#drider!minthara/tav

[zoloteh-volossya]

In the aftermath of an AU where Minthara was turned into a drider at Moonrise, she and Tav are offered a deal by the Zhentarim. Prompt fill: "submissive in the way a livestock guardian dog is submissive to the sheep it kills wolves for"

[moonselune]

By the Silk that Binds Us (pt.5 NSFW)

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Matron!Minthara x Forced!Betrothed!reader

NSFW | MDNI

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part four part six

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As the festivities continued, you could feel the subtle, intoxicating effects of the Menzoberranzan love magic beginning to take hold. The laughter and applause of the guests seemed to amplify the enchantment, wrapping you in a cocoon of euphoria and heightened emotion. You were surrounded by the opulence and sheer power of Minthara, her presence radiating authority and respect. The realization that you were now part of this world, bound to her, began to settle in, and it was impossible to ignore the growing sense of satisfaction.

Minthara’s aura was captivating, a force of nature that drew you in. You felt a growing sense of contentment and pleasure in being by her side, a stark contrast to the resentment you had intended to harbor. The love magic was working its way into your thoughts, making you appreciate the strength and allure of the woman you had married. You had been meant to hate her, to use this union as a means of ruin, but amidst the revelry and the enchantment, you found yourself wanting to indulge in the moment.

The crowd’s admiration for you was palpable, but it seemed to intensify Minthara’s possessiveness. You noticed how her gaze grew sharper when others approached you, how her body language became increasingly protective. It was both surprising and oddly gratifying. She seemed unable to tolerate the attention you were receiving from well-wishers, her frustration bubbling beneath her composed exterior.

At one point, as you were surrounded by a particularly enthusiastic group of guests complimenting you on your beauty and grace, Minthara made her move. With a sudden but graceful maneuver, she swept you out of the crowd, her arm wrapping securely around your waist. Her hand pressed just above your abdomen, her fingers warm and possessive against your skin.

“Excuse me,” Minthara said in a voice laced with barely concealed irritation, directing a pointed glance at the people around you. “I need to have a moment with my wife.”

Her words, though commanding, were accompanied by an unexpected tenderness. As she pulled you closer, her body pressed against yours, you could feel the intensity of her emotions. There was a raw, almost primal possessiveness in her touch that was both thrilling and unsettling. You could sense that she was struggling with the same magical influence that you were, her emotions heightened and her desire for you growing stronger by the minute.

The magic seemed to blur the lines between reality and desire, making every touch, every whisper, and every glance from Minthara feel amplified and all-encompassing. You tried to remind yourself of your original intent—to hate her, to make this union a burden—but the enchantment made those thoughts seem distant, almost irrelevant.

You looked up at her, catching the intensity in her eyes, and for the first time, you could see the depth of her feelings laid bare. The kiss from earlier had ignited a spark between you, and now, with the love magic at play, that spark was becoming a flame.

As the crowd continued their festivities around you, the space you occupied with Minthara felt like a private, intimate world. The music and laughter of the banquet hall faded into the background, leaving you both in a bubble of emotional intensity.

Minthara’s grip tightened slightly, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “Are you enjoying the attention, my love?”

The possessiveness in her voice was undeniable, but so was the genuine affection she felt. You nodded, feeling the warmth of her body against yours, and allowed yourself to indulge in the feelings the magic had stirred.

You looked up at Minthara, trying to balance the heightened emotions stirred by the enchantment with the reality of the situation. Her possessive grip on your waist was both comforting and intense, her body radiating warmth against yours.

“Perhaps,” you admitted with a soft, seductive smile, “I am enjoying the attention.”

Minthara's pout deepened, her eyes narrowing playfully as she leaned closer, her lips brushing your ear. “It’s such a shame, then,” she murmured, her voice laced with a hint of mischief, “that I’m going to have to cut that short.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her sudden shift in demeanor. “Why’s that?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite the thrill her words elicited. Minthara’s smirk was almost predatory as she looked down at you.

“Because,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that only you could hear, “I want all your attention for myself.”

The possessiveness in her tone was unmistakable, and you could see the determination in her eyes. You tried to reason with her, though you were well aware that the love magic was amplifying your emotions and making her possessiveness feel almost endearing.

“But we can’t just leave our own wedding reception,” you pointed out, your voice a mix of amusement and frustration. “There are guests, there are formalities...”

Minthara cut you off with a firm yet affectionate squeeze of your waist. “We’re Matron and Mistress of the most powerful house in the Underdark,” she said, her voice filled with unwavering confidence. “We can do whatever we want. Besides, you’re my wife now. The celebration can wait.”

Her words, though assertive, were tinged with a possessive tenderness that made you shiver. You could feel the pull of her desire, the enchantment working its magic to make her emotions even more intense.

She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your neck as she whispered, “Let’s make the most of this night. We have all the power in Menzoberranzan, and right now, I want you all to myself.”

The weight of her words settled heavily upon you, mingling with the effects of the love magic. The idea of escaping the crowd and focusing solely on each other felt both thrilling and indulgent. Despite the chaos of the reception, Minthara’s intense gaze and the way she held you close made it clear that she was determined to have you all to herself.

With a sigh of surrender, you looked around the banquet hall. The guests were absorbed in their conversations, the music playing in the background, and the merriment of the night was in full swing. It was easy to see why Minthara felt she could take control of the situation. As Matron and Mistress, you were indeed in a position to dictate the course of their own night.

As Minthara guided you through the labyrinthine corridors of the manor, her grip on your waist was firm and unyielding. Her touch was both possessive and electrifying, every step she took radiating with the intensity of her desire. The corridors seemed to blur past, the sounds of the banquet fading into the background as you were drawn further into the private sanctuary of your quarters.

Once inside, Minthara wasted no time. The door was closed with a decisive thud, and she turned to face you with a mixture of hunger and urgency. The air between you crackled with the residual magic of the evening, amplifying every sensation and emotion. Her lips crashed onto yours, her kiss fierce and demanding. You responded in kind, your hands gripping her shoulders as you were pulled into the passionate embrace.

In the midst of your heated kisses, Minthara pulled away just enough to murmur, “I didn’t ask you what happened with the acolyte.” Her voice was a husky whisper, her breath mingling with yours.

You paused for a moment, catching your breath as you gazed into her eyes. “She tried to poison you,” you managed to say, your voice laced with both satisfaction and urgency. “But I dealt with it. She’s been… taken care of.”

Minthara’s eyes darkened with a mixture of arousal and satisfaction. The knowledge that you had dealt with the threat seemed to heighten her desire even further. She captured your lips in another searing kiss, her hands moving with a sense of purpose as she guided you towards the bed.

With a swift motion, she pushed you down onto the bed, her body following closely as she pinned you beneath her. The intensity of her gaze was matched by the firmness of her hold, and you could feel her heated breath against your skin.

“I want details,” she murmured, her lips brushing your ear. “But that will have to wait until morning.”

The urgency of the moment made the complexity of your ceremonial attire a frustrating obstacle. As you both tried to strip each other, the intricate layers and fastenings of your clothing proved difficult to navigate. Each attempt only seemed to result in more entangled fabric and increasing frustration.

You both started to strip each other of your ceremonial garments, the complex layers of fabric proving more challenging than anticipated. Frustration mounted as you struggled with the elaborate designs, each piece of clothing more intricate than the last.

With a determined smile, you reached for a more practical solution. Summoning your divine silk, you wove it into a series of precise, shimmering cuts through the elaborate layers of your wedding attire. The silk sliced through the fabric with divine ease, and in a matter of moments, your garments fell away in a flurry of silken threads. Minthara's ceremonial wear got the same treatment and as you finished, Minthara looked at you in awe.

“Impressive,” she breathed, her voice filled with admiration. Without hesitation, she moved back on top of you, her body pressing against yours with a renewed fervor as you fell back into the plush covers. She turned your head to the side as she straddled you at the waist, admiring your neck, specifically the House Baenre mark. “Such pleasure it gives me, to have you beneath me, the one that escaped, now bearing my house mark, now my wife.”

Before you could respond to her, Minthara leant down and caught your lips in hers aggressively. Breasts rubbing against each other, you moved a hand down her side as she bit down on your bottom lip.

You dipped your hand between her thighs and were delighted to feel that she was just as turned on as you were. You began to rock her hips against yours creating a pleasurable friction between each of you aching cunts. Minthara gasped into your mouth and pulled away only to latch onto your neck.

You couldn’t help but cry out as she kissed and nibbled your neck, increasing the pace as she grinded against you. Her kisses were accompanied by a slow, deliberate grind of her hips against yours, a rhythm that ignited every nerve ending. The heat of her body, the soft friction of her movements, and the unrestrained passion in her eyes made it clear that she was fully immersed in the moment.

With a fluid motion, she began to move her hips in a rhythmic, sensual dance, the friction between your bodies becoming a source of intense pleasure. The contact was both exhilarating and intimate, each movement bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. Her hands roamed over your skin, her touch leaving a trail of heated sensation.

"Mmm, yes- ah" You responded in kind, your hands gripping her hips as you matched the rhythm of her movements. You couldn't help but gasp as the shared pleasure intensified. The intensity of the moment was palpable, each touch and movement a testament to the passion that had ignited between you.

"I-ah-I am close, wife." There was such an intensity that Minthara addressed you that you couldn't help but arch your hips, the pleasure increasing tenfold. You were her wife, the most powerful woman in menzoberranzen was calling you wife, the power trip brought you closer to the edge.

Minthara was true to her word, and as you both neared climax you couldn't help but grunt each other's names into the other's mouth as you stole each other's oxygen greedily. Minthara bit down on your lip as she came, causing you to gasp and to your surprise you also came - funny, you never had taken yourself as a bit of a masochist but here you were, writhing in pleasure beneath the woman who murdered your family as your blood trickled down your jaw.

Lolth forgive you.

Determined not to be outdone, you took advantage of Minthara’s brief recovery and shifted your position with purposeful grace. Straddling her now, you felt a renewed sense of control and intimacy. Your lips eagerly found their way to her neck, and you began to trace a path of fiery kisses and gentle nibbles along her sensitive skin. Minthara’s breath came in soft, shuddering gasps as you made your mark on her.

“Eager to make your mark, I see,” she purred, her voice a breathy whisper of delight. She held your head against her neck, her fingers tangled in your hair as she guided you to the most sensitive spots.

Each touch of your lips, each caress of your tongue, elicited delicious shudders from Minthara. You could feel her pulse quickening beneath your lips, her body responding eagerly to your attentions. When you hit a particularly sensitive spot, Minthara gasped sharply, her body arching slightly in response. You couldn’t help but grin at the effect you were having on her.

The passion between you two intensified with each passing moment. You continued to kiss and bite her neck with an increasing rhythm, the pleasure you were both experiencing melding into a shared, fervent rhythm. Minthara’s hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer, urging you to continue.

Your movements became more fluid and urgent, the desire between you two igniting with an almost primal intensity. You explored each other with fervor, your hands and lips mapping out every curve and contour of Minthara’s body. The connection between you grew deeper, each touch and kiss a testament to the powerful, consuming passion that had taken hold of you both.

As the night wore on, the two of you became a tangled, passionate mess of limbs and pleasure. The room was filled with the sounds of your intimate interactions—soft moans, gasps, and the rhythmic creaking of the bed.

Exhaustion and satisfaction gradually began to replace the intense fervor. You and Minthara’s movements slowed, the rhythm of your lovemaking transitioning from urgent and desperate to slow and tender. You took your time, savoring every caress and kiss as you both began to drift into a more relaxed, intimate connection.

Eventually, the intensity of the night gave way to a more gentle, romantic exchange. The passion was still present, but it was now wrapped in a softer, more affectionate embrace. You and Minthara held each other close, your bodies intertwined beneath the tangled sheets. The warmth of her skin against yours, the steady beat of her heart, and the soothing rhythm of your shared breaths created a cocoon of comfort and intimacy.

In the quiet of the early morning, the two of you drifted into a peaceful trance, still wrapped in each other’s arms. The last remnants of the night’s passion faded into a deep, contented sleep. Minthara’s head rested gently against your shoulder, her breathing steady and calm. You held her close, feeling a profound sense of contentment and closeness.

However, the peaceful atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Before either of you could fully awaken, the door swung open, and the High Priestess strode into the room with a mixture of authority and amusement. Her eyes quickly took in the scene—the two of you tangled together, the disheveled sheets, and the lingering evidence of the night’s activities.

The High Priestess’s gaze flicked between you and Minthara with a wry smile. “It seems you two have had quite the night,” she remarked, her voice laced with both amusement and a hint of disapproval. “I trust the consummation of your union was satisfactory?”

Startled, you and Minthara both stirred awake, trying to regain your composure. Minthara’s cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and irritation, though she quickly masked it with a defiant expression. You, still partially tangled in the sheets, tried to sit up, your mind racing to process the unexpected intrusion.

“Well, it appears you’ve met the ceremonial requirements,” the High Priestess declared, her tone formal but with an undertone of mirth. Her gaze lingered on the love marks and the tangle of limbs before her, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

Minthara, brushing stray locks of hair from her face, managed a snarky remark. “And when exactly, will this love magic, wear off?.”

The High Priestess’s laughter erupted suddenly, a deep, resonant sound that filled the room. You and Minthara exchanged bewildered glances, trying to decipher the reason for her amusement. In the midst of her laughter, the High Priestess managed to reveal a startling truth.

“Oh, you poor fools,” she said between chuckles. “There was no love magic in the toast. The toast was all part of the ceremony, but the effects were entirely of your own making. I simply wanted to... usher things along.”

Her satisfied laughter continued as she turned and left the room, leaving you both in stunned silence. The implications of her words began to sink in, the realization that everything you had experienced was the result of your own emotions and desires rather than any external enchantment.

Minthara’s eyes met yours, a mixture of shock and confusion etched across her face. “So, we…" Minthara stopped to clear her throat. "We weren’t under any magic?”

You shook your head, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and resignation as you pulled the sheets closer to you, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable. “It appears so.”

A brief silence fell between you two, filled only with the sound of your deep breaths and the lingering aftereffects of the night. The reality of your situation, and the irony of it all, began to settle in.

“You know,” Minthara said with a soft chuckle, “maybe it’s just stress relief. We’ve both been through so much, and maybe… maybe it’s just easier to put it down to that.”

You nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yes, I think that might be the simplest explanation. It was a lot of stress and emotion finally finding release.”

“You know,” she said, her voice low and seductive, “if it’s truly just about stress relief, perhaps we could... go another round? Just to ensure that all that stress is thoroughly relieved.”

The question was delivered with a playful smirk, her eyes sparkling with mischief. The way she looked at you, the lingering passion from the night before evident in her gaze, made it clear that she was both serious and teasing.

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the faintest blush creep up your cheeks despite the earlier events. You should say no, really you should but, you’d both been through so much, and it was clear that you were still caught up in the aftereffects of the celebration - making it much easier to just write it off as that. You hesitated for a moment, then, with a chuckle, you decided to play along with her suggestion.

“Well,” you replied, your tone matching her playful mood, “if it’s truly for stress relief purposes... how could I possibly refuse?”

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Now perfectly absolved of any form of stress, you prepared for lunch with your younger twin brothers, Kyorlin and Lesaonar. After the whirlwind of the wedding night and the High Priestess's abrupt interruption, you welcomed the prospect of a more relaxed engagement with family. The intricate details of the ceremony were behind you, and now you could focus on reconnecting with your siblings.

As you approached the smaller dining hall, saved for more private affairs and heard the sound of raised voices. The voices grew clearer as you neared, revealing the familiar bickering of your twin brothers.

Kyorlin was evidently agitated, gesticulating with an exaggerated sense of frustration. His sharp eyes were fixed on Lesaonar, who was attempting to avoid his twin’s intense gaze with a mixture of defiance and discomfort.

“I’m telling you, Lesaonar, I'm not stupid, I know it’s not normal to just disappear like that and then show up with—” Kyorlin’s voice cut off as he spotted you walking in. He straightened up, his expression shifting to a mixture of surprise and relief. “Ah, there you are.”

Lesaonar, standing near the long dining table with a sheepish smile, offered a hasty wave. His neck, visible beneath the collar of his tunic, was adorned with several prominent love marks—clear evidence of a night spent in fervent company.

“Lesaonar won't tell me who he was with last night,” Kyorlin continued, his tone now a mix of curiosity and frustration. “And now he’s showing up with these marks and won’t divulge a thing. I thought you might have some insight.”

You winced slightly at the implication. The thought of who Lesaonar might have spent the night with, especially after the night you had experienced yourself, was not one you were keen on pursuing. You offered a reassuring smile to your brother.

“Trust me, Kyorlin,” you said with a light laugh, “I’m as in the dark about Lesaonar’s nocturnal activities as you are. Some things are best left to the imagination or rather.. not.”

Lesaonar’s eyes softened with gratitude as he caught your gaze. “Thank you for siding with me,” he said, his voice a mix of relief and playful mischief. “I knew I could count on you.”

Kyorlin raised an eyebrow, clearly still frustrated but willing to move on for the moment. “Fine. Dearest sister, at least tell me how things are going with your new role.”

"Kyorlin are you lonely?" Lesaonar asks him, a mischevious smile on his face. "Is that why you keep asking about late night-"

"I could not have been referring more to how our sister feels as Mistress of the house, not about her wedding night, please, for the love of Lolth, do not tell me about your wedding night." Kyorlin stressed sending an irritated look to his twin.

You smiled at the two of them, at least some things would never change.

“Ah yes, I am officially the Mistress of House Baenre,” you said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Minthara has already laid out a detailed itinerary for me this afternoon. There’s a lot to take in, and it seems the responsibilities come with their own set of demands. Nothing I cannot handle though dearest brothers."

The three of you fell into a joyeous and relaxed conversation, a needed relief from the intensity of the past few days. However, the lively banter between your brothers was interrupted as a servant approached, bowing respectfully. The servant’s attire was pristine and formal, indicative of the house’s standards.

“Excuse me, Mistress,” the servant said with a polite but firm tone. “Matron Minthara requests your presence immediately.”

You frowned slightly. “But I’m not expected for another hour. Couldn’t it wait until then?”

The servant’s expression remained unwavering. “If Matron Minthara desires to see you now, it is imperative that you attend her. It matters not what the schedule dictates.”

You exchanged a quick look with Kyorlin and Lesaonar, who both raised eyebrows in silent curiosity. With a resigned sigh, you stood up from your seat.

“Well, it seems I must attend to the Matron’s wishes,” you said, attempting to sound composed despite the unexpected summons. “I will be back shortly - hopefully.”

The servant led you through the opulent corridors of House Baenre, the grand architecture and intricate decorations a constant reminder of the house’s power and prestige. As you walked, your mind raced with thoughts about Minthara’s sudden urgency. The atmosphere in the manor felt charged with authority, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that Minthara was asserting her control in a rather dramatic fashion.

When you finally reached Minthara’s private study, you were greeted by her standing confidently at the center of the room, her expression a mix of amusement and mock severity. Her regal posture and the way her eyes glinted suggested she was fully aware of the power she wielded over you.

“Well, if it isn’t the Mistress of House Baenre herself,” Minthara said with a smirk, her tone both playful and commanding. “I couldn’t possibly wait another moment to see how you were adjusting to your new role.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to remain calm. Despite the irritation you felt, you refused to let Minthara’s antics provoke a reaction. Instead, you decided to respond with a touch of humor.

“It’s sweet of you to miss me already,” you said with a teasing smile. “I didn’t realize you’d grow so impatient in such a short time.”

Minthara’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “Oh, it’s not impatience, dear. I simply wanted to remind you that, even as Mistress, you still answer to someone, to me.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against a nearby table, your smile remaining in place. “Well, it’s good to know you’re keeping an eye on me. I suppose I should be flattered.”

Minthara’s demeanor softened slightly, and she took a step closer to you. “It’s just a little reminder of who holds the reins around here,” she said, her tone becoming more affectionate. “I’ve no doubt you’ll handle everything with grace, but a little reminder never hurts.”

Minthara’s gaze softened, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes as she began to outline your responsibilities. She walked over to a large, ornate desk where she had clearly been reviewing some documents. Picking up a scroll, she waved it in front of you with an exaggerated flourish.

“As Mistress of House Baenre,” Minthara began, her tone carrying a mix of authority and playful condescension, “you are now responsible for managing the staff. This includes overseeing the daily operations and ensuring that all duties are performed to our standards. You will also be in charge of the younger members of the house, guiding them and ensuring their behavior aligns with our expectations.”

"Oh those little darlings? They will be no worry to me I assure you," You smiled, reminiscing on your wedding morning despite it not being even a full day ago. "It's amazing what some interest and an ear to lend does to the most unruly of souls."

Minthara glared at you, she had already realised her plan to set her disordely younger relatives on you had backfired. They all seemed to adore you and looked up to you with reverance she could only receive from fear.

Minthara took a breath in and let your comments wash over her, deciding to move on to the most important matter. “And, of course, you must ensure that I am satisfied with your performance. My expectations are quite high, and I trust you will rise to the challenge.”

You scoffed lightly, not taking her overly serious demeanor too much to heart. “Well, I suppose someone has to make sure everything runs smoothly around here. And who better than me?”

Minthara’s smile widened, clearly thinking she had successfully asserted her dominance. “Indeed. I’m sure you’ll find the tasks quite fulfilling, if not demanding.”

Just as she seemed ready to revel in her perceived victory, you leaned forward with a confident grin. “Oh and by the way, I’ve already arranged for replacements for the assassins you… eliminated. Handpicked, I might add.”

Minthara’s expression shifted to one of surprise and mild annoyance. “What are you implying? I have already taken care of the replacements.”

You raised an eyebrow, your tone calm and unwavering. “Yes, but I took it upon myself to handle that particular duty. As you said it’s part of my role as Mistress, not yours. I wouldn’t want to burden you with the minutiae of every little detail. Especially considering your poor choice last time. I mean this is how we got into this predicament to begin with.”

Minthara scoffed and her brow furrowed slightly, and she opened her mouth to protest. “But—”

You interrupted with a gentle but firm voice. “It’s my responsibility now, dearest wife. I’m fully capable of managing these aspects of the house without adding unnecessary stress to your already demanding role.”

She hesitated for a moment, then sighed in reluctant acceptance. The assasins would be loyal to you of course and no doubt be more difficult for her to order around. Plus Minthara was sure they would eagerly come running back to you with every detail they could. A minor issue. “Very well. I suppose it’s only fair that you handle it as part of your duties.”

You offered her a reassuring smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having asserted your role effectively. “Thank you for understanding. I assure you, I’ll handle everything with the utmost attention and dedication.”

Minthara’s cocked her head at you, an irritated look in her eye. “I have no doubt you will. Just remember, I’m always here if you need guidance—or if you decide you want to test the limits of your new responsibilities.”

It was not advice, you noted, it was a warning - don't get too confident. As you prepared to leave her quarters, you could feel the weight of your new responsibilities settling over you. The dynamic between you and Minthara had already begun to shape itself, a blend of authority, affection, and mutual respect. With a final, confident smile, you turned and exited the room, ready to face the challenges of your new position with determination.

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The evening had settled into a calm, deceptive quiet as you prepared for dinner with Minthara that night. After the tension of the day, you hoped for a peaceful meal, a chance to enjoy a moment of calm in the whirlwind of your new responsibilities. You had almost convinced yourself that Minthara had forgotten about the acolyte matter, that perhaps she had been too preoccupied with flexing her authority over you that she had forgotten the whole matter completely.

As you entered the dining hall, Minthara was already seated, a serene yet calculating expression on her face. The table was set elegantly, with flickering candles casting a soft glow over the polished surface. You exchanged the usual pleasantries, the conversation flowing easily enough, but there was an undercurrent of tension that you couldn't quite shake.

Halfway through the meal, you heard the soft, ominous click of the door locking behind you. Your heart sank as you realized that Minthara had not forgotten. In fact, it seemed she had been waiting for the right moment to address the issue that had been lingering between you. Minthara leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you.

"You didn’t think I would forget, did you, darling?" she asked, her tone deceptively mild. "The matter of the acolyte?"

You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. "Minthara, the acolyte sought to kill you during the vow. I healed you when you were injured, and then I caught her in the chapel. Lolth herself turned her into a drider and dragged her into the depths of the Underdark. There’s nothing more to it."

Minthara’s gaze sharpened, her expression hardening with suspicion, you had hoped the comment about the drider would lead her astray that she woul dbe in awe of such an occurence that she would forget her true mission.

"That’s a convenient story. But you are not known to be a healer, at least not one with the talent to save someone from such an injury." Minthara bit out, raising from her chair and beginning to approach you. "And why would Lolth, the Spider Queen herself, intervene on your behalf? Why does she favor you? And it’s not just your family’s devotion."

The questions hung in the air, heavy with the weight of implications you had hoped to avoid. Minthara’s skepticism was palpable, her distrust evident in the way she leaned toward you, her eyes locked onto yours.

"I told you the truth," you insisted, but there was a tremor in your voice that you couldn’t quite suppress. "I did what I had to do to protect you, to protect our house. Lolth’s will is beyond our understanding. Accept it Minthara."

Minthara’s displeasure was evident, her lips curling into a cold smile. "It’s all too convenient, don’t you think? You expect me to believe that everything happened exactly as you said, without any further explanation? No, there’s more to this, and I intend to find out."

She stood, her movements deliberate and controlled, as if she were savoring the power she held over you. "Neither of us are leaving this room until you tell me the whole truth. And for every hour you withhold it, my guards will beat Kyorlin."

The mention of Kyorlin sent a surge of anger through you. You pushed your chair back and stood, your eyes flashing with fury. "You can’t do that! I won’t let you harm him."

"I have every right to discipline him after he attacked Arys in the library, or did your dearest brother not tell you about it? Such disorder among you." Minthara’s smile widened, but there was no warmth in it, only a cold, calculating cruelty. "You will tell me what I want to know, or Kyorlin will suffer the consequences. It’s your choice."

Desperation clawed at you as you turned toward the door, intent on leaving. You would use your magic to break it down if you had to. But as you summoned your power, you felt an emptiness where your magic should have been. Panic began to rise as you realized that your abilities were gone, as if snuffed out by an invisible force.

Minthara’s laughter rang out, dark and triumphant. "Did you really think I wouldn’t take precautions? Your wine was spiked with essence of sussur. Your magic is gone, and it won’t return for at least a day. You’re powerless, wife."

The weight of her words crashed down on you, the reality of your situation sinking in. Minthara had planned this from the beginning, ensuring that you had no means of escape, no way to fight back. You were trapped, at her mercy, with no magic and no way to protect your brother.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you faced her, the room closing in around you. Minthara took a step closer, her voice a whisper of silk and steel. "Now, tell me the truth, or Kyorlin will pay the price for your stubbornness."

The stakes had never been higher, and the path before you had never been more treacherous. Minthara had you cornered, and the only way out was to reveal the secret you had fought so hard to keep.

The room fell into a tense silence as Minthara’s threat hung in the air. Your heart raced, but you steeled yourself, determined not to show any fear. You refused to believe that she would harm Kyorlin—her authority only extended so far, and you knew your brother was capable of taking care of himself. This had to be a bluff, an attempt to break your resolve.

"You’re bluffing, Minthara," you said, your voice firm despite the flicker of doubt that gnawed at your confidence. "You won’t harm Kyorlin. He is your brother by marriage. It’s not in your best interest."

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, her expression hardening as she turned toward the door. Without a word, she opened it and motioned for someone to enter. The door creaked fully open, and two guards stepped inside, dragging a figure between them. Your heart lurched as you saw the familiar form of Kyorlin, his face bruised and bloodied, his expression a mixture of pain and defiance.

“No!” The word tore from your throat as you instinctively rushed toward him, desperate to reach your brother.

But Minthara was faster, her grip like iron as she seized your arm, holding you back with a strength you had no hope of beating. "And what exactly do you think you are doing, beloved?"

Kyorlin looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of apology and determination. He tried to speak, but the guards tightened their hold on him, pulling him violently back toward the door by his throat.

“Take him away,” Minthara ordered coldly, her gaze never leaving yours as the guards obeyed, dragging Kyorlin out of the room. You struggled against Minthara’s grip, your heart shattering as you watched your brother disappear through the door. The echo of the door slamming shut behind him felt like the final nail in the coffin.

Tears of frustration and helplessness welled in your eyes as you finally stopped struggling, your body going limp in Minthara’s grasp. She released you, allowing you to stumble back, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You felt the walls of your resolve crumbling, the weight of Minthara’s power pressing down on you until you could no longer bear it.

"Alright," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of despair and defiance. "You win, Minthara. I’ll tell you everything. But I warn you, the truth is something you won’t like."

Minthara’s expression remained unreadable, but you could see the glint of satisfaction in her eyes as she waited for you to continue. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself for the revelation that was about to change everything.

"Yes, Lolth favors me," you began, your voice growing stronger as you spoke. "She favors me not just because of my devotion, but because I am her descendant. My lineage comes from an aasimar named Liakyre."

Minthara’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. "An aasimar?" she scoffed. "Lolth has no aasimar children. You expect me to believe this?"

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, a bitter, mirthless sound that echoed through the room. "No, you’re right. Lolth has no aasimar children. But Eilistraee does. Liakyre is the aasimar daughter of Eilistraee, the so-called 'benevolent' goddess, the traitor. But Liakyre saw through Eilistraee’s lies and fell back into Lolth’s embrace—her grandmother’s embrace."

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, her skepticism deepening as she tried to process the information. "You’re lying. This is absurd. Why would Lolth accept a descendant of Eilistraee, her sworn enemy?"

You met her gaze, your expression unwavering. "Think about it, Minthara. What better way to damn Eilistraee than to take her own daughter and make her Lolth's perfect paragon? What better way to mock the 'Dark Maiden' than to ensure that her legacy, her blood is tied forever to Lolth’s greatest house? Eilistraee's greatest loss, the most celebrated figure in the underdark."

Minthara’s lips pressed into a thin line, her mind racing as she considered your words. You could see the conflict in her eyes, the struggle to reconcile the truth with the deep-seated beliefs she had held all her life. But the evidence was undeniable, and as the realization dawned on her, you could see the anger and betrayal beginning to simmer beneath her composed exterior.

"And what of the contract that bound us together, Minthara?" you continued, pressing your advantage. "The miraculous contract that made me your wife. You think that was a coincidence? No, wife. That was Lolth’s will, ensuring that Liakyre’s bloodline would be firmly entrenched within House Baenre. This is her plan, this is her way."

Minthara’s silence stretched on, the air between you thick with tension. You watched as her expression shifted, the fury in her eyes fading, replaced by something far more unnerving—a slow, creeping smirk that sent a chill down your spine. It was a look of triumph, of satisfaction, as if the final piece of a puzzle had clicked into place in her mind.

She turned to you, her smirk widening as she stepped closer. The weight of her presence was suffocating, and despite your resolve, you couldn’t help but feel a growing unease. She reached out, taking your hand in hers with a surprising gentleness, lifting it to her lips. The touch of her lips against your skin was cold, calculated, and filled with a twisted kind of affection.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft yet dripping with mockery. “Thank you for finally telling the truth. You have no idea how much this means to me.” Her eyes gleamed with a sinister light as she released your hand, her smirk deepening into something almost feral.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode toward the door, her steps deliberate and unhurried. You stood frozen, a mix of shock and confusion swirling in your mind. This wasn’t the reaction you had expected. You had anticipated rage, perhaps even violence, but not… this.

Minthara paused at the doorway, glancing back at you with that same unnerving smirk. Then, with a final, almost casual wave of her hand, she exited the room, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest.

For a moment, you simply stood there, trying to process what had just happened. The oppressive atmosphere that had filled the room seemed to lift slightly, and you realized with a jolt that the door was no longer locked. You were free to leave.

Without wasting another moment, you rushed to the door, pushing it open and nearly stumbling into the corridor. The fear and anger that had built up inside you now fueled your steps as you raced through the halls of House Baenre, desperate to find Kyorlin.

You burst into the family quarters, your breath ragged from the sprint, and stopped short as you saw Kyorlin sitting at a table, chatting animatedly with Lesaonar. They both looked up as you entered, Kyorlin’s expression shifting from surprise to concern.

“Sister, what’s wrong?” Kyorlin asked, standing up from his seat. There wasn’t a single mark on him—no bruises, no signs of the beating Minthara had claimed. He was perfectly unharmed, his face alight with the carefree demeanor he always had around his twin.

“You’re… you’re okay,” you stammered, the relief flooding over you like a wave. It was all a lie. Minthara had deceived you. The 'Kyorlin' you had seen was all a ruse.

Kyorlin frowned, exchanging a puzzled glance with Lesaonar. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You sank into a nearby chair, your legs suddenly feeling weak. The realization of how thoroughly you’d been manipulated settled in, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Minthara had played you perfectly, using your love for your brother to break you down and extract the truth she wanted.

Kyorlin, noticing your distress, moved to your side, his hand resting comfortingly on your shoulder. “What happened? What did she do?”

You shook your head, struggling to gather your thoughts amidst the turmoil. “She… she tricked me. I thought you were in danger. I thought she was going to have you beaten until I told her the truth.”

Kyorlin’s eyes widened with shock, his expression shifting quickly to anger. “That iblith.”

You winced at his use of the derogatory term, though you understood his frustration. “Kyorlin, you cannot say that,” you said firmly, trying to keep the situation from escalating further. “We don’t need more reasons for her to come after us.”

The reminder of Minthara’s threat made you think of something she had mentioned. You turned to Kyorlin, your curiosity getting the better of you. “What happened between you and Arys, Minthara’s nephew? I heard about an incident in the library.”

Kyorlin’s face tensed, and he shifted uncomfortably. He had kept this matter close to his chest, and it showed in his nervousness.

“I—I didn’t want to worry you,” he stammered. “But… Lesaonar had too much to drink and started talking about family secrets. I… I attacked Arys because I didn’t want those secrets getting out. I did it to protect us.”

Lesaonar’s face twisted into a mix of annoyance and irritation. “You attacked Arys? And didn’t even bother to tell me? What’s the big idea?”

Kyorlin’s face reddened with both guilt and irritation. “Well, maybe if you didn’t get so drunk and start blabbing, we wouldn’t have had to deal with this.”

The conversation was quickly escalating into a full-blown argument. The tension in the room thickened, and you could see that neither brother was about to back down.

Before the argument could spiral further, you raised your hand, cutting through the noise. “Enough. I need to get some rest before my head explodes from all this chaos.”

Both Kyorlin and Lesaonar fell silent, their faces reflecting a mixture of frustration and resignation. You excused yourself from the room, your mind racing with the day’s events. The thought of Minthara still waiting for you in your quarters only added to your stress.

You returned to your chambers, hoping against hope itself that Minthara would be out dealing with her sinister plans or something equally nefarious. But as you entered, you were greeted by the sight of Minthara lounging on the bed, her expression an unsettling blend of mock sympathy and amusement.

She looked up as you entered, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, look who’s finally here,” she said, her voice dripping with a saccharine sweetness. “Had a hard day, did we? Perhaps you’re in need of some stress relief?”

"I would rather feed myself to the spiders." You smiled tightly back to her. You didn't give her the satisfaction of bringing up Kyorlin, you knew she was relishing in the psychological warfare she had enacted.

You began to undress, your movements mechanically efficient. The tension of the day had left you drained, and the thought of a quiet night seemed like a distant hope. You quickly prepared for bed, shedding the day’s formal attire in favor of more comfortable garments.

As you slid between the cool, silk sheets, Minthara watched with an almost predatory gaze. Her eyes followed your every move, and you could feel her presence growing more pronounced as she approached the bed.

Without waiting for an invitation, Minthara smoothly slid into the bed beside you. Her touch was deliberate and firm as she pulled you into her embrace, her body a warm contrast to the cool sheets. You instinctively tensed, trying to create some distance between the two of you.

“No, no,” Minthara murmured, her voice soft but insistent. “You need to relax, my love.”

You squirmed slightly, trying to extricate yourself from her hold, but Minthara's arms were unyielding. She wrapped around you with a possessive tenderness, her warmth enveloping you despite your protests.

“Minthara," you said, your voice strained as you tried to maintain a semblance of resistance. “I need to sleep.”

She only chuckled softly, the sound a low, soothing rumble against your ear. “Hush, my dear. You’re my wife, You need to relax and unwind. You’ve had a very long, stressful day.”

Despite your best efforts, the exhaustion and emotional strain of the day began to take their toll. Minthara’s warmth was surprisingly comforting, and as you lay there, you found it increasingly difficult to maintain your resistance. Finally, you relented, sinking into her embrace with a tired sigh. The soft rhythm of her breathing and the steady warmth of her body gradually coaxed you into a state of uneasy relaxation. Minthara’s arms tightened around you, and she nuzzled her cheek against your temple.

“There, isn’t that better?” she whispered, her voice laced with affectionate satisfaction. “You’re my darling little divine one, and I’ll take care of you.”

The endearment, while somewhat mocking, held a certain warmth that made you feel a little more secure, despite the complex feelings swirling within you. As you lay there in her arms, you allowed yourself to succumb to the quiet comfort of her embrace, hoping that sleep would come and bring some respite from the chaos of the day.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Woweee what a chapter, i think we are all the high priestess in this chapter. But it's just stress relief guys, that's all it is... definitely...

Please comment to your hearts desire I read and cherish every single one of them, thank you so much for everyone's support ! Again comment if you want to be on the taglist - Seluney xox

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

taglist: @mimetoist @thepotatoislost @needyformilfs @longjohnsilverfish @spacezombiez @morganaspet @h-doodles @les-bee @wineredsea @gaysindistress @coratheninth

[sshot]

[dreamness-vp]

Baldur's Gate 3, Act II

[whitegoldtower]

Tam'lin and Kar'niss getting the good ending. A wish spell was used to cure Kar'niss, bringing him back to his szarkai body.

(The way he looks at him-- screaming sobbing throwing up. Tam'lin's waited so long, searched for him for so long and now they can finally be together- *retches*)

Edit: the plot between them is as such���

Tam’lin is a szarkai drow raised in Menzoberranzan to be a spy/assassin and ‘planted’ on the surface in Baldur’s Gate as an infiltrator. During his time in the underdark, he knew Kar’niss and admired him secretly, because Kar’niss was incredibly good at what he did and was on the road to being a sort of ‘champion’ of Lolth. However, one day, Kar’niss just disappeared, before Tam’lin could work up the courage to tell him how he felt. Tam’lin assumed that Kar’niss had just been ‘deployed’ onto the surface as he would soon be, and as such, as soon as he was planted on the surface, he legged it at the first opportunity, running away from his duties to go in search of Kar’niss (despite the fact that trying to find a szarkai spy is like looking for a needle in a haystack).

He never abandons hope, even when times seem bleak, and even though he started his work as the ‘Nightwatchman’ to help surface folk (as a sort of nighttime vigilante folk hero). The only time his faith in Kar’niss is shaken is when he finally meets him in the shadowcursed lands, and sees what has become of him.

It breaks him. He’s with the harpers, and he knows they’re going to attack the caravan. All of the companions have revealed their secrets to him and each other; Gale with his orb, Astarion with the Cazador situation, Shadowheart with Shar… it’s Tam’lin’s turn. He does something that would be seen by the others as wildly unpredictable for his character: as soon as the option arises, he immediately turns on the harpers. It’s like whiplash for the companions, and they wonder whether or not Tam’lin has reverted back to his mindset of when he was known as ‘The Ghost of Menzoberranzan’ to do something so sudden and underhand.

They travel with Kar’niss to moonrise, and Tam’lin is dour. He’s not himself. During the fight, he only hits Kar’niss with non-lethal attacks, and attacks Jaheira when she lands a particularly nasty strike on Kar’niss, compelling her to turn her attention on him instead.

The fight ends with Kar’niss knocked out, although Tam’lin leaves moonrise believing he is dead after Jaheira’s attack. He doesn’t engage with anybody in the camp after this, snapping at them when they attempt to speak with him. He sits alone each night, playing the spider’s lyre. He won’t even speak to his cousin, Minthara, as she sits in her tent, scowling at him for being so uncharacteristically withdrawn.

But there’s a twist: Kar’niss survived, and has been following the sound of the lyre; it’s his turn to search for Tam’lin. He finds his way to Tam’lin, and after a very long conversation (and a short fight), Tam’lin manages to convince Kar’niss to stay at the camp. He inevitably has to face the companions soon after, and meets them all aggressively - like a viper defending its brood (lmao)- before they actually manage to get the truth out of him.

Out of all the companions, however, Minthara, surprisingly, is the most sympathetic, followed by Gale, Halsin and Astarion. They know, now, how much Kar’niss means to Tam’lin, and Gale begins researching driders and consulting Minthara on what she knows about them, too. Together, they conclude that Kar’niss’ curse can actually be reversed with a wish spell, but it’s incredibly risky because the wording of the spell must be chosen very precisely.

But Tam’lin is ready to take the risk; he can’t stand to imagine what Kar’niss feels as a drider. He’ll do anything to reverse it. And he does.

He speaks from the heart, and that’s good enough.

Another thing I should mention is the ‘Fuck Lolth’ squad, consisting of Tam’lin, Minthara and Kar’niss as a little clique. When Kar’niss is restored, his legs don’t work properly at first and he’s heavily disoriented after essentially being a passenger in a body that wasn’t entirely his own for (I’m gonna say roughly) a decade, but when he manages to get his bearings again, one of the first phrases from his lips is the equivalent of ‘fuck lolth’ in undercommon. Minthara agrees strongly, and Tam’lin, although a little on the fence about it, finally decides ‘yeah, actually; fuck lolth’.

(Also, Tam’lin would have probably tried to save Nere if he could have. The reason he couldn’t is because as soon as he was put back in the Underdark on the path to Moonrise, he instantly switched back into ‘ghost’ mode (not a conscious decision), the ‘ghost’ being prone to having little patience for spectacles, preferring to ambush or kill immediately… meaning he gave his companions whiplash again.

Gale, Wyll and Karlach were unnerved (Wyll in particular, because I feel like he would forget what Tam’lin was actually raised as, and see him through rose-tinted lenses as a fellow folk-hero, so it frightens him when the image he’s built of Tam’lin gets very suddenly shattered by the reality of what he used to be), Astarion kept a very close eye on him, and both Lae’zel and Shadowheart were impressed; Lae’zel for Tam’lin’s sudden cold, calculating efficiency and razor focus, and Shadowheart because she’d only ever heard stories about szarkai assassins and was now getting to see one in action, first hand.

Ngl he gets a bit winter soldier about it bc as soon as he’s put back in that environment it’s like one massive PTSD flashback until they come out the other end.

Complete dissociation, personality wiped, hard factory reset. Everyone else will be resting in camp and he’ll just be switching between obsessively counting, sharpening and oiling his arrows, patrolling the outskirts of the camp, totally nonverbal, not eating a damn thing, and only sleeping in short bursts. Totally silent footsteps too; fucker appears out of nowhere if nobody has been watching him.)

[shadowkira]

Me: I have arachnophobia

Also me, with spider themed characters:

😳🖤

Also me: bg3 please let me be a Drider

[sorcerous-caress]

My works

Sorted in alphabetical order based on the character's names, except when a work contains multiple characters, then you'll find it at the end of the list.

The most recent fics will be at the end of the character's list.

Gold ♡ is a traditionally written style fanfic [ usually crossposted to Ao3 ]

Red ♡ is a drabble/headcanon style Fanfic [ Not on my Ao3 ]

Pink ♡ is interactive stories

🎂 is an event related work

[ A -> Z ]

Arnell Hallowleaf

♡ Agape [comfort, romance]

Astarion

♡ To dance with you [heavy angst]

Dame Aylin & Isobel

♡ dealing with an overworked reader [fluff, poly]

Gale

♡ The Hanged Man [angst]

♡ cat food [ended]

Halsin

♡ Faux Innocence [smut]

Karniss

♡ Giving him a bath [fluff, angst]

Lorroakan

♡ general and smut headcanons [smut, fluff, dark content]

Minthara Baenre

♡ Smut headcanons [ Smut, nb!reader, Dom!minthara ]

♡ Secret confession [ Fluff, nb!reader ]

♡ Dead men's thrones [dark, smut, gore, durge!reader ]

♡ sleep cuddling [ Fluff, nb!reader, soft!Minthara ]

♡ Reflection [ smut, drama, cheating, Gale ]

♡ A beautiful webbing [smut, drider, dark]

♡ drider Minthara hc [fluff]

♡ Homewarming gift [smut]

Mizora

♡ Cucking Wyll [smut]

♡ XXX [smut]

Qudenos

♡ Red dragon smut hc [ heavy smut, nb!reader ]

Rolan

♡ Meta Magic Seduction [ smut, nb!reader, sub!rolan ]

Shadowheart

♡ Eager Plaything [ heavy smut, nb!reader, Dom!shadowheart ]

♡ Aftercare bath [ fluff, nb!reader, Soft!shadowheart ]

♡ pearly collar [ dark content, smut, nb!reader, dom!shadowheart ]

♡ she degrades you [ smut, nb!reader, dom!shadowheart ]

♡ shart au's reacting to a petname [ fluff, nb!reader ]

♡ wereshart and the full moon [ fluff, werewolf ]

♡ Werewolf Shadowheart HC [ fluff, werewolf ]

♡ Mysterious bag [ongoing]

Sorn Orlith

♡ Bad at sex [ crack, heavy smut, Afab!reader ]

Wyll

♡ With a shy Tav [fluff]

♡🎂 We die at the same time [angst, comfort]

♡🎂 Soft Yandere HC [dark content]

♡🎂 Heaven was made for two [fluff]

♡🎂 Into my arms [angst, TW: Self harm]

♡🎂 Karlach poly [fluff]

♡🎂 insecure tiefling Reader [angst, comfort]

♡🎂 girl dad Wyll [fluff]

Yurgir

♡ A rabbit braver than any wolf [smut]

Z'rell

♡ x reader headcanons [fluff, angst]

Several characters

♡ Asking to touch their ears [ fluff ]

♡ Putting makeup on them [ fluff ]

♡ How would they drink your blood [ suggestive ]

♡ Finding out you're ticklish [ fluff ]

♡ Giving them a hug [ fluff ]

♡ finding out you enjoyed being tickled [ fluff, fetish, smut ]

♡ reacting to a motherly reader [ fluff, afab!fem!reader ]

♡ Aftercare [ fluff, nb!reader ]

♡ how they act when they're sad [ angst ]

♡ reacting to Tav's younger sibling/child [ fluff ]

♡ tiefling reader losing a horn / eye [ hurt/comfort ]

♡ praising a shy Tav [ fluff ]

♡ with a teacher Tav [ fluff ]

♡ Accidentally calling them mom [fluff, platonic]

♡ Reacting to a fallen aasimar Tav [fluff]

♡ Dealing with a stressed Tav [fluff]

♡ Gifts they'd give you [fluff]

♡ taking you as their fake date [fluff]

♡ sharing a bed [fluff]

♡ taking care of the kids [fluff]

♡ aftermath of the breakup [suggestive]

♡ Companions with a Halfling Tav [fluff]

♡ early morning cuddling [fluff]

♡ early morning cuddling pt.2 [fluff]

[wellthebardsdead]

Tav: KAR’NISS I JUST GAVE YOU A BATH!!!

Kar’niss: *rolling in the dirt and covering as much of himself in dust as he can while chittering in distress*

Tav: what’s?… what’s wrong with him today? He hasn’t spoken a word since the shadow curse lifted.

Minthara: It’d be shorter to list what isn’t wrong with him but if you must know it’s this incessant sun!! It’s bad enough for me as a drow but I can live with it. Drider on the other hand seem double cursed when it comes to dealing with the morning lords ire. He’s hoping the dust will ease some of the irritation.

Tav: … *pulls a blanket from their pack and tosses it over the drider as he sits up* you should have just told me…

Kar’niss: *hugs the blanket tight and trills pleased with himself and the extra cover* now you have to bathe me again~

Tav: YOU COULDVE JUST ASKED ME TO JOIN YOU FOR A BATH!!! ITLL TAKE ME HOURS TO GET THE DUST OUT OF YOUR CHITIN AGAIN!

Kar’niss: gooood~

Minthara: I’d question your relationship but knowing lolth would either kill me or turn me into a creature like him should I return home, I shall hold my tongue.

[lunastrophe]

BG3 Drow Lore: Nere's Social Station

Thoughts on Nere's status in drow society, before he became the Twat True Soul of the Absolute. The game tells us next to nothing about his history, so I'll try to read between the lines:

🕷️ Male - like every drow male living in the Lolth-oriented society, Nere has lower social status than any drow female (a noble or a commoner), being considered virtually worthless unless proven otherwise.

Now, there are drow communities where Lolth is being given only a token deference (or none at all), and where males have equal - or almost equal - social status to females.

In one of his lines, though, Nere openly admits that he worshipped Lolth - and when he comes to his senses and realizes that he betrayed her for the false deity (the Absolute), he is genuinely upset. He clearly comes from Lolth-oriented society.

🕷️ Spellcaster - in terms of station, having an affinity for magic places Nere above an average drow male, labeling him as potentially useful for his house (or community in general). So, bonus status points for that. His spellcasting abilities are probably also above average, since in the end, he draws the attention of the Absolute.

🕷️ Physical Traits - no, really. For a drow male, Nere looks very tall and, well... broad (and it is not only because of his cloak, just take a look at his passive features). In drow society, such traits could mark him as an unusual male, possibly worthy of attention.

On one hand, it is said that drow females generally do not like their males to be much bigger and stronger than them. On the other, there are females like Matron Mother Mez'Barris Armgo who appreciated physically large males very much.

🕷️ Member of Noble House? - it is not known if Nere belongs to some noble house, but he certainly behaves like an arrogant and somewhat bratty noble. Maybe it's just the influence of the Absolute that gave him such a ridiculous boost in pride and self-confidence... or maybe not.

🔹 Nere's background is mostly a mystery - but even if he was not born into a noble house, like Minthara, he had a potential to be accepted into one. Given his attitude, he was most likely fiercely focused on "climbing the ladder", earning the favour of his superiors and eliminating his competition, driven by typical drow ambition and almost obsessive fear of failure.

🔹 Being a drow male and a spellcaster, he was likely trained to be commanded, not to command - that would certainly explain why he is such a failure of a leader and handles things in Grymforge so badly.

🔹 After associating himself with the cult of the Absolute and betraying Lolth, Nere would have virtually no chance to return home and survive. Just like Minthara in a similar scenario, he would be seen as an outcast and apostate, and most likely killed. Or subjected to a gruesome punishment that would end in his death. Or changed into a drider.

In one of his lines, after abandoning the Absolute - if Tav manages to convince him that he can reclaim his faith in Lolth - Nere mentions that he will warn the Order of Soul Spiders about the Absolute threat. Unfortunately, if he hopes to redeem himself in the eyes of Lolth and survive, he is almost certainly mistaken ☠️

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

[galesdevoteewife]

Hey, just to comment. I ADORE Zilvera (my Tav is a Lolth-sworn female drow is is into Gale too 😅) I would like to know a bit more of her. How is her relationship with the other companions, besides her beloved wizard? Her views on slavery (specially considering the role of the duegar, deep gnomes and goblins on the story, and the fact that she used to capture slaves)? Does she have scratch and/or the owlbear cub at the camp? Was she ever devoted to Lolth, considering she was raised by the church? How does she work with her faith? You said she was not as sexist as most of her kin, but what about race? How is she, as the leader of the group?

Sorry if this is a lot, you can ignore it if it's too annoying, I just found your blog and I'm a bit fixated, so... thank you in advance for reading this.❤️❤️

Hello anon! ♡♡♡ Zil says hi! Thank you for liking my blog and asking about my spider baby!! I am so glad you enjoyed them, I definitely don't find the ask annoying, I LOVE it!!! <33 You made my day with the ask✨🫶💕 Alright, let's see— How is her relationship with the other companions, besides her beloved wizard?

Here, I made a diagram! <3

Her views on slavery (specially considering the role of the duegar, deep gnomes and goblins on the story, and the fact that she used to capture slaves)? For her, slavery was a practical means of governance. Surviving in the Underdark had always been a nightmare, and resources had always been scarce. The war between races never ceased, and the racial hatred was too deep to be buried.

Among the three mentioned races, she preferred deep gnomes > goblins > duergars (if she gets to choose, she wouldn’t keep duergars. They are too much trouble), mainly because they were easier to discipline. She also liked Orogs for their combat abilities. However, she often found her people being wasteful by mutilating their slaves. "Did they think people came every day in tour groups for us to capture?" The soldiers often complained when they saw nobles wasting good slaves.

Does she have scratch and/or the owlbear cub at the camp? Their camp have both, Shadowheart and many others want them.

Was she ever devoted to Lolth, considering she was raised by the church? How does she work with her faith? She had prayed every day for as long as she could remember until she left Menzoberranzan. But Lolth's many eyes never took notice of her. She had never received any favor or trials. She was the unchosen and while other girls became priestesses, she became a soldier and was sent to Melee-Magthere. It wasn't surprising though; she had devoted herself solely to Chessintra, her godmother, the high priestess of her church, and her only love at the time, rather than being devout to Lolth. Still, she memorized vast amounts of prayers and scriptures, sufficient for her to become a missionary if she wishes to. Personality wise she also lacked ambition and was too loyal for Lolth's taste, all of which rendered her prospects bleak. Zilvera herself, however, hadn't minded much. She had seen too many rise in station only to be brutally assassinated or undergo trials only to lose everything and be turned into driders.

You said she was not as sexist as most of her kin, but what about race? She does hold racial stereotypes, but her final judgment is based on her own observation of the individuals. Zilvera despise cowards, and only those willing to fight could earn her respect. She has a soft spot for those who —despite their fear— showed courage and were willing to fight at all costs. For example, she was quite fond of Barcus and the Ironhands. She felt similarly towards Astarion. She wanted to see them succeed and wouldn't mind lending a hand if the situation arose.

She also took pride in being a drow. She was angered when she saw Minthara behaving in such a manner at Moonrise. She felt insulted, it was a disgrace to their people for her.

How is she, as the leader of the group? Zilvera is a neutral mediator, executing everyone's requests in the way they wanted. She has little interest in taking sides, preferring to observe because her priority and interest lie in understanding the values of the surface world. However, she does try to avoid conflicts within the troupe.

She acts as a commander only on the battlefield. With plenty of experience leading squads of slaves and soldiers—which usually it's members don't get along—She finds it intolerable to witness the group's disarray. She uses the worm to give orders in combat. The friction of her giving orders was quickly smoothed out because the fights led by her were efficient and fluent. She hardly ever rests; at night, she scouts and gathers intel on terrain and enemies. She would return to camp to trance for 2-4 hours at midday if the sun is too bright (the damn fireball makes her dizzy). As for conversations, she prefers to listen rather than talk, unless she has a specific agenda to steer the situation in a certain direction.

[depressedandasian]

What's funnier: Minthara being egged on by the rest of the group and reluctantly telling them the drider marriage joke, or Minthara telling it out of the blue to a shocked Tav/Dark Urge?

[moonselune]

By the Silk that Binds Us (pt.4)

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Matron!Minthara x Forced!Betrothed!reader

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part five

CW: feminine drow reader, catching feelings (involuntarily), mention of blood, open wounds, transformation, this is all my own interpretation of drow lore

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The library of House Baenre was a vast labyrinth of knowledge, its towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and forbidden texts. The dim light of nearby luminescent fungi filtered through the high windows, casting a fluorescent glow across the room. It was well past midnight, and the library was usually deserted at this hour. Yet tonight, two figures—Kyorlin and Lesaonar—were engaged in a quiet conversation, their voices hushed as they wandered among the stacks.

Arys, Minthara’s nephew, had been tasked with getting closer to the Liakyre twins, to then ply them for information about their older sister. When he saw them alone in the library, he thanked Lolth and seized the opportunity. He was not going ot fail the Matron.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Arys greeted with a grin, holding up a bottle of whiskey. The soft clink of glass against glass as he walked drew their attention.

The twins turned to face him, their expressions shifting from surprise to cautious interest. Arys approached, the whiskey bottle held out as an offering.

“A little late-night libation?” he suggested, his tone friendly. “I figured it might be nice to have a drink and chat." He then leaned towards them and dropped into a low conspiratol tone "Us men have to stick together after all.”

Kyorlin and Lesaonar exchanged weary glances, they had been cautious around the other members of House Baenre, they knew it was safer to keep quiet and out of the way, but then again an ally could never hurt. So, they nodded in agreement.

The three of them settled into comfortable chairs near a low table, the bottle of whiskey opened and poured into goblets. The rich, amber liquid swirled gently in the dim light. The initial awkwardness of their meeting quickly dissipated as the warmth of the whiskey took effect. As they drank, the conversation turned to their experiences in House Baenre. The twins seemed eager to share their thoughts and Arys smiled, this is exactly what he wanted.

“You know, Arys,” Lesaonar began, a hint of amusement in his voice, “we actually get treated better here than we ever did back in House Liakyre. It’s hard to believe, but it’s true.”

Arys raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really? I’d have thought House Baenre would be far more… intense for you guys. ”

“Oh, it is intense,” Kyorlin admitted with a laugh, “I can imagine that without our dear sister's protection here we would already be dead by now. But back at Liakyre, the female members—sisters, aunts, cousins—were always picking on us, bullying us. Here, they don’t even bother with us. It’s like we’re invisible, which, honestly, is a very nice change.”

Lesaonar nodded in agreement. “The libraries here are amazing, too. We were never allowed such access to resources back at our old house. We weren't deemed worthy enough. This-" Lesaonar gestured to the towers of books around them "-Is a whole new world.”

Arys chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. I always thought the Liakyres were a soft house, that you boys would have got off lightly, maybe even have a few third sons kicking about. You weren't exactly high up in the ranks.”

“You would think that,” Kyorlin said, taking a sip of his drink. “But our matron- mother, even, was dilligent. Brutally so, a devout and traditional follower of Lolth. I personally believe she was delighted when she had twin boys, it meant that she was able to sacrifice every son born after us - and she did. It got to a point where she was praying for boys, just so she could make a show of her love to Lolth.”

Arys’s curiosity was piqued. “What about your sister, Y/N? I've heard she is a dedicated follower of Lolth, is she like your mother?”

Lesaonar’s expression softened slightly, a hint of fondness in his eyes. “No, she isn’t, at all. Y/N was actually the kindest of them all. Her love for Lolth is natural, our mother's was desperate."

"She despised Y/N for it, often sent her off to darkest parts of the underdark, hoping she would never come back, but she always did." Kyorlin said with a light smile, as if reminscing on a funny memory.

"Just because of her connection with Lolth? Or because of what she did at the engagement party with that hook horror?" Arys pressed and he noticed Kyorlin visisbly tense.

Lesaonar, however, had been swept away by the whiskey's effects and before Kyorlin could stop him, words tumbled from his mouth and he gestured with a dramatic flair. "Of course, she was envious that Y/N was such an emblem of our divine heritage-"

"-That is quite enough for tonight!" Kyorlin interrupted his twin, snatching his drink from him. Arys smiled, he was clearly on to something and Lesaonar had let enough information slip for him to get the Matron off of his back. Kyorlin helped Lesaonar to his feet and turned curtly to Arys. "Thank you, Arys, tonight has been a pleasure but I fear the whiskey has gone to my brother's head."

"Worry not, we are going to be family in a few days. Been a pleasure to get to know the both of you." Arys nodded to them as they left, he had all that he needed.

After a celebratory drink for himself, Arys made his way out of the library, the bottle of whiskey nearly empty and a satisfied smirk on his face. He had successfully gleaned useful information from Kyorlin and Lesaonar, and he was eager to report back to Minthara.

As he made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps echoed faintly against the stone walls. He was so focused on his pride that he barely noticed the soft patter of footsteps behind him.

Suddenly, Kyorlin appeared out of nowhere, his expression grim and his movements quick. Without warning, Kyorlin swung a heavy book from a nearby shelf at Arys. The blow caught Arys off guard, sending him crashing to the floor. The sharp impact of the blow to his head caused a burst of pain and disorientation. Blood trickled from the wound on his forehead, staining the stone floor and before Arys could react, the darkness enveloped him, and he lost consciousness.

When Arys came to, he was lying on a cot in the infirmary of House Baenre, wounded guards and soldiers lay groaning around him, most wounds probably inflicted by the women of the house. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and a warm, sticky sensation on his face alerted him to a trickle of blood running from a cut above his eyebrow. He struggled to sit up, disoriented and confused.

A healer, an elderly female drow, most likely a great great aunt of his, with a stern expression, stood over him, her hands deftly applying a cool compress to his head. Her eyes were narrowed in disapproval.

“Careless fool,” she muttered, her voice stern and authoritative. “Getting drunk in the library and falling over. You’re lucky those Liakyre twins found you before anyone else did.”

Arys blinked, trying to piece together the events leading up to his current predicament. “The twins? Kyorlin and Lesaonar?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

The healer nodded curtly. “Yes, they found you lying on the floor of the library. They brought you here and took care of you. I must say, you’re fortunate they were able to intervene before more serious harm occurred."

Arys's mind raced as he tried to remember what had happened, but his memory was hazy. The events from the library, the conversation with Kyorlin and Lesaonar, and the details about Y/N seemed to be slipping through his fingers like sand.

“Did-did they say anything important?” he asked, his anxiety growing.

The healer gave him a puzzled look. “They didn’t mention much. Kyorlin said something about you getting drunk and falling, but he didn’t elaborate."

Frustrated and disoriented, Arys tried to recall the conversation with the twins, but the details eluded him. The whiskey had clearly affected his memory, as had the fall and he felt a pang of frustration and fear that he would not be able to report anything to his aunt. The wedding was only a few nights away and if he hadn't brought any useful information to the Matron by then, then he was sure that his own mother would sacrifice him and offer him as a wedding gift to the couple.

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The grand hall of House Baenre was abuzz with the preparations for the grand ceremony tomorrow. The space, with its opulent drow architecture, was being meticulously fussed over for the upcoming wedding by an array of servants and lower family members keen to rise through the familial ranks. The rehearsal, a necessary formality, was underway with the High Priestess presiding over the proceedings, while you and Minthara stood side by side, ready to go through the motions of the ceremony.

Minthara’s posture was relaxed but betrayed an evident lack of interest. She leaned against a stone column, her expression bored, and her eyes glazed over as the High Priestess explained the order of the ceremony.

“The ceremony will commence with a prayer to Lolth, invoking her blessings and ensuring her favor upon this union,” she explained, her voice echoing in the cavernous hall. “This will be followed by the binding blood vow, where both parties pledge their eternal commitment.”

Minthara’s eyes glazed over further, clearly disinterested, though she nodded occasionally, if only to maintain the pretense of attentiveness.

“The next step,” the High Priestess continued, her tone unwavering, “is the cutting off of the House Liakyre symbol from your body, Y/N, and its replacement with the House Baenre symbol, on your neck to match Minthara's."

You shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the tattoo removal and couldn't help but notice that Minthara's interest piqued at the mention of it, a small smile appearing on her lips. She would be the one to slice it from your skin, and brand you with your new House mark. The thought of losing a symbol so deeply connected to your identity was unsettling, as was the nausea that came with it, though you tried to push the unease aside.

At this point, now teased with more exciting matters, Minthara’s usual veneer of control slipped slightly. Her lips curled into a subtle snarl. “And what about the toast?”

The High Priestess’s eyes narrowed slightly at Minthara’s interruption but she continued as if unaffected. “After the new tattoo is applied, there will be a toast, followed by the banquet. The drinks served to you will contain Menzoberranzan love magic, ensuring the bonding process expected later in the night is completed effectively.”

Both you and Minthara stiffened at the High Priestess’s words. Minthara’s expression transformed from irritation to shock, her eyes wide with outrage. You, too, were taken aback by the unexpected and rather vulgar revelation. The thought of a magical enhancement to facilitate intimacy was not something either of you had anticipated.

“This is absurd!” Minthara’s voice was sharp, betraying her anger. “You can’t be serious. This is an outrage.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling a flush of embarrassment. ���Yes, this is crossing a line!”

The High Priestess raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your reactions. “Grow up, both of you. It’s merely a ritualistic practice to ensure the union is properly sealed. It is in the privacy of your own quarters and it’s just sex—nothing more, though if it is something more then all the better for House Baenre.”

"As if." "I would rather turn into a drider."

“Enough,” the High Priestess said, her voice cutting through the tension. “The ceremony is tomorrow. You both need to rest and prepare yourselves. This rehearsal is over.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and began to walk away, her robes trailing behind her like a flowing river of crimson. You crossed your arms looking up at Minthara with a scowl, Minthara scoffed, putting her hands on her hips.

The High Priestess’s dismissive attitude only fueled your outrage and frustration. As she swept away, her crimson robes flowing like a river of silk, you turned to Minthara, who stood with her arms crossed and a scowl etched into her features. The air between you was charged with tension, every word an electric spark.

Minthara’s frustration burst forth like a dam breaking. “This is all your fault. I could have just obliterated your entire house and been done with it, but no, you had to sneak away and find some ethereal loophole. You’ve dragged me into this farce of a wedding.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Minthara,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s my fault you were too blinded by your own bloodlust to consider there might be other options. I had no idea I was dealing with someone who thought slaughtering my entire house was a viable solution.”

Minthara’s eyes narrowed, her irritation barely contained. “You think this is funny? This wedding, this ceremony—everything about it is a nightmare. And it’s all because of your stubbornness and your insipid refusal to accept reality.”

“Reality?” you countered sharply. “You know, for someone who claims to be so powerful, the mightiest in Menzoberranzen, you sure do complain a lot.”

The argument continued as you both stormed down the corridors of House Baenre, your footsteps echoing off the cold, dark stone walls. Minthara’s heels clicked furiously against the ground, each step a testament to her frustration. You matched her pace, your own anger simmering as you exchanged barbed comments.

“If you had any sense of responsibility, you’d have thought this through before you dragged me into your mess,” Minthara snapped.

“And if you had any sense of decency, you wouldn’t have murdered my entire family, forcing my hand.” you shot back, the words barely hiding your exasperation.

The quarrel continued unabated as you reached the separate quarters designated for the night. As was traditional, the night before the wedding required that you both sleep apart, a formality steeped in ancient customs. The thought of having to spend the night without Minthara’s presence was both frustrating and unsettling.

As you reached the door to your quarters, Minthara stopped abruptly, facing you with a final scowl. “Enjoy your night alone. Maybe you’ll finally get some clarity on how you’ve managed to make everything worse.”

“And you, Minthara,” you replied, “try not to let the weight of your own bitterness crush you before the ceremony.”

With a final huff, Minthara pushed past you and slammed her door shut with a resounding thud. You watched the door close, the sound reverberating through the corridor.

You turned and entered your own quarters, the room meticulously prepared with fine furnishings and dark, rich drapery. You paced the room restlessly, your anger giving way to an unsettling sense of emptiness.

Lying on the bed, you stared up at the ceiling, your mind racing with thoughts of the looming ceremony. The more you tried to focus on anything but Minthara, the more her absence became a palpable void. The bed felt too large, the space too empty.

Meanwhile, in her own quarters, Minthara was equally restless. She paced her room, the luxurious furnishings and the meticulously arranged décor doing little to soothe her frayed nerves. The silence of her room was as unnerving as it was lonely. You weren't muttering your prayers, indulging in an absurdly long night time routine. Despite her irritation, she couldn’t shake the feeling of missing something—or rather, someone.

Eventually, both of you found yourselves lying awake in your respective beds, staring at the ceiling, the quiet of the night amplifying your thoughts and frustrations. The realization dawned that despite the heated bickering, there was a certain sense of connection and familiarity that had been strangely comforting. The absence of that presence was felt deeply, and meditation eluded both of you as you grappled with your thoughts.

The night had dragged on with restless thoughts and a growing sense of unease. Exhaustion finally overcame you, and you slipped into a meditative trance, hoping for some respite before the impending ceremony. In the quiet of the room, you found a semblance of peace, the rhythmic rise and fall of your breath guiding you towards a state of calm.

Just as you were beginning to drift into a deeper state of relaxation, the serenity was shattered by the loud creak of your door. You jolted awake, blinking against the sudden influx of light and noise. The door swung open to reveal a flurry of movement as a group of young girls, no older than fourteen or fifteen, stormed into the room. Their chatter and giggles filled the air, a cacophony of youthful exuberance that was anything but peaceful.

The girls, dressed in colorful and somewhat mismatched garments, scattered around the room, dropping various items on the floor and chattering excitedly. They carried brushes, jars of oils, and an assortment of fabric, which they began to arrange haphazardly around the room.

Kyorlin and Lesaonar entered behind them, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. You looked at them, bewildered.

“By the demon's web, what is going on?” you demanded, struggling to sit up against the tangle of blankets and pillows.

The twins exchanged glances before Kyorlin shrugged nonchalantly. “We have no idea. We were just told to bring them to you.”

One of the servants who had entered with the girls stepped forward, offering an apologetic smile. “As Matron Baenre understands that you have no female relatives to assist you, she has sent these girls to help you get ready for the ceremony. It’s her way of ensuring you’re properly prepared.”

The realization hit you like a cold wave. This was no act of kindness or generosity; it was a clear attempt to pass off the unruly young girls onto you, so the Matron wouldn’t have to deal with them herself. It was a tactical move, a way of keeping them out of her hair while she focused on her own preparations.

The girls, oblivious to your annoyance, began to tug at your sleep garments and hair, their energy boundless. They giggled and chatted as they pulled at your clothes, chattering about hairstyles and makeup, their fingers too eager and too rough. It was clear that their idea of assistance was more chaotic than helpful.

Feeling a mix of frustration and desperation, you turned to Kyorlin and Lesaonar. “Can you two perhaps go and pray for me in the chapel? It seems I could use some divine intervention right now.”

Kyorlin and Lesaonar looked at each other, a smirk playing on their lips as they took in the scene before them.

“Pray for you?” Lesaonar echoed with a grin. “Or pray for a miracle to get us out of this madness?”

Kyorlin’s expression softened slightly. “We’ll go,” he said with a chuckle. “It seems like you could use some peace and quiet. We'll see you at the ceremony, dear sister.”

With that, they exited the room, leaving you to the chaotic whirlwind of young girls. As they bustled around you, their laughter and chatter gradually began to fade into the background of your mind. You were left to endure their relentless enthusiasm, trying to stay calm despite the overwhelming noise and activity.

The young girls swarmed around you with a flurry of questions, their voices rising in a cheerful, chaotic crescendo. They seemed to have no sense of personal space, their faces close to yours as they eagerly awaited your responses. You could barely keep up with their rapid-fire inquiries as they tugged at your garments and pushed various accessories into your hands.

“Where’s your wedding dress?” one of them asked, her eyes wide with excitement as she peered into the open wardrobe.

“How are you going to style your hair?” another chimed in, her fingers already brushing through your locks with the kind of enthusiasm that only a young girl could muster.

“Are you going to fight anyone during the ceremony?” asked a third, her face a mix of curiosity and awe.

“Are you going to use your powers?” the last girl queried, her eyes sparkling with a blend of admiration and anticipation.

You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure amidst the whirlwind of questions.

“My dress is being prepared by the seamstresses. As for my hair, well, I haven’t quite decided yet. I might leave it to the skilled hands of you young ladies.” You glanced at the older girls who were already starting to work on your hair, their excitement palpable. “And no, there won’t be any fighting during the ceremony. It’s all about unity and devotion. As for my powers, they’re not really part of the ceremony. They’re something I reserve for more pressing matters.”

The girls seemed somewhat satisfied with your answers, but their curiosity remained unabated. Their chatter continued, and you could see their faces lighting up with interest. In an effort to calm the scene and make the best of the situation, you decided to offer them a distraction.

“You know,” you began, your tone shifting to one of storytelling, “since you’re all so eager to know about me, how about I tell you a story while you do my hair?”

The girls’ eyes widened with delight, and they all gathered closer, their attention now fully focused on you allowing the older girls to work on your hair with less chaos.

“Alright, let me tell you about the time I had to go to the surface.” You began, weaving your tale with an air of intrigue.

“It was years ago,” you continued, “when I was sent on a mission to the surface world. Everyone says the surface is a terrible place, filled with danger and discomfort, and I’ll admit, I had my doubts. The light up there—oh, it’s so harsh and blinding compared to our soft, ambient glow. And the air, so dry and warm. It felt like walking through a blazing inferno.”

The girls gasped, clearly captivated by your description. One of them, with wide eyes, asked, “Was it as bad as they say it is?”

You nodded solemnly. “At first, it was overwhelming. The sun burned my skin, and I had to be careful not to let the light blind me. The surface world is a place of harsh contrasts compared to the Underdark. But I managed to survive by staying in the shadows as much as possible and using my knowledge of the surface’s geography to navigate through it. It’s a different kind of danger, one that requires patience and cunning.”

Another girl, clearly intrigued, asked, “How did you manage to stay safe?”

“I had to be very cautious,” you explained. “I used cloaking spells to hide from prying eyes and relied on my wits to avoid the more dangerous creatures of the surface. I even learned a few tricks to blend in with the surface-dwellers, though that wasn’t always easy. The key was to adapt and use every bit of knowledge I had to my advantage.”

The girls listened intently, their previous frenzy momentarily forgotten as they absorbed your tale. Their hands worked diligently through your hair, carefully arranging it as they listened to your story with rapt attention.

“So, you survived all of that?” one of them asked, awe in her voice.

“Yes,” you confirmed with a nod. “And I returned with a deeper understanding of the surface world. It’s not as simple as the stories make it out to be, but it’s not entirely the nightmare some say it is either. It’s a world full of challenges, but also of opportunities.”

The girls exchanged impressed glances, clearly impressed by your resilience and resourcefulness. Their chatter slowed as they focused on their task, and you could see the newfound respect in their eyes.

As the girls finished arranging your hair, their lively chatter slowly faded, replaced by a more subdued and focused energy. The transformation in the room was palpable; the earlier chaos had been replaced by an air of contented productivity.

Just then, a servant entered the room, carrying a beautifully wrapped bundle. The girls’ eyes immediately widened with curiosity, and they gathered around the servant as he carefully unwrapped the bundle to reveal your wedding dress.

A collective gasp of admiration escaped from the girls as they saw the dress. They circled around it, their faces lit up with awe and delight. “Oh, it’s so beautiful!” one of them exclaimed, her voice full of wonder.

“It looks so elegant!” another girl chimed in, her eyes sparkling.

Their enthusiastic reactions warmed your heart. It was clear that they were genuinely impressed, and it was a comforting change from the earlier frustration and chaos. You couldn’t help but smile at their genuine appreciation, feeling a sense of connection with these young, spirited girls.

The servant, noticing the girls’ fascination, cleared his throat to get their attention. “Ladies, you need to leave now. We have other preparations to attend to, and you must be ready to greet the guests soon.”

The girls, though reluctant, knew better than to argue. They cast one last longing look at the dress before reluctantly shuffling toward the door. “We’ll miss you!” one of them said, her voice tinged with sadness.

“See you at the ceremony!” another added, giving you a bright smile before exiting the room.

Once they were gone, the room seemed quieter, their youthful energy having left an almost palpable mark. You stood by the mirror, taking in your reflection. The sense of camaraderie you had shared with the girls lingered, making you feel unexpectedly lighter.

Now the girls were gone, the servant held the dress up to you. "It is time."

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The grand hall of House Baenre was a magnificent spectacle of dark elegance. The rich crimson and obsidian banners draped from the walls, their opulent fabric catching the flickering light of the many torches. A hushed reverence hung in the air, only heightened by the murmurs of the elite of Menzoberranzan who had gathered to witness the grand wedding ceremony.

At the altar, Minthara stood like a figure from a dark legend. She was clad in her ceremonial regalia—a striking blend of armor and finery that showcased her status and power. Her dress was an elaborate piece of art, a seamless fusion of practicality and splendor. The armor was adorned with intricate patterns of red and black, the colors of House Baenre, and it accentuated her commanding presence. The armor, polished to a high sheen, caught the light in a way that emphasized her formidable and fierce demeanor.

Minthara’s light purple skin contrasted sharply with the dark fabric of her attire, giving her an ethereal, almost otherworldly appearance. Her white hair was styled meticulously, cascading in silken waves down her back and framing her sharp, striking features. The house Baenre sigil was emblazoned across her neck in a bold tattoo, a mark of her dominance and heritage. It was impossible to ignore the intense gaze she cast over the assembled guests, a mix of pride and cold calculation in her eyes.

The High Priestess and the acolyte stood beside Minthara at the altar, both figures imposing in their own right. The High Priestess, with her elaborate robes of dark violet and silver, held a commanding presence that matched the gravity of the occasion. Her ornate staff, topped with a symbol of Lolth, rested beside her, its presence a reminder of the divine power that governed the ceremony.

The guests—elite members of Menzoberranzan society—filled the seats, their whispers creating a low murmur of anticipation. They were the crème de la crème of drow society, their attire as elaborate as the occasion demanded. The front row was reserved for your family, though it was glaringly empty apart from Kyorlin and Lesaonar.

The moment arrived with the soft sound of the chamber doors opening, revealing you in all your ceremonial splendor. The room fell into an awed silence as you began your walk up the aisle, every step measured and graceful, drawing the collective gaze of the assembly.

You were enveloped in a dress that seemed to transcend mortal craftsmanship. The fabric, a delicate blend of shimmering silk and ethereal spiderweb patterns, clung to your form with an almost otherworldly elegance. It was as though Lolth herself had spun a cocoon around you, the silk’s iridescent sheen reflecting the candlelight and casting a faint, ghostly glow around you. The dress flowed behind you like a silken waterfall, trailing behind you in a whisper of movement that seemed both fluid and majestic.

Your hair was styled with meticulous precision, two sharp curls cascaded down the sides of your face. These curled strands were reminiscent of spider pincers, framing your features in a way that emphasized your otherworldly beauty. The rest of your hair was pulled back, accentuating the intricate work of the dress and the delicate silver adornments that accentuated your collarbone.

Silver spider legs were strategically placed along your body, their intricate design accentuating the curves and lines of your form. Two legs arched beneath your collarbone, glinting subtly as they caught the light. Another set adorned the curve of your bust, emphasizing the elegance of your silhouette, while additional sets traced your hips and thighs, creating a cascading effect that drew the eye and added a touch of both elegance and danger.

The glossy finish of your makeup made your red eyes stand out with a fierce intensity, their piercing gaze capturing the attention of everyone present.

As you made your way up the aisle, Minthara’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in a mixture of awe and admiration, her typically composed demeanor momentarily faltering as she took in the sight of you. You looked like a divine gift from Lolth herself, a vision of beauty and power that left her momentarily breathless.

Your approach was marked by the soft, almost melodic swish of your dress and the respectful silence of the assembled guests. Minthara’s eyes followed you with an intensity that spoke of both reverence and longing, her own fierce beauty momentarily overshadowed by your ethereal presence.

The High Priestess and the acolyte observed the entrance with approving nods, the former's stern expression softening just a fraction. The ceremony had now reached its pinnacle, with you as the centerpiece, a radiant embodiment of Lolth’s favor.

The grand hall was bathed in the flickering glow of countless candles, their flames dancing in the hushed reverence of the ceremony. With a solemn nod, the High Priestess raised her arms, her voice resonating through the hall as she began the ancient prayer to Lolth. The chant was a haunting melody, woven with words of devotion and supplication, invoking the favor of the Spider Queen upon the union about to be sealed.

You stood beside Minthara, your gaze fixed ahead, though you could feel her intense stare burning into you. A slight, almost imperceptible smile touched your lips as you tried to maintain your composure under the weight of her scrutiny.

The High Priestess concluded the prayer and turned her attention to the next phase of the ceremony: the binding blood vow. The acolyte stepped forward, presenting a ceremonial dagger with an ornate hilt. The dagger’s blade glinted ominously in the candlelight as it was passed to the High Priestess.

The High Priestess took the dagger and approached you. With precise, practiced movements, she made a shallow cut on your palm, the pain sharp but brief. The blood that welled up was immediately captured by the High Priestess, who then turned to Minthara. She made a similar incision on Minthara’s palm.

The words of the vow began to echo through the hall, the High Priestess guiding you both as you repeated the ancient promises of loyalty to each other and to House Baenre. You vowed not only your fidelity to the house but also a solemn promise to never bring harm to each other, pledging to protect and uphold the sanctity of your union.

As you spoke the words, you noticed a sudden and alarming change in Minthara’s demeanor - and not just the grimace from swearing she would never be able to bring harm against you. Her face grew pale, and a look of weakness and disorientation crossed her features. It was as if a wave of illness had washed over her, and she swayed slightly on her feet.

Instinctively, you reached out and grasped Minthara’s hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. The mingling of your blood, open wound on open wound, had an immediate effect. Minthara’s pallor quickly faded, and her strength seemed to return as the warmth of her body stabilized.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of the acolyte’s face. There was a momentary flicker of something sinister in her expression before they quickly masked it with a neutral demeanor. You gripped Minthara's hand reassuringly, but were just met with her narrowed accusatory eyes, whatever had just happened was evidenlty your fault somehow.

The ceremony continued, with the High Priestess’s gaze flickering between you and Minthara, noting the strange turn of events but choosing to proceed with the rites regardless, you believe she was just happy that you both made it there alive. Your shared blood dripped from each other's palms, landing in the alter below, as it fell it pooled and spread into Lolth's insignia, a sign of approval.

After what felt like an age the binding blood vow was complete, a rush of sharp magic danced across each of your palms as you flinched away from each other, only to realise your wounds had both been healed. Servants attended to you both, ensuring that you were cleaned up and presentable.

"Now, for Y/N Liakyre to shed herself from the past, and embrace her new future as Mistress Y/N Baenre, Wife of Matron Minthara Baenre." The high priestess announced and an involuntary shiver racked through you, you were not looking forward to this. Mainly as Minthara would be the one slicing your beloved House mark from your skin, and considering she thought you just tried to poison her, you were certain she was going to be anything but quick about it.

The ceremony continued with a palpable sense of anticipation hanging in the air. The High Priestess’s announcement rang out clearly, declaring the next phase of the ritual. “Now, for Y/N Liakyre to shed herself from the past and embrace her new future as Mistress Y/N Baenre, Wife of Matron Minthara Baenre.”

A shiver ran through you, a blend of apprehension and anticipation. You knew what was coming—Minthara, the one you were still getting to know, would be the one to remove your house sigil. The thought of her performing this act, particularly under the shadow of the recent incident, filled you with unease. You had braced yourself for an uncomfortable ordeal, expecting the worst given the tension between you.

To your surprise, however, Minthara approached you with an unexpected gentleness. Her eyes, though guarded, were soft as she prepared to perform the task. The intricate dagger she held, - her personal favourite, you noted - glinted ominously in the candlelight, but her touch was surprisingly delicate.

Minthara’s hand was steady as she positioned the blade near your wrist. Her fingers, though firm, were careful as they traced the outline of your House Liakyre sigil. You felt the cold metal of the dagger as it made contact with your skin, but instead of the anticipated pain, her movements were precise and controlled. There was an almost reassuring quality to her touch.

As the blade began its work, Minthara leaned in slightly, her breath warm against your ear. “I will make this as swift and painless as possible,” she murmured, her voice a low whisper that carried both assurance and an unexpected tenderness.

The edge of the dagger sliced through the skin with an efficiency that took you by surprise. Despite the sting of the incision, Minthara’s soft praise was oddly comforting.

Once the sigil was completely severed from your skin, Minthara gripped the wound with one hand, her touch surprisingly soothing. You could feel the warmth of her magic as she began the healing process. The sensation of her healing spell was like a gentle wave washing over you, numbing the pain and closing the wound.

As the healing magic worked, Minthara's other hand moved to your neck. With a deliberate, yet gentle motion, she traced the Baenre sigil onto your skin. Her touch was careful and meticulous, her nail guiding the sigil’s shape with an almost artistic precision. The sensation was both hot and cold—a duality that made you wince but also marvel at the intensity of the moment.

The sigil burned into your skin with a searing warmth, and you could not help but flinch slightly, even though you tried to remain still. Minthara’s face was close to yours, her gaze intense as she focused on her task. When she finished, she inspected the mark closely, her expression a blend of satisfaction and relief.

As she pulled away, your eyes locked with hers, and in that moment, something shifted between you. You hadn't realised it but you were holding her hand that she had just healed you with, a connection that felt both intimate and profound. The urge to kiss her was almost overwhelming, a sudden, unspoken understanding passing between the both of you.

Before you could act on the impulse, the High Priestess’s voice cut through the charged silence. “Now that the mark is complete,” she announced with a tone of finality, “let us proceed with the final rites of the ceremony. The toast.”

The intrusion of the High Priestess’s voice shattered the moment, and you and Minthara were abruptly reminded of the ritualistic nature of the event. You quickly withdrew your hand from Minthara’s, trying to steady your breathing and regain composure. Minthara cleared her throat as if she had not been victim to the same fleeting feelings as you.

As you and Minthara turned toward the altar, the final stage of the ceremony was upon you: the toast. The High Priestess, with a solemn expression, raised her goblet high and addressed the assembly with practiced grace.

“Let us now toast to the union of House Baenre and their newest member, Mistress Y/N Baenre. May this bond be as strong as the webs spun by Lolth herself, and may their loyalty to each other and to House Baenre be unwavering.”

The audience responded with elated cheers, their eyes fixed on you and Minthara. The atmosphere was thick with expectation as the High Priestess gestured for you both to take your goblets.

You and Minthara exchanged a knowing glance, your previous unspoken connection now tempered by the ceremonial formalities. The goblets, adorned with intricate patterns and filled with a dark, almost ominous liquid, were a focal point of the final rite. The contents imbued with Menzoberranzan love magic.

Minthara’s lips curled into a smirk as she looked at you, her eyes gleaming with challenge. She lifted her goblet, her movements deliberate and poised, and with a defiant glint in her eye, she downed the contents in one swift motion. The crowd watched in anticipation, their cheers momentarily hushed as they awaited your response.

You met her smirk with a challenging look of your own. Taking a deep breath, you raised your own goblet, feeling the weight of the ritual and the gaze of the onlookers. With a final, resolute glance at Minthara, you followed suit and drank the contents in one go. The liquid slid down your throat, its taste oddly unremarkable despite the grandiose of its magical properties.

As the last drop of the goblet was consumed, a cheer erupted from the audience, their enthusiasm a stark contrast to the tension that had lingered between you and Minthara. The High Priestess’s face remained inscrutable as she nodded in approval, and the formalities of the ceremony drew to a close.

In a moment of shared understanding, you leaned in toward Minthara, and she responded with a confident yet tender kiss. The crowd’s cheers swelled, their applause growing louder as the kiss deepened. It was a brief but meaningful display of unity, a symbolic gesture that marked the beginning of your life together. As you both pulled away, your eyes locked, the tension of the earlier ceremony now mingled with the thrill of the new chapter ahead.

With a nod to each other, Minthara took your hand and led you towards the grand banquet hall. The room was adorned with opulent decorations, the feast laid out on long tables that gleamed with silver and crystal. The air was filled with the rich scents of exotic dishes and the buzz of conversation.

As you entered the hall, your gaze fell upon your brothers, who were seated among the guests. They caught your eye and offered you warm smiles, their faces reflecting a genuine sense of pride and joy. The sight was reassuring, a small island of familiarity amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces.

Nearby, the young girls who had helped you earlier were eagerly waving at you from their seats. You smiled back at them and gave a playful wave, their excitement evident as they responded with enthusiastic giggles and cheers. It was a comforting sight, a reminder of the bonds you had managed to forge even in the midst of such a formal and intimidating occasion.

Minthara led you to the head of the banquet hall, where a line of guests was already forming to offer their congratulations and present you with gifts. The well-wishers approached one by one, each one bowing respectfully and offering their tributes. The atmosphere was filled with a blend of festivity and formality, the air thick with the scent of rich foods and the murmur of polite conversation.

Amid the bustling crowd, you noticed that the acolyte from the ceremony had slipped away from the banquet. A sense of unease prickled at the back of your mind, and you excused yourself from the line of well-wishers with a polite but hurried apology.

“I must give my thanks to Lolth for the ceremony,” you said, your voice steady but urgent. “I will be back shortly.”

Minthara gave you a curious look but nodded in understanding. “Don’t be long,” she instructed, her tone a mix of curiosity and caution.

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You made your way swiftly to the chapel, the grand archways and shadowed corners of the sacred space offering a stark contrast to the celebratory chaos of the banquet. As you approached the altar, you saw the acolyte kneeling in despair, her head bowed and her hands clasped in a desperate plea for mercy. Her soft sobs echoed through the empty chapel, the sanctity of the space amplifying the depth of her distress.

A smirk touched your lips as you approached, your footsteps echoing ominously. The acolyte’s head snapped up at the sound, her tear-streaked face reflecting shock and anger as she recognized you.

“I cannot imagine Lolth will be forgiving to the one who tried to poison her favored on the day of their union,” you said with a cold satisfaction. The words seemed to land heavily, deepening the acolyte’s rage.

“How did you survive?” she demanded, her voice a harsh whisper, trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “How did both of you survive? That blade was coated in Purple Worm Toxin; as soon as it drew blood, the effects should have taken hold immediately.”

"Evidently, House Baenre-"

"-House Baenre!” she spat out, her voice laced with venom. “I hate them all! They destroyed my family. Minthara killed my sister on a whim, and my house fell because of her cruelty. I was sent here to exact revenge, to see House Baenre's ruin!”

You listened with a mix of cold detachment and grim understanding. The animosity and vendetta against House Baenre were clear, but you had little sympathy for her plight. Your position as Mistress of House Baenre meant you had to uphold the dignity and power of your new house. Her vendetta was irrelevant to you now; she was a threat that needed to be dealt with.

“You failed,” you said, your voice steely. “And as Mistress of House Baenre, I am obligated to ensure that all transgressions are punished. However, I doubt I’ll get there before Lolth herself. That doesn’t mean I can’t offer some assistance.”

Before the acolyte could fully comprehend what was happening, you began to weave a cocoon of divine silk around her. The shimmering threads encased her body, the silken strands gliding effortlessly as they bound her tightly. Her struggles against the cocoon were futile, the threads forming a firm and unyielding prison.

With the cocoon fully formed, you turned your gaze upward to the statue of Lolth. The statue’s eyes, previously dim and lifeless, suddenly flared with a deep, crimson glow. The eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness of the chapel, signaling the goddess’s presence.

A small smile graced your lips and in a flash of blinding light, the cocoon began to tremble and writhe. The divine silk glowed with an eerie, otherworldly light as the acolyte’s form within the cocoon began to twist and contort. A cacophony of harsh, bone cracking sounds filled the chapel, the process of transformation a brutal and unsettling spectacle.

The cocoon’s surface split open, revealing the acolyte’s body undergoing a grotesque metamorphosis. Her limbs elongated and twisted, her form shifting into that of a drider—half-drow, half-spider. The transformation was violent, marked by a series of inhuman cries and the sound of tearing flesh.

As the final touches of the transformation took place, a portal of shimmering web appeared above the altar. The drider, now fully transformed, was dragged upwards by the force of the web, struggling against its constraints but ultimately powerless to resist.

The portal drew the drider into its depths, vanishing into the dark expanse of the Underdark. The last sight of the acolyte was a flash of horrified eyes and twisted limbs before it was completely absorbed by the portal.

You watched with a mixture of resolve and cold satisfaction as the portal closed, sealing the drider's fate. The chapel fell silent once more, the only sound being the distant echoes of the banquet hall. You slowly albeit with great difficulty due to the restrcitve dress, kneeled infront of the statue and clasped your hands in prayer.

The dim light of the chapel flickered as you approached the grand statue of Lolth, her visage looming large and commanding in the sacred space. The flickering flames of the nearby torches cast eerie shadows, creating an atmosphere both reverent and charged with divine energy.

You fell to your knees on the cold, polished stone floor, your posture embodying both respect and solemnity. The weight of the evening’s events settled upon you, and with deep breaths, you centered yourself, preparing to offer a prayer worthy of the Spider Queen. You lowered your head and closed your eyes, focusing all your energy and intent on the divine presence before you.

In a voice both steady and reverent, you began:

“Most Glorious and Resplendent Lolth, Queen of Spiders, Matron of the Underdark, hear the words of your devoted descendent.”

“Great Mistress, it is with deepest gratitude and unwavering devotion that I come before you in this sacred place. I offer my thanks for your boundless favor, which guided my ancestral aasimar, Liakyre, from the treacherous embrace of her mother Eilistraee, and into the welcoming web of your dark grace.”

“O Divine One, you who nurtured and raised her as your own, you who allowed her bloodline to continue and for House Liakyre to ascend, I beseech you to acknowledge my humble gratitude. Though the house now lies fallen, its legacy persists within the fervent fire of this descendent’s heart.”

“May the blood of Liakyre, whose blood now courses through me, burn brightly and unyieldingly as I take up the mantle of Mistress of House Baenre. Empower me to honor the past, to uphold the strength of our bloodline, and to fulfill the sacred duties entrusted to me by your will.”

“Grant me, O Lolth, your divine blessing as I forge ahead into the future, carrying forth the traditions of your dark and eternal house. Let your gaze remain upon me, a guiding light in the shadows, as I serve House Baenre with loyalty and fervor and continue Liakyre's legacy through them.”

With each word, the sense of the divine grew stronger, the statue’s eyes seeming to glimmer with an otherworldly light. The ambient light in the chapel seemed to intensify, focusing on the statue’s form as if Lolth herself were acknowledging your prayer.

With a final bow of your head, you left the chapel, the sense of divine favor still tingling at your fingertips. The grandeur of the banquet hall greeted you as you emerged, the sounds of celebration and the clamor of the crowd filling the air with vibrant energy. The guests, a mélange of the elite and powerful from Menzoberranzan, erupted into cheers as you re-entered the hall.

The atmosphere was electric with excitement. You made your way to Minthara, who was surrounded by well-wishers and offering polite nods and pleasantries. As you approached, her sharp eyes fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“What was that about, Y/N?” Minthara asked, her voice low yet demanding. “The High Priestess mentioned something about you and the acolyte. I need to know what happened.”

You offered her a reassuring smile, knowing that any explanation now would only add to the evening’s complexity. “I’ll tell you later,” you said smoothly. “For now, I could really use a drink.”

Without waiting for a response, you reached for her wine glass, taking it from her hand with a quick, deft motion. Minthara’s eyes widened in surprise as you took a long, deliberate sip of the wine, savoring the rich, intoxicating flavor.

Minthara’s protest died in her throat, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched you with a mix of amusement and frustration. She looked as if she were about to speak, but the moment was abruptly interrupted as you leaned in and pulled her into a passionate kiss. The suddenness and intensity of the kiss seemed to catch her off guard, but she quickly responded, her arms wrapping around you as she returned the kiss with equal fervor.

When the kiss finally broke, you pulled away, your lips lingering on hers for a heartbeat longer. You could see the desire in her eyes, a fire that matched your own. With a playful smirk, you murmured, “Must be the Menzoberranzan love magic in the wine from the toast.”

Minthara’s eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and amusement. “Is that so?” she replied, her voice dripping with a teasing challenge.

Before she could respond further, the crowd’s cheers and laughter seemed to rise around you, drawing the attention back to the festivities. You took her hand, guiding her through the throng of guests, ready to embrace the rest of the evening's revelry. You felt a high like no other, your family may be 6ft under, but you were now mistress of the most powerful House in Menzoberranzen, you had just seen Lolth turn a once devoted acolyte into a drider because of her transgressions against you. Oh the night was young, and you intended to enjoy every moment of it.

Part Five

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Ooof this was a long one but I have been feeling so rotten lately (I'm on so many antibiotics and meds rn lmaoooo) and this is my comfort fic to write.

Finally have revealed how reader has her powers, and for clarity, I'm headcanoning that Eilistraee had aasimar children and one of them fell and Lolth took full advantage of that.

Hope you all enjoyed it, let me know what you think in the comments below or in my inbox. Love you all - Seluney xox

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

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@mimetoist @thepotatoislost @needyformilfs @longjohnsilverfish @spacezombiez @morganaspet @wineredsea

If you want to be in the taglist just comment down below xox

[the-muffin-master]

TAV INFO | health condition and traumas

TAV INFO | before the nautiloid -- here (1/2) and here (2/2) TAV INFO | approvals, camp behavior, etc -- here

FEARS AND DEBUFFS

Arachnophobia: the coma was induced by a spider bite known for its powerful somniferous venom. As a gameplay feature, it should work like Shadowheart’s fear of wolves: when approaching enemies that could be classified as arachnids, Zyra might become Frightened if she fails to perform a saving throw.

This has interesting ramifications when it comes to NPCs like Minthara and Kar’niss. Zyra’s mostly fine with the regular drow, despite their association with spiders. Driders, however, border on uncanny territory due to their appearance. And while he won’t antagonize a drider just for existing, the sight of those legs skittering about will put him on fight-or-flight.

They’re also not fond of being tangled and restricted with vines, the familiar grip from over a century of imprisonment still fresh in their mind. Act 2 was rough, as it happened quite often during their journey through the Shadow-Cursed Lands to reach Moonrise Towers. Despite all of that, Zyra is still willing to help Astarion lead the spawn in the Underdark for the rest of their immortal lives – that is, once they’ve explored Faerûn together to their hearts’ content

Astarion’s siblings can take care of everything until then.

ANTI-AGING EFFECT (scientists hate them)

I’ll be honest and say I didn’t want my character to die – I realized this as soon as I began shipping them with an immortal being. And I don’t care if this is the stupidest thing you’ll read in your entire life. I made up an explanation for why they’ll live forever, because I want Astarion to have one constant in his life, and I’m HAPPY with it. The man is going to lose all of his other friends eventually but not this bastard. Zyra will be an eternal source of comfort to him because nothing matters and D&D isn’t real.

Here’s a brief summary: during the century-long nap, her body was "suspended" in time as if she was kept in a cryogenic state (or else the bitch would've starved / dehydrated). Since the venom never left her system and Zyra instead found a way to coexist with it, the aging process has permanently frozen her in the body of a 33-year old. Creatures affected by this substance end up being killed by their predators at some point, so this is a unique condition.

His mind definitely took a while to adjust to the "jetlag" of waking up in the future, though. It was much like going under for a surgery: you’re knocked out and into the most peaceful slumber you’ve ever had. The kind of heavy, dreamless sleep that leaves you groggy and lethargic for the rest of the day. But it also feels like it lasted for five minutes at most. So, in his perspective, it’s like he just blinked and suddenly Brranwin was in front of him.

Oh, and it was quite disorienting to wake up after what he assumed would be his death.

This passively gave them conditional immortality (they can still be killed), as the venom keeps them from aging as a way to ensure the fear of falling asleep continues forever. Remember, right now the tadpole is the one thing allowing Zyra to sleep for just a single night like a normal person. They’re afraid of removing it and falling into a deep slumber again. Luckily, now they’ve got someone who’s always around to wake them up! Forever!!!

YES, THEIR BLOOD IS SAFE TO DRINK

The “sleep-inducing venom” coursing through Zyra’s veins is vicious. Their blood cells are actively looking for ways to force the concentration levels to stay the same, due to it having reached their bone marrow. Their body is forced to cooperate with keeping the infection stable. So even if Zyra is stabbed and bleeds profusely, as their body replenishes the blood back up, the venom will simply multiply and spread until it reaches equilibrium again.

Astarion gets a little sleepy from drinking too much of their blood, just enough to calm his nerves. It’s a fine drink of choice to sip on right before meditating! Other than that, it doesn’t seem to have an adverse side effect – not in small doses at least. My headcanon is that flavor-wise the venom gives it a little spicy kick, or maybe it’s more on the bittersweet side? It’s more like an alcoholic drink than netherese bile.

TASK FAILED SUCCESSFULLY (for either way you choose you cannot win)

The possibility of Zyra being awakened was foreseen by the king. But the venom was strong enough to assure it wouldn’t happen for at least a century (it has a cycle inside of your body, which I’ll go over during the companion quest segment).

The venom’s purpose in nature is to put a spider’s prey to sleep while it feasts on its victims. It also ensures the spider's prey will always be fresh, not risking decomposition. There are illegal traders who use this venom (heavily diluted in water) in medicine to help with insomnia, which is much less risky since it’s not injected directly into your veins AND it’s watered down, but it’s still dangerous enough to be outlawed.

The king used it as a long-term form of torture and punishment: he never intended to kill Zyra, for if they died by his hands, they’d become a martyr. Harder to erase, seen as a fallen hero. He wanted to throw the jester into obscurity, erase their entire legacy and efforts to overthrow the crown, force dissenters to forget “or else”. The king knew he’d likely be dead by the time someone woke them up (if someone ever did), so he wasn’t concerned. If anything, it’d just further solidify how the world went on without them.

For a young bard that was quickly rising in popularity, waking up having lost everything – fame, fortune, friendships – was devastating. How would you feel if you woke up just as irrelevant as you were when you started your career? You lost EVERYTHING. And you will lose it again and again, because who knows when you’ll wake up next time you fall asleep? There’s no point in forging bonds or alliances. You’re not a part of this world anymore.

You’re the fleeting spark of a campfire in a thunderstorm.

You’re a victim to the sands of time, falling through the hourglass.

[karniss-bg3]

So many went to the absolute for like Power—- reading a lil fic that has the main character wondering if Kar’niss went to the Absolute seeking to be returned to normal. But not getting that, was just happy to be ‘accepted’ (barely).

This could very well be how he ended up in the Absolute's clutches. He knows Nere and it could've been him who pointed Kar'niss in the direction of Moonrise. Desperation is as much a motivator as power, money and sex. I mentioned in another post that I have a theory as to how he became so ruthlessly devout in the first place.

Warning, the rest of this post talks about Minthara's storyline which contains spoilers. Don't read ahead if you haven't completed her story in Act 2.

If you go to straight Moonrise and skip Last Light Inn you meet Ketheric Thorm and if Minthara is still alive or in your party she is confronted by him. To summarize he chides her for failure to secure the artifact protecting Tav and crew and she is handed down the sentence of death.

I am unsure if this cutscenes plays only if certain dialogue trees are chosen or if it happens no matter what. But if she is taken away and you go down to the cells, you find that Minthara is essentially being mind tortured by other cultists. They are tapping into her tadpole and bombarding her with psionic energy to make her break. She is in a lot of pain and parts of her are breaking down in real time.

Tav gets the choice to either save her or let the ritual play out. If the latter is chosen then she becomes completely subservient, broken, an empty shell completely devoted to the Absolute.

My theory is that either Kar'niss willingly went to the Absolute for help or he was somehow captured. No matter which way it is, he's very resistant to being tadpoled. Considering his mind is already broken from the drider transformation he proves to be a bit more difficult to control. He may also still be loyal to Lolth. The mere act of being transformed doesn't always turn driders from Lolth, in some cases it makes them double down in their faith because they don't want to piss Her off again. With any of these factors in mind he's basically an unhinged beast, lashing out and spewing vitriol at his captors.

So they do the only thing they can, the mind breaking ritual. They torment him for hours, days, maybe even weeks depending on how much he continues to fight. Until one day his already fragile mind snaps, he can't take it anymore. He's so desperate for redemption and acceptance and these ritualists have all but convinced him he can only find it with the Absolute. Problem is Kar'niss was already fucked up before he came to them. Rather than him being empty and robotic like Minthara, he turns into the Absolute's biggest fanboy. It's all he can talk about, think about, it becomes an obsession. He convinces himself the voices he hears are the Absolute's, that they care about him, that he has an important mission that only he can fulfill. He's found a new Queen, a new calling.

His second transformation is complete and those at Moonrise couldn't be happier. They now have an obedient drider to control and use as they see fit. Even if his constant droning about "Majesty" does get a bit old after a while. Oh well, take what you can get right?

Thanks for the ask!

[whitegoldtower]

"Could be 'er blood by the looks of you."

If that poor goblin only knew...

Anywho, here's Tam'lin (Ex-Lolthsworn, Drow Gloomstalker Ranger, Folk Hero, Minthara's more agreeable cousin) looking gorgeous as always, from Act I.

[loquaciousquark]

Tavish's Honour(ish) Mode Stream Archive

With my latest runthrough of Tav's game now officially complete, I wanted to create a reference page here with VOD links & summaries of each video's contents. The summaries are also in the descriptions of each VOD, but as a resource for myself it's easier if they're here too. For now, these videos are all only on Twitch.

Link to Master Playlist

Part 1: Features introduction, nautiloid, Shadowheart/Gale/Astarion recruitment, the chapel, Lae'zel's recruitment, Wyll's intro/initial goblin fight, Rolan & robbing Arron, Tav getting sent to prison for the first time, Astarion defending Sazza, Gale's death pouch sequence, initial grove tour, Meti/Barth, Wyll's recruitment, grove secondary tour/Pandirna/being jailed twice more, saving Nadira, Karlach recruitment, Paladins of Tyr.

Part 2: Features Karlach meeting Dammon, the Strange Ox, Mattis and Mol, discovering the boar, Arabella, and Nettie.

Part 3: Features Alfira, Mirkon (x3), Mizora's first appearance, Edowin & the owlbear cave, bite night, the abandoned shed, Tav & Astarion both getting sent to jail at 3:05, the Blighted Village, necromancer's basement, Barcus, gnoll fights, Shadowheart's secrets, a moment of magic with Gale.

Part 4: Features the Whispering Depths, Gale offering to leave, the swamp, the mephit fight, the "how do others taste" camp convo with Astarion, Gandrel the Gur, and a massive struggle with Ethel.

Part 5: Features clearing out Ethel's lair, Connor, confronting Kagha, Astarion talking about Cazador, stealing the idol, returning the idol, Astarion reading the Thay book (1:08:41), Astarion bear/plonk convo, entering the goblin camp, summoning Shovel, Abdirak/Loviatar's love, Roah, Gut, freeing the spiders, meeting Halsin, Lae'zel attacking Tav, Dream Visitor convo #1, discussing Shadowheart & her memories, Volo arriving at camp, Astarion's mirror convo (5:13:20), Astarion propositioning Tav, Dream Visitor convo #2, meeting Dror Ragzlin, meeting Minthara, Shadowheart/Lae'zel showdown, grove defense prep (hunting for Doni), grove defense, discussing victory with the tieflings, Dror Ragzlin, clearing out the rest of the goblin camp, consuming the first tadpole (8:36:12), discussing victory with the druids.

Part 6: Features the tiefling party, Astarion's first romance night, and exploration of the empty Zhent cave near the gnoll attack.

Part 7: Features Waukeen's Rest, Florrick, the Zhent cave, stealing from Arron again, the gith patrol near the mountain pass, entering the Underdark, the minotaur fight, the bulette fight, the Spectator fight, the torchstalk grove, and the Booal kua'toa cave.

Part 8: Features the Arcane Tower, the myconid colony, the hook horror fight, the duergar fight, Glut, bibberbangs bibberbanging, the Zhent area of the Underdark, arriving at Grymforge, poisoning Skickpit's slavers, freeing the rothes, exploring the Grymforge area, and the mimic fight.

Part 9: Features picking up a few forgotten items, the Nere fight, exploring the second half of Grymforge, the mephit fight, and the Grym fight.

Part 10: Features the mountain pass, including all parts of the githyanki creche, and first steps into the Shadowlands.

Part 11: Features exploration of the east side of the Shadowlands, including the drider fight, the first encounter with Thaniel, the meazel fight, the southernmost needle-blight fight, and a very thrilling version of the Shambling Mound fight.

Part 12: Features exploration of the north section of the eastern Shadowlands, arriving at Last Light Inn, robbing from Talli and getting thrown in jail several times, exploring north & east of Last Light, and the Isobel fight.

Part 13: Features exploration of Last Light Inn and basement, the Mason's Guild, the House of Healing, and meeting Raphael outside the temple.

Part 14: Features saving Rolan, Gerringothe, Moonrise Towers exploration (including meeting Ketheric, robbing Lann Tarv & Roah Moonglow, exploring the second floor, freeing the gnolls, meeting the Absolute via ceiling tentacle, Araj Oblodra, exploring the oubliette, getting thrown in Moonrise prison, and saving Minthara & the prisoners), and returning to Last Light to see the reunions. Also includes party reactions to Minthara joining and the Araj version of the Astarion romance route conversation.

Part 15: Features waking up Art Cullagh, defending Halsin's Shadowfell portal, the docks at Moonrise, the acidic Morgue pit, the rest of the Morgue, the western fight just outside the morgue, resolving Arabella, Gale's friendship Weave-built scene, the gith ambush, exploring the road to Baldur's Gate, the central Shadow fight, the Waning Moon & Thisobald, Astarion getting thrown in jail for theft with Tav, He Who Was resolution, and into the Thorm Mausoleum. Inside the mausoleum: top floor, shadow ring puzzle, the first umbral tremor fight, the Balthazar fight, the Cloaker fight, meeting Yurgir & saving Nessa, exploring the northwest temple area & speaking with rats, fighting Yurgir, the soft-step trial, the self-same trial, the library fight & taking the Spear of Night, confronting Isobel about her father, one last long rest with Raphael revealing the nature of Astarion's scars, and descending into the Shadowfell & resolving Shadowheart and Nightsong. Also features a loop through the emptied Last Light at the very end.

Part 16: Features the initial assault on Moonrise, the fight atop the tower, one last long rest, and the mindflayer colony sequence (in order: rescuing Zevlor & the Fists, rescuing Mizora, fighting Kressa Bonedaughter & co., fighting the Death Shepherd & co., rescuing Us & fighting Chop, the mind manipulation puzzle, and the mind laboratory).

Part 17: Features the Myrkul fight and all post-fight conversations in Moonrise Towers. Also features one round of camp conversations the night after.

Part 18: Features completing the conversation with Aylin & Shadowheart, the gith attack at camp, the entrance into Baldur's Gate, and initial overtures into Rivington (Yenna, stealing from the Sharran merchant, fighting Zenovia outside Arfur's house, Arfur's basement, and discussing the Astral Tadpole with all the companions, along with Minthara consuming its powers).

Part 19: Features exploring beneath Rivington (down the well), the northwestern cliffs by the beach, encounter Orin for the first time, fighting the Stone Lord fan who calls you a cuck, accidentally fighting the Thieves' Guild survivors, exploring the Open Hand Temple, exploring beneath the Open Hand Temple, resolving the mad monk in the amulet, exploring the rest of the sub-temple area, exploring the hills above Rivington, meeting the Gur, meeting Toadbreath, meeting Orin a second time, the mindflayer windmill, Sword Coast Couriers (and kennel), the circus, meeting the Ironhand Gnomes again, discussing the gnomes with Gyldro Angleiron, meeting Vlaakith at camp, turning down Minthara, and remaining coy with the Emperor.

BG3 Aside: A Jade Stream: Jade hijacks the stream for a night to introduce us to Elarwyn, her Oath of Devotion paladin romancing Gale.

Part 20: Features a brief sojourn back to the Shadowlands, the first floor of Sharess's Caress, Fraygo's Flophouse, most of the second floor of Sharess's Caress (including signing the deal with Raphael & Voss), robbing Stylin' Horst, Danthelon's Dancing Axe and the shapechanger fight, returning to Sharess's Caress, Naaber & Carmen, and resolving Halsin's proposition.

Part 21: Features exploring a tiny bit of Rivington, picking up a few clothing items from the circus, exploring Wyrm's Rock, Gortash's coronation, Duke Ulder's glimpse of sanity, Tav's adventure robbing Gortash's office, exploring the rest of the island Wyrm's Rock stands on, exploring Wyrm's Rock prison, rescuing Florrick, discussing the return to the city with all the companions (Astarion's first time seeing the city streets in sunlight), exploring the Fists' barracks & meeting Vanra, exploring & robbing the Stormshore Tabernacle, exploring Nettie's Hostel, exploring the main floor of the Baldur's Mouth building, Minthara/Karlach/Astarion's Great Jailbreak Adventure, exploring the basement of the Baldur's Mouth building & Astarion & Tav's Great Metallic & Divine Bloodbath, touching the Candulhallow's Keep building, paying for armor from Dammon, exploring Dammon's basement & Helsik's basement, trading with and then robbing Helsik, trading with Fytz & robbing Gloomy Fentenson, breaking Wyll's pact, defending the camp from Aradin's attacks, throwing Aradin & co in the bay, and prepping for next day.

Part 22: Features exploring the southeastern Lower City, meeting the hag survivors, meeting Florrick in the city, exploring the Blushing Mermaid, saving Captain Grisly (!), heading into and then robbing Sorcerous Sundries, Lae'zel getting kidnapped, sleeping with Mizora in an alternate universe, killing Lorroakan, robbing the magical vault, meeting and then rehoming Malta, turning in the hag quest, first inroads into the Counting House, robbing the Counting House docks, robbing the Counting House vaults, the nighttime vampire camp attack, and buffs for the next day.

Part 23: Features the Elfsong Tavern (not including the Emperor's basement, including Roveer), continuing the exploration of the eastern Lower City, the Highberrys, the Thieves' Guild & meeting Ninefingers, first branches down into the sewers, meeting Ailis and al his oozes/greaseballs, meeting the Voiceless Penitent, the Mystic Carrion lair fight, fighting Ailis and all his oozes/greaseballs, the crow-summon fight, the cistern puzzle, failing to realize the door has been open for seven minutes at the end of the cistern puzzle, saving Minsc, saving Volo (and accidentally shooting Jaheira for a crit), and some Minsc camp conversations.

Part 24: Features the Thieves' Guild/Zhent fight, the park fight, Astarion/Karlach/Shadowheart/Wyll's jailbreak, Shadowheart's graffiti conversation, the Dolor/Figaro fight, chatting with Minsc at camp, the Sarevok fight, collecting the sixth Dribbles part, the Undercity through Bhaal's door, a quick jaunt back up to Sharess's Caress to get the Rapture buff, fighting Orin (sorry Gale), inventory management and cleaning out supplies at camp.

Part 25: Features the acid mephit docks/boat fight, meeting and then robbing Mystic Carrion, the graveyard in its entirety, SH's graveyard convo, triggering the "smells of the city" convo with her manually, the sahuagin fight, meeting Thrumbo and exploring his house, and fighting Mystic Carrion.

Part 26: Features Felogyr's Fireworks and a slight bit of wandering around the city.

Part 27: Features the Elfsong basement, finishing up the sewers, finishing Gale's meeting with Mystra, the proposition night with the Emperor, putting the night orchid on Allistair's grave, Jaheira's house, the Society of Brilliance, a brief venture onto the docks, Oskar's quest, the House of Grief, and Shadowheart's quest-concluding conversation.

Part 28: Features robbing the Glitter Gala, visiting Galbraith's house, Cazador's palace, and the concluding scenes for the Astarion questline and romance.

Part 29: Features Araj, House of Hope, exploring & robbing the Water Queen's Palace, the Iron Throne, and the Foundry.

Part 30: Features killing Lord Gortash, resolving Karlach's personal quest, and the Wyrmway.

Part 31: Features the approach to the Morphic Pool, endgame, and the epilogue.

Thank you again to all who tuned in and let me ramble about Tav and Astarion for 160 hours! <3