, they aren't.

But then.

they meet Gortash.

and it's like... well.

Durgetash is, at its core, love spun on its edge and ripped open with fangs.

It is two vicious creatures, being soft with one another, but not soft like the fur of a puppy or the heads of dandelions, but soft like carrion, like the lining of a coffin, like the whisper of the morgue.

But it is still love.

And how would the Dark Urge react? Well, unloved beast that they are, I would imagine it would sneak up on them. Neither they, nor Gortash, seem as though they have even an ounce of love or compassion in their bodies. So they can be at ease with one another, surely? Nothing about Gortash is soft or gentle the way they vaguely remember love being. So they think they're safe.

And that was a mistake. Because they haven't felt safe since they were a child. So he became their first step backwards. After years of constantly moving forward (because if they stop moving, they fear that they might die).

And it gets worse, because the more they admire him, the more they enjoy their time together, the stronger their alliance becomes... the more dangerous it feels.

Hence the prayer of forgiveness.

The Dark Urge would have to reassure father that they were still strong and obedient. They would tell him that it wasn't love, because they are not capable of it, not anymore. Gortash is just... an ally. Just an asset. A pawn, like everyone else. A meat sack.

But they're lying.

Gortash was the first crack in their armor. They had no one for so long. They needed him. Wanted him. Could only be with him at all because he had the same goals as them, and they could use them as an excuse, a shield, against the idea that they were in love or attached.

And then we get to the amnesia... the reset... the rebirth. And...

The Dark Urge starts again. They unlearned all of their pain, their agony, their sadomasochism. They find friends. And lovers. And they find comrades in arms. They find a hero within themselves, one that could not live alongside the evil built into their very blood.

And they embrace love, even though it means death.

Even if it means being obliterated, they welcome the end of all things, over returning to the loneliness of before.

And it's lovely. It's a fascinating idea to me, the dark urge and their relationship with love.

I am obsessed with the idea of a character who is not saved by love, but destroyed by it.

Someone who cannot embrace love and become stronger like all the other protagonists of the world. Someone who does the exact opposite. They want to love, but have learned it will only hurt those who could love a wretched creature like themselves. And it will only break them in the end.

But when given the chance to start all over... this time, they are not alone. This time, they have the strength to do what is necessary. The bonds that hold them together just as they pull them apart.

Friends, I'm sorry for the rambling.

But I love the potential of the Dark Urge as a character.

[scnderlands]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𐕣 THE ENEMY YOU KNOW † e. gortash

word count ; 3.2k

warnings / tags ; MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS DNI fem!reader, smut, fingering, slight dubcon, mentions of gortash’s background in arms dealing and whatnot, not proofread, enemy fucking, the smut is over pretty quickly and the story ends pretty suddenly lol,

kai’s notes ; so I’ve always been thirsting over gortash n needed more stuff abt him, I didn’t proofread this and wrote it very quickly, I’m sorry, I’m just brain rotting about this man too much </3 this was gonna have more added ( and someone else too ) but maybe I’ll save that for the next one 🤭

During your travels you had felt many emotions : fear, disgust, joy, relief, and even anger — but never had you ever felt such raw, bestial, unadulterated rage until you stood face-to-face with Lord Enver Gortash.

Horror stories of Gortash’s endeavours fell upon your ears often throughout the months of battling the Absolute. You’d heard of his tyranny, the arms dealing and slavery, all the stuff before and after his time controlling the Absolute.

You knew he was a monster parading in human flesh, a man without a heart or a conscience, and you were truly disgusted by him. Until you met him.

There was no denying your hatred for him, your longing to rip the netherstone from his cold, dead hands. However, he was never anything like you picture other than through a few visions from others, you weren’t sure what it was but he just wasn’t what you envisioned.

When you stood before him at the coronation, part of you wanted to slash his throat right then and there, damned if you were seen, but you knew to be smarter. He came to you with slime-coated compliments, promises of power, and dreadful temptations of ruling together.

What you hadn’t expected was him to come to you with a deal, in exchange neither of you would harm one another, and he’d even give extra information when he could. The thought would have weighed heavy on mind if it weren’t one you had to make in the moment, a split second decision that you couldn’t deny.

Plenty of things were muttered behind you from your companions once you accepted the deal. It wasn’t that you wanted to make a deal with the scumbag, but you knew you needed all the help you could get. And one Chosen One turning again another was exactly the power you needed to aid in your fight against the Absolute.

Over the next few weeks you and Gortash had met plenty of times, most of the time without your friends finding out. For the most part you didn't want to sneak around, but you knew they didn’t agree, and you didn’t want to put them in that position — on the plus side, conversation seemed to go a lot smoother with Gortash when it was just the two of you alone.

“I’m pleased you graced me with your presence today.” Gortash spoke from the other side of the grand hall, not once looking up from the letter he was reading while sitting at the head of the table.

“I’m only here because you said you had information that I might find useful…”

“Patience, patience, we’ll get to all that in due time, love.”

His words made you squirm, not necessarily in a bad way, but more than likely not in a good way either. You couldn’t tell how you were feeling, though you hadn’t been able to tell for a long time now.

“Would you care for a drink?”

Before you could even answer Gortash had clicked his fingers, a gesture toward his servant to fetch you both a glass. The man walked across the room without a soul, no thoughts, only orders to follow — another infected with a parasite, more than likely.

“Please.” Gortash gestured toward the seat closest to his own, a friendly smile on his face which you couldn’t tell whether was real or fake.

“So is there something else you want to discuss before getting down to business?” You questioned as the glass was sat down in front of you, a red wine filled almost to the brim.

“You’re all too impatient, you know that?” His tone was playful as he raised his glass, a hint at you to do the same.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his complaint, but nonetheless you raised your glass to his.

“What’re we toasting to?”

“A done deal, that’s why we are drinking Amnian Dessert Wine, after all.”

Gortash spoke with an elegance, a tone which made you think you should know exactly what the drink is and when it’s drunk.

“It’s an agreement, I wouldn’t say it’s exactly a deal…” you spoke quietly, swishing the red liquid around in your glass.

Another chuckle came from Gortash as he shrugged, clinking his glass against yours with a shiteating grin plastered across his face, “to us.”

A moment of silence passed as you both enjoyed the aged wine, and the quiet, a change of pace for the both of you. There was a moment where you sat and thought about all the things you wanted to ask him, how many questions you had all before meeting with him once again.

“You know, if there is anything you want to say, you can say it, you are among friends.”

His words pulled you from your thoughts and you sharply realised you’d been staring at him the entire time, zoned out without noticing.

“Oh…” you hesitated, making sure not to meet his gaze, “well, what made you want to team up with us?”

There was nothing else you could think about asking after being put on the spot so quickly, and it was a stupid question considering you knew the answer for the most part.

“You… I joined you, not those uncouth friends of yours.” He rolled his eyes and placed his glass down, resting his armoured hand on top of yours gently, “I know we may not see eye to eye on many things, however we do have one common enemy, Orin. And us working together to defeat her is what is best for us both, best for Baldur’s Gate.”

A heat rose up your body, your eyes flickering over where his hand touched yours, your heart beating quicker. Enver noticed your reaction and a ghost of a smile crossed his face, yet he didn’t bother bringing it up, instead he let your own thoughts eat away at you.

“Me and my friends are a package deal, you either take us or leave us.” You frowned at him and carefully pulled your hand away, placing it on your lap and out of his way.

“I understand…I do apologise if I offended.”

For a short while you had a back and forth, skipping over and dancing around conversations, because of course he didn’t want to give you the answers and information he promised you immediately. He wanted to be in your company for a while longer, not that he’d admit that, especially out loud.

With one last mouthful, you finished off your wine and placed the glass down, loud enough to get Gortash’s full attention.

“So, can we finally get down to business then?”

Your patience was wearing thin, you’d been with him far longer than you planned and you didn’t want your camp friends wondering where you were — especially considering all the dangers that had been happening recently.

“Hm.” He stood from his chair and held his hand out for you, “we should discuss these matters somewhere more…private. Although they are all under my control, there are far too many ears around for my liking.”

Your eyes scanned along his golden armoured hand, hesitating for a moment before taking it, a small nod as he pulled you up.

It seemed every time you visited him, you got to see more and more of where he spent all his time, learning a little more about him with each meeting.

“So just how important is this information?”

“Did I ever say it was important?” A little chuckle came from behind you as he shut the door, a hint of sarcasm weaved within his words.

The anger burned in your stomach once again, an all too familiar feeling when around the Tyrant himself. You glared back at him, which only seemed to amuse him that little bit more.

He picked up an envelope from his rosewood desk, and held it in his hand, but kept it close to his chest so you had to walk close to him to grab it.

“You are a nuisance, you know that?”

He only smiled at you, a little part of him enjoying you scolding him ever so slightly. You snatched the envelope away from him and opened it in a hurry, desperate to see the contents so you could finally leave and get back to camp.

“Is this it?”

“Is that not enough?” His finger traced a line along your back as he circled around you like a hawk stalking its prey.

“I—“ you swallowed your words as goosebumps covered your entire body, “it’s just not what I expected…that’s all.”

His face stopped just inches from your own, a devilish glint sparkling in his eyes. Your breath caught in your throat as you finally met his gaze, a mixed feeling of fear and arousal — as much as you hated him being able to that rise in you.

“Gortash…”

“Please, call me Enver, we are friends, after all.”

His finger ran along your jaw while his eyes never looked away from yours, the cool metal of his glove making you want to pull away from him. Every fibre of your being screaming at you to move, to leave and go back to camp, to put distance between you and him, but you couldn’t — you didn’t want to.

“I’ve noticed the way you look at me, and don’t worry, I feel all the same.” His lips ghosted your ear as he whispered, the heat of his breath causing the hairs on your skin to stand on end.

There was no embarrassment or hesitation in his voice, only conviction. He wanted this just as badly as you, if not more.

A quiet moan slipped your lips as his mouth trailed a sloppy line down your neck, his hands squeezing the fat of your hips. He chuckled to himself as your hands moved up to rest on his biceps and your head fell to the side.

“You’re so sure you don’t want this, darling?”

His tone was ever so slightly mocking, he knew the answer but he wanted to hear you say it. He’d been longing to hear you say how much you wanted him, needed him, to hear his name moaned by him.

“I hate…you.” Your hands squeezed at his arms as he bit and sucked at the supple skin of your neck.

“No you don’t, and that’s what you hate.”

He was right, you did want it so badly, you wanted him. It ached your heart how much you were attracted to him, especially considering how much of a bad person he was, all the things he had done to people, to people close to you. You knew if any of your friends found out, you’d be done for, they probably wouldn’t forgive you — but that thought was slowly drifting further and further away with every kiss and grope.

His hands slowly moved down to your ass, while his lips finally met with yours. He kissed you slowly, passionately, with purpose. It was a moment of tenderness, sweetness, before the wild animal instinct kicked in — the need to devour, to ravish you.

Before you could pull away from the kiss, he’d already backed you up and slammed you against a bookcase, tearing your top away from your body and forcing his hands up towards your bare chest.

As you pulled at the top of his jacket, he helped you as he shrugged it off, letting it crumple on the floor where he stood. He yanked his armoured gloves off his hands and threw them off to the side, letting them clattered against the wooden floor without much care. .

“Enver, we really shouldn’t.”

Your words fell on deaf ears, he didn’t care, he needed this too much to stop now. He rarely had time for personal affairs, always too busy trying to take over a city, never meeting anyone new. Not that he ever really wanted to, until he met you that was. He wasn’t sure what it was but you did something to him, you haunted his dreams and his waking hours — you clouded his mind worse than any parasite ever could.

Gortash hummed to himself as he let his hand slide into your pants, relishing in the little gasps into his mouth. His other hand twisting and pinching at one of your nipples, just to make you squirm for him. All he wanted to hear was you moaning for him, because of him, he needed to claim you in ways no one else would, in ways other people could only dream of.

Part of you hoped someone would interrupt just so you could back out of it, but most of you didn’t want that to happen. Even surrounded by friends in the camp, you felt lonely, everyday was a fight and there was never time to form a relationship for you. Now you had this man, this monster, showing you all the attention you never knew you craved so dearly. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t ignore it, it relit a passion in you that fizzled out long ago.

His fingers slid into you until his knuckles bottomed out, they curled back and forth before he pulled them nearly all the way out. He knew exactly how to hit that spot inside of you every time his fingers grazed upwards, and he easily had your knees buckling, your hands having to grip at his shoulders just to support yourself. .

“Fuck, Enver…” your head rested against his shoulder as his fingers moved quicker and quicker, forcing moan after moan to tumble so sweetly from your lips.

Before you could come, he moved away from you, slowly bringing his fingers to his face with a smirk on his face. A moment of admiring the way your slick ran down his fingers before he brought them up to his mouth, his tongue running the length of his finger before pushing them into his mouth. He let out a satisfied hum as he cleaned you from them, his gaze watching the way you rubbed your legs together while watching him.

“Come here, my love.” He held his hand out in front of himself, gesturing for you to follow him over to the couch nearby.

Without a thought of your own, you followed his command, trailing behind him like a lost puppy dog. As you got to the couch, he spun you around and kissed you again, pushing you gently backwards onto the cushions. He used his knee to force your legs apart for him, his hands tugging at the waistband of your parts while never letting his lips part from yours.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

A heat raised up your body at his words, not being able to look back at him as he pulled your pants down your legs, discarding them on the floor.

He hovered over the top of you, a gentle look on his face unlike one you’d seen before. He chuckled at your embarrassment as he stroked his cock up and down your slit, making you twitch every time he trailed along your puffy clit. Once he gathered enough lube on himself, he slowly pushed into you, and you couldn’t help but hiss at the stretch.

His cock was fatter than you’d have thought, the sensation burning but pleasurable at the same time as he bottomed out in you. It took a moment for you to adjust, his mouth on your neck distracting you from the pain.

“You feel…” he let out a groan as he pulled back, and slowly pushed back into you, “fucking incredible.”

His hips rocked back and forth, his cock pushing all the way into you and then all the way back, repeating that motion over and over again. His head collapsed into the crook of your neck, another low groan from his parted lips.

To him, you felt heavenly, a sensation he hadn’t experienced in Lord knows how long. It was everything he dreamt of and more, and he couldn’t stop himself from giving into temptation, his hips speeding up and pounding into you with more force.

The sound of skin hitting skin, sensual moans, and the bookcase behind the couch were the only sounds in the room. Everything else fell away, no more worrying about the Absolute and the parasites, no more caring about Enver being your enemy, there was only you and him together. It was all that mattered.

Your nails scratched down the bare skin of his back, and his teeth grazed against your neck. His name fell from your lips just the way he always imagined, a dream come true. He couldn’t control himself once he heard his name, he pistoned into you more forcefully, addicted to the sounds he was pushing out of you.

His hand grabbed your thigh and pulled your leg up tighter against his side, his hips and pace beginning to stumble slightly as he was getting closer to finishing. Strings of curse words and moans came from him, and when your cunt tightened around him, he couldn’t help but finish too. He didn’t bother pulling out, the idea of filling you up with his cum was too much for him to handle, he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

“Fuck…” he panted as he barely held himself up on his elbow, his eyes looking directly into yours.

A sense of peace washed over you for the first time in months, a release you so desperately needed. He leaned down and placed a careful kiss on your forehead, both of you breathes heavy and ragged.

“That was worth it, was it not?” He laughed, maybe the first time you heard him laugh genuinely.

He was completely at ease, his guard was down for the first time ever around you — both of you as vulnerable as the other. He squeezed into the gap next to you and pulled your head onto his bare, sweaty chest, his hand rubbing up and down your back.

You could feel your eyelids growing heavier and heavier, and you knew you needed to get up, go back to camp, and leave Gortash behind. But you couldn’t, you had never felt so content, so calm as you did now. It was obvious he felt the same way, how his breathing became slow and relaxed, his chest raising up and down rhythmically as he began to fall asleep beside you. Before you knew it you were asleep and being greeted by your dream guardian, with a very disgusted look on their face, and a whole lot to say.

[underdark-dreams]

I would like to request something soft and sweet. Years after saving the Gate and having moved in with Rolan, Cal, and Lia, Tav is enjoying the day reading/admiring Rolan as he works, and then either a) Tav asks Rolan to marry them or b) Rolan asks Tav to marry him.

Thank you 💕💕

Rolan x fem!Tav

More

Was it wrong to feel selfish about the person you loved? Rolan and Tav finally get a night alone at the Tower to talk about what each of them wants.

Tags: Romantic Fluff, Mild Angst, Marriage Proposals | SFW

Word Count: 4,316 [Read on AO3]

“All right, all right. Three harpies at once, no weapons. How do you win?”

“Do they have the high ground?”

From the settee by the fire, Lia pointed down at her little brother as though he’d brought up a key point. “You’re on even terrain.”

“Right, this one’s easy.” Cal settled back comfortably against the rug with hands clasped behind his head. “I start yelling loud enough that I can’t hear the harpy song. Then, I charge at whichever one’s singing loudest and knock the wind out of them with my horns, and then, you know." He waved a hand around vaguely. "Rough 'em up."

“So fucking stupid—” Lia fell sideways in her seat, clutching her side with laughter.

“I keep telling you, you’re always forgetting about the horns.” Cal jabbed a finger at his forehead. “Natural advantage, Lia, you should know this by now.”

The absurd conversation was impossible to block out, but Rolan made an attempt as he bent over his desk. Behind him, he felt Tav's chest reverberating with laughter at his siblings. 

She was in one of her affectionate moods tonight. She'd drawn up a chair behind his in order to rest her cheek against his back, one wrist draped loosely over his shoulder. 

Rolan didn't mind the closeness—he never did from her. But between her warmth and his siblings' ridiculous game of what-if, he'd barely written one paragraph in the past ten minutes. He finally gave up and set aside his quill.

Tav shifted slightly on his shoulder. "How's Gale?" She asked, perhaps feeling guilty about interrupting his concentration. 

“He’s well. His new class has a few with real promise, according to Tara.”

"I can't believe Tara likes you more than me," she mumbled suddenly against his back. "I met her first."

Her petulant tone made his mouth twitch into a smile. He would’ve turned to kiss her if they were alone. Instead, Rolan only pressed his lips to the hand draped over his shoulder. "Tressyms know a good wizard when they see one, dearest."

“Makes two of us,” she replied. The soft words ghosted across the skin on his neck, raising goosebumps under his collar.

It suddenly seemed like a very good idea to tell his siblings to get lost. Rolan was saved the necessity by a stroke of good timing. Near the fireplace, there was the soft clinking of plate armor as Lia got to her feet.

“Right, I’m off—” Lia buckled her scabbard around her waist as she rose, her shortsword tip clanking against the greaves over her shins. “Can’t be late to lead my first evening patrol.”

It had never occurred to Rolan before that Lia might end up in the Flaming Fist. He had to remind himself that the company’s reputation had improved considerably in the year since Florrick had succeeded Ulder Ravengard. Corruption and bad behavior had flourished under Gortash, but Florrick had done much to clean the Fists’ ranks of the worst—at least within the city walls. 

As he looked at her now, standing tall in her emblazoned surcoat, Rolan realized that his young sister was quite grown up. She’d earned a promotion to Gauntlet faster than any of them expected, a fact she loved to remind them of—especially Rolan. Lia took care of others the way she always had, and now she could take care of herself. The thought was somehow bittersweet in Rolan’s chest.

"Me as well," Cal chimed in from the floor. Though he only stretched arms and legs out long with a massive yawn.

“Don’t rush off,” Rolan drawled, but there was affection in it.

“Highberry’s are across the street, I got a few minutes.” Cal scrubbed his face with both hands as if to wake himself. “We got new ones at the orphanage last week, twin boys. They’re good kids, but gods, do they play hard…feel like my back’s aged about ten years…”

Lia stepped over to give him a hand up with a chuckle. “Read the room, Cal. The lovers need their alone time.”

Cal glanced around at the two in question. Tav still rested her cheek on Rolan’s shoulder with an expression of dreamy happiness, while Rolan was failing to hide a scowl. Lia knew how he hated when either of them used that word.

“Ah, right—” Cal slipped to his feet, sounding eager to be off all of a sudden. “I’ll be back after sunrise. Keep the place together while I’m gone?” He added, a fine joke considering Cal was always the one breaking things.

Rolan’s only response was to wave his quill behind him in a shooing motion. Tav called a friendly goodbye to brother and sister as they made their way down the main staircase, chatting as they went.

Once their footsteps had retreated completely, her restraint evaporated. “Thank the Gods, come here—”

Rolan barely managed to save his inkwell from overturning as she twisted to launch her torso across his lap, capturing his face in both hands for an enthusiastic kiss. His near arm gripped around her middle, no doubt leaving ink stains from his fingers against her linen shirt—he found himself unable to care about anything but the sweet taste of her lips.

They each pulled away for breath at the same moment. Tav’s grip lingered, her fingers combing back through his hair gently to clasp together at his nape.  

“Hello,” she grinned. Her eyes roamed over his face like he was everything.

Rolan’s palm brushed down her back, utterly content. “Hello.”

They took each other in like that for a long moment, just enjoying the quiet closeness. Her fingers smoothed and combed the hair back from beside Rolan’s horns needlessly—a fussy gesture that nevertheless brought a hum of contentment to his chest.

Apparently satisfied that she had him put back to sorts, Tav’s hands moved to rest on Rolan’s shoulders. “Got more work to do?”

Though she phrased it as a question, Rolan sensed she already knew the answer. He let out a reluctant sigh.

“Go on,” said Tav, not waiting for his reply. Rolan’s shoulders received a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll wait for you.”

With one last soft kiss, she slid off his lap and away. Rolan said nothing, but he instantly missed the warm weight of her against him. 

Tav retrieved her current reading from the shelves behind and curled up on the now-vacant settee near the fireplace. Though his spirit rebelled, Rolan picked up his quill again to continue writing his last few replies. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could join her. 

For a while the vaulted room settled into a quiet, echoing lull. There was the crackle of magical flame in the great stone hearth; the rhythmic scratch of ink against parchment; the faint whistle of an evening breeze out on the open balcony beyond. Periodically, he heard Tav turn another page of her book.

Before long he’d reached the final sealed envelope on the day’s pile. As Rolan stretched his hand for it, he caught sight of Tav watching him over the back of her seat.

“What?”

“Just admiring,” she sighed, eyes sparkling. “You look so handsome when you’re concentrating like that.”

Rolan’s brow wrinkled playfully at her. “Am I not usually handsome?”

“Always.”

“Hmm. You just think that because you’re in love with me,” Rolan replied curtly. He turned back to his work in an attempt to hide the way she made him smile and flush like an idiot.

“Both can be true,” she called back, not denying anything. But Rolan heard the shuffle of pages as she returned to her reading.

It took him a moment to regain concentration on his work. Rolan’s eyes reread several lines of the letter before him multiple times. But this one was truly quite important—a missive from the archwizards’ council at Blackstaff Tower. They were inquiring about his arcane research, apparently intrigued for the first time in years by his own Tower’s new ownership. He dove back in to focus on answering their questions in detail.

Half an hour and five sheets of parchment later, Rolan finally surfaced back to reality. He straightened up and promptly felt a pop in his neck from his stiff writing posture. The last light of sunset had slipped from the sky, leaving inky blackness behind each vaulted window of the cathedral-like interior.

As he rolled his aching shoulders, Rolan glanced toward Tav—only to find that the seat by the fire was empty. Rolan glanced back around the room, finding the rest of it empty as well. 

Had she given up waiting and gone up to bed? The thought disappointed him, though it opened up other possibilities. 

But Tav had told him she'd wait, and she wouldn't lie. As he rose from his desk to search for her, Rolan caught a faint metallic tap from the balcony.

Her silhouette was cast in relief against the dark sky. It was a moonless night; the pale orange glow of lamplight from the streets far below was the only light lining the edge of her figure, that and what little firelight streamed out through the highly vaulted doorway. Tav leaned on her elbows, the pewter wine glass under her fingers tapping an absent little rhythm against the stone railing. It was one of her habits when deep in thought.

Rolan allowed himself a moment to admire her. Seeing her in a quiet pose like this was one of his favorite things in all the Realms. Tav had become so many things to so many people in the short year he’d known her: hero, savior, diplomat, even rather a politician. 

But tonight, for now…she was just Tav. His Tav.

Rolan felt a pang of something like guilt in his stomach. It was by no means the first time he’d had such a feeling about her. His; possessive, controlling. It reminded him of the way he used to think before she came into his life.

For a long time, Rolan had felt a need to control the people he loved. If he didn’t, who would? Control just went hand in hand with protection. Caring for others was a luxury, and if the events of his life had taught him anything up to that point, it was that fate and misfortune were always looking for ways to separate you from what you cared about most.

And Tav had slipped so easily into the deepest depths of his heart. At first begrudgingly, resentfully…Rolan hadn’t exactly seen her as a welcome addition to their lives when they’d first met long ago on the road to Baldur’s Gate. 

Right now, it was impossible to imagine anything but love for her. 

As Rolan watched a soft breeze ruffle the ends of her hair, something uncertain bloomed inside of him. Was it wrong to feel selfish like this about the person you loved? The question hung unanswered in his chest. Rolan felt its weight there tonight, like a heavy stone dragging on his heart. 

His hand absently brushed against the small leather pouch he kept tied on his belt—there was a small clink of metal against metal from inside.

“Just going to stand there?”

Tav’s voice brought him back to reality in the most pleasant way. Rolan blinked to find that his legs had carried him forward to the arched doorway of their own volition. 

Tav stood a few strides away, watching him over her shoulder with a bemused smile. The firelight streaming out from behind him softly illuminated her features. 

In the next moment, Rolan had closed the distance to tilt her face into a kiss. Her empty cup clattered forgotten to the stone tiles at their feet. Would he ever tire of the way her arms circled around his shoulders like that? 

Rolan didn’t think it was likely—he nuzzled against her cheek as their lips parted, inhaling her familiar and comforting scent.

“What’s with you tonight?” Tav laughed, the sound breathy and soft against his collar.

“What?” Rolan protested, drawing her away slightly to examine her face. “Can’t I appreciate the woman I love?”

A happy flush rose to her cheeks, unnoticeable in the dim to someone without Rolan’s precise vision. But notice he did, just as she caught the way his golden eyes traveled over her expression. Tav pressed her face back into his shoulder as her arms squeezed tighter around him. 

“I wish we had more time,” she said against the crook of his neck.

Rolan tried to quell the instinctive panic that rose in his chest at her words. Instead, he stroked a hand over her hair. “What do you mean?”

The way she paused before answering allowed Rolan’s heart just enough time to wind up to a brisk rhythm against his ribcage. Eventually, Tav leaned back to look at him. Her expression had grown quite serious.

“I know that you—” She cut herself off, then wet her lips and began again. “Rolan, this place is your life. I’m not under any misconceptions that all this—” She tipped her head and looked sideways as if to indicate the Tower itself. “—That any of it’s going away any time soon. You know that, right?”

Her face tilted toward him with utter sincerity. Rolan found that his thoughts were forming with an odd slowness, as if swimming around his brain through something gelatinous.

“And you’ve been very understanding,” he managed to tell her. The guilt from earlier returned its grip over his chest. “More than I deserve.”

She sighed as her hand rose to his cheek. “Thank you for saying that…but you wouldn’t if you knew how often I daydream about kidnapping you away all for myself.”

Before Rolan could find a response to that, Tav had stepped back out of his grip with a soft curse.

“Damn—” She swore again, then wrung her hands with a shaky, anxious laugh. “This shouldn’t be this hard.”

Rolan still didn’t understand quite what she was saying, a sensation that he found deeply uncomfortable. It made him feel like a vessel adrift. He clasped hands behind his back to anchor himself, collecting his features into a guarded expression.

“Please,” Rolan invited her, tipping his horns to her in a way that felt awkwardly formal. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.” She chewed the inside of her lip as she watched him. There was a tense pause, and then she launched in abruptly. 

“I’ve been thinking our life here in your Tower. You and me—us. And,” she added, “I’ve been thinking about your work. How much it means to you…how far you’ve come in just a year.”

Tav gave him a small smile, as if casting back to those tense and awkward times when they’d first known each other. Then her face fell again. “Sometimes it just feels like there’s something missing.”

Rolan found he had to glance away from her for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Are you unhappy?” He asked her slowly.

“What? Not at all—” Tav shook her head with vehemence. “You make me so happy, Rolan, you have no idea. It’s just that I—I’m not always satisfied,” she finished weakly. 

“I see.” Rolan kept his face very still, but his pulse beat painfully in his throat. 

She was unsatisfied with the life of an archmage’s partner. It was perfectly understandable—before she’d come to live with him, Tav traveled far and wide, sometimes leaving the city for a week to visit her far-flung companions across Faerûn and the very hells themselves. 

A life spent cooped up in a tower, no matter how grand—how could he have ever thought it would be enough for her?

Rolan’s guilty conscience was deserved. He had been too selfish with her. He wanted her safe; he wanted her here. Most of all, he wanted Tav to want to be with him.

And Rolan had been so sure that she did. Perhaps he’d let the strength of his own feelings mislead him.

Rolan was painfully aware of the silence stretching on between them. Another evening breeze stirred the air, and as it rustled through their clothing, Tav’s eyes searched his face.

“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.

Behind his back, Rolan’s hands clenched where she couldn’t see them. Right now he was thinking of the small leather pouch that had hung from his belt for months, and the two small metal objects it contained, and the many ways he had imagined offering one of them to her. But none of those were things he should tell her now.

“Nothing,” Rolan answered aloud. “Only that I’ve been rather foolish.”

In response to that, a strange, puzzled expression passed over her face. Then her lips parted. 

“Ohhhh—” The sound rose from deep in her chest, a pained exhale. “No, Rolan, no no—”

Tav stepped to grasp his face between her hands with such speed that Rolan nearly flinched in surprise at the contact.

“I’m such an idiot,” she confessed to him. Her voice was very small all of a sudden. “I know I might not have the right to ask you, Rolan—but I don’t want less. I want more.”

Rolan’s eyes traveled back and forth between hers as if there was some hidden message he was missing there. “More?” He repeated, questioning. 

Tav nodded her head very slowly at him. “More of you. More of us.”

In the next instant it felt like the weight tangled around Rolan’s heart had snapped its line and plummeted straight down into his stomach. As he watched the firelight reflected earnestly in Tav’s eyes, realization shot up his spine like a shockwave. 

The force of his relief made his head spin. Rolan wanted to say a dozen different things to her all at once. Unfortunately, he found that his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth at the moment.

Instead—in a rare moment of clarity that was all reflex and no logic—Rolan felt himself sinking to one knee in front of her.

“Why are you—” 

Tav’s eyes went wide as she followed his face down to where he landed. Her hands fell from where they’d held him to hang down limp at her sides; her chest rose and fell as if she’d run a flight of stairs.

“How can you not know by now?” 

What a terrible way to begin, he thought—yet those were the words Rolan found leaving his mouth. Trying to right his thoughts, he reached for one of her hands and took it between both his own.

“Forgive me,” Rolan blurted out. “I swear I’ve practiced this before, but—I can’t remember all the best bits just now.”

Tav shook her head at him as if punch-drunk. “Don’t sell yourself short,” she whispered hoarsely.

A nervous bark of laughter escaped him. “Have you ever known me to be burdened with an excess of humility?”

Despite the electricity now swirling between them, the corners of Tav’s mouth twitched upward. “Point taken.”

Rolan used the moment to gather himself. His tongue suddenly felt two sizes too large, and he swallowed with effort against his dry mouth.

“You’ve always done so much for me. From the first moment…every moment. You’re the reason why I have Cal and Lia, why I have everything—” Rolan’s eyes left her only for a moment to pass up over the great spire of the Tower above them. 

From his periphery, Tav opened her mouth to protest.

“Please listen,” Rolan begged her before she could speak. He wished he’d thought this through even a little; his knee was already starting to ache against the stone, but he pushed through the discomfort.

Tav’s figure froze still in response as she watched him. Only her hand shook slightly between his palms.

“You must know what you mean to me,” Rolan murmured. “You’ve given me so much more than I deserve. You’ve loved me more than anyone…better than anyone. But—” He drew her hand a bit closer to his chest. “But I’m afraid there’s one more thing I have to ask you for.”

Tav’s lips were parted in anticipation as she hung on his words. She stood so motionless it was like kneeling at the foot of a beautiful statue. Only her wide eyes moved continuously over his face, and Rolan felt he could lose himself in them completely if he gazed too long.

“Let me give you more,” he asked simply. “Let me give you everything.”

“You—you damn wizard—” 

As she broke her silence, Tav’s expression was flickering somewhere between amusement and tears. She was shaking her head at him, moisture pricking at the corners of her eyes. “If you don’t say it plain in the next—”

“Marry me.”

Though they stood under open sky, the two words seemed to echo with deafening force against his own ears. The question hung like a tangible physical thing, reverberating painfully in the narrow space between their bodies. Rolan could only grip her hand like a lifeline and wait for her to say something—anything.

Finally, Tav burst out into a laugh. 

Or was it was a sob? 

It was some strange combination of both, a choked sound of relief rising in her throat even as Rolan watched liquid suddenly spill and roll down each of her cheeks. Before he knew what was happening, Tav had also dropped to her knees in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Whatever responses Rolan had anticipated, this was one he didn’t plan for. He could only freeze and watch her cry and wait for things to make sense again.

“I don’t know,” Tav hiccoughed through the rapid tears that were streaming down her face now. Her lips trembled as her hands found his shoulders, clutching two handfuls of his robes. “I d-don’t know,” she repeated. “But I want you, Rolan.”

He had just enough hope to take that as a yes. 

Rolan folded Tav’s body into his own with near crushing force. He was now overwhelmingly grateful for their absurd position kneeling together on the cold stone of the balcony. It was unthinkable to have her anywhere but in his arms right now.

“Yes, by the way—” Tav’s voice was muffled against his shoulder, but her chest shook against him with unmistakable laughter now.

“I had plans,” Rolan answered against her hair, half to himself. “None of this is right, hells, I swear I had so many plans—”

“Hold on,” Tav replied in a trembling laugh. She pulled away gently, just enough to notch one hand under Rolan’s ear. Her face radiated joy despite the damp skin on her cheeks. “Rolan, what on earth could be wrong right now?”

Everything, he wanted to groan out. But he bit the word back. 

Instead, Rolan ducked his head to fumble with the drawstrings of the leather bag fastened to his belt. Tav’s fingers dropped from his jaw as she watched on in silent curiosity. 

He shook the open bag over his hand. With a tiny clink, two rings poured from it and out onto Rolan’s outstretched palm. Even on a moonless night, the metal seemed to glow from within with a silver-blue fire.

“Mithril,” Tav breathed in pure delight.

The observation was so unexpected, yet so thoroughly Tav, that Rolan let out a choked laugh.

She touched fingers to her lips. “How long have—when did you—?”

“The week you moved in,” Rolan answered. The way her eyes flicked up to his in pure adoration made Rolan’s heart swell in his chest, but he continued. “That’s when I gave Dammon the commission. Of course it took months to find a vein of it down in the Underdark, I nearly went mad, you have no i—”

The words were stopped up as Tav’s lips collided against his. Rolan’s fist closed over the twin metal bands just as his hand was trapped between their chests.

She kissed him so long and so hard that Rolan gasped for air a bit when she broke away.

“Do you like it?” Rolan asked, needing her answer more than his lungs needed air.

“You’re kidding me.” Tav blinked at him. “Rolan, if you don’t put that thing on my finger this fucking minute, I swear I might have to reconsider.”

He wasn’t about to chance it. Rolan slipped the band onto the finger of her outstretched hand without hesitation; it fit her perfectly. She followed suit, her hand shaking slightly with excitement as the ring slid down to his knuckle.

For a moment they just held opposite hands out beside each other in quiet admiration. Then Rolan linked his fingers with hers, pulling their palms together. 

He supposed the rings were supposed to come after the vows, not before—but the sight of them on their interlocked fingers was too perfect to be wrong.

A moment later they helped each other back to their feet, both laughing at their stiff knees and the pins-and-needles in their legs. 

Rolan felt giddy as a youth. He couldn't stop kissing her; his arms circled her firmly into him, his tail looping around and over her hips in a caress. As Rolan watched the pure happiness radiating from Tav’s face, his heart was the lightest it had ever been.

“Now what?” He asked eventually.

Tav sighed with contentment in his arms. “Whatever you want.”

“I want to take you to bed,” Rolan answered without hesitation. Words had grown tiresome; he could think of no better way to demonstrate exactly the strength of his feelings for her right now.

In response, she separated to tug his hand with both of hers back under the doorway. 

“Then we’d better go,” she said, walking backwards so she could flash him a coy smile. “Because I want my fiancé to tell me about all those ways he didn't just propose.”

[kawareo]

Have a ramble about my Durge and his issues with sex because why not

TW for mentions of sexual assault and abuse, attempted incest, grooming and mentions of underage stuff; nothing is graphic but it does get dark so please don't read if you don't feel like you're in the right space for it

Strike is a very sexual guy as I'm sure you've had the chance to notice, but honestly, his relationship with sex and sexuality is complicated to a degree that he completely refuses to even acknowledge.

His Urges and Bhaal-given 'Ectasy of Murder' make it practically impossible for him to seperate between his own desires and those of Bhaal. He was way too young when he first got them, practically when he hit puberty, and then he was immediately encouraged to 'explore' and 'experiment' with either corpses, other Bhaalists, or still living victims. Sceleritas was the one to encourage and 'guide' him and Strike stopped feeling sick about the new need that overcame him whenever he killed well. He had to practically gaslight himself into seeing it as a gift from Father, or he would dislike it, and you can't afford to dislike something your god wants when you're his Chosen.

He also doesn't really know how to say no to sex. The way I try to write him is in a similar way of how society expects a cishet guy to always be down to fuck, except it's cranked up to a thousand - he is Bhaal's seed, scion, his breeder - there is no reason for why he would ever want to say no, is there? If you asked him for any reason he could think of for him not wanting to have sex, he genuinely wouldn't known the answer.

He said no once though, only once - when the temple attempted to match him with Orin once they were in their late teens. Orin would've pushed through with it even though she was obviously less than enthusiastic, but Strike was the one to push her away that time. It wasn't the incest aspect of it that turned him off, tbh; that really isn't a value the temple of Bhaal would consider abnormal, but Strike just... Orin was always the only relationship he's had where he never felt like it could turn sexual at any moment - they've bathed together, they slept cuddled up on the same bed, they straddled eachother when beating the shit out of the other and none of it was ever sexual, for either of them. But that was the first time he refused Bhaal's will and also the first time he lied to Him - he made up that he didn't think Bhaal's blood should get even more diluted and defiled than it was in Orin's veins. After that, Orin never forgave him for thinking he was above her (as she interpreted it) and their relationshio only strained more when Strike met Gortash a few years later.

Gortash is a whole other can of worms that I don't think I have to get into right now, but Strike's religious upbringing makes every sign of weakness, such as signs of softness or affection (for an enemy, especially) a sin and having sex reduces the sinfulness of it. Holding hands, kissing? Unforgivable. Intertwining fingers during sex, or cuddling right after while they're both still chasing their breath? Not ideal, but it can happen. Not the worst thing. It's not like he was doing something intimate just for the sake of intimacy, you know?

He's very hypersexual now as an adult because of all the above mentioned things combined, and when I get to Godsbound (my bg3 timeline fic has a name now btw!) He likes to joke and flirt and fuck literally whoever, that doesn't change end after tadpoling, he still has no idea how to be close to anyone without it being sexual but also he is so horrifically touchstarved that he wakes up screaming if he doesn't have a body next to him to hold onto it. I would like to explore how much of an actual issue that is for him, especially when he has forgotten all of the excuses he told himself through the years and the decades of religious fanaticism. But then again, he does tend to push his problems away to 'deal with later', so who knows.

[meanbossart]

How does post-tadpole DU drow feel about his past self? Does he even see himself as the same guy, or is it more "that was another person"? I love how all of us get to interpret how the amnesia affects Durge's sense of identity and I'm curious how the drow in the present feels about this past version of him once he has full context. Does he fear accountability for what the Old Him did or does it not really cross his mind? How do his friends deal with the revelation that Gortash drops on them at the coronation (re: you used to be Bhaal's Chosen).

This is a great question!

He definitely divorces himself entirely from the person he used to be, and you could say he's right to do so. The man DU drow was between becoming Bhaal's chosen and being betrayed was a very specific, tailored persona - He was boisterous, he was loud, he was talkative, he concerned himself with how his hair looked, how his clothes fit and how they were made, he liked to be noticed for his achievements and he was a proud and self-titled extension of Bhaal's body who denied himself individuality to the point of abstaining from ever being named.

If Gortash, or anyone else, happened to disclose even a third of this and his prior life to him, DU drow must have scoffed in their face and understandably come to the conclusion that it weren't only his memories that had been wiped - his whole personality had.

He doesn't care about vanity! Except for his body and build, but that's because he needs to stay in shape to survive out there, of course. He's not loud or demanding - well, except when he has to be to get what he wants. And of course, he's his own man now - whoever that man might be - with a stubbornly strong sense of individuality and bound only to his own whims - which just so happen to be to fulfill Astarion's every desire (or what he assumes his desires to be).

Then there's the teenager who arrived at the temple. Quiet, distrusting, borderline feral with a desperate need for comfort and companionship that he had no understanding of. The kind of person that he would have later laughed at as the Chosen for being primitive and clueless.

It's honestly very funny how he has grown to be a perfect mixture of those two individuals and has fooled himself into thinking he is a brand new being instead. He thinks he is not to be accounted for for any of his previous actions or life choices - not even in a "I didn't know any better" type of way; literally it's as if they weren't his doing at all. He sleeps great at night, besides the nightmares.

As far for how the others reacted, I think Shadowheart feels surprisingly similar about it. Whoever he once was, he isn't anymore - and he has kept whatever this thing is under control enough not to gut them, night after night, so clearly he is trying to fight it. Having no memories of the past herself helps, as well as having disavowed her own previous identity - not only in sympathizing with him but also in the sense that she doesn't recall whatever havoc the bhaalists spread across the Sword Coast prior.

Astarion feels like Astarion feels. His reactions as a romanced companion felt very sufficient and fleshed out to me. He's known something has been wrong from the start, he has nearly fallen victim to it himself and watched DU drow trash and struggle with it while gagged and bound. Things simply fell into place after the revelation and while it was more than he had bargained for, he had gotten into the water with both feet at that point. He probably proceeded to go home and weight his options ("PROS AND CONS OF DATING A MURDER PRINCE - PRO: FAMILY RICHES AND POLITICAL INFLUENCE? - CON: MIGHT MURDER ME REAL BAD) but he would have stuck to DU drow's side whatever he chose to do and made the best out of it.

And of course, he understands what it is like to do bad things against your will. He also understands that that doesn't really apply to DU drow.

Gale! Ohhh Gale. I think given the experience Gale had had thus far (being antagonized, mocked, made to beg for donations that would keep him from exploding like an egg in a microwave, having his heart lightly broken for a second time) he was in self preservation mode - express the due shock, then say it's fine, and that he'll get through it (you do not believe he will) play along until you can get the crown and then whatever happens, it simply won't matter anymore to you.

[honeybeebard]

Helping You Remember (Enver Gortash x DarkUrge!Tav)

Summary// Ever since the crash Tav had been stripped of her memories, with nothing but her name and this violent urge inside her body wreaking havoc with every step she took. It was no small feat to control it, or at least tame it, and just when she thought she had gotten it under control a new foe, or an old ally, comes to remind her where she came from.

(I didn’t expect my first fic in the BG3 fandom to be about Gortash. In fact, I have several half-written projects of other characters but for whatever reason this man has recently taken a hold of me and I’m afraid I’ve sunk too deep. This was originally going to be a one-shot but it’s taken on a life of its own and will now be a multi-chapter!

This first chapter is heavy on angst but the next chapter will be better, I promise! I just imagine this is how your companions would react to the news as well as how Gortash gets his foot in the door of reclaiming you. I hope you like it! I normally write for ACOTAR so this was so much fun!) WARNINGS: Heavy angst, Mentions of past Dark Urge actions

It had been a long, painful journey to get to Baldur’s Gate but Tav had made it. Her companions had made it. Everyone was alive and mostly well, save for the tadpole in their brains, the end of the world, and the recent discovery of Tav’s family history. As they made their way to Wrym’s Rock Fortress it was the only thing her mind could focus on. Astarion, Karlach, and Wyll were all too happy to chat about being back but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she was. 

Bhaalspawn.

Parents throughout Baldur’s Gate told stories of her kind to warn their children of the dangers of the world. She felt all the sins of her kin crawling up her back, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze in fear that they would see her for who she was. A monster. It didn’t matter how hard she fought the Urge inside her… her fate seemed to be already written in the stars. How could she save herself from this? She hadn’t even realized they had made it to the doors of the fortress until Astarion gently nudged her arm, giving her a concerned look as she was torn from her thoughts. “Are you alright, darling? You’re looking a bit clammy.” His voice was smooth but she could see the worry in his eyes. He was the first one she had told when she found out, seeking comfort in his arms just as he had done back in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. They didn’t have an official title to whatever their relationship was, sometimes friends and other times lovers, but they were each other’s closest confidants. He understood her better than herself sometimes and he had assured her that whatever she was facing, he would be there to help. So it pained her to lie through her teeth as she mumbled, “Fine. Let’s just get this over with. Hopefully, we can kill two birds with one stone.” Astarion knew she was lying but didn’t press her further, his shoulders tensing slightly as he gave a curt nod and entered the building with the others. The air was buzzing with excitement as everyone awaited the coronation of Lord Gortash. His posters were everywhere, most people hailing him as a hero, but from what she had heard from Karlach he was anything but that. And especially after discovering him at Moonrise, netherstone in the gauntlet decorating his hand, she only felt that anger within her rise more at the ignorance of the city. There was something else too, like a flash of nostalgia, but it flitted from her mind before she could grasp it. Tav shook her head as they made their way up the stairs, preparing for anything as they arrived at the grand hall.

Rows of seats lined the sides as a dark red carpet decorated the ground, leading all the way up to where Duke Ravengard and Gortash stood. Wyll visibly bristled at the sight of his father, his hand steady on the edge of his blade while Karlach slowly began to grow hotter and hotter at the sight of her former friend. 

“I can practically taste his blood from here.” Karlach seethed, her fists clenching. Astarion gave Tav a worrying look, wondering if now, underneath the watchful gaze of multiple Flaming Fists and the Steel Watch, was the right time to pick a fight.

Tav gave him a reassuring smile, turning to Karlach with a solemn expression. “I know you want nothing more than to rip his heart out but here might not be the best place to do it. Let’s hear him out first.” She speaks slowly, hoping to calm the tiefling. 

“Hear him out? He speaks nothing but lies! There is nothing he could say that could be of use to us.” Karlach snarls, turning her heated eyes to her and frowning. 

“Just trust me on this, okay?” Tav pleaded. “I promise that you will be the first one to rip him limb from limb.”

She seemed to calm slightly at Tav’s reassurance, her flames dulling as she nodded once. “I’ll hold you to that, soldier.” Karlach says, following in step as the four of them begin to walk up the aisle.

Gortash is the first to spot them, his lips turning up in a smile as he spies Karlach first. “My eyes must be deceiving me! Karlach, my dear girl, come and be welcome.” His voice was dripping with arrogance, his arms spread wide in greeting. 

“I’m not your dear anything!” Karlach snaps, her hand immediately falling to her weapon. However, just as Tav tries to step in front of them, his dark eyes turn to her and widen in surprise.

“And with you, my, why it’s my favorite bhaalspawn!” He grins as he comes closer to Tav, eyeing her up and down. “I never thought I would see you again either.”

“Wait, you know each other?” Karlach frowns, turning to look at Tav with betrayal in her eyes. 

“I swear I have no memory of him Karlach. I would’ve told you.” She stresses, holding up her hands in innocence while shaking her head rapidly. 

“Oh, I’d forgotten,” Gortash says smugly, chuckling to himself. “Your memories are quite lost aren’t they? Orin told me she’d made a fool of you. And to think you two have traveled together all this time and she hadn’t the faintest idea that you were one of my nearest and dearest.”

This time it was Astarion who spoke, his eyes hard as his jaw clenched. “What do you mean nearest and dearest?” There was a sense of urgency under his tone, something that Tav felt as well as she tried desperately to remember what Gortash already knew.

The dark-haired Lord smirked, taking a deep breath as he turned back to Tav and began to tell fill in the missing puzzle pieces of her memory. “You and I initiated this plot. No one could stand against the Dead Three so, after obtaining the crown, enslaving the brain, and creating a false God to rule the masses, there was little to stand in our way.”

Tav stumbled back a step, her head throbbing and pulse racing. No, she couldn’t have. She couldn’t have formed this plot, couldn’t have worked with Gortash. It wasn’t who she was. Was it? 

“No. I would never.” She whispered, her eyes full of anger while Gortash ignored her and carried on weaving the tale. 

“In Bhaal’s name, you set your bloody dagger to cause panic in the streets, killing in the Absolute’s name,” He smiled again as if recalling a fond memory. It made her want to vomit. “It was all going well until you had vanished, Orin claiming to be the new voice of Bhaal and taking over. She, unlike you, couldn’t control herself. She made a mess of things.”

Her stomach lurched, her knees buckling as bits and pieces of her past flashed through her mind. The blood, the screams, the wicked smile of her reflection as she all but bathed in the slain bodies of the innocent. Astarion noticed her trembling, reaching out to steady her as she tried to block out everything. 

“Have you gone soft?” Gortash asked as he stepped closer to Tav, examining her guilt filled gaze with a disappointed look. “I find that hard to believe. One’s true nature will always rise to the top.”

“That is not my true nature.” She hissed through gritted teeth, rage heating her blood as she pushed out of Astarion’s grasp and walked towards the man before her. “Take it back. Tell me you’re lying.”

“I know you know the truth, Tav.” He coos as if talking to a startled babe. “I can see it in your eyes. That Urge deep within you, clawing at its cage to be unleashed. We had something great, are something great, until you were taken. I tolerated Orin, tolerated Ketheric, but I liked you. We can still finish this together.”

As he finishes his sentence one of his hands comes up to rest on her arm, an intimate gesture that sends feelings of disgust and warmth through her body. She hated this, hated him, hated how little control she felt. Once again she felt a battle in her body between the past and the present. 

“Don’t touch me.” Tav growls, pulling away from him as if she had been burned. “I want nothing to do with you, with this plot. If anything this has only solidified my plans to kill you.”

She could feel Karlach’s approval from behind her, could feel her own body tensing for a fight only to falter when Gortash barked out a harsh laugh. 

“Oh, my dear bhaalspawn, you have no choice.” His eyes were suddenly hard and his tone like ice as he gestured around him. “The quakes are a clear warning. Without all three netherstones ruling the brain, it will break free and complete the Grand Design. Your choices are to join me and rule or subject this entire city, yourself and companions included, to becoming illithids.”

All of her companions shifted uneasily, looking at Tav for guidance. She tried to run through all the scenarios, looking for an out that didn’t include digging herself further into her past self, but the choices remained the same. 

“Together though,” Gortash straightens, giving her a charming smile. “Together we can control the brain. Renew our old partnership.”

“What kind of partnership?” Tav asked cautiously, hating how weak she sounded. Astarion cleared his throat beside her, pleading with her not to do this, but she ignored him. If she was going to find another way out of this she at least needed to get all angles of the problem…and that started with hearing Gortash’s bargain. 

“Let’s discuss it somewhere more private, hm? Away from the prying eyes of both nobles and…your group.” He looked behind her distastefully. “Meet me in my office after the ceremony. Alone.”

And before she can say another word he struts back to the middle of the room, letting the Duke continue with the blasphemous ceremony. Tav immediately motions for her friends to follow her towards the back, ignoring the words of Wyll’s father as she finally takes a moment to breathe.

“You can’t possibly be considering partnering with him.” Astarion huffs. “Please tell me you aren’t that stupid.”

“Look at what he’s done to this city, to my father,” Wyll adds, crossing his arms. “An alliance with Gortash is like asking to be stabbed in the back. He cannot be trusted.” “You’re damn right he can’t be trusted!” Karlach fumes, gnashing her teeth together. “That man is worse than a devil, Tav! He’s just trying to get in your head!”

“Enough!” Tav snapped, rubbing her temples as the pounding returned. Everyone’s opinions, including Gortash’s, were starting to make her head spin. “I know this is…a lot. I can’t process it all myself-”

“What, that you and Gortash created this entire cult, this entire problem that is threatening the lives of millions of people?” Karlach’s voice was rising with each word, her flames growing by the second. “I knew you were a bhaalspawn but Bhaal’s chosen? You are half the bloody reason we are here in the first place!”

“Karlach-” Wyll tries to intervene but she brushes him off, stalking towards Tav and jamming a red hot finger in her chest.

“No, don’t Karlach me.” She snarls, glaring down at her. “Did you not hear what she has done? The acts she committed in Bhaal’s name? Amnesia or not, you all have to see how dangerous she is.”

“I’m not!” Tav protested, tears pricking her eyes as she felt their gazes on her. It was her worst fear realized. “I’m not a monster, I don’t remember doing any of those things. I would never…”

“And yet here you are, ready to make nice with the viper.” Karlach spits, standing to her full height while regarding her with revulsion. “I need time to think.” 

Before Tav can say anything or reach out to plead for forgiveness, she storms off back to the entrance. Wyll looks between the two of them, his eyes full of sadness before he simply shakes his head and follows Karlach. The only one left is Astarion who is staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“Star…” She whispers, throat tight as she tries to reach for him only to physically recoil when he moves away from her hand. It wasn’t much, just a slight sway to the side, but it was enough to make the knife in her gut twist deeper. “Please.”

“I…I need a moment.” He murmurs, bowing his head before following the same path as her companions. Tav can’t stop herself from sinking to the floor, her soul aching as she brings her knees to her chest and cries. She doesn’t care that she’s in a room full of nobles, doesn’t care that everyone is watching her finally break, she just doesn’t care anymore.

Her friends, her entire world ever since escaping that damned nautiloid, had abandoned her. They had found out who she had been and had left her here, alone. Tav wanted to hate them, wanted to curse them, and never see them again, but could she blame them?

She was part of the reason this was all happening in the first place. She had caused all this pain, all this death, in the name of her father. Even if she didn’t remember it that didn’t absolve her of the guilt. If roles were reversed, she would probably question her relationship with the person as well.

“It’s all my fault.” She whispers, pressing her palms against her eyes harshly. The tears were hot as they ran down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking. Tav was so caught up in her emotions she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching her.

It wasn’t until she felt cold, metal claws tip her chin up that she finally came to her senses, blinking up at the man who had just revealed all her immoral acts as if they were nothing. 

“My poor little bhaalspawn,” He purred, using his other hand to pull her up to stand. “All alone again.”

Tav sniffled, feeling vulnerable as he wiped a tear away with his thumb. Her entire body felt numb as he pulled her into his arms, shushing her with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Come.” He ordered. “Let me save you once more.” 

[bitchesgate3]

Disclaimer: I have not romanced Minthara nor have I fully played the Dark Urge.

One thing I've experienced whilst having Minthara in my party since Moonrise is that there feels like there are narratively TWO Mintharas. And the Durge break up makes sense for one and not the other.

This 1st Minthara: Upon rescuing Minthara, all your initial conversations are deeply emotional. And later ones at camp are so deeply insightful that her maturity and experience compared to the other companions really stands out.

She understands the plots going on and the subterfuge and conspiracy. She reflects on her experiences with the Absolute, her understanding of the Chosen 3, her gratitude about being saved by Tav, her time under Orin's thrall, and gives us glimpses into the emotions that run through all these experiences.

How does a merciless woman grapple with being shown mercy? Her specifically. Not Dror Ragzlin. Not Priestess Gut. But her - singled out - for mercy?

This Minthara feels like she makes sense of these experiences for herself, to find a life to carve out on her own - integrated with her indomitable spirit. She is a dynamic and nuanced character and makes her a must-have companion for me on ANY playthrough.

However, another Minthara exists.

Minthara is most likely intended to be Chaotic Evil. She comes across as Lawful at times, but I think she was de facto made to be compatible with any type of evil, hence she must be chaotic. As opposed to Lae'zel who with Lawful Evil and disapproves if you are dishonorable in some way.

Astarion in EA was more overtly Chaotic Evil leaning Neutral Evil, and probably more conventionally chaotic because some of what he approved of felt like evil for shits and giggles. Following his whims and entertainment.

Minthara on the other hand is certainly calculated by comparison. She understands that seeding disorder is a way to destabilize an existing power in order to obtain it for one's self. This knowledge of undermining pairs extremely well with the overarching mindflayer plot. So while she may inevitably seek more secure power for herself, her ambient dialogue options encourage chaotic evil in this way.

And that's where this 2nd Minthara character comes in. She is the only companion that consistently disapproves of every "good" aligned decision the other companions make. She encourages you to make deals with Gortash and the Emperor (THE master manipulators), and has all these big plans for world domination right out the gate that she sort of assumes you're on board with.

The most egregious thing for me is that she grants approval for the silliest evil actions in the game.

It's clear to me that being opportunistically evil, selfish, and self-serving makes sense for a character like Minthara who utilizes chaos and fear for her own goals, but I find that because she is the only character who could possibly align that way, Larian gives her EVERY possible [calculated] chaotic evil approval that comes up.

So this 2nd Minthara ends up saying the most contrived, cartoonishly evil dialogue responses that really breaks immersion because it feels as if she's only saying that because she's the only companion who can.

That being said, I don't mind this "2nd Minthara"/Chaotic Evil Minthara existing and actually being a part of her character (because clearly this is intended and part of the authors' vision), but when the 1st Minthara seems to hint at possessing divergent thought while this 2nd Minthara seems stuck in her ways, I can't merge the two entities as the same one.

I actually think the game needs to add flags similar to Gale and the Crown where the more you agree with Minthara on her disapproving of the companions defying their dominators/approving when they align with them, only then you will get the Durge break up if you defy yours.

Just adding those flags - not even adding new content - would be an easy fix and I think would help justify why these two Minthara's even exist.

[makimahinalno]

So im back about Gortash x Durge brainrot. I made a post about how crazy they were before Orin usurped Durge, but now I gotta talk about tadpoled/good-aligned Durge returning and Gortash seeing them.

When he finds out they survived he is over the moon happy. They were always reliable and resourceful unlike Orin, now they are coming back and he might still succeed in his plans, plus he always wanted to share power with them. So he invates Durge and their companions to his coronation, he is trying his best to stay composed from excitement.

So imagine his disappointment and shock, when Durge arrives in front of him. He expected a cocky smile, a proud and superior look on their face, any sign that they remember their past together, but they have changed completely. Karlach is there too, but he cares nothing for her, in his mind she was improved when she was given to Zariel, she helped with his technological progress and she dares to be ungrateful? A brat in his mind.

But he is heartbroken because Durge has changed? They look at him with suspicion and disgust, they are completly on guard around him. What did Orin do to them? How could they forget all the crimes they commited, all the perversions they indulged in, their masterful plan to conquer the world, the trip to the Hells, the way they sighed and moaned each others names? Its even worse if Durge has a lover. He is burning with jealousy, even though he will never admit it. After the coronation, he would watch through his Steel Watchers all their movements.

He sees them laughing with their companions, they are helping people in need, they used to torture people for fun, what are they doing? Helping children, hugging and making them smile with silly faces? They used to sarcastically remark that death of a child is a timeless tragedy, then they would burst into giggles. Durge is kissing, being tender with a new lover? He breaks everything in his room, the servants leave terrified as he might kill them. How dare that fool touch his lover, his dearest and nearest, Durge was his and his alone, others are unworthy to even look upon them. But that's the thing, 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴. They were his no longer, the person he adored was gone, replaced by a "wish to be a hero" person. Disgusting.

He can only sit and watch, as he realises that Durge has no wish to uphold their fragile alliance. The Iron Throne is gone, the Steel Watch has been destroyed, its explosion echoing around the city. He hears the commotion in the throne room, the yells and clashing of steel, the sound of the footsteps getting closer to his office. He doesn't even hear Karlach, he is only looking at Durge. There is only hatred, pure hatred on their face.

He knows then, that his death has come, by a person he trusted the most. Was this how Karlach felt? It did sting. Durge's cold eyes and Karlach's screams are the last thing he sees and hears, as Bane claims his soul for enternal torment.

[alpydk]

Fire and Ice

My contribution to the art/fic trade with @orangekittyenergy - Tav's can be very personal, so I'm praying that this is okay. I really enjoyed this and let it all just go where it needed which probably explains the length written in the last few hours... I like writing, it's productive daydreaming.

Word Count - 3339 words - Angst/Comfort, happy ending

Fawn cursed the depth of the wizard’s chest as they squeezed into the alleyway, her half-elf body forced so closed to him she could feel the tensed pectoral muscles against her own slight frame. He’d gone to talk only for her to place her palm against his mouth, her eyes a glaring signal that now was not the time for a lecture on the making of deals you did not plan to keep.

The Zhentarim mercenary ran past, his footsteps heavy on the sundried cobbles of the city streets. Baldur’s Gate was no longer their potential turf, all because of the involvement of a group of meddling adventurers. She’d known what was going to happen, her dealings with them all those years ago not allowing her the true freedom she desired, but after all this time, after Gale’s belief that she was a noble person, she couldn’t go back into negotiations with them. Her brother would be disappointed, but this was for the best and maybe, with luck, one day she could save him from them as well.

She felt the moistened heat of Gale’s breath upon her hand, his eyes growing impatient, his own hands fidgety around her waist. They crept around to the base of her back, pulling her in a little closer, and she felt the effects their perilous situation was having on her wanting companion. He’d once read a book, he’d explained, and she’d believed him wholeheartedly after that night, what the effects of danger had on desire. What had once been her quiet, well-spoken wizard had become as unrestrained as the magical energies at her own command.

Her hand lowered from his mouth as the danger passed, a hunger in her own eyes spurred by the closeness of his physique. The sweat from his brow brought strands of hair to stick, his sandalwood scent merged with her own, his lips would taste of the morning’s fresh bread.

“Fuckin’ magic users. They’ve probably gone and cast some invisibility or some other bullshit.” “Yeah, but they can’t have got too far. You check the sewers; I’ll try the park.” “Why do I get the sewers?” “Because you already smell like shit. Quite complaining.”

The elf listened as the two mercenaries parted ways, leaving her and Gale with the chance to escape. Her shoulders wanted to relax, but the playful smirk of the wizard, the hand that gripped her hip a little too tightly, would not allow her the possibility. “Gale… We both know this isn’t the right time.”

He brought his face to her neck; heated breaths merged with soft kisses. “Maybe, but how many more opportunities will we get like this?”

She sighed at his words. She knew he was right, as usual. The upcoming battles would grow more difficult: Orin, Gortash, The Netherbrain. There were so many that one or both of them might not come back from, so many moments where they could be torn apart from one another, where she could lose him, as she had so many others before. His fervent kisses became more eager the longer she took to resist. His tongue ran up the arch of her neck, her hips pushing instinctively into his within the confines of the shadowed alleyway, her hands beginning their own dance trapped between their compressed bodies.

“Oh shit, sorry.” A child stumbled upon them, trying to use the alleyway as a shortcut home.

Fawn tensed and used the momentary distraction to pull herself from Gale’s grasp, her heartbeat raised, her own sweat beading under her russet tones, joining the scarred line across her eye. She slid herself from his hands, out from under the shaded canopy of the buildings and into the stifling city sun. The child gave a small laugh and squeezed past Gale with ease, running down the alley to their unknown destination. 

---

He tensed up, running his hands down his robes, a combination of patting off the dust from the brick wall behind him and making himself look like the presentable magic user he was and not the desperate sack of physical urges she always turned him into. He patted his side once, twice, before looking down. “The child has pilfered my gold pouch…”

She chuckled at his misfortune. “Yeah, they’ll do that if you’re not paying attention. You need to keep your wits up about you. Try to focus on less pressing matters.”

Her playful smile did not go unnoticed as he emerged into the sunlight, his lips moistened from yearned kisses, cheeks blushed as Elverquisst. He didn’t know what it was about her that drove him to these uncharacteristic moments of insanity. He’d suspected it was the Weave coursing through her veins, binding the two of them together, trying to entwine as it naturally would, or maybe it was the way her glance always saw through him. Ever since the portal incident, it was as if she’d read him like he was one of the simplest tomes known to man, and he’d happily let her trace her fingers over every weathered page.  

He sighed, knowing there was little point in chasing the urchin. A few measly gold to him would mean a week’s worth of food for the child, most likely a refugee of the city, or one of the many orphans growing up into a world of thievery and the Guild’s politics. Taking Fawn’s delicate hand into his own, he stepped forward. He saw the gentle dusting of ash, the crackling of a lightning bolt leaving its reminder on her ivory skin, and he ran his thumb over it, revealing the beauty that lay beneath. He made a note to place a kiss there later in the evening, a starting point of the map he planned to use on an awaited exploration of mounds and crevices.

As they walked through the streets back to camp, their attentions split between each other and the potential lookouts trying to find them, Gale spoke. “A friend of the family… I always was curious why Roah said that to you.”

The half-elf lifted her hazel eyes to him, and he could see the calculations going on, the wall she kept up so readily now being further supported with a cold distance. “That’s just the phrase the Zhentarim use. She meant nothing by it.” Her voice wavered a little, an uncertainty in the strength of her lie, and he felt her pace quicken a little as if she were trying to escape the situation she found herself in.

“My love, I know there have been many a moment my propensity to read into behaviours has led to disorder, but I cannot help but notice your aversion to this line of questioning.”

“You wizards…��� She sighed deeply, releasing his hand as she walked further ahead of him.

He stopped for a moment, trying to register her words. Again, this would be the argument of the evening, as it had been a few times before when things became uncomfortable for her. She would claim that all wizards were too curious for their own good, that their unnatural abilities with magic are what lead them to unbridled ambition. Once, she had stumbled over her words and inadvertently blamed him for his own folly, and only once had he blamed her reckless use of magic for the reason she had no loved ones to speak of. This was not the way he wanted things to continue going.

“Fawn, wait.” He took a few quick steps forward and kept pace with her, trying to quench the rising flames as quickly as he could. “You know I meant no harm with my line of reasoning. I simply wish to understand why the Zhentarim have turned on us as ardently as they appear to have.”

“And you expect me to know? As if I’m some omnipotent goddess watching over all?”

He shook his head at her words. Clearly, time would be the best solution to remedy the matter at hand. He considered his options: continue with her in stony silence, or take a different route, allowing them both the chance to clear their heads. There was little distance until the campsite and the risk of being captured was practically zero now that they were out of the busy city streets. “You make it very clear sometimes that you are not a goddess. I apologise for my blind devotion.” His words hurt as he spoke them, too final, too reminiscent of words he had wanted to utter during his year alone.

---

Fawn watched as he turned from her, his footsteps growing quieter as he took the eastern path from her. She wanted to run after him, to apologise and explain everything, but it had always been easier to push those around her away. To protect them and herself. She thought of her brother when she was a young girl, how he had left the first moment he could. She hadn’t understood fully at the time, but as she grew and trained under their father, it became clearer. Their mother was gone, leaving nothing but ex-military routine and training, her sorcerer blood a disappointment in her father’s cold eyes.

She walked the path to camp alone, knowing she had been wrong to speak as she had done. She longed to be back in that alleyway, lustfully bound to Gale, his body pressed against hers, and only the present moment existing between them. No tragic pasts, no doomed futures. The tents fell into view with the setting of the sun, shadows extending like creeping tendrils. She was thankful that they grew no further than permitted; the Shadowlands finally resolved of its dreadful curse that took so many lives.

Gale sat outside his tent, a book in hand, the pages turning with a little more agitation than either of them liked. Soon he would begin to cook, and with it, calm down enough for her to approach him, restarting the cycle of their relationship once again. She thought not of the future, instead finding comfort in the recent past, of Moonrise Towers, and royal blue sheets beneath her, of words of love and comfort.

---

He saw her come back to camp, her quick glance placed over him, but he refused to lift his head to her. He was angry, though he was unsure at which of them it was directed at. She had yet again pushed him away, but again he had questioned her motives rather than trusting her. Fawn had believed him from the start of his history with Mystra and the orb. She’d granted magic items without reservation, had held his hand softly as the pain had been too much for him, and then there had been Moonrise; a night that he believed would be his last. Long before that starlit evening he had realised his love for her, but it was only then that he had summoned the courage to admit it to her, and she had replied in kind. From that night he’d given her everything he could of himself, his honesty, love, body. If she requested it, he would happily give his life for her.

Now though she departed for her tent, an armour put up that he was unsure he could break through. He moved to the campfire, his hands mindlessly preparing the evening meal, his eyes watching the flickering flames that danced over the firewood. Gale sat alone for some time; his mind lost in thoughts of how he could remedy the situation. The pot boiled away, the savoury broth releasing the homely aroma into the air. His shoulders relaxed and his jaw unclenched from its involuntary position.

Quietly placing herself beside him, he noticed Fawn lift the wooden spoon and stir. “Smells nice,” she said softly, testing the waters of conversation.

“Well, I always strive for the best. In both magic and cooking.”

The silence hung heavily around them, neither knowing what to say nor how to apologise, if they should apologise.

Fawn brought the spoon to her lips, giving the broth a silenced blow before taking it into her reddened lips. “It tastes nice, too. Could use a little salt, though.”

“Always the food critic, never the cook.” He smirked at her, trying to ignore the pleasure he felt on seeing her tongue licking at the tip of the wooden spoon. Easily distracted by the movements, the cookery, and her presence, he found it difficult to focus on the matters he wanted to discuss with her. He coughed nervously, bringing himself back on track. “Are we going to discuss earlier or refrain from the topic altogether?”

She shuffled awkwardly, placing the utensil back in the pot sharply. “And say what, Gale? That again, you have sought answers for questions you yourself have made?”

“I seek answers to the secrets you hide from me.” His voice came out more exasperated than he wished, and he took the momentary silence to compose himself. “When I was a young wizard, and not the fallen Chosen you witness before you, I had a Drow elf as a… Well, a close friend. She would often chastise me similarly to how you do and always strived to do better than me, as if it was a competition.” He took a pinch of salt and added it to the cooking pot that lay between them both. “She often spoke of khaless, trust, but especially misplaced or foolish trust; something she saw in me so often as I worked to become the best I could be. And she was right in what she observed. I do trust too easily, and I certainly love far easier and with more of my heart than is wise.”

He hoped she understood his words, his long-winded explanation, an apology for who he was as a person, for the pressure he placed on her simply by being honest with her. He watched as she exhaled; her gaze focussing softly on him. He was unsure where this conversation would lead, but the balance needed to be disrupted. He had given all, and now it was her turn.

---

Fawn knew she had pushed and pushed, but it had now gone too far. Emotionally closed off was the term her brother had used in mockery so many years ago. She may have struggled to wield a sword as much as father had wished, but she had mastered the concept of psychological warfare. “Do not share yourself or else they see your weakness. Do not let your mental guard down or your heart be pierced.”

Gale spoke, and she listened. Together they had been as fire and ice and slowly her heart had begun to melt. “We have a similar word in Elvish, kessuk. It translates to stupid,” she said, trying to hold on to her walls so desperately.

Gale gave an awkward chuckle. “Maybe it is that which she was truly insinuating.” He lowered his head, the heart of the subject now approaching. “I suppose what I poorly attempt to articulate to you is that maybe I have been kessuk, as you so bluntly put it.”

Her mouth fell open at his words, the belief that he was in the wrong almost an insult which hurt her. “No. No. How can you even think that?”

“My dear, I love you and you know I would offer my love to you for a thousand more nights to come should the opportunity unveil itself, but, and I say this with nothing but the starlight of my heart that shines for you, I do not know how much more I can give. There are times I feel you may not be on the same proverbial page as me, and in some lonelier moments, even in the same book.”

Her heart broke at his words; that this was possibly the end for them, now nothing but starlit nights fading to dawn, of darkened alleys bathed in sunlight. “But…” The tears built up in her eyes and she looked away before Gale could see her weakness.

His voice was soft as he spoke, not demands but innocent questions that she couldn’t ignore. “This is what I speak of, Fawn. You shut me out, all of us. What will it take for me to see the heart that has beaten in tandem with mine? To feel the selfless love that I know is buried deep beneath the surface.”

Her hands sat in her lap, struggling to find a place of rest. The sorcerer rarely felt fear in the face of danger, had stood against the gods and their orders, but at this moment she felt vulnerable, as if Gale was seeing every crack in her armour as clearly as the scar on her face. “I left Baldur’s Gate before things got too bad, but until then, I was in a rough situation.”

She went on for some time telling him of her childhood, of the mother she never knew and the father who couldn’t accept what she was, of her brother who introduced her to the Zhentarim and the odd jobs she unknowingly did for them before understanding who they truly were. She spoke of Roah and their passing acquaintance, of how she had left the city and begun to build a life of her own, wielding her magic that flowed so naturally. As her tale continued, Gale grew closer to her, his hand resting on hers, a weight that brought her calm. The fire dimmed, and the food cooled, but every secret was told, every emotion bared for him to see and reject if he so wished.

---

He looked at her with sympathy, understanding all too well how a childhood under a soldier could be; training schedules and emotions hidden being the law of the home. Their lives had run similar paths at the beginning, but turned out differently. Both, though, had been ones of loneliness and finding their own way. Whilst hers had been one of potential crime, his had been of isolated study. He had grown to love too easily; she struggled to love. His magic had led him into the arms of a goddess; hers had driven her away from the arms of her father.

As she fell quiet, he knew there was little he could say. All questions had been answered, and the truth finally revealed to him. The woman who sat in front of him glowed brighter than she ever had. Under the mask had been revealed a strength and reliance that only made him love her more. He brought his arms around her and pulled her in close, no longer lustful hands of trailing desire yearning for her, but a desperate need to protect her and love her as she was in that moment. He felt her warm breath on his chest, smelt the floral aroma as he nestled his face in her hair.

--- 

A small part of her felt exhausted, as if she had endured a battle and emerged from the rubble battered and bruised. His arms around her felt like a home she had never had, a safety and connection with another person she had only ever dreamt of. He’d listened to her, accepted the past she had run from and now still embraced her as fondly, if not more so. She lifted her head to his, her soft lips brushing up against his, wanting in her eyes to give him everything, to no longer hold back from him in any aspect of their relationship. “I love you, Gale.”

His hands drifted up her back as their lips met, as the stars shone just for them, and time halted its ever-journeying march. For a thousand nights more, they would share in moments like this, some frantic and passionate in darkened alleyways, some in the desperate eagerness of sun-drenched fields, others more leisurely from the sanctuary of Gale’s tower as the rains fell from the heavens. A thousand more nights of a future together; Gale and Fawn burning with starlight as one.

[vermilionskiinmorning]

Abandoned || Enver Gortash x F! Resist Urge-Durge

Quick note: I may write out the coronation scene at some point, but just wasn’t feeling it at the moment. Just know, the only major difference between canon and my headcanon is before Enver says “oh! I forgot your memories have been quite lost!” He gives durge a surprise smooch. Also after the Emperor puts in his two cents that Enver isn’t lying, durge tries to read his thoughts and gets much more than she bargained for. In other words, Enver has a sense that she distrusts him and decides to broadcast NSFW memories of their relationship into her head. Almost like he knows her and they might’ve been through this whole thing before lol It's been awhile since I've written so please be kind. I've done my best to keep Gortash in character while also showing he is soft for durge.

This story will have two endings, a Gale ending & an Enver death fix it (:

Words: 3989

-----

“Come to me, tonight. We have so much to discuss. None will hinder you.”

She’d just stepped out of the fortress when the words were beamed into her mind in Gortash’s voice. A send message spell clearly.

______

Feravel stood at the foot of Wyrm’s rock looking up at a balcony high above. Its doors were open and light spilled out into the night. She didn’t have to investigate to know he was up there waiting for her. For nearly half an hour, Feravel sat on her boulder contemplating everything she could remember -which was admittedly very little- and comparing it with the information Gortash had shared. The most frustrating part was that she could detect no lie. He had been so infuriatingly open about the whole thing, earnest even in his proposition for an alliance. Furthermore, she supposed the Emperor was right when he suggested she could accept the alliance and not honor it. Feravel was set on destroying the brain. In no realm of existence would she use it to subjugate and that decision was only further cemented with this revelation that the whole mess…was her own doing.

She sighed. A tear forming in her eye as she remembered Gale’s harsh words.

“So this all is your doing?! You were the chosen of Bhaal? I need to be alone. I need to think.”

Astarion had tried to rest a hand on her shoulder, but she’d shrugged it off and not gone back to the Elf Song since. Instead she’d taken to meandering through the bustling streets of the Gate trying to remember her life, but gods all she could remember was blood and that unruly black haired man which she now knew had to be Enver Gortash. Even before meeting him at the coronation, she’d felt a sense of familiarity toward him -warmth- looking at his face plastered on posters around the Gate.

She turned her mind back to Gale. Gale who was so kind and genuinely good even when she was moody or difficult. Who saw the best in her always. The one she loved, but if Gale wanted space, she needed to give it to him. She couldn’t be emotional about it and then face Gortash. The man had keen eyes, he would certainly notice, so she took a moment to school herself. There was also the disadvantage that he clearly knew her and well.

Perhaps it would be easier to deal with him alone like this, though, instead of with the pressure of an audience. There were only two ways this discussion would end after all; an alliance or his death -damn what her buried self felt about it. After a deep calming breath, Feravel looked up at the balcony again and misty stepped directly onto the rail. Hopping from the rail to the stone floor with a dull thud as her manner of announcing her presence.

“You always have liked to keep me waiting.” Said Gortash, promptly and with a distinct note of fondness.

His back was to her and he was seated at his desk, but there was a meal laid out on the nearby table.

“Help yourself. I’m sure you haven’t eaten what with wandering around the city all day. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Hesitant, Feravel stood just outside on the balcony watching him. He was at ease here not troubled at all by her unconventional manner of arrival -had expected it even. Gone was his overcoat, gilded bracers, and gloves, leaving him looking oddly exposed before a possible enemy; he was dressed in only his fine black shirt, trousers and leather boots. Was it a display of confidence? Or did he genuinely believe himself safe in her presence? Either left Feravel feeling off kilter which she supposed was his aim.

“The food isn’t poison if that’s what you’re thinking.” Enver added when he didn’t hear her enter the room.

She stepped inside, but didn’t close the door behind her as she strode over to the table. Leaving herself a quick escape should she need it. Despite the fact she was hungry, Feravel ignored it in favor of asking the obvious instead.

“You’ve been spying on me?”

Enver put down his quill and turned to face her. “Spying sounds so…invasive. I’ve simply kept tabs on your little traveling group. Ever since I saw you in the eye at the goblins camp, before you destroyed it that is, I’ve kept an ear out so to speak. Nothing so organized as spying.”

Feravel wrinkled her nose. Whatever he said, it sounded very much like spying and she didn’t much appreciate it.

“Whatever.”

She plucked an orange from the fruit bowl and rolled it between her fingers. It was firm, but not hard. Fresh, he’d brought out the good stuff in anticipation of her arrival. A brief thought of the joy she’d felt when Gale had gifted her one he managed to find during their travels. Enver knew her fondness for oranges as well it seemed. How was that supposed to make her feel? Whatever his intent, it only made her more wary of him.

She considered the orange a moment longer before deciding he must be telling the truth and pulling out a paring knife to slice the fruit. Why waste good food to poison her? He certainly didn’t seem to want her dead. Nor, had she thus far detected any hint of deception from him.

Popping a slice into her mouth, Feravel turned her attention back to him. He was watching her with just the hint of a smile. She got the feeling he was remembering something she couldn’t. It made her frown. The kiss before the coronation and that memory she’d seen in his mind… She resisted the urge to covertly cast detect thoughts on him again -after all she’d gotten much more than she bargained for before.

“So what’s the play here?” She asked finally when she couldn’t take the weight of his gaze any longer.

Amusement flared in his eyes. “Play?”

Feravel furrowed her brow. “The late night meeting-“

“It is only late by your own choice. You could have come hours ago.”

“The food. This-“ She huffed, gesturing vaguely to him causing Enver to raise one eyebrow at her. “As if you’re meeting a friend…not a potential assassin.”

He chuckled. “Are you here to kill me?”

Feravel clenched her jaw. It grated her how blatantly he was enjoying himself. The urge sang with excitement at her irritation: kill him, it will please your little friends, make them a gift of him innards. It will please father. Destroy the Banite. Flay his skin, carve the smirk from his foul lips-

She abruptly shut the thoughts down.

“I could be. You did say I was your favorite assassin.”

Enver spread his arms as if in another context he might be offering a hug. “Then by all means, my dear. I am all yours.”

A muscle in her face twitched. Did he think himself funny? How foolish was he to temp her urge like this? Tense moments passed. She wondered if from his spying he’d determined she wouldn’t just kill him outright or if he was playing with her. The notion brought forth a wave of bloodlust that she had to focus to master. Consequentially causing her to miss the knowing way Enver was appraising her.

“No?” He finally asked once he deemed the moment had passed. Getting to his feet, he strode over to her, reaching out to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand, but Feravel swiftly stepped back. Enver hummed apparently in consternation. “Well I suppose after all you’ve endured it would be difficult to expect us to pick up where we left off.”

Her mouth went dry. Even with the space she’d asserted between them, he was close. If he’d wanted to, Enver could still reach out and touch her. The thought made her heart race and heat rise up her neck. Her eyes flicked over his partially exposed chest and she inhaled sharply unwittingly taking in a fine scented perfume she recognized. Dark rosewood and vanilla bourbon, Feravel found herself breathing more slowly to savor the scent.

“I had hoped coming of your own will to be a good sign. That you remembered more than you were letting on infront of your companions.” He looked a touch disappointed. “But it does seem Orin did quite the number on you.”

She hummed condescendingly pushing away the fog his scent had momentarily clouded her mind with.

“Yes, well from where I’m standing it seems my nearest and dearest ally did nothing to prevent that. Perhaps I could be forgiven for not being quick to pick up where we supposedly left off.”

“But you’d trust a group of misfit strangers?”

“A parasite shared is a parasite halved…so I’ve heard.” Feravel said with a shrug.

“Well you should know. I did not let her kill you. We weren’t to meddle in eachother’s affairs. You were very clear on that. All I could do was warn you of her ambitions which I did -duly- to which you explicitly told me you intended to handle it. I wasn’t to know the inner workings of your father’s temple.”

The words sparked a feeling of recognition in her gut. A conversation long forgotten, now just whispers. She couldn’t prove or disprove his claim either way so she said nothing.

“You were gone. I have tolerated Orin for the sake of our plan, but I’ve always liked you.”

She sensed something off about the way he said liked. Slightly strained tone as if he’d almost used another word instead.

“Yes well, I hardly remember you and I know nothing of this plan as you’ve dictated it. Frankly I have no interest in either. Orin is Bhaal’s chosen and I am changed. I want only to be free of this threat of becoming a mindflayer and to go my own way.”

Enver pressed his lips into a thin line. She’d hit a nerve. Good, she thought.

“With things as they are, there is an imminent threat to all the infected, but furthermore the entire Sword Coast. Orin is becoming increasingly bold. As I told you earlier, she’s out for blood: yours and mine. She’d kill us both and take the stones for herself. You may have no interest in this plot, her, or the temple of Bhaal, but she will never stop hunting you until one of you is dead. That is a fact. One way or another you will have to deal with Orin. It is only a question of what you’ll do after that.”

She couldn’t help the small nod of agreement. It was in essence, the same conclusion she’d come to. With Orin after her, the issue would shortly come to a head and especially with the spy Enver previously revealed to be at her camp.

“I do intend to deal with Orin. On my own terms.” She said diplomatically .

“I’m sure you’ll make the right choice. An alliance benefits us both. You saw that before. ” He said. “In the mean time, it would be a horrible shame to let a good meal go to waste?”

Feravel expected more pressure from him to outright agree to working with him, but it seemed he felt little concern for it. As if he considered their alliance a foregone conclusion. It irritated her.

She glanced at the table. Her forgotten orange lay on a plate before her. Glancing at Enver, she sighed and went to take a seat. Plots, backstabbing, and alliances aside, she was hungry. Perhaps she could just ignore him while she ate and then disappear.

It was blessedly quiet between them for a time, but Feravel was not blind to the way Enver observed her mannerisms. He was searching for the person he knew in her. She could feel it, but not until she had just finished eating did he decided to speak.

“You are not quite so changed as you think. I very much doubt, you would have made it this far if you were nothing of what you once were.”

Enver did not meet her eyes as he said it, but he was watching her from behind his chalice of wine which he raised to his lips promptly after uttering the words. It was bait. Clearly, but she couldn’t help herself from taking it.

“And what was I before? A bloodthirsty murderer? Simply more controlled than Orin? Easier to steer? A weapon in the Black Hand of Bane?”

“Self assured, shrewd, and cunning.” Enver answered readily. His lips quirked up just slightly at her scornful words. “If a tad short fused…but passionate.”

“Such pretty flattery. One might almost think you earned that silver tongue from a devil.”

“Little surprise, as I did learn from one.” A proper smirk formed on Enver’s lips. “I do not know what you do remember, but I know that you heard my thoughts; or perhaps saw my memory rather, in the hall.”

The blood drained slightly from her face at being caught in her snooping. He’d made no indication at the time he was aware of her presence in his thoughts. Thinking on her feet, Feravel responded dismissively. “An illusion.”

Enver scoffed, his nose wrinkling in distain. “Unlike your little wizard plaything, illusions are not part of my repertoire.”

“A fantasy then.” Feravel snapped.

Enver let out a mirthless laugh. “I’ve never known you to delude yourself like this. Perhaps you are gone.”

“All I remember is death. Bloody, horrible death. This urge to perpetrate it that’s only barely within my control.” Gale’s concerned face as she came back to herself the night she’d almost killed him. Her own crushing guilt at the foul things she’d said. She could almost feel the burn of the ropes on her wrists. “A stain on my soul I will never wash away.”

Enver’s expression was unreadable and he seemed to have no inclination to speak. Pressure through silence, it seemed, but she did not give in at least not at first. As it dragged on, Feravel began to wonder if he was attempting to peer into her thoughts. She didn’t know if he knew such spells, but

“I didn’t know who you were until we reached the city… I saw the posters. Your face. It was familiar.”

She swallowed hard.

“I’d had dreams of a black haired man, but I never saw his face. I saw you and it just…fit? Like a shadow stepping into the light.”

“And these dreams were of what?” His shoulders were tense.

“What were we?”

“What were your dreams?”

They stared unflinchingly across the table at each other. Feravel wondered if it weren’t for the table between them if he’d reach for her again. Did she want him to? Uncertainty coursed through her. She gripped the edge of the table tightly.

“At first, I thought it was Gale I was dreaming of. We’d only just met, but I liked him. I quickly realized though, it couldn’t be him…”

Enver scowled at that. “Your pet wizard? Yes, I’ve heard of him, Mystra’s former chosen. He reached for something greater and failed. She was right to discard him. He’s not worthy of you.”

“It’s not your place to determine who’s worthy of me!”

“You are Bhaal’s chosen! A softhearted fool like that could never accept you.”

Feravel stood so quickly her chair was knocked to the floor.

“I am no one’s chosen and I am more than I was made to be!” She heaved a few deep breaths. Then she spoke again, far more calmly, staring intently at him. “I am my own person.”

“You were mine.”

Heatedly, Enver got to his feet, pushed back his chair and stalked toward her, but she could barely register his movements for his words held her rapt attention.

“I was yours.”

He cradled her cheek with a softness she would not have expected had she not experienced it before. Before? A forgotten memory triggered by his words began to unravel in her mind. It was incomplete and muddled, but the feelings it held were clear.

A calloused palm against her cheek. She leaned into it. Lips lightly brushed over her own, reverent. This was peace. Her place of rest. Father would allow her this man. So long as she did his will -which she would and gladly. Perhaps still one day, she may have to introduce Enver to her father. Father may even demand it of her. But not now, he was useful. So long as she could continue to make use of him toward her father’s aims, Enver was safe. Enver was  hers .

It had not been long before her death. She could tell that much. And she suspected this moment to have been when her old self had realized she loved Enver.

“It was because of you.” Feravel concluded aloud.

Enver furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I wouldn’t have sacrificed you to Bhaal, had he asked it of me.” Feravel simply. “I doubt he planned to, but it seems knowing that I was unwilling to do so was enough.”

She let out a breathy laugh.

Then Enver was kissing her like a man dying of thirst and she was a spring in a desert. She was carried away by the intensity and familiarity of it so easily. Her fingers brushed tentatively along his jaw as she raised a hand to thread her fingers in his hair. It was just as fine and soft as in her dreams -except this was real. Enver was not a faceless shadow.

He let out a breath he must’ve been holding and drew her more firmly to him wrapping her tightly in his embrace. The way their lips moved and felt together was as natural as breathing. Her body yearned to surrender to him. There was no denying, Enver was telling the truth. This could not be manufactured, imitated or faked. The feelings his embrace elicited within her were not unlike how she felt for Gale. That worried her.

How easy would it be to stay here? Enver seemed to hold the key to so many of her lost memories. Just days ago she had been desperate still to know some semblance of who she was. Now, it was difficult to sort through what she wanted.

What a difference a day can make.

She was starting to feel choked up like she couldn’t breathe and her fingers slipped from Enver’s hair, running down his neck, over his shoulders to rest on his chest. Suddenly Feravel pulled back, but Enver didn’t allow her to go far -tightening his grip on her waist. Enver leaned his head against her’s as they caught their breath.

It took him a moment to realize there were tears running down her cheeks. So strange, he once thought he may never see her cry. Cautiously he wiped one away.

“Fera?” He said barely above a whisper.

With effort, she swallowed any further tears and looked up into his dark brown eyes which were so unlike Gale’s honey brown.

“I should thank you, I suppose.”

Enver furrowed his brow.

“Whatever we had, ultimately made me my own person. It was enough for Bhaal to abandon me.”

She wasn’t free by any means, but perhaps she could be. Killing Orin might be the key to free herself of father and the urge. Whether that meant her death or a life without the evil hiss in her ear, the devil on her shoulder, she didn’t know.

Enver leaned in again and brushed his lips against hers. It was just the faintest touch, but warmth spread through her from it. She could sense he was being cautious and deliberate now.

“I never told you.” He murmured lowly against her lips. Feravel kept still with anticipation. Her eyes closed, breathing steady, committing this moment to her memory. “There wasn’t a right moment, you understand? But I have to now.”

Love. He didn’t have to say it. Despite the broken thing she now was, he still loved her. Whatever he’d been searching for in his observations he’d examined her and had not found her wanting. To him, she was still somehow the same. An overwhelming prospect.

Feravel felt her heart in her throat. Just that morning, Gale had turned to her at the breakfast table and told her he loved her -just because as he often did. Then Astarion had to ruin the moment with an eye roll and a comment about toothaches which earned him a slug in the shoulder from Karlach. There was no one here to interrupt with banter, to ruin this moment though, only them.

She opened her eyes to find his face mere centimeters away.

“I…I can’t.”

Feravel tried to extricate herself from him, but he held her in place. His grip firm, but gentle he stroked her cheek with his thumb, staring deeply into her eyes. For a second, she almost wanted to lean back in, to erase her words.

“Why did you come?”

She furrowed her brow at him. What sort of question was that? He’d summoned her. But he didn’t give her time to answer before continuing.

“You should’ve known I wouldn’t have pursued or forced you here. Our matters are better left private. Causing a scene by dragging you before me would’ve brought scrutiny.“

“How pragmatic.” She said shortly.

He waved the comment away. “I would’ve been upset to be sure, but as I said before somethings are best handled discreetly. So why did you come?”

Silence hung thick between them. Feravel unwilling to utter a response and Enver unwilling to allow the question to pass. Their stalemate went on until Enver tired of her obstinance.

“You wandered the city all day instead of returning to your companions. Then you came to me. Could it be then that you feared their judgement? Or the judgement of one in particular.”

“What do you want from me?” She snapped.

“Are you so blind?” He released her, but didn’t withdraw. There was a tone of weariness in his voice. His guard was coming back up. “I do not take to heart this distraction you’ve taken in the wizard, but now you’re returned to me. You do not need to be burdened by the opinions of sheep.” He paused, then in a more business like tone. “I will provide for you anything you require to retake the cult of Bhaal or destroy it -whichever you choose.”

Feravel stared at him. Men of exceptional ambition. Was this her type? Two different lives she’d lived and yet. Despite their vast differences, she’d fallen for men who were not so terribly unalike as they first appeared.

“I-I have to go.”

Without giving him a chance to pull her back, Feravel nimbly twisted away, misty stepped to the rail and jumped -opening a dimension door below her as she fell. She didn’t see Enver race for the balcony to peer over the edge and only just catch a glimpse of her portal before it popped out of existence.

Frustration boiled in him at her disappearance, leaving him feeling exposed in a way he would never usually allow. He slammed his fist on the table to release some of the pent up emotion. She would be back he told himself. After disposing of Orin, she would return to him one way or another.

However, he’d known this was a possibility. He’d gambled with how much she could remember -allowing his emotions to take too much of the lead. It had been unlikely for her to agree to anything right away. She’d always had a will of her own and did still. Besides, he mused, it would’ve been unpalatably weak had she just crumpled, immediately abandoning her newfound compatriots. The lord Bane would not have been pleased with such an ally or companion for his chosen.