#but that she's around if jaheira ever needs help! with anything!

[marigoldbaker]

a deeply feeling woman

this is NOT going up on ao3 (yet?) because it is quite short and i have not decided whether i'm willing to upend like. all of my own established unpublished canon to canonize this nonsense. but the idea hit me today and so now it's written. in which: khalid makes a new friend :) she's a dwarf. they have something very crucial in common.

“Oh!” said Khalid, eyes abruptly alight. “Briar, if you—th-that is, while you, you’re considering the, the best course of action, I…Jaheira, I’d like you to meet…” He squinted nervously around the small, crowded room. “That’s…odd,” he said slowly. “She’s…where did she go?”

“She?” said Jaheira, a slight edge to her voice. “Have you been making friends, Khalid?”

Khalid’s smile softened into a touched, knowing expression. He said, “You’ll, you’ll meet her. It will…clarify things tremendously.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will,” said Jaheira, her tone dropping dangerously.

“There!” said Khalid, and gestured. A stocky dwarven woman appeared to be having some sort of argument with a young human soldier, who, in turn, appeared to be unsuccessfully attempting to back away. “Thea—Thea,” he called. “Would you—that is—?”

Without turning away, Thea said, “Give me a minute, sunshine, this fucking imbecile thinks he can cheat people out of their rightful winnings! Listen, Brathos, you start the game, you lose the game, you turn the coin over at the end of the game, especially when the rest of us catch you trying to fucking rig the game. Fuck’s wrong with you that you think you’re not going to face any consequences? You know what I call my hammer, Brathos?”

“Consequences?” squeaked the boy.

“Consequences,” growled Thea.

“Oh, my,” said Safana, brows raised. “Khalid, do you have a type?”

Entirely ignoring his wife’s scathing expression, Khalid laughed out loud. He pressed his hand to his face and shook his head. “You’ll, you’ll understand when you meet her,” he said. “Thea—Althea. W-w-would you please come over here and, and meet my friends?”

“What friends?” said Thea, turning all the way towards him. “You’ve not got friends. Actually fucking depressing, the state of your social life.”

“You’re my friend,” Khalid countered.

“I repeat.” Thea hefted the hammer. “Actually fucking depressing.”

Edging herself in front of Khalid, Jaheira took in the other woman with a sharply assessing expression. “So,” she said. “My husband has been socializing with you in my absence?”

All the rock-hard irritation of Thea dropped away as her eyes met Jaheira’s. It reminded Briar of quite a lot of songs, which probably wasn’t the thing to be thinking in a moment where Jaheira was meeting some friend of Khalid’s she was already jealous of, but it was sort of hard to think anything else. Thea’s lips parted, her cheeks coloring, and she whispered something under her breath in Dwarvish that sounded almost like a prayer, then breathed, “Luckmaiden, Lady of the Fray, in all your glory, I beseech you, loosen your hold on my heart.”

“…What?” said Jaheira.

Khalid looked positively delighted. “Althea,” he said, “Jaheira. Jaheira, Althea.”

Thea reeled back. “Your wife?” she said to Khalid. Then again, as if confirming, “Your wife.” Finally, “You sadistic motherfucker, I don’t know how you knew but I know you knew I’d—ah, fuck, fuck, I’m going to go end the siege. Can’t be in close quarters like this,” and promptly turned on her heel, all but sprinting for the exit.

“She’s going to what?” said Jaheira.

“Oh, that. Ah. Backfired faster than I thought,” said Khalid, already moving after Thea. “I-I need to sort that out. Briar, would you—”

“Sort what out?” demanded Jaheira, particularly dangerously.

Khalid took in Jaheira’s expressions. He said, calmly, “Thea. Prefers. Women.”

“Pref—” The penny dropped. Jaheira’s face went flaming red.

“Goodbye,” said Khalid, squeezing Jaheira’s shoulder, and darted after his friend.

As soon as Khalid was gone, Briar fell into a fit of giggles. Dynaheir was covering her mouth delicately, but the smile was eminently visible.

“Oh, would you all SHUT UP?!” snapped Jaheira, her blush intensifying. “What was I supposed to think? Khalid is hardly a social person when not in my company, hardly with women—”

“Well, it seems like maybe he found someone who has something really super crucial in common with him!” Briar wheezed. “Like, oh, I don’t know, being really super into you?”

“He didn’t—I didn’t—I have never met—stop laughing, Briar, or I will stop letting you carry the wands of lightning!”

“I haven’t used them,” said Briar, then, “since the incident.”

“What incident?!”

Khalid returned, now with Thea in tow. “Althea,” he said, “l-let’s try that again, yes?”

“Nope,” said Thea, who was already trying to leave.

Jaheira’s eyes darted between Thea and Khalid, almost contemplative, before her blush returned and her scowl intensified. Firmly, she said, “Khalid, you should have opened with the fact that Althea prefers the fairer sex, rather than letting me humiliate myself into thinking—”

“Oh, please!” said Thea hysterically. “You’re hardly the one who’s humiliating yourself here! Khalid, let go of my arm, I’m ending the siege and I’m going home.”

“You, you haven’t even exchanged a, a proper conversation with Jaheira.”

“I am going to say something proper fucking insane to your wife if you let me talk to her,” said Thea, “and you are, no question, the only person I can stand round here. Not burning that bridge. Look, I can end the siege—”

“You ha-have been saying that since you arrived,” said Khalid, “and your only plan appears to be to—to—run at the troops with your hammer.”

“Worked before.”

“Worked bef—” Khalid sent Jaheira a help-me look that somehow also managed to convey quite a lot of irritation.

Jaheira, whose cheeks had finally begun to edge back towards a normal color, rested her hand on Thea’s shoulder. Thea froze. “I would appreciate the chance to get to know you,” said Jaheira, tilting her head and smiling at Thea with an expression of terrifying sweetness. “Properly.”

“Oh, fuck you,” said Thea. “Emotional fucking manipulation, the pair of you. See if I tell Khalid anything again.”

“What did you tell my husband?”

“None of your fucking business!”

Casually, Khalid said, “She—she mentioned a particular weakness for a-assertive, forthright elven women.”

“Fuck off!”

“Well, it does help to have it on the table,” said Jaheira. She actually did smile. “Am I that bewitching, then, that you are desperate to run from me rather than jeopardize your friendship with my husband?”

“Your husband’s the only one round here with integrity,” said Thea resolutely. “Certainly the only one round here I’d trust to keep an eye on things. The other fuckers keep talking big talk about pummeling the crusaders into submission with forces we don’t have; he’s the one looking for a way around that. Good that you and your crew found a way in—if we can get more of you, piece by piece, we might stand a chance. Course we’d stand an even better chance if we went with my plan—”

In a tone of voice that suggested he had said this quite a few times before, Khalid said, “You running in to single-h-handedly dispatch crusaders is n-not a plan, Althea.”

“That’s the one thing he’s wrong about,” said Thea to Jaheira. “But the rest of it he’s right about. Rare to find a fella like that in a line of work like this.”

Jaheira’s eyes had taken on an approving glint. “I agree.”

Thea exhaled, blushing slightly, and said, “Yeah, so. Mind letting go of me? I do mean it, I’m going to say something—fucking outrageous if I keep looking at you, and I can’t do with losing my only friend here.”

Jaheira smiled. "Outrageous? Like what?"

“You aren’t helping.” Khalid steered Jaheira away from Thea. Over his shoulder, he called, “Drinks tonight?”

“On you!” Thea called. “To fucking apologize for putting me through that!”

To Jaheira, Khalid said, “I, I really didn’t realize she’d—that is, she’s a very, ah, d-deeply feeling woman, but I didn’t expect—well.” He smiled ruefully. “I, I was much the same when I met you. Sh-should have considered she might feel sim—similarly.”

“I like her,” Jaheira decided. Her brow furrowed. “Will she derive false hope from that? I do not wish to be inconsiderate, if—”

“Oh, she—she won’t,” said Khalid. “She’s—” His smile softened. “Chivalrous,” he said. “Noble.”

Noble, Dynaheir mouthed to herself. Briar was the only one who caught it.

[sserpente]

After

Synopsis: You help Astarion wash off the blood after he kills Cazador. He doesn’t say much—but you can tell he needs you now more than ever.

A/N: I thought of this the other day and I almost cried. So I wrote it so that you can almost cry as well.

Words: 897

Warnings: trauma responses, fluff

Astarion was being unusually quiet, his movements robotic and too automatic as if he was somewhere else entirely in his mind. And he was. You couldn’t blame him. He had his own demons to deal with after what you had just witnessed.

His hand was still clutching the dagger so tightly his knuckles turned white. But not even the blood stains on his bare skin could manage to disfigure him. He was as beautiful as ever despite the streams of tears drying on his cheeks.

You’d wrapped your cloak around him after he announced he wanted to get out of there, eager to respect his wish. There was nothing left for him here. It was over. Now all he had to do was to heal, slowly, from the trauma the past two hundred years had caused him.

Both Shadowheart and Gale had offered to help calm him down with magic but Astarion had been quick to decline. It was dark outside by the time you left the palace—a welcome circumstance. Though it was not uncommon for citizens to roam the city drenched in blood every now and then, you were certain Astarion was grateful for the absence of curious and suspicious looks as you made your way back to the Elfsong Tavern.

It wasn’t just Cazador’s death of course. He’d turned it all down. The ability to walk in the sun, the powers Ascension would have granted him… Now he’d return to the shadows. But he wouldn’t do it alone, that you were going to make sure of. He had you.

He was still silent by the time you returned to your room upstairs. Whoever had decided to stay behind today—Lae’zel, Wyll, Jaheira, Halsin and Minsc—their eyes all went wide the moment they laid their eyes on the blood-drenched vampire spawn.

The questions were burning on their tongues, you could tell. But they held back. You cleared your throat.

“Would you guys mind… leaving us for a bit? Join the others downstairs for a drink maybe?”

“Understood,” Jaheira said. She waved her hand and nodded, compassion glistening in her wise eyes. “Take your time.”

“Astarion…” Minsc pushed Jaheira out of the way, earning him a groan. “Is… is Cazador dead?”

“Yes, he’s dead, Minsc,” you answered for him. Jaheira grabbed his arm and dragged him along with her before he could say something else. Wyll, Lae’zel and Halsin followed suit.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the latter announced. A few heartbeats later, you were alone.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, love.” Your voice was barely a whisper but Astarion heard you nonetheless. He nodded and finally allowed you to peel the dagger from his grasp. You set it aside on a table and lead him to the washtub in the corner of the room.

The cloak slipped from his shoulders, sailing to the wooden floor. He made no move to pick it up, no move to help you as you filled the tub with warm water. In fact, you weren’t sure he even saw you do it. But when you moved away to get him a fresh towel for later, you heard him.

“Don’t leave,” he said softly. Your eyes darted back to him, taking in the vulnerability and helplessness surrounding him like cold mist.

“I won’t. Ever. I was just gonna get you a towel.”

“Don’t leave,” he repeated.

The chest with your things was just around the corner, still, you opted against it. You forced the corners of your lips up and nodded, returning back to his side.

He didn’t protest when you removed his bloodied trousers and had him step out of them, didn’t resist when you made him climb into the tub and eventually, undressed yourself and reached for a sponge and soap before joining him.

Silence filled the room, water dripping as you dunked the sponge in. His sigh the moment it touched his cool skin was heartbreaking.

Inch by inch, you washed off the blood, pressing feather-light kisses to his chest and his face every now and then. Once you were done and the very last traces of Cazador had vanished, you cupped his cheeks, gently forcing him to look you in the eye.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Astarion nodded. “I just need…time.” To process. To decompress, to let everything that happened today sink in.

You nodded. “I’ll be here. I’ll always be here, Astarion. I am so proud of you. What you did today…that was the bravest thing I have ever witnessed. You didn’t have to do it and it wouldn’t have made you any less brave if you hadn’t faced him. But you did. I love you. And I will do anything in my power to help you through this, whatever you might need.”

The vampire smiled—it was a weak smile, and it didn’t quite reach his eyes. But it was sincere nonetheless.

“Thank you, my love. Thank you.”

You remained in the bath until the water was cold. After tiptoeing over to the clothing chest naked to finally retrieve the towels to dry off, you cuddled up in bed together, your limbs entangled and his face pressed against your neck. His breath evened surprisingly fast as he slipped into trance and you too closed your eyes, holding on to him tightly until you were certain he had found peace for tonight.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

During a casual "Isobel is horribly underappreciated" chat, I was doing some fawning over just how impressive everything that Isobel does and quietly endures is (immediately after being pulled from the grave in a nightmare version of her own home! while everyone she ever knew and loved is either dead or an undead abomination, including, she fears, she herself!). I was reminded of the exchange with Jaheira if you find out the truth about Isobel's backstory, which ranks among my favourite little bits of writing and character moments in the game.

Player: I've been looking into Ketheric. I suspect Isobel might be his daughter. Jaheira: Do you. Well, let us not leave you in suspense, then. You are right. She is. Player: It's more than that. She was dead, and something brought her back. Jaheira: Something malign? Or some blessing of Selûne, perhaps? I do not know what restored Isobel's life to her. But I can see what she is doing with it. If she wished to see us drowned in darkness, Isobel needn't have lifted a finger. Instead, she holds out her hand. I choose to take it. I choose to trust. And not just because I have no other choice. When I find myself needing a reminder of just who Isobel Thorm is, I simply step outside and look up.

The dialogue flow features some more options:

Player: And you trust her? She's all that stands between us and the shadow curse. Jaheira: Exactly the point, wouldn't you say?

Player: You already knew. Why didn't you tell me? Jaheira: Because it isn't my tale to tell. And because, in truth, I do not know the half of it. Only this:

Which then converge into the part I adore that I quoted up top.

After this, there's a couple more responses with some gems:

Player: I'll need to speak to her myself. Jaheira: If it will help. Only remember: I bear more blame for the shadow curse than Isobel does. And she can no more control her parentage than you can that thing in your head. Player: I tried to talk to her about it. She won't tell me anything. Jaheira: Perhaps she chooses to do, rather than say.

And the closing options, with some nice on-brand Jaheira:

Player: All right, then. Trust it is. Jaheira: Then you're a stronger soul than I. I at least have had time to prepare that high-minded little speech.

Player: 'Trust'? You tried to kill me the first time we met. Jaheira: And now we are the best of friends. You see? The power of trust.

Player: Not good enough. Jaheira: Look around you. You shall have to learn to live with 'not good enough', I'm afraid.

Combining all of this with Isobel's sad little "Who would trust the next-of-kin of Ketheric Thorm?" a bit later on sure hurts!

But in conclusion, if anyone, including Isobel herself, starts piping up with some "sins of the father" type nonsense, Jaheira is putting a stop to that, and I love her for it.

[thehistoriccemetery]

How They Would React to Seeing Your Abusive Parent

Another drabble about everyone’s favorite BG3 ladies: Shadowheart, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira. (Sorry Lae’zel simps, I really couldn’t think of her reaction here. If anyone has one please feel free to repost with your own headcannon!)

CW: Past abuse

If anyone has any ideas for more of these, PLEASE comment or send in a request. I’m running out of ideas so fast.

——————————————————————

Shadowheart

Shadowheart was just a kid when she was abducted by the Sharrans. So she understands what it’s like to have such hatred and fear for someone who you can’t help but care about.

She lets you take the lead entirely. If you want to leave, she’ll make an exit. If you want to stay, she’s right beside you. Hells, if you want to see their head roll, her weapon is at the ready.

She doesn’t usually allow for public displays of affection, but she’d wrap you in her arms and carry you if it was what you needed right now. You’ll settle for squeezing her hand when you’re feeling particularly nervous.

She only steps in when your parent moves to approach you. You are trembling, and you squeeze her hand frantically. This is her cue.

Before they can get within 10 feet of you, Shadowheart is in front of you. Four spirits dance around the two of you, guarding you from anyone who dares inch closer.

It is not a threat but a warning. Your parent throws up their hands in understanding. They will not try anything else.

Karlach

It takes everything in her to not just fly into a rage on the spot, but when she looks at you and she sees only fear, she stays calm. You need her under control, so that is what she will be.

When you first told her about everything your parent had done she had asked if you wanted them dead. She was honestly a little disappointed when you said no, but she understood. She would respect your wishes. Your parent could stay alive, for now.

“But I swear on all seven hells if they ever touch you again…”

Karlach stands between you and your parent, not even let them so much as look at you. She pulls the most intimidating stance she can muster. Demonsbane. She could send hells’ mightiest soldiers away with that look.

She keeps a hand on her weapon. Her tail wrapped protectively around you. No one is to so much as lay a hand on you, or they will truly understand what the fury of Avernus means.

Minthara

When you told Minthara about your parent, she asked if you wanted her to kill them. You said if they were to die, then you needed to be the one to kill them. They were your responsibility. It felt cowardly to send in someone in your place.

Still you didn’t want to kill them. The thought made you sick. Parenticide. A burden you would have to carry forever.

Minthara tells you that in drow culture it is considered an honor for a parent to be killed by their child. “They deserve to die with no such honor,” she bites.

“Vengeance can be a bitter pill for such a kind soul,” she told you. “Whatever you cannot bear, I will take from you.”

So it’s not particularly surprising to anyone when you find out your parent is dead under mysterious circumstances.

You do not ask if it was her. She does not tell you. This will not be your burden.

Jaheira

You instinctively gasp and grab at Jaheira’s wrist when you see them. “Stand tall, cub,” she whispers into your ear. “I am with you.”

She rest a hand on your shoulder. She stands right behind you. She is with you. She will not let anything happen to you, but she will not interfere until necessary. She trusts you. You’ve got this.

You’ve always seen her calling you cub as a simple pet name, not so dissimilar to how the elderly innkeep calls everyone honey. Now the name takes on a new meaning. You may be vulnerable, seem like an easy target, but you’ve got a mama bear behind you. And she will fuck up anyone who threatens you.

You find power in her words. No one will hurt you. You feel strong.

[mylordshesacactus]

I had the realization a while back that Isobel, who was dead for a hundred years, would have been around in Jaheira's heyday and almost certainly knows who she is.

And then the significantly funnier realization that, like.

POV: You are Isobel Thorm. You don't fully remember how you died, but you remember languishing in timeless darkness. You are ripped from the grave gasping and shaking, surrounded by darkness and obscene symbols and the desecrated remains of your ancestors. Your father, warped and corrupted, is acting deranged and horrifyingly possessive of you, and almost sounds pleased to tell you that your wife--your true immortal wife, your wife the unkillable demigod--is dead.

You flee in terror into a world that is a twisted mockery of the town you grew up in and loved. Twisted oily shadows lash at your body and soul and only the faint echo of the moon goddess' power sustains you as you race unseeing through the eternal darkness, sickened by a core of necromantic energy that you (as a cleric) can constantly sense but can do nothing to purge.

Unable to run any further you find the ruins of what was once an inn and collapse there. Your goddess reaches out to you, despite your conviction that your resurrection must make you disgusting in her eyes. You create a sanctuary and pray for help to come. While digging around in the inn, you find records and papers with confusing dates, and begin to realize that far more time has passed than you initially thought. But with no one alive to explain anything--and, now, an overwhelming paranoia telling you that it would not be wise to be known as Ketheric Thorm's daughter to friend or foe--you're going to need to be very circumspect if you ever intend to figure out the details.

A group of Harpers arrive. Their leader introduces herself as Jaheira, a name you know very well from while you were alive.

Isobel: Jaheira: Isobel, Who Lives In A World That Contains Both Elves And Archdruids: Well that tells me absolutely fuCKING NOTHING--

[madwomansapologist]

doubt comes in | bg3 companions

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: You knew exactly what would welcome you back to camp. The alluring smell of Gale's cooking, the awful noises of Lae'zel working on a sword that don't need to be sharpened, Wyll practicing his dance moves. You clearly weren't expecting to see yourself. Or to be forced into fighting the companions you swore to never harm in order to prove Orin was playing with their minds. [3.4K]

warnings: orin being orin. well, you, actually. "prove who's the real you" trope. i mean imagine the level of anxiety that scenario induces because you want me to act like me? kitten, mommy don't fucking know who she is. bg3 level of violence. a lot of blood. body horror should be a tag? tav suffers slashing damage, but orin suffers psychic damage. angst. happy ending. shadowheart x tav x halsin. companions (lae'zel, astarion, gale, wyll, karlach, jaheira, minsc). camp followers (yenna, scratch, grub). background (orin, gortash, mizora, shar, cazador, silvanus).

Reaching Baldur's Gate didn't made life easier, but Gods did it helped. Danger is near, sometimes closer than a kiss, but this city is still your home. They can try, but no one can take that away from any of you.

Mizora can bargain and dissemble, but no lie coming from her burning lips will ever change the fact Wyll would do anything for this city. He had his first kiss in one of those bars. Gortash is a threat, but did he started counting his days? Karlach is coming for him, and he had it coming. She can still remember the vinegar taste on her mouth after her first spree.

Shar had her time to mess with Shadowheart's memories, to turn goodness into fear and desires into guilty. Shadowheart is learning how to swin. Long ago, before Cazador could even think of looking at him, Astarion walked on those streets. Cazador can see him as a walking corpse if he so desire, something that fell into decay, but Astarion is alive and free forever and evermore.

The world is a freaking mess, but so be it. That won't stop you from living. That won't stop any of you.

"Soldier! Over here," Karlach called for you, up on The Blushing Mermaid's balcony. You dodged the drunkards and ran upstairs to their table. They saved a seat for you. They always do. "What took you so long?"

They're always teasing you for being so controlling with their gold. That was an act of survival, to save for what matters, but now that you reached the city... You're still controlling it, Silvanus knows Astarion would waste it all without noticing, but you can allow your party some luxury from time to time.

You put the bags under the table, careful to not let them see what was inside them. "Just lost track of time," you sat between her and Minsc. "Did I miss much?"

You turned around, looking for a waiter, but a glass was dragged from across the table towards you. Halsin, sitting across from you at the round table, had already ordered your favorite drink. He always knows what you want even before you say it.

Your smile was subtle, the glass already rising to hide your mouth. You didn't use words to thank him, but your foot met his under the table. You dragged it along his leg, a hidden affection. A secret between you two.

"Oh, yes, Boo. Minsc agrees, her smile really seens different," Minsc whispered. Boo moved on his shoulder, sniffing around. "What are you hiding, my gentle friend?"

Perfume of night orchids, clothes fit for a vampire or whatever Astarion means by that, a recently released tome of evocation, instruments to improve weapons, a music box for a dancing hero, owlbear cub plush, new whittling knifes, a book about adventures Jaheira wasn't part of but is still somehow the main character, and stone sculpture of a certain miniature giant space hamster. "Nothing," you answered.

Halsin chuckled. "There is nothing you can't do, my heart. Except by lying, I must add."

"I just bought a few presents," it sounded almost defensive. Alright, maybe you really were a bit too controlling of the gold. Just a bit. "I'll give them after dinner."

Karlach chocked on her beer. "Are you feeling well, soldier? Have anyone forced you to waste your precious gold?"

"There is a hero coming through to help you, my friend," Minsc hit the table with closed fists. Your drink almost fell on your lap. "Tell Minsc who forced you and his boot shall find your wrongdoer!"

Karlach and Minsc tried to see what were in the bags during the walk back to camp, and you protected them with your life. They started a game of guessing what you had bought, never realizing you weren't participating on it.

Halsin took the bags from you, and with his free hand caressed yours. He kissed your knuckles, then your forehead. You melted against his touch. "Is it duck related?"

You chuckled, eyes still closed. "Fuck off, Bear."

Finally at camp, Halsin followed you to your tent .You saw when Wyll walking out of his tent, hair dripping wet, and smiled at him. Karlach and Minsc sat by the bonfire, still arguing about the possibility of receiving an ax as a gift.

You told Halsin to close his eyes so you could hide everything. "Alright, done."

You walked towards the bonfire, but Halsin grabbed your hand and pulled you closer. You linked your arms around his neck, ready to stand on tiptoe. "It's on your black chest, isn't it?"

You sighed, walking away from him. He tried to stop you, but you dodged Halsin easily. "Of course not," you lied. And he could tell.

You used a branch to stir the fire. You had the feeling it would be a cold night. Yenna was near it, stroking Grub's fur, and smiled at you. So young, so innocent. So unfair.

Lae'zel and Jaheira carried pans with food to the large table Gale conjured, and nodded on your direction. "Fifteen minutes, cub," said Jaheira. "Weren't you on watch?"

You denied with a movement of your head. Jaheira isn't the one to get confused with watches, neither are you. After all, you both organized all shifts.

"Are you hungry?" You stroke Yenna's hair, ignoring Grub in order to not scare him away. Kneeled in front of her, you threw the branch far away. Scratch ran to catch it. "I have strawberry and hon..."

"What the fuck is that?!"

You turned to Karlach, your sword suddenly so heavy on your side. She looked perfectly fine. Following her gaze, you understood it.

Shadowheart had her spear on hands, back from first watch to supper. And besides her, with a hand on the half-elf's waist, stood you.

One thing you can't deny Orin: that bitch is creative. You admit, it was smart. Half of the party left with you, half stayed at camp. It was only a matter of chosing the right moment to appear, making sure to say only the right words, and everything would work on her favor.

Smart, until she wasn't anymore. Because instead of aiming your companions quietly without raising doubts, you are back now. She is surrounded by the enemy. Cornered by her own actions.

You smiled to Yenna, her scared eyes shone upon you. "I need you to close your eyes. Can you do that for me?" As she put her tiny hands in front of her face, you raised from the floor. The smile was still there. "Orin."

She was behind you, but you knew Karlach made Nyrulna find a way to her hands. He's not on your vision field, but you promise Silvanus you'll kill yourself right then and there if Minsc and Boo aren't ready to fight and die beside you. The golden light on your periphery in theory could be from anything, but you knew it was Halsin waiting for your command to transform and attack.

The things you couldn't see didn't surprised you. Quite the opposite.

Jaheira's eyes shone, and without hesitation she turned into a fire myrmidion. Wyll, before careless, casted an armor on himself. Lae'zel had her sword on her back, but her movements showed she was nothing but ready.

They were looking at you.

As easy as that you understood. You're always thinking on the great scheme of things, careful about every movement and choice so at the end nothing will stop you from defeating the Absolute, but this isn't a game of Go. Orin didn't proposed a bet, one where all moves matter and any choice could change the final outcome. No. This is as simple as tic-tac-toe. The results depends only on doing the right first movement.

Orin isn't surrounded here.

You are.

Shadowheart hesitated, the spear uncomfortable on her hands, her skin paler. She gazed at you, at that thing, and you could almost see the doubt replacing the new found glow in her eyes.

"You finally decided to show up again," Orin said. She could immitate your voice perfectly. Even the words were something that could've been said by you. "Now we don't need to hunt you down."

You kept on staring at Shadowheart, ignoring her stained words. "Lua, you know who I truly am." You drew your sword, the golden glow illuminating your face within the light of the setting sun. "Fight beside me, my love. Like you have always done."

"Don't fall for her theatrics," replied Orin. If you didn't knew better, even you would fall for her tricks. "She is playing with your mind. Trying to control it like many attempt to before. Don't allow it."

In a quick motion, her spear cut through Orin's torso. Orin, you, stumbled back. You stood in front of Shadowheart, protecting her with your body from the changeling's response.

All Orin did was to add pressure to the cut. "Get away from her!" A necrotic energy came from her fingers, the same you are so used to control. You shouldn't have left your shield on your tent. "My love, she'll only hurt you."

Jaheira aimed at you, lava dripping from her transformed hand, but didn't attack because of how close Shadowheart was of you. Karlach got further away, now with a better view of camp. Minsc had his sword in hands, just as Wyll had a cloud of darkness aiming at him. Lae'zel was in front of Orin, eyes filled with determination.

They moved faster than you wanted to. The board getting new possibilities, and you worst problems to deal with. What strategy can overpower hers?

"On sight, soldier," Karlach screamed from distance. You could picture the spear on her hands, ready to be throw right in Orin's eyes. "One word."

"Ckh. Enough," ordered Lae'zel. "Pull yourself together before I pull you apart."

"That changeling is playing tricks with your mind, Lae'zel," said Shadowheart. Light came from her fingers. "Don't let her fool you."

"I know my leader," was her response. "You should know too, cleric."

"Can't any of you see her true goal?" Your voice echoed through the camp. "She isn't just trying to end me. She could've done this before, we all now she had chances. Orin wants you to fight one another, to break our bonds and divide us. Stay still, stay alert, and she won't have a choice but to end her disguise and attack with her own claws. Patience: that's the only thing she does not have."

With the noise, Gale and Astarion came out of the kitchen. "Who is..." Astarion didn't even had time to finish.

"It's me," you yelled. You had even forgot about them. Just more players for a game that should be won alone. "For Silvanus, I even said goodbye to each and every of you befo..."

You swear you saw a smirk on your duel's face. She fooled you too. "You fucking bitch."

You barely had closed your mouth when red strings of energy passed right beside you. Shadowheart's illuminated fingers were surrounded by darkness now. Gale's work, you knew.

"She is right," Lae'zel's words made you breath easier. It was more than just a smart move, it was a great plan, but Orin won't suceed for a very simple reason: her main goal is to hurt, and yours is to prevent it. Lae'zel stepped closer, her longsword in hands and eyes on Orin. "The wizard shouldn't have aimed at the Shadowheart, neither was she supposed to fight."

A sign of trust coming from her of all people could convince them all. Lae'zel cares, deeply, and wouldn't do something without being sure of it. You glared at the others, hoping Lae'zel's words had calmed them down. And it did. Their eyes were softer towards you. But those weren't the eyes you should've been watching closely.

You didn't saw when she moved. Didn't noticed the smell of danger floating on the air so near you. Didn't heard anything that would've warned you to defend yourself.

But you felt as Lae'zel rip your chest apart.

So much blood. You never would've guessed a mortal vessel could carry so much blood. It stained the silver, dripping from the longsword, splashed her face. It ran down your body, penetrated the ground and its roots, fed the plants..

Red. It was all you could see. All you could think about. Your lungs only had space for it. They burned. Your trembling hands moved towards your ripped belly, your insides staining them, and held the sword. It cut your palms.

"Bloodlust won't solve our problems," someone said. You knew that voice. Was it yours? Lae'zel forced the sword down, then pulled it out of you. "The changeling's is all we need to spill."

You were on your knees. Did you fell? Were you kicked? Are you praying? You must be. You probably were. Who do you pray to? Have you ever prayed before?

Kneeled beside you, a woman talked to you. Her mouth moved, a red liquid dripping from her face and hands. Her touch was warm. She felt like home. Shadowheart. Her eyes reflected a golden light, but they dissapeared so quickly.

"Let me go!" She tried to fight Lae'zel's hold, but the warrior was stronger. "She'll die because of you. She'll die and I will never ever forgive you for that, you damned gith!" The screams turned into cries. "She saved me, let me save her!"

"It's me," the doppelgander said. She held Shadowheart by the cheeks, trying to get her to calm down. "Lua, love, it's me. Just me."

"Get out of me," Shadowheart spat on her face. Lae'zel pushed her away, trying to prevent Shadowheart from doing something she would regret. "Why no one here listen to me?!"

"Stop squirming," Lae'zel hissed. "Look into her eyes. Look and tell me you don't see our leader."

Shadowheart eventually stopped fighting, her body exausted from crying. The changeling was in front of her, you were in front of her. She smelled like you. Talked like you. Felt like you.

"Is that really you?"

"Of course it's me," lied Orin. "Please, look into my eyes. We were together all day. You know I haven't left camp. Please, please, trust me."

Spikes grew, surrounding Orin. She hissed, the ivy twining around her legs and tearing the skin open. Halsin were throw to the ground before he could end the healing spell.

"Halsin!" Shadowheart screamed. She almost escaped Lae'zel's hold. "No!"

"She was with us all day, Halsin," Wyll said as he paralised the druid. "We know it's her. Don't fight back."

That didn't stop Karlach from throwing her spear near the Blade's feet. "You fucking idiot!"

Mizora clapped, enjoying the show.

Jaheira burned Mizora before losing her wild shape. She will come back, she always does, but that never stops Jaheira. At least they will have some moments of respect.

She wandered towards Minsc. He kneeled on the floor, and for a moment she feared something happened to him when she wasn't paying attention.

"She told me not open my eyes," cried Yenna. "I can't open they yet. She told me not to."

"Have you ever seen my miniature giant space hamster?" Yenna didn't react to him. "No, Boo, she nee..."

Jaheira kneeled beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. "You did well, cub," she forced herself to laugh. "You were so brave. Let's get you and your red cat something to eat, alright?"

A dry sound reached their ears, stopping every and each one of them. You fell to the ground, as firm as an empty sack, whimpers leaving your mouth as you slipped into unconsciousness.

No fighting. No yelling. A quiet end. A peaceful one.

So easy.

Astarion grabbed Gale's shoulders, whispering so the others wouldn't notice. "It smells like her," Astarion swallowed hard. "I know it."

"Are you really sure of that?" Gale watched you, saw all your blood spreading through the ground, and looked into his eyes again. "Because if you're not, if your guess is wrong, then it will be our guts on the ground. Do you really trust your nose that much?"

Astarion gave him a smirk, but Gale could see the fear he was trying to hide. "Will you cover me, darling?"

"What's your plan?"

"Please. If you think I have one, then you don't know me at all."

As the spike dissapeared, Orin held Shadowheart's face again. "Think of everything we faced together. The nautiloid, the grove, the shadows. Wasn't I beside you all this time? Have I ever turned my back on you?"

"No." That Shadowheart knew the answer. "Never."

She looked up to the moon, praying for assistance. When her eyes fell down, she saw the body on the floor. And what surrounded it.

Scratch sad down beside you. He nudged your shoulder with his nose, waiting for you to stop with that game. He didn't like it. It wasn't fun like the others. But as he moved your body, she saw something reflecting the sunset. A flask. Concentrating, Shadowheart saw the contour of something. Of Astarion's body.

Gale had blue rays of light coming out of his eyes.

"Exactly, my love," her cheeks were pinched. The long nails digged on them for so long. "I've never turned on you. Not when you tried to kill Lae'zel. Not when you lied to me again and again. Or when you showed us how low you would go for your goddess. Remember the fear on the Nightsong's eyes? Remember how I pretended not to know all you would do to her if I wasn't there? A cleric who doesn't know where to lay her faith, a torturer so easily deceived, a coward unable to make the right decisions. That's why you never turned on me, right? Because I make the decisions you can't. I carry all the guilty for you. Because it's easier when I control everything. Don't you like it? That you don't need to use your brain when I am around? Wouldn't you give your memories to me if I asked? I know you would. I know you will."

Your head fell. The bone cracking, the skin stretching. They could hear as it moved, as it turned into something else. The shoulders falling, elbows breaking in half, the spine bending until it touches the bloody ground. The last snap, deep and long.

And from a thin cloud of dust, Orin appeared.

"Look at it. Crawnling under my fe..."

Nyrulna wasn't near Wyll, deep on the ground, neither did it came back to Karlach's hands. With accurate aim, the trident pierced Orin's ribs. Her blood joined yours, and the pale body fell where yours once lay.

Taking your time, you walked towards her. Stepping on the changeling's stomach, you ripped the trident from her insides. "I will give you a glorious death," you growled. "I'll make Bhaal wish I was his chosen."

You kneeled beside her, pressing the trident against her neck, then lowered your face until her ear. "I'll make him regret ever settling for you," you whispered.

Her eyes shone. "How... you know," she could barely say anything. "My... sib..."

You squeezed her cheeks, shutting her up. Then you caressed it, getting her skin dirty with your blood. "I know shit about you," you replied. "But I can tell you would never be anyone's first choice."

Orin can believe she escaped, if it's that what she desires. That you were too slow to stop her from teleport to wherever she deemed safe. That you were all bark and no bite. The truth is that she was wrong about you from the start.

You like the hunting.

You dropped Nyrulna to the ground, and threw yourself into Shadowheart's arms. “She lies,” you whispered. "She deceives and hurts and maims. Nothing was true. You're nothing that she said."

Quietly, Shadowheart hugged you. She breathed in your scent, felt your touch, heard your voice. You, you, you. She cried against your body. You.

Looking at the rest of your party, you breathed in. "We need a code," you said. "If we ever get into this sort of situation again, we need to say..."

You bite your lips, trying to think of something. Something you wouldn't use in another situation. Something that would be unique, impossible to confuse the meaning.

"Gold," you chose. "Or the rest of us are allowed to go for the kill."

Lae'zel cleared her throat. "Fair enough."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[majorasnightmare]

thinking about dirges dialogue to karlach way back in act 1, "this is all theres ever been for me"

thinking about how hes the only one without any frame of reference for "civilized life" or creature comforts

wyll and karlach have been roughing it for years, yeah, but they USED to have homes and houses in the city, used to live and sleep and eat there. used to have kitchens and beds

gale and shadowheart have only left THEIR homes relatively recently. the feel of their beds and the contents of the fridge are recent memories for them

astarion has been tortured for 200 years but fondly reminisces about the debauchery of the upper city. hes maintained a memory of the life he wants to experience again and the pleasures it brings, even as hes lost so much of his identity

lae'zel yearns to return to her creche. shes used to circumstances LIKE roughing it (she calls the rosymorn creche too soft for her liking) but those were in her HOME, with a community

minthara was a baenre with her own estate and servants

halsin was archdruid of the emerald grove, an environs enriched by the presence of the druids that had comfortably sustained them for years

jaheira has a house close to the upper city, and harper safehouses besides. minsc is familiar enough with them to recognize them despite being a statue for a century

its just dirge

he doesnt know what its like to sleep on a bed. to sleep on anything that isnt a bedroll on the ground, exposed to the open night sky. doesnt know what its like to have a roof overhead to keep the rain off. to have insulating walls that hold off the wind. to be comfortable without a fire that needs frequent tending, lest it go out and expose you to cold, or to scavenging animals. doesnt know what its like to not be woken by rain, to sleep through a storm.

hes never had a meal he didnt scavenge, picking through dead men's belongings and abandoned larders. every meal hes ever had has been raw or something he had to help prepare. hes never experienced being able to roll out of bed and stumble to a kitchen to have warm leftovers someone else made earlier, something made with him in mind thats warm and filling and didn't cost him any time or effort. you cant have leftovers when your trying to survive the wilds as fugitives from a murderous cult. you cook enough for everyone and you eat as much as you can stomach because you might not be able to eat at all tomorrow, and you need the strength to fight for your life later. hes never even seen kitchen equipment besides what could be scavenged that could fit over the campfire.

hes never bathed in anything that wasnt a river. never done his laundry except arduously, by hand, in a bucket of well water pulled from a village ruined long before his time. sweat and blood staining the only clothes hes ever owned, the only clothes he has, so if something rips he just has to make do. scavenging clothes that fit, that can be worn over his horns, around his tail, like looking for a needle in a haystack. soap is a rarity, an indulgence, so you make do with feeling as clean as you can scraping the grime off with water and your hands. he woke up covered in gore. hes never felt cleaner than this.

hes never had a head that didnt hurt. never woken up to a morning where the daylight didn't make him nauseous with its brightness. never had a body that didnt twitch and sway and swoon. never had a life without fear of fainting. never had a rest that didnt carry the threat of traitorous murderous indulgence. never had dreams that dont sicken. hes never felt rested. doesnt even have a frame of reference for what that sensation is even like. theres nothing to compare to. its as foreign as dwarvish to him. symbols without coherence or meaning. alien concepts, utterly novel.

every single day of his life is a fight against encroaching death. against encroaching enslavement. every single night is exposed to the elements in some fashion. theres no walls. theres no roof. a lot of times there isnt even a tent. the softest thing hes ever slept on was grass. there is nothing before this. theres only the tadpole in his skull, only the camp at night. only snippets of red in the fog of his past. the rest is lost to an all consuming oblivion.

theres only ever been...this for him.

[viridescentelf]

headcanon: how some of the bg3 camp members cook

wyll and karlach always cook together, karlach heats up the pan or sears fish and meat with her hands while wyll gleefully cuts up veggies. he‘ll usually tell some story while karlach listens like a little kid. they make decent food, camp is usually quite content with the quality. astarion will always say „a la karlach“, when he eats a piece of grilled meat or fish. they really enjoy each other’s company and karlach likes to learn new things. halsin favors natural stuff. he’ll start off with glazing figs or dates in honey or just cutting veggies and fruit in cool shapes. but then: the raw meat shit starts. he’ll talk your ears off about how nature intends meat or fish to be eaten raw bc otherwise it eliminates all the vitamins and nutrients. tav will initially try and have to stop themselves from gagging, while halsin watches excitedly. camp usually tries to plan vegetarian options, when it‘s the bear‘s turn to cook. gale THINKS he can cook. like is truly convinced he‘s a master chef. he refuses to use magic since he „knows what he‘s doing“. this is a man who will destroy any piece of fish or meat he has in front of him bc he has no idea how to debone or cut meat properly. he thinks some mushrooms aren‘t poisonous when cooked to smithereens (even though they def still are). he will slave around the pot and think he made the best thing ever only for tav to have to stop laezel from spitting it out in front of the poor guy. it‘s usually mushy, unseasoned (or undercooked) and gives camp a stomachache. jaheira always volunteers to make something in addition, a salad or a dessert so at least something is edible. jaheira actually knows what she’s doing. cooks very homely and keeps giving people more food than they need. “you’re too skinny”, she says as she plops another portion onto astarion’s half-eaten plate who’s already extremely full. she’ll scold karlach for ignoring her veggies, but will sneak a lot of them in the sauce. she’ll secretly find out what the groups’ favorite meals are and surprise them with reminders of childhood or home. while she’s cooking, everyone has a job. wyll cuts veggies, shadowheart washes dishes, laezel helps tenderize meat, she’ll send gale on a useless errand so he doesn’t screw anything up in the kitchen, tav makes the plates, halsin picks flowers and makes sure gale is busy, astarion makes sure the wine is airing properly, karlach helps with dessert. shadowheart is the ultimate almond mom. her meals are always a protein with a heap load of salad and an apple as “dessert”. the portions are tinyyyyyy and she will say she’s full after two bites. no one is really that full after she cooks, but it’s definitely healthy and tastes decent. could use some seasoning. astarion cooks very well, but is a massive diva in the kitchen. he will shoo everyone away or hiss when someone touches a kitchen utensil he just put there on purpose and it needs to stay there so he knows where it is. he’ll keep mumbling “no one ever helps me”. it’s usually super fancy and he will explain in detail everything he did and how he achieved the specific aroma or aftertaste no one can actually taste. it tastes amazing though. after he cooks, he sleeps like a log. laezel cooks essentials, like very „it’s all you need“, and it looks like it too. plating is not a thing for her, she will plop it onto a plate and basically throw it at you. if some things fall off…that’s a you problem. it's usually very protein heavy with just a whole paprika or onion on the plate. what she will make is a spicy as fuck sauce. it tastes amazing, but some members in the camp won’t be able to handle it well. her typical “tchk” will sound through the camp when shadowheart complains about the heat.

i will add more upon request and with ideas :)

[harpershigh]

🤍 + our favourite brooding wives, obviously

From here — Accepting

Who cooks meals for the other?

It's not that Jaheira doesn't trust Astele in the kitchen… But she cooks

Who spams the other with memes? 

Nine-Fingers is probably sending grandma memes with a message "look this is u :)"

Who likes to tidy around the house?

Nine-Fingers. Jaheira, mother of five, apparently believes "tidy" is a fae myth told to frighten messy children

Who likes to play pranks on the other?

They've perfected the art of taking turns being absolutely insufferable to each other

Who asked the other to move in with them?

No one ever actually asked because both of them were terrified of getting rejected. So it just kinda... Happened. One day they looked up and Astele had half of Jaheira's wardrobe, their toothbrushes are cozied up together, and the Guildmaster sleeps in the High Harper's bed more than in her own. But are they living together? Of course not. Don't be ridiculous...

Who is in charge of the music during a car ride?

After endless bickering and a skip war, they give up and turn the radio off

Who is more likely to tickle the other mercilessly?

Jaheira enters the tickling battle knowing she'll be the first to break, because she's at least twice as ticklish as Astele

Who needs to hold the other during scary movies?

They probably fall asleep in the middle of the movie anyway

Who has to help the other when it comes to technology?

Astele better know all of Jaheira's passwords, because she WILL forget them

Who likes to get a bit frisky in public / an inappropriate setting?

Nine-Fingers, probably is very fond of trying to get Jaheira flustered in the most inconvenient moments possible. Smirks, whispers, hands brushing just a little too low...

Who wakes up first, and do they wake up the other or let them rest?

I think once they sync their schedules they kinda wake up around the same time. But before that Jaheira is up with the sunrise just sitting there patiently, waiting for the night-owl Astele with breakfast ready

Who is always taking pictures of the other when they aren’t looking?

Nine-Fingers is out here snapping the most unflattering pictures of Jaheira and turning them into memes just to annoy her (while secretly having a shrine somewhere deep into the Guildhall full of candid photos, trinkets from Jaheira's hair and a candle that she never lets burn out)

Who always forgets their wallet and never ends up paying for anything?

Nine-Fingers definitely shows up with surprise gifts that have Jaheira side-eyeing, but she never asks where she got them, she's better off not knowing

Who can’t sleep because the other snores or moves too much at night?

They sleep in a big tangled cuddle pile, constantly shifting just a bit so the other is more comfy like two overachievers trying to out-snuggle each other in their sleep, and this makes everyone wonder how they can properly rest being like that

Who is better at video games, and do they let the other win or show no mercy?

Nine-Fingers definitely won't have any mercy while stomping the grandma in every game possible as revenge Jaheira won't send her any boosts in Candy Crush

Who always gets up in the middle of the night to use the restroom and accidentally wakes up the other?

They share the most poetic kind of insomnia as they're both ultra-light sleepers, neither able to sneak out of the other's sleepy cuddle trap without getting caught

[thenugking]

Where is Lee post-epilogue? I know they romance Wyll, so does Karlach's ending impact that (i.e. going to Avernus) or did something else happen? Does their ending align with canon or have you taken it a different direction?

Aaaa this was a very fun question to answer, thank you!

So right now, the canon is that Lee, Wyll, Karlach and Astarion go off to Avernus together at the end of the game. (Astarion is also romancing Wyll and doesn’t entirely hate the idea of going off somewhere with no sun, Wyll talks to Karlach before the end of the game and goes, “look we’re all planning to go and fight devils in Avernus anyway, if you choose to live you won’t be alone”.) It made a lot of sense when I was playing the game--I’d never done the Avernus route before, romanced!Astarion’s lines for origin!Karlach indicate he’s more than happy to join his loved ones for the trip, Lee gets to end the game going off on a brand new adventure with their three closest friends.

I’ve been wondering a bit about changing it up since then though. It’s not a bad ending, but I don’t know if it’s the most thematically fitting one? I’ve been wondering about having the other three go to Avernus while Lee stays on Toril to try to help rebuild the city and make reparations for everything in their backstory, rather than running away to kill more people. I might also end up swapping a few of my OC’s endings round, and have Karlach become a mindflayer in Lee’s game?? Not sure about that one yet though--part of the appeal is just to have Lee’s in-game epilogue not be shit (going to Avernus with Karlach overwrites a lot of epilogue dialogue for being Durge and for romancing Wyll) but I don’t want to base a story decision on gameplay bugs. I'm definitely going to replay Lee eventually though, so hopefully once I do that, I'll come out with a more solid idea of what I'm doing with them here.

Anyway. Whether or not Lee goes to Avernus or stays to rebuild Baldur’s Gate, they’re eventually going to realise they have unfinished business and that they need to find a way to stop the Dead Three, or at least free the people they’re torturing in their various realms and put their souls to rest. I don’t know how they do this, I don’t know if this actually can be done in Forgottem Realms lore, but I fundamentally do not vibe with any lore where people get tortured for eternity so I’m doing it anyway.

The point is, Lee’s remembering more of their past. They’re remembering how terribly they treated Gortash and wanting to set him free from Bane as some sort of reparation. They’re remembering that they had two sisters once, and Orin might be free from Bhaal now (Lee stays away from her themself, but they ask Jaheira to keep an eye, and Orin seems to be doing well and less murderously!), but no one ever did anything to help Helena. 

I do not have detailed thoughts for much of this. There’s a few things here and there--Karlach and Lee initially have a disagreement over Saving Gortash, but Karlach is a better person than he was and ultimately doesn’t think he should be tortured eternally either. Orin is involved with Fighting Bhaal, I also want to get Real!Sarevok (not the fake BG3 one) to meet Lee and give advice, maybe also Imoen. (I’m not sure yet whether to accept the Journal of Villainy canon for Imoen. There’s a lot in it that I reject, but I am a vampire fan and it would give me a reason tokeep her around during BG3. Ask me again once I’ve finished BG2 and have a stronger grasp on my Charname’s story.) Helena comes to some kind of peace with Lee, Orin, and her mother and gets her soul put to rest, because oh my god the shit I've put her through making up backstories. Lee and Orin have a conversation, Orin reaffirms that she wants Lee out of her life, because you do not get to keep your sister after doing All That to her, Lee lets her go. It's very bittersweet. Also I guess we’re rescuing Ketheric’s soul somewhere in all this. The only thought on that I have is that he’s probably even less thrilled to see Lee again than the rest of these people are.

Eventually, Lee’s going to want to settle down and not be in a position where they end up going out and killing people, even if for good reasons. They’re going to keep living with Wyll and Astarion, and probably also Karlach, and several years down the line, maybe some kids. I think Wyll definitely wants kids, Astarion would prefer to be a Cool Uncle figure with fewer responsibilities, and Lee is a mixture of enthusiastic and terrified. I don’t know if there’s a fostering system in Baldur’s Gate, but if not they’re getting one invented, because they very much want to be sure they’re safe around kids before committing permanently to this. Any children are absolutely going to be adopted, rather than biological.

Other than that, Lee continues learning about those they killed from Withers, because they want their victims to be remembered. They keep making their little bone sculptures, they just ethically source their bones now. They stay in contact with all companions except Minthara (she was not thrilled about Orin being spared). They keep trying to grow, and be better than they were yesterday.

[blackjackkent]

Once again, it's odd that we can only talk to Karlach about Gortash during daylight hours in camp; at night her exclamation point disappears. So, as with Hector, for Rakha I am tending to picture that Karlach straight up doesn't come back to camp until the next morning.

In the meantime, Rakha talks to Jaheira.

"Karlach needs time. Space. But more than this, I think, she needs to know she is not alone."

"But she is alone. She's going to die."

Rakha just feels so tired right now. The conversation with Karlach was very difficult for both of them; Rakha has started to gain a sense of empathy just in time to be clotheslined by what is happening to her companion, and her possible forgotten complicity in it, and the fact that she is going to live and Karlach isn't when it feels as if it should be the other way around. Her words are flat and bitter, angry - not at Jaheira but at the situation, the world that has tried its best to rip them all to shreds.

Jaheira smiles faintly. "That's a fate we'll all share, sooner or later. But speaking as one who has managed to put it off for so long..."

The smile fades, and her voice goes equally flat, equally bitter. "...trust me. With the grand wisdom of centuries, I can make no more sense of this than you."

-----

The next morning, Rakha wakes from restless sleep to find that Karlach is sitting in front of her tent, staring at the sun slowly rising over the camp.

"Hey, Soldier," she says, glancing up as Rakha approaches. She, too, sounds tired; the rage has drained out of her, leaving only emptiness behind.

"Are you all right?"(*) Rakha asks gruffly, coming to a halt next to her.

Karlach laughs. It's a tired sound without much humor - but it's sincere. "Yeah," she says wryly. "Despite my best efforts. I kept trying to flop over and give up, but Karlach just won't let me."

Rakha nods slightly. This is one of the things she knows about Karlach; her indomitable good humor has rarely flagged even in the face of the terrible things that they have all struggled against. But it is still between them, that conversation over Gortash's dead body. Rakha saw behind the humor to the frightened and grieving woman underneath, and could say nothing to help her.

She's surprised to find that it weighs on her a little. She has started to learn to be whoever she is without the beast's influence - but it doesn't mean she yet knows how to handle intense moments like that. She thinks, had the positions been reversed, Karlach might have known what to say. But Rakha did not.

Karlach sighs heavily, not waiting for a response here either. "Did I miss anything important?" she asks instead, matter-of-fact.

Rakha grunts, shakes her head. "Nothing important," she mutters.

Again that laugh, and it's a little softer this time, a little looser. "That's a change," Karlach says ruefully. "Seems like world-shattering revelations are coming at us from every angle these days..." She trails off, looks Rakha up and down for a moment, and then snorts.

"You know, Soldier," she says matter-of-factly, her eyes glinting with sudden humor. "We're so fucked. The Dark Three are trying to consume the Sword Coast. We've still got tadpoles in our eyes. And I've got a ticking time bomb in my chest. I'm not sure anyone has ever been more fucked than this."

She gestures all around them dramatically, and then lets her hands fall to her sides and huffs out a breath. "And yet... we're fine," she goes on more quietly, almost wonderingly. "In this moment... we're fine. Here I am, there you are. Breathing. Talking. Even laughing, if we want."

She rubs the back of her neck, meeting Rakha's eyes sheepishly. "Is it very previous to say that, despite it all, I'm... happy?"

Rakha blinks, and says nothing for a moment. She is even less sure how to answer this than she was the meltdown last night. Even so close on the heels of a revelation of her own mortality, even with a thousand kinds of death staring her in the face... Karlach still sees a bright side of the situation that is a little beyond Rakha's vision.

It truly should be you living and not me.

"It's a nice idea," she says quietly. "But I'm not there yet."

"Very fair," Karlach says. "Maybe after we've sorted one or two of the life-ending calamities staring us down." She pauses, and silence stretches between them for a moment. "Speaking of which," she adds, "there's something I wanted to ask you."

She waits until Rakha nods, then goes on, "Will you stay with me? When it's time for me to go?"

(A/N: Augh. :( My feelings. This was a devastating conversation with Hector, who was romancing her. With Rakha it's a little more nuanced. The full line in-game here is actually, "Will you stay with me? When it's time for me to go. I think I can do anything if you're there, even die." But the truth is she hasn't had much of a close relationship with Rakha up to this point, and I don't really think Rakha's presence or absence at her death would have as much impact for her as, say, Wyll or Jaheira, or even some of the other origin folk.

So I think she's saying this partly as a peace offering towards their somewhat strained friendship. And I think that opens up an interesting potential interpretation for this line towards Durge.)

Rakha goes still, a strange prickle going up her back that she isn't sure how to identify. It feels like fear - but it also feels like warmth.

Will you be there, Karlach is asking, when the time comes for me to die?

Rakha does not know how to be a comfort, does not know what to say that would help support Karlach as her fate consumes her. She has certainly seen many people die - many of them at her hand, and many more that she was driven by the beast in her head to watch eagerly until all the lifeblood had drained out of them.

There was even a time when that dark part of her was excited to see what Karlach's untimely death would look like. Like fireworks, the beast had thought eagerly. Full of smoke and sparks and the stench of infernal fire.

But the beast is gone and only Rakha remains. And in this request from Karlach she hears other words, unspoken.

We have not always seen eye to eye, you and I. And I raged in your face yesterday and screamed, that you will live and I will die. But even so, I know the part of you that remains, the person that you are becoming, can be trusted to see my last moments. And I want you to be there.

It is an expression of vulnerability and trust, just as surely as the ones Wyll and Lae'zel have offered her, and it comes just on the heels of one of Karlach's darkest moments and all the reasons she has had to mistrust Rakha over the months.

A muscle works in Rakha's throat. It truly should be you living and not me... she thinks again bitterly. But since it cannot...

"Of course," she says in a low voice. "If that is what you want."(**)

Karlach draws a slow breath, lets it out heavily. "Thank you," she says softly, and for a moment she and Rakha just look at each other as the sun continues rising up over the horizon.

Then she shakes herself slightly, leans down to hoist her greatsword onto her back. "Now - enough tragedy," she says briskly. "I'm not gone yet. ANd our schedule is packed with important heroics, isn't it?" She snorts. "Plus, if I cry any more, I'm going to run out of tears and start leaking motor oil."

She goes to turn, to walk towards the edge of camp, then stops, looking back over her shoulder at Rakha.

"Thanks for everything, Soldier," she says. "I'm extremely glad to be in this thing together."

-----

(*) Full in-game line: "I've been worried about you. Are you all right?"

(**) In-game line: "Of course I'll be there, Karlach. Whatever you want."

[its-jaytothemee]

A Burden Shared - Part I: The Fight (1/2)

Pairings: Astarion x Tav, Halsin x Tav, Astarion x Tav x Halsin

Word count: 2,645; Tav and Astarion POVs

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Read on AO3

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Summary: A group sparring session turns sour, and Astarion becomes very protective of Tav. Halsin goes to comfort Tav afterwards and ends up confessing some feelings he's had for a while now.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Feelings Confessions, Spoilers for Act 3, Sparring, Protective Astarion, Soft Halsin, Tav needs a fucking hug.

Author's Note: The tadfools get a filler episode. No explicit material yet, but will be present in a later chapter. Part 1 is finished, hopefully part 2 can be uploaded sometime in the next week or so. Will switch between a few character POVs, for now I only have Tav and Astarion. Enjoy! :)

The city was in far worse shape than Tav could have imagined. They arrived in Rivington to find the town overflowing with refugees, learned of Gortash’s impending coronation, and learned that Duke Belynne Stelmane had been murdered. They also found out that Orin was a shapeshifter, capable of taking on the appearance of anyone she wished. Doppelgangers had infiltrated Jaheira’s squad of Harpers, and to add salt to their wounds, Raphael was lurking around Wyrm’s Crossing trying to tempt them into a deal for the Orphic Hammer. They had arrived at the city gates a day and a half ago, and still had no suitable way to get into the lower city.

At the Emperor’s insistence, they all headed to camp early even though it was barely midday. Given the state of the city, they realized that they needed time to re-evaluate their plan of attack. Tav was still unsure of how much trust they could place in the Emperor, but she could feel it mirroring her own anxiety around their surroundings. They trudged back through the muddy roads of Rivington, making their way to their camp on the outskirts of town. An ethereal voice glided into their thoughts.

“I need time to reconsider our approach. Stelmane’s death does not…bode well. Take the time to rest, it is hard to tell when you will be afforded another opportunity to do so.” The Emperor’s voice disappeared from their minds as quickly as it came.

“So, what now? We just go lounge around at camp? Drink wine and not kill anything?” Astarion asked with his typical melodramatic flair.

“We could go back to the circus!” Karlach yelled, running up and throwing an arm around Tav’s shoulders.

“I am not taking any chances of running into more murderous clowns, Karlach.” Astarion shot back, jumping to the other side of Tav and looping his arm through hers.

“I never even got to get my face painted.” Karlach pouted.

“Chk.” Lae’zel was trailing behind the three of them, a sour look on her face “We waste time ‘resting’ when we have no wounds that need healing and our minds are still sharp. We should press on into the city.” She had been particularly critical of Tav lately, their time in the Astral Prism didn’t help with that.

“Easy Lae’zel,” Jaheira chimed in, “if we try to force our way into the city right now, we could attract the wrong kind of attention. I recommend caution.”

“Let’s just head back to camp. We should catch the others up on what we’ve found, and I don’t think we’ll be getting into the lower city right now with Gortash’s coronation so close.” Tav decided.

She was still unsure why they all looked to her for these types of decisions. Ever since they crashed on that beach, she was assumed to be the default leader. Tav had been doing her best to keep this unlikely group of companions together. It helped that they were all really quite fond of one another now. Only a few real fights had broken out amongst their ranks, most of them stemming from varying states of exhaustion and were fixed by a good night’s sleep. With each new ally they recruited, her imaginary authority grew. Even with the addition of Halsin and Jaheira, two wise leaders experienced years beyond Tav, they still looked to her for guidance. To make things worse, it wasn’t even just her camp of companions that was looking up to her. So many of those they had met on their journey here talked about how she was the hero who would save Baldur’s Gate, the hero who would save them all.

But now they had finally reached their destination. Home. Tav was trying to maintain her composure, but she was starting to panic. This was a big city, and they had ticking time bombs in their heads threatening them more and more each day. If they didn’t find out how to take out Orin and Gortash, she doubted the small artefact she carried would still be enough to protect them when an elder brain was unleashed onto the city.

Her brow furrowed as she concentrated, trying to piece together any plan that could get them closer to getting these tadpoles out of their heads. She had some old friends in the City Watch, maybe they could tell her if anything strange had been happening. But there was always a chance that they were loyal to the Absolute as well. She had a contact in the Thieves Guild but would prefer to use them as a last resort only.

“Tav? Tav?”

Astarion’s voice startled her out of her thoughts.

“Hm? Sorry, what were you saying?” She shook her head slightly, trying to bring herself back to the present.

“Just making sure you were still there, darling. You seem…distracted lately.” He smiled softly at her.

“Ah, just the fatigue of a hero. I guess.” She joked, trying to keep the mood light. If they needed her to be a leader, she didn’t want to burden anyone with her worries.

“Now you see why I prefer skulking in the shadows over basking in the spotlight.” He still had his arm looped around hers.

“Well, it’s not like you had much of a choice between shadows and light before, my love.” She teased, leaning into him.

Astarion was about to make a quip in response when they were spotted by Gale at the edge of their new camp.

“You’re all back rather early, that’s not usually a good sign.” Gale’s chipper voice called to them.

“We ran into some unexpected complications.” Tav replied. “We may need a new plan for getting into the city. Wyrm’s Crossing is crawling with Flaming Fist loyal to Gortash. Not to mention all of the murders and the fact that the cult of Bhaal has apparently recruited every shapeshifter in the godsdamned realms.” Her frustration was creeping into her tone. When she looked around, everyone was looking at her again. She let out a small sigh.

“Let’s get everyone gathered, see what we can come up with.”

As everyone gathered in the middle of the camp, Tav debriefed the rest of the group on what they saw in Rivington and Wyrm’s Crossing. Jaheira detailed the encounter at the Harper safehouse, also telling everyone about her search for Minsc of Rashemar. They discussed the multiple murders that included Duke Stelmane. The topic of Raphael was a short one, as pretty much everyone agreed that they should have no dealings with the devil. Finally, Orin was the point of discussion. Bhaal’s bloodthirsty chosen had already proven to be a complication. She could change shape in the blink of an eye, which meant she could be anywhere. Tav tried to listen as everyone talked around her and over each other. She rubbed her heavy eyes, trying to convince the headache she felt coming on to stay away.

“So then, what’s our next step?” Wyll’s voice piped up as everyone finally started to quiet down.

When Tav looked up, she realized all eyes were on her again. She looked around the camp at the tired faces, all waiting for her to tell them what to do. And she had absolutely no idea what that was.

“We uh,” She started, trying to search through the fog clouding her brain, “we need to find a way into the lower city first and foremost. Maybe we can con our way into Gortash’s coronation.”

“What good will it do us to attend a ceremony that is so obviously a farce?” Lae’zel’s commanding voice countered. “We don’t have time to play the political games of your realm. We must press forward into the city as soon as possible.” Her yellow eyes were fixed on Tav.

“The Emperor needs time to figure out how we can get the other two Netherstones. If we just – ” Tav was cut off by Lae’zel.

“I will not wait around to be given orders by a ghaik.” Her tone told Tav that this was not a topic she was willing to discuss.

“What would you have us do Lae’zel? Fight our way through the entire city?” She could hear the exhaustion seeping into her voice. “You saw one of those Steel Watchers, the city is supposedly crawling with them. We’d be lucky if we made it to the Elfsong Tavern."

“Tav is right.” Jaheira spoke up next. “We need to find our way into the city…quietly.” She looked at Lae’zel.

“Chk” Is the only sound they heard in response.

“Why don’t we all just take a rest today?” Tav suggested. “Gods know it’s been long enough since we’ve had more than an hour to relax.”

There were some mumbled sounds of approval, and everyone sort of shuffled off towards different areas of camp. With her small crowd dispersing, Tav finally felt like she could breathe.

“You should take your own advice.” A deep voice called from behind her.

Tav looked over her shoulder to see Halsin leaning against a barrel. She smiled weakly and walked over to him.

“That’s funny, I could have sworn I told you the same thing all those nights ago after the goblin camp.” She teased. He smiled at that, causing her heart rate to pick up a bit.

“Ah, yes. I’m afraid my mind was still rather clouded back then.” He looked back out over the camp. “You’re exhausted, Tav. I see the fatigue in your eyes, I hear the strain in your voice.” His voice was much softer now.

“I don’t have much of a choice, Halsin. Everyone here is looking to me for answers. Answers that I just don’t have.” She was once again aware of the headache trying to force its way into her eyes.

“Here, I have something for you.” He held out a small potion vial. “This will help keep those headaches away.”

She took the vial and immediately downed the whole thing. It had a very strong herbal flavor, the initial bitter notes faded into a sweet aftertaste. She could already feel the small ache starting to fade causing her to let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks.” She smiled at him.

“Anytime.” He said with a nod of his head. Before he turned to leave, he gave her one last lingering look, causing her to blush slightly.

Tav watched him walk away, the soft breeze was blowing his hair around his ears. She admired the shape of his arms, suddenly finding herself wondering what it would feel like to be caught between them. Her eyes continued to wander further down his body, taking in the shape of his hips and thighs. Another thought took over her mind as she imagined digging her hands into his thighs, slowly making their way back to his backside, how it would feel to be pressed against his–

She felt her face redden at the thought and snapped herself out of her fantasy. A huge wave of guilt crashed into her as her eyes landed on Astarion. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling a little…pent up since their time around Moonrise. For the most part, it didn’t bother her much, just in moments like this when she was feeling particularly overwhelmed. Regardless, it was worth the frustration if it made him feel comfortable. She had noticed such a change in him over the last tenday or so. He seemed so much more relaxed than when she first met him, actually taking the time to rest at night rather than prowling around the camp. His nightmares seemed to be fewer and further in between. Her desires were nothing compared to watching him peacefully enter a trance while laying in her arms each night.

He caught her staring and flashed his devious little grin at her, not helping her contain herself. All she was able to manage in return was a tired smile. She walked over to him and slowly slid her arms around his waist, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Hello, darling. What was that for?” He hugged her to his side.

“Do I need a reason?” She responded, trying to hide the shame still swirling around inside of her.

She stood there holding him for a few moments, listening to his soft breathing.

“Are you…alright?” He asked her, concern apparent in his voice.

“Of course.” She lied. “Seeing the city in this state is just…overwhelming.” She looked up at him and tried to flash a reassuring smile.

He eyed her in return, obviously suspicious.

“I’m fine, love. Really.” She was trying to convince herself as she said the words.

“I…I want to be here for you, my dear. Like you have been for me.” His voice softened.

“I know…” She whispered back. “And you have been.” She was telling the truth. Just having Astarion around her did make her feel better. She just couldn’t bring herself to admit to him that she was struggling. And she definitely didn’t want him to know about her…other frustrations. He was just starting to open up and trust her, she couldn’t bear the thought of him pushing himself too far on her behalf.

“Hey! Lovebirds!” Karlach yelled at them. “Those weapons looks like they could use a good sharpening.” She was holding her own weapon over her head to show them.

Tav let go of Astarion’s waist and picked up her sword.

“Come on, let’s at least take a chance to fix up some of our gear.” She helped Astarion gather up some other weapons and brought them over by the rest of their group.

***

Astarion had come to enjoy the smell of the oils they used to condition their armor. The sound of scraping whetstones filled the air around them, an oddly comforting sound now. Everyone in camp was sitting in a circle of sorts, tending to their weapons and other equipment. Tav was sitting next to him, cleaning dried blood and Gods know what else off of her large sword. Astarion knew something had Tav feeling down, but she wouldn’t way what it was. He didn’t want to push her, he knew that she would talk to him when she was ready. But he wanted to at least try to cheer her up a little bit. Give her a small confidence boost, maybe.

“Tell me, darling,” Astarion started, taking on a flirty tone, “are you really proficient with any type of weapon?”

“Ewww. Keep it in your pants, Fangs.” Karlach called from the other side of the circle.

Tav laughed in response. “Maybe not any weapon. I definitely favor my greatswords and greataxes, but I suppose I can make do with just about anything. My instructor was adamant that a true fighter shouldn’t rely on only one skill. You never know when you’ll be disarmed in a fight.” She shot a teasing look back at him.

“Ugh, it was one time. Honestly Tav, you act as if no one has ever made you drop a weapon.” He had his hand on his chest, feigning offense. 

“Hard to disarm me when they’re knocked to the ground.” She smirked.

“Feeling cocky today, are we?” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she gave him a playful grin. “Maybe the others would be interested in a little sparring session then?” She was still smiling back at him, but before she could respond, Karlach leaped from her seat.

“Fuck yeah!” She yelled. The others joined in, already starting to argue about who would go first.

“Let’s see if you can hold on to your weapons against us, darling.” He looked back to Tav and winked. He knew it was unlikely anyone in this camp could actually beat her in a one on one fight. Surely an afternoon of showing off her combat prowess would lift her spirits a little bit.

[thehistoriccemetery]

Heem.... to do... do platonic hc...? If u do (and I'm sorry if your requests are closed), could you write about Jaheira and minthara being Subtlety motherly/material to a Tav who opened up about their crappy relationship with their mother? Like, kind of, being sure they ate something, being sure they go to bed on time (busting into their tent and taking whatever their working on, reading/fixing a weapon or whatnot, like a parent catching their child on their phone at midnight), or like helping them do their hair in the morning and praising them a little more than normal? Please than thank you~

Motherly Jaheira

First of all I love this prompt so thank you anon. Second of all, as much as I love Minthara, I can’t see that woman having a maternal bone in her body. So, I hope it’s alright that I just did Jaheira!

Jaheira could smell the mommy issues coming off of you before you ever even mentioned your mother.

Even she didn’t really know what about you gave it away. Maybe it was in the way you over eagerly tried to please her. Or how your hair was done with all the elegance of someone who never really learned how to braid.

It didn’t matter though, because it only took a matter of days fighting by her side for you to open up to her about your maternal woes one night over wine at Last Light Inn.

You felt so compelled to share your story that you had half a mind to check the wine for Klauthgrass. Aside from a terribly high alcohol content, it was clean.

The night ended with your head in her lap, crying so hard you could hardly get your words out. All while Jaheira listened intently and stroked your hair. Not your best moment, you admit.

After that night though, she is sure to put a little extra attention into you, shooting you an extra look of approval when you did something particularly impressive or taking on the task of teaching you proper hair care.

She does her best not to treat you like a child, yet she sees this little child in you that’s begging to be loved and cared for.

She started calling you cub pretty much as soon as she met you, but now it seemed to slip off her tongue more often than even she intended it to. She also started to subconsciously add complimentary adjectives in front of the nickname. You were “little cub” or “clever cub.”

One night, she noticed you had a particular affinity for tucking an extra bedroll to your chest just so you’d have something to hold on to. The next night you find a small stuffed blue owlbear sitting next to your bedroll.

On nights you can’t sleep, she’ll tell you old Harper tales of days past. Karlach is always all too happy to move her bedroll closer so she can listen in too.

You notice there are patches in your clothes where there used to be holes. Your armor is nicely laid out rather than haphazardly strewn across the dirt.

She knows you are just as capable of taking a hit as anyone else in the party, but she pays careful attention to heal and dress your wounds. She’s much gentler with you than she is with anyone else.

And she insists on checking in on wounds every day. Even when they are minor it is good practice to clean and rebandage regularly.

When it’s just the two of you, she’s sure to be extra affectionate. She knows it embarrasses you a little when you’re around the others, but sometimes you just need to rest your head on her shoulder while she pulls you into a tight hug.

She loves to do your hair for you. She always says her girls were never ones for sitting still, and Jord never let her do anything more brush it and slick it back behind his ears.

She really struggles to be complimentary, but she tries to highlight your finer moments when she can.

And if ever there comes another night with slightly too much wine and a slightly too heavy burden, she will be there with listening ears once again.

[baldurs-gape]

Oh gosh, this is the shores nonnie from earlier and I am so grateful for your response! I didn’t have the best night so I am just so happy you are so kind😭❤️

My dear Shores Nonnie, I am so sorry to hear you've not had the best night. While I may simply be a stranger over the internet, please know that my DMs are always open if you need a willing ear to talk to. I can't promise to have any magical solutions but I make up for that in ample pet pictures (cats, dogs and various snakes are currently on offer), memes and stories of being a smidge of a disaster of a human being should you ever need a distraction.

Given that you've had a rought night, I've not had a great day myself, I can do but one thing. We give Astarion a not so great time, how about it?

(CW: this turned out a little more grim than intended. Glossed over torture, rape and just general Astarion having a bad time at the hands of Godey and other spawn before the others show up.)

One of Many

When Astarion was snatched by his so called siblings in the night, the rest of the party was up in arms. That was their vampire spawn now and they were going to retrieve him, thank you very much. Finders keepers and all that. Brave words which were so easy to speak yet acting on them was harder. Going during the night didn't seem the best of ideas so they waited until morning when light would offer them protection should they need to run, but if they did then they'd make sure they had Astarion in tow.

Getting into the stronghold was surprisingly easy. Finding Cazador was too. Between Karlach, Gale, Halsin and Jaheira they made a damn good attempt at ending his tyranny. The only problem was when the despicable worm turned and fled, they couldn't find him. Searching the palace led them from room to room. It was Jaheira who spotted the concealed door. Walking through it was about was good as walking into a nightmare. The whole room had Silence cast on it which explained why nobody could hear anything outside. But inside that bubble was filled with screams and begging in an all too familiar voice.

A skeleton was looming over the table where Astarion was pinned. No, he was nailed down while three other spawn stood around, watching impassively. As the skeleton moved, it revealed pools of blood on the floor along with pale lumps that were best not looked at too closely because they looked like flesh.

"Please. Please. I'm sorry." Astarion's voice was breaking, hoarse, he'd been crying and begging for a while. "Not again. I'll be good. I can be good."

His words turned into a scream that died down into a whimper and wet, bubbling gasps. Karlach charged.

Their second fight was short and brutal, much more satisfying than against Cazador. The spawn and the skeleton fell under their blades and magic with speed until it was just the five of them left in the cold, blood stained room. Approaching the table, Halsin was already preparing a healing spell while Gale rifled through his scrolls in case he had something he could help with. Meanwhile, Karlach tried to be as gentle as possible pulling the nails out of pale flesh. She and and Jaheira shared a glance over the table as Astarion lay motionless, eyes squeezed shut and teeth dug into bloodied lips to stay quiet.

"We've got you, Fangs," Karlach murmured softly and stroked through his hair. The hiss of sympathy was impossible to stop as she saw Astarion's ears, or rather, what had been left of them. She gagged and a hand touched the tips of her own as the slices of flesh under the table made sense. They hadn't simply been hacked off but rather taken sliver by agonising sliver.

As Halsin poured his healing magic into Astarion, Gale tipped a potion bottle against lips which were slow to respond. However, within three minutes Astarion was looking much like his old self as he swung himself upright and hopped off the table.

"Well?" He asked as he walked to the table with a pile of bloodied and shredded clothes. "Is he dead?"

"The coward ran," Jaheira said.

Astarion's eyes snapped up at them full of rage even as he shimmied into ripped trousers, uncaring of the blood and other fluids that still coated his inner thighs.

"So why the fuck are you here? What use are you? You should have gone after him and killed him!"

Walking closer, Gale tried to reach out but got violently shrugged off with a loud "Don't touch me!" Astarion's rage didn't end there though. "Useless, that's what you are. Wasting your time playing heroes while the monster is still at large. And you dare call yourselves my friends and lovers. Pathetic."

Hearing him fume rather than be grateful for the rescue was actually hurtful and infuriating. Gale stepped back, arms crossed over his chest and scowling.

"So we shouldn't have bothered coming to save you."

A large hand squeezed his shoulder and Halsin looked between his two partners.

"Perhaps we could all go back to camp and take a rest. I think we need it."

All through the trip, Astarion didn't say anything, strode out front of the group as he walked to the dock they'd set up camp in. Without word he marched into his tent and let the flap close behind him. It was probably less dramatic than he'd wanted.

Nobody saw him for the rest of the evening. Halsin cast wishful glances at the tent as he wrapped an arm around Gale but they left Astarion to his own devices. Whatever he was working through, he needed the space. One by one, the whole camp retired, Jaheira and Karlach were the last to go, staying up late as Karlach sought comfort from her hero after seeing her friend so mutilated.

Quiet settled around camp but Gale couldn't sleep. Even as he was snugly enveloped in Halsin's arms, he missed the chill from his other side where Astarion usually pressed in. Sleep continued to elude him until he couldn't keep still. Determined to go to Astarion's tent, he slipped out from Halsin's embrace and stood with a groan. Stepping out of the tent, he spotted a lone figure, sitting at the edge of the dock. Of course it was Astarion.

Sneaking had never been Gale's forte and he wasn't looking to take Astarion off guard. Instead, he padded softly towards him and stood, a little awkward until Astarion craned his neck to look up at him.

"Yes?" How he managed to sound bored was rather impressive.

"Did you really mean it?"

Rather than reply, Astarion went back to staring out at the sea. Taking his silence as confirmation, Gale turned to leave which was the exact moment he spoke up.

"Do you know how many times I've seen these stars?"

Halting, Gale looked over his shoulder. He wasn't quite sure what the crux of the conversation was and, truth be told, didn't know whether he could bring himself to care in that moment. It didn't seem to bother Astarion.

"Thousands of times. And they never change. It's why he liked calling me Star, to remind me that nothing about me will change either." There was no question about who the 'he' in the situation was. "He could do anything he wanted to me. But the end was always the same. I lived. I healed. I screamed again the next night. It never changed."

Retracing his steps, Gale stood next to Astarion and wondered whether he was welcome to sit. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to be there, to comfort Astarion if he was allowed to.

Eyes firmly on the water, Astarion continued, "It was the same thing all over again. Except rather than Godey shoving a fetid rat at me, it was you pouring potion down my throat. It burend just the same. I'm whole again. Only for it all to happen again. If not at his hands then in a fight or a random accident." Eyes finally turned to look up at Gale. "I'm so tired. I don't want to heal anymore. Don't want to get up again just to be broken by others."

Invitation be damned, Gale crouched down to pull Astarion against him in a tight hug. He could just about hear his words, muffled as they were in his sleep shirt.

"People look at me and think I'm okay. That I'm unbroken. I'm a blank canvas for them to etch their pain into with their blunt knives. Break pieces off because they'll grow back with a potion and a murmur of a spell. Today was just one day of many. It wasn't even the worst yet Karlach looks at me like her world's been crushed. Even though I'm the one who felt every broken bone and ripped flesh."

Gale rubbed his hand over Astarion's back and wished he could say something, anything to make it better. But there was nothing. They gave him the potions, healed him because they wanted him back. The few times Gale had needed help picking himself up off the floor after a fight, he'd been grateful for it. Listening to Astarion though, he wondered just how much of a betrayal it was, to have healed his body but there was nothing they could do for the mind and the memories that plagued it. Pulling him closer, holding him tighter, Gale was left with so many wishes yet not even a whisper of suggestion for a solution.

[freyasilverbough]

The Cave Bear and the White Wolf - Waking the Flaming Fist

Cw for blood, mentions of suicide/self sacrifice. Freya being a prickly bitch like normal. Don’t worry she gets better soonish.

Freya handed Halsin a small bag of gold to restock their supplies with the quartermaster - Talli, he learned - while she went inside to speak with Jaheira. He couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of hope, this small pocket of safety in a land he was sure had been all but lost.

As Halsin hoisted his pack over his shoulder - now brimming with bandages, food, fresh water, and herbs to make potions - he tried not to think about the Selûnite who’d captured his attention. She was beautiful, to be sure, the picture of elven grace beneath all the dirt and grime. Her beauty was almost matched by her strength, both mental and physical, and her wit was as sharp as the blade she wielded with that unwavering ferocity. Most soldiers found themselves encumbered by their heavy armor, but Freya danced across each battlefield with the elegance of a noble lady.

He admired her, this woman who was half his size and a hundred years his junior, yet mightier than any he’d ever met. He’d gotten the tiniest of peeks into her mind, and he wanted more than anything to tear down the wall of stone erected around her heart. He wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

As if his thoughts summoned her, Freya came barreling out of the inn, searching the square until her gaze landed on him. He was immediately on alert at the sight of her urgency, and dropped his pack to hurry to her.

“What is it?” He asked, searching her face. Her expression, normally a stoic mask, was excited and swimming with hope.

“There’s a Flaming Fist in the inn. He’s insensible and unconscious, but he keeps singing about Thaniel.”

————

Halsin and Freya stood over the Fist’s bedside as he mumbled his song in his sleep. Over and over, the sleeping man mentioned Thaniel. Freya had not misheard, it was true. They needed to rouse him, to find out what he knew, but how?

“It’s true, then. He’s met Thaniel. We need to wake him.” Halsin repeated his thoughts aloud to Freya as she studied the man.

“Look at his hands,” she said. “His callouses, those aren’t from wielding a sword. He’s a musician, probably played some stringed instrument or another.”

“His name is Art Cullagh. He had this letter on him when we found him,” one of Counselor Florrick’s guards said, handing an old piece of parchment to Freya. She took it, and her brow furrowed as she read it to herself.

“Duke Eltan…he’s long dead,” she whispered. Halsin racked his brain to remember where he’d heard that name, but in truth, the city’s politicians were ever changing and Halsin paid them next to no mind. Freya’s eyes flicked upward to meet Halsin’s. “He was the duke in Baldur’s Gate a century ago,” she explained. “The timeline matches. This letter is an order to investigate a ‘House of Healing.’ I’ll go get the others, and gather a party. We’ll head there tomorrow.”

Halsin wrapped a hand around her bicep as she moved to leave. “You shouldn’t go out in the shadows alone,” he whispered, earning him an icy glare from the paladin.

“I need you here, to watch him. Make sure he doesn’t succumb to whatever this is that ails him. He’s our best lead - our only lead. I’m trusting you with his life, and I’m asking that you trust me with mine.” She sighed when Halsin did not let go. “On my oath, I will return. You have my word.” He loathed the idea of sending her out into the darkness alone, and hated even more that she was right. Art looked like he was on the brink of death, and he was the key to finding Thaniel. If there was anyone who could traverse the shadows on their own, he knew that it was Freya. She would go, retrieve their friends, and return to him intact - or so he prayed.

“Be swift, be brave, and be safe,” he commanded her. She nodded once, her resolve hardening her features, and Halsin released his grip on her arm. He watched as she turned and strode out of the room with her easy swagger. Shoulders back and head high, the picture of confidence and strength.

He prayed to the Oak Father, to Selûne if she would listen, that his soldier would be true to her word and return to him.

————

The Flaming Fist in the room were visibly annoyed by Halsin’s incessant pacing. Freya had left close to two hours before, and there were no signs of her return.

She was probably slowed down by all the gear they had to lug from campsite to campsite. That, or she was a shadow-cursed corpse somewhere…

Halsin growled in frustration at his own thoughts. She probably was slowed down by the larger group and all of their supplies. She had given him no reason to doubt her capabilities, but even the most skilled of warriors could be overwhelmed.

So, he paced. He worried. He watched Art Cullagh as he’d been directed. He worried some more.

After what felt like an eternity, Freya came sauntering through the door. Halsin quickly closed the distance between them and checked her over, but there wasn’t a drop of blood in sight. She removed her gauntlets and flexed her slender hands, the calluses of her palms glinting in the inn’s soft light.

“Not a peep from the shadows, if you can believe it. The others are setting up camp near the lakeshore. Apparently, Shar is protecting Shadowheart from the curse. As much as I despise it, we might be wise to keep her close. Shar’s protection may be an asset. The rest of us will have to figure something else out, if we’re all to reach Moonrise, I heard the shadows are deeper there and our torches won’t keep them at bay.”

“You are not our only secret weapon, paladin. Isobel, a faithful cleric of Selûne, casts the spell that protects this inn. She might be able to aid you, too. She’s upstairs in her room.” Halsin turned to find Jaheira in the doorframe. Secret weapon? He had no idea what she was talking about, and Freya refused to meet his questioning gaze.

“Thank you, High Harper,” Freya nodded at the half elf in gratitude. She finally turned to Halsin, but rather than explain what they had talked about before she left, she simply inquired about Art’s condition.

“He’s restless, but stable. I can come and assist you in settling the camp, but I’ll stay here tonight.” Freya nodded, then motioned for him to follow. Before they could leave the tavern, she spun on her heel and nearly smacked into Halsin’s chest.

“Oh, by the way, there’s an extra wizard. I don’t know what he wants, but it seems Elminster Aumar decided to pay us a visit.”

There was never a boring day with this group. Halsin chuckled as Freya led the way, and noticed it was getting harder not to stare at the sway of her ass as she walked.

————

“By the fucking gods, Gale, are you touched in the godsdamned head?!” Halsin heard Freya shriek at the wizard as he helped Shadowheart erect her tent. “I mean, honestly, you’re meant to be the smart one among us, and this has to be the dumbest fucking shit I’ve ever heard.”

For one so devout, the paladin had a mouth that could make a devil blush. He’d always thought of them as being the pinnacle of righteousness, almost above typical mortals, but Freya seemed bound and determined to prove him wrong at every turn.

“The Absolute is a threat to all of Faerûn, and if I can destroy it and earn Mystra’s forgive - ”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about Mystra. She can rot in the Outer Planes for all I care, or better yet, she can come demand your suicide herself so I can smite her where she stands.”

“What, so you’re the only one allowed to make sacrifices in the name of this mission we’ve all been thrust on? The orb is powerful enough to rid the world of this cult, and you know that. What good is a sword against - well, not a god, but close enough.”

“You doubt my blade, wizard?” Freya’s eyes narrowed as she hurled the accusation.

“Never. But even you must understand that what we’re up against is beyond our mortal capabilities.”

“Your mortal capabilities. Last I checked, my goddess and I are still on very good terms. She’s at least not commanding me to kill myself.”

“And if she did, would you? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way. We both know that if Selûne asked you to sacrifice your life to save others, you would throw yourself on your sword without question.”

Freya sucked in a deep breath, then turned on her heel and stormed away from Gale towards the tavern up the hill. Their shouting had drawn the attention of everyone in the party, and a tense silence settled over the camp like a cold blanket. Halsin approached the wizard, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the tremble in his lip. He’d lost weight, enough that it was obvious under his thick amethyst robes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The druid asked carefully. While he was typically the camp healer, the role of mediator often fell to Freya. Resolving disputes was something he had much practice in thanks to his time as an Archdruid, and while he despised it in the grove, he found that he wanted to help his new friends overcome their differences and come to an accord.

“She thinks she knows what’s best for everyone, but this isn’t up to her. It’s my life, my orb, my goddess.” Gale shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.

“She cares about you.”

“Funny way of showing it,” Gale mumbled.

“She’s angry because she cares about you. About all of you. Her goal is to see everyone here make it out of this in one piece.” He glanced in the direction that Freya had gone when she stormed off. She had a short fuse on her best days, but something seemed…off. She was wound tighter than normal, and Halsin suspected the curse wasn’t the whole of her troubles.

“Go,” Gale said, interrupting his thoughts. “Check on Freya. I will get over it.”

Halsin nodded at the human before clapping him on the shoulder and heading in search of their paladin.

————

He found her drowning her feelings with the tiefling wizard, Rolan, at the bar in Last Light. As he got closer, he heard Rolan snapping at her as she nursed her drink.

“If you hadn’t convinced us to stay, Cal and Lia would still be here. This is on you,” he seethed, causing a hot fury to boil in Halsin’s stomach. After all she’d done for the grove, for the refugees, he dared to speak to her this way? They would all be dead if she hadn’t come along.

Freya didn’t so much as flinch. “Then it’s my responsibility to bring them back.” Her voice was calm, factual, and ever so slightly slurred.

“They’re my responsibility!”

“Rolan, that’s enough,” the bard, Alfira, scolded quietly in an attempt to calm the other tiefling.

“Go. Save the world, or your own arse, or whatever it is you do.”

“Enough.” Halsin raised his voice as he towered over the red mage in warning. Rolan backed away with a final glower at the paladin, and Halsin took his seat next to her.

“If you’re here to tell me to apologize to Gale, you’re in for a hell of a fight, druid.” She finished what was left in her glass and reached for a bottle half full of amber liquid to fill another. Whiskey, he’d observed these past weeks, was her favorite. Good ale was a close second.

“I’m not. Something is bothering you, and I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Look around us and tell me you’re not bothered.”

“Ever since you talked to Jaheira earlier, you’ve been acting strange.”

She slammed her glass on the bar and gripped it until her knuckles turned white. “I’m not in the fucking mood, Halsin.”

“What happened?”

“Ketheric fucking Thorm happened,” she snapped. “Ketheric Thorm, not just risen from the dead, but invulnerable. I’ve been tasked with infiltrating his stronghold, and now I have to kill an invulnerable man and pray that he doesn’t fucking recognize me. That’s what happened. Are you happy now?” Freya grabbed the whiskey bottle by its neck and stormed away once more, leaving Halsin reeling in her revelation.

Ketheric Thorm. The man who unleashed the curse on this land, the man that he and his comrades had fought so hard to destroy a hundred years before, alive. Memories of that horrid day crashed into him like a tidal wave, and he found himself wishing for his own drink to push them away.

Instead of smothering his growing misery with alcohol, he returned to Art Cullagh’s bedside. He decided he would stay with the man until they woke him, or he eventually succumbed.

————

“Look alive, druid.” Halsin barely had time to catch the lute as it came flying at his face. Freya strode into the room with Shadowheart, Astarion, and Lae’zel in tow, the githyanki and the paladin soaked in black blood. It was a similar sight to the aftermath of Marcus’ failed abduction of Isobel, the Selûnite cleric who protected this patch of land and extended that protection to those who would need to travel outside of the shield’s boundaries.

“Found this on a surgeon in the House of Healing,” Freya explained gruffly.

“Are you hurt?” His eyes trailed up and down her form in search of injury, but unless she felt inclined to strip the black armor that covered her from neck to toe, there wasn’t much to be seen. Given her mood towards him lately, he found that particular scenario unlikely.

“The surgeon was some creepy follower of Shar. Wanted to take my eyes. I took his head instead.” Shadowheart huffed at Freya’s explanation. “Found the lute in a chest, look at the neck.” Halsin did as she wished, spinning the instrument until he found the letters A.C. carved into the wood.

“This is what we needed,” he whispered. “Well done, indeed.” His chest swelled with pride as he held the lute out to her, this day was her victory. She should be the one to break the man’s trance. “Go on, then. Maybe its music will restore him.”

“Or perhaps my horrid musical skills will finally put the poor man to rest,” she quipped as she removed her bloodsoaked gauntlets. Freya rolled her black sleeves up to her elbows, lithe muscles flexing with the movement. She took the lute from Halsin with a roll of her pretty blue eyes, and began to play.

With her prior comment, he was not expecting the easy notes that floated from the strings in a haunting melody that floated effortlessly through the air like a ghostly whisper. Her fingers danced across the strings with grace, each note carrying the weight of centuries past, filling the room with a sense of mystery and longing. A northern tune, to be sure. Perhaps a clue to her homeland, Halsin had guessed that she hailed from the frigid tundras of the north, but where specifically he could not say. Her playing brought tears to his eyes, until Art startled awake and he was once more brought back to earth.

Halsin laid a calming hand on the Fist’s shoulder and knelt as he jolted upright. “Calm,” he murmured, the bedside manner of an Archdruid taking over. “Breathe. You’ve been trapped in the Shadowfell for a century. Take a moment to clear your mind.” Freya set the instrument down carefully next to Art’s bed and knelt on one knee, nodding at Halsin to take the lead.

“You-you’re Halsin. Thaniel said to find you. He’s in danger, you have to save him.”

“I will. But I must know where to look. If I venture into the Shadowfell blind, I will never find him.” He met Freya’s piercing blue gaze. Perhaps he should have told her the whole of his plan before they got to this point, but she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with her own schemes.

“The landscape shifts and changes…lavender. Whenever I saw Thaniel, I always smelled lavender.” Halsin nodded and helped the man to lay back down before turning to Freya.

“Meet me by the lakeshore. I have what we need, but I’ll need your help to see this through. Be ready, this may prove…perilous.”

Freya’s eyes narrowed at Halsin’s direction. “What is it you’re planning to do here, druid?” she demanded.

“I’ll explain everything, after you’ve gathered your supplies. I suggest bringing anyone along that wields radiant magic. Fire, light, the works. Your own magic will be needed more than your blade, I’ll wager. Meet me there, and we’ll discuss what comes next.”

Freya studied him for a long moment, then turned on her heel and headed in the direction of their camp. A ball of anxiety took root and began to grow in his stomach. He knew the shadows would not be banished without a fight, and he was asking even more of this woman who had already done so much to aid him. A paladin of Selûne was perhaps the most well equipped to handle the threat that was about to come her way, but he’d seen enough great warriors fall to a well placed blow that he worried for her. He knew she would protect her friends - and him - no matter the cost, even at the cost of her own life.

Halsin took a steadying breath and retrieved a lit torch from the wall, making his way in long strides either to his doom, or their salvation.

[rafumeika]

You can't say THAT and not give us any detail, how do you even end up with only Astarion in your party? Where did everyone else go??

That's fair I guess, so here is a step-by-step (not really, just the major plot points for how I ended up that way) of my evilest bg3 run:

I got Gale out of the teleport despite being Durge (but only because I needed him for later, otherwise I'd have cut off his hand), then the next big step was attacking the Grove with the goblins, which meant Wyll attacked me so I had to kill him, and when Minthara tried killing me in my sleep after the goblin party I killed her, too (I love her but my Durge will not stand for any nighttime betrayal, she had to go 😌), then cleared out the rest of the goblin camp after gaslighting Gale into staying with me (if you kill the tieflings he tells you how wrong it was and how awful he feels for what he did and if you fail the roll to convince him into staying he leaves) and had to kill Halsin as well (because if you free him before attacking the Grove, like I did, he comes at your camp at night and attacks you for what you did)

Then I found Karlach, who attacked me on sight because she knows what I did (how? I don't know. I guess she had time to come check out the Grove or something while she was on fire? 🤔), and a couple of nights later I got the scene where Shadowheart wants to kill Lae'zel, I didn't do anything to stop her so she killed Lae'zel

I've then finished the second part of Act 1 (Underdark&Mountain Pass) and all of Act 2 with only Gale, Astarion and Shadowheart left in my party, also in Act 2 I killed Isobel to get the Slayer but then convinced Shadowheart to let Aylin go so she'd help us against Ketheric, and I gained Jaheira who clearly didn't know what a horrible person I was (I was able to convince her I didn't kill Isobel and she blamed herself for her death, it was actually kinda funny ngl)

Then in Act 3 I saved Minsc, killed Aylin after trying to sell her to Lorroakan and she attacked me and sold Shadowheart to the House of Grief because Selûnite!Shadowheart was too good for my Durge, which plunged Jaheira's approval so low that she and Minsc left my party, so at this point it's only me, Astarion (which, meanwhile, had ascended) and Gale

I killed Orin and refused to follow Bhaal (because, roleplay-wise, while my Durge was extremely bloodthirsty and a complete asshole they didn't want to follow anyone and be their own master, which is incredibly funny in hindsight since they let A!Astarion turn them into his Spawn) and of course sided with Gortash, but we all know that he's doomed to be killed either way so he doesn't really count for long... Anyway. I also sided with the Emperor since I didn't have Lae'zel around to care about Orpheus, but then once I reached the brain I guilt-tripped Gale into blowing himself up, sparing us the whole Netherbrain fight

And that's it! Just me and my toxic Vampire Ascendant Master are left, free (relatively free for my Spawn Durge) and happy, taking control of all of Baldur's Gate by turning into Spawn every authority figure and killing everyone who tries to stop them 🫶🏻 and while I know A!Astarion probably doesn't truly love his Spawn SO, I like to think that he and this particular Durge become the most toxic, jealous, possessive and co-dependant evil power couple ever seen and become the main villains for future adventurers 😌