#i am DEEP into The Gauntlet of Shar

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

FML I want to draw Aranea as a Sharran.

Homegirl would look FABOUS in a Dark Justiciar armor AND an hairstyle inspired by Shar's statues.

I think I already mentioned this a while back, but had Aranea not summoned Mephisto, she would have been one hell of a badass Sharran.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

COLLISION

Astarion x Y/N - Chapter 1 - 2.6K WC

Masterlist

Chapter 1 (you are here!)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 NSFW 18+

Chapter 6 NSFW 18+

Chapter 7 NSFW 18+

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You sat at your desktop and sighed. The clock in the corner of the screen read 2:38 AM. You could feel your eyes throb, the blue light from the screen was going to cause them to be bloodshot tomorrow you just knew it. You should probably call it a day but the Gauntlet of Shar was kicking your ass and you felt beyond dejected. Saving your progress you quit the game. You stare at the screen which had the Baldur’s Gate III loading screen, the green “play” button tempting you despite just logging off. Shutting down the computer you went through your night routine. Shower, brush teeth, pet the cat. You slid into your bed and sighed. Life felt so mundane, you wished you could adventure. Maybe that’s why the game was so appealing to you. You were already thinking about playing tomorrow after a grueling day of work. You set your alarm and slowly let yourself relax before going limp into a deep sleep.

____________

You could feel the migraine in your head before you even opened your eyes. You groaned before you realized you could also smell grass and feel a slight breeze on your brow. Suddenly a swift kick was planted into your side. Your eyes squeezed shut as you curled into yourself, holding your right side and coughing. 

“What the fuck!” You yelled. 

Coughing some more before you felt cold metal against your throat. You finally opened your eyes to see six people standing around you. People is a lose term as some had horns, tails, scales, etc. 

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t slit your throat where you lay istik.” Said the green woman in dazzling armor.

You couldn’t speak. Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it stopped. This was a dream. A fucked up dream. You really gotta lay off the Baldur’s Gate III because this is ridiculous.

You knew everyone looking at you but they did not know you. The blade pressed further into your throat and you let out a whimper. You did the only thing you could think of. You slowly put your hands up next to you head, palms open to show you meant no harm. Lae’zel let up ever so slightly but kept her eyes fixed on you. 

“She asked you a question.” Said Karlach as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking at you with curiosity but also caution.

“Y/n…. My name is y/n.” You squeaked out, feeling the blade start to dig into your neck.

“And how is it that you managed to stumble upon our camp?” Asked Astarion with an unimpressed tone. 

“I - I didn’t… I wasn’t looking for you I swear…. I just woke up here and I don't remember anything else.” Is sputtered out quickly, praying they believed you. 

You felt a sharp sting and a… wriggle? Behind your eye, Shadowheart forced herself into your mind. Just as quickly as she had entered, the pain stopped. 

“She’s telling the truth.” She said.

“Are you friend or foe? Speak now so I may offer you a clean death istik.” Lae’zel spat.

“Friend! Definitely a friend! I don’t want any trouble I promise!” Your voice shook and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes as you felt the blade draw blood.

Karlach gave a “tsk” before pushing past Astarion and Wyll. She stretched out a hand to you. You glanced at her, then back to Lae’zel. 

Karlach looked to Lae’zel before speaking, “They look like a scared puppy you can’t possibly think they’re a threat Lae’zel.” 

Lae’zel let out a huff before withdrawing her sword, your hand immediately flying to your throat only for it to be coated in blood. You looked at Karlach and quickly took her hand, scrambling to stand up before hunching over when you felt the shooting pain in your side.

“Ahhhh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck” you whispered to yourself. 

“Any sign of aggression and I will not hesitate to smite you.” Lae’zel said before walking back to her tent.

You finally straightened out. Looking at Karlach you spoke, “Thank you.” You gave her a smile, or what you could manage as a smile in the moment.

She looked you over before smiling brightly at you, “No worries soldier! I’m Karlach, pleasure to meet you.” She said while vigorously shaking your hand.

“Y/n.” You said softly while looking around. “I’m sorry, do any of you have a mirror?” 

“Not even with us for more than five minutes and you’re already preening for a mirror. Petty vanity will get the best of you darling. Besides, not much to admire if you ask me.” Astarion said with a sassy yet disinterested tone.

You scoffed. Karlach pulled out her sword, you went to take a step back, ready to book it, before she held it horizontally in her hands. She looked at you before glancing at the sword. You stepped closer. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…” you said, feeling your face and hair. The reflection looking back at you was your Tav from Baldur’s Gate III. You pinched and pulled at yourself not believing what you were seeing. 

“Something wrong?” Asked Shadowheart whom you made eye contact with in the reflection.

“I - I ummm… I’m um….. I’m not myself…” was all you could manage. Karlach sheathed her sword and you turned to finally face everyone. “Come find me when you want your bedroll y/n, I should have an extra one somewhere…” Karlach said before walking to the bonfire. 

Shadowheart looked you up and down before shrugging “Lady Shar’s blessings upon you stranger. Please join us, you must be in want of a meal.” she gave a soft smile before going back to her tent. 

Gale and Wyll introduced themselves. Gale healing the cut on your throat after mumbling a quick apology about Lae’zel stating she was the definition of overprotective and outrageously homicidal. Everyone had seemingly returned to their tents or the bonfire in the middle of camp. 

You sat back down in the clearing you woke up in. This was not real. No damn way. Maybe you’ve had a severe psychotic break. Maybe you have a brain eating parasite (literally). Maybe you ate a cordycep and this was the end for you. Literally anything else would make more sense than “Oh my ass got Jumanji'd”. You stared off into space, trying to keep your shaky breathing consistent. You felt the air chill around you as the sun fell behind the horizon and Shar’s embrace consumed the night. 

“You know it’s rude to stare.” said Astarion without looking up from you from his tent, the closest to your clearing and the direction you just so happened to be honing in on. 

You slowly shifted your eyes down, resting your head against your forearms as they rested on your knees. You just wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. “Sorry.” was all you could whisper. 

“Ugh gods, Karlach was right, you look like a scared puppy. Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve survived this long if you’re so…. fragile.” he continued his tone laced with a tinge of venom. 

Your eyes started to water. You stood up, your joints yelling at you as they snapped and popped. You walked into camp, trying to make yourself as quiet and invisible as possible, walking swiftly to Karlach’s tent. You took your bedroll silently and found a spot in a clearing under a tree opposite to the clearing you woke up in. Leaning your head against the trunk you closed your eyes, crying silently until you fell asleep. 

_________________

Astarion gazed at you from his tent for a large chunk of the night. Everyone else was fast asleep and he had just returned from a hunt. He could hear your heartbeat: soft, steady, calm. He heard your heartbeat when you arrived in the clearing, he’s the one who called the others to investigate with him. He was surprised you were so still when he found you. Your heart was beating hard, fast, endlessly. Terrified. He hadn’t heard a heart beat like that in a while. It was how all his victims' hearts sounded after he gave them to Cazador. He pushed the thought out of his mind, which wasn't hard as it was overtaken by another, more overwhelming thought. Why had he only heard your heartbeat and felt the immediate urge to find you and protect you? He felt something stir inside his chest when he laid eyes on you. That wasn’t allowed. That wasn't his purpose. He didn’t get to feel his own feelings. Everything was consumed by Cazador and the looming threat of him returning to Astarions life. He shuddered. He could smell the faintest scent of your blood that was dried on your hand from earlier. Gods it was sweet, even thinking of it made him salivate. His best option was to avoid you enough and reject you enough that the feeling inside him would cease. It was easy. You were already distressed. How much more could you fall emotionally? And yet, as he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest he couldn’t help but think of anything else beyond how soft you looked. How peaceful. Your face relaxed, your jaw unclenched, your eyes puffy, fly aways clinging to your face, eyelashes still wet, short breaths being exhaled from your mouth. You were… cute. 

Shit. 

____________________

You awoke just as the sun started to rise. The sky is a beautiful mixture of blues, pinks, and purples. You sat up as if it would get you a better view of the heavens. Astarion walked up behind you quietly. “You’re up early.” he stated. You jumped slightly before facing the sky again. “Early riser.” you said back. Astarion hummed back before walking down the hill of your clearing. You followed him swiftly, not wanting to be completely alone in a camp full of sleepers. Astarion bent down softly into the small stream, gathering the water in his hands and gently rubbing it into his face. You sat silently next to him, gently letting your fingers dip into the rushing stream. 

“What is that?” Astarion asked, glancing at your boot. You looked at him confused. He leaned over and pulled out the object.

There, in all its glory, your phone. You quickly snatched it from Astarion, his voice fading into the background. You turned your phone on, it had no service but it still worked and that was a great comfort. Suddenly it was ripped from your grasp.

Astarion stood up, holding the phone up and away from you. “What is this? Must be important.” He teased with a sneer. “Is it powerful?”

You stood quickly, putting your hand out “Please give it back its mine.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that it is yours. You need to answer my question though before I’ll consider giving it back.”

“I… I don’t know how to explain it… they don’t have these devices in your world…” you trailed off.

Astarion rose an eyebrow at you, “My world? So you’re from another world? Now I know you’re lying.”

“Wait! Maybe… maybe I can show you something with it.” You said in a small voice, reaching your hand out once again. “Something you’ve wanted for a long time…”

He eyed you up and down repeatedly before tossing your phone at you, “This better be worth it.”

You opened your phone's front-facing camera and stood next to Astarion, gently turning the phone in his direction. You saw his face drop then he just… stared. You started to bring the phone back down before his hand caught your wrist. His hold was gentle and cold, “Just a moment.” he whispered.

You nodded and let him hold the phone. He gazed at his eyes for ages before opening his mouth. He licked over his fangs, gently tracing his lips with his fingertips. “What is this thing? Why can I see myself?” He spat at you, suddenly angry. He tossed the phone at your feet before storming off to camp, leaving you alone at the stream.  ____________________

The sun was now high in the sky and you had enough of sulking by the stream. If you were going to be stuck here for a while, better start working on making some friends. You walked back to camp before seeking out Gale.

“Morning! Is there something I can help with, you have an inquisitive look on your face.” he smiled at you. 

You gave a small smile before asking, “I was hoping you could help me… enchant something? It needs power to survive, usually electric power but I don’t think that will work right now… can you try?” 

Gale looked away as if thinking about what he could do; he snapped his fingers, “Ah! Yes, I think I might have something for that, Mystra willing and all. Can I see what you are talking about?” 

You nodded quickly, shoving the phone into Gale’s hands. 

“This little thing?” he glanced back at you. You nodded and gave a pleading look. 

He nodded and sent you a soft smile before speaking strange words over it. Colorful beams of misty light enveloped your device, now floating in between Gale’s hands. He finished his incantation, all the beams shooting into your phone before he caught it as the spell seemingly ended. He smiled brightly and handed it back to you before crossing his arms over his chest. “Well… did it work?” he asked you, unsure how the device worked he was iffy about his magic in this instance.

You turned your phone back on, full battery that seemed unchanging for now. You smiled back at Gale “Yes! Thank you so much…. I appreciate you and your kindness towards me as a stranger.” 

“With pleasure friend, bring it back should it start to falter, I’d be more than happy to fix it.” he said.

You smiled at him one final time before walking towards Karlach who was currently accompanied by Shadowheart and Lae’zel. Slipping your phone back into your boot, you quietly walked up to them. Their conversation died down once they saw you walking over. Lae’zel shot daggers at you, her gaze alone felt violent. Shadowheart and Karlach sent you small smiles. 

“If you are going to travel with us we need to know your strengths. How are you useful to us and our endeavors?” Lae’zel questioned “You’re obviously no warrior, so what are you?” she gritted out. 

“I’m a cleric… I practice under Ilmater… though I haven’t seen a battle before.” You spoke, picking at your nails instead of focusing on the women in front of you.

Lae’zel spat on the ground, “Not only have we taken in another mouth to feed, we have taken in a useless cleric with no combat experience. We may well have taken in a child.” she went back to her tent, wildly slashing at the poor practice dummy as if to further demonstrate her displeasure. 

You winced watching, imagining every blow aimed at you. Shadowheart put her hand on your shoulder. “Perhaps we should go see Gale. He’s a follower of Mystra and I of Shar, I’m sure we can teach you a few things. Do you know much about Ilmater?” she asked, leading you by the back of your arm towards Gale. You shook your head no. “Well, my knowledge is limited, but if I recall correctly he is the protector of the persecuted and oppressed. There are worse gods to be in service to.” she chuckled. You smiled and gave her hand a squeeze as a soft ‘thank you’ for her simple kindness. 

“I overheard, let's get to work shall we?” Gale asked you both before conjuring the weave, creating a safe, fragmented reality to practice in without causing any real damage. 

Hello! This is my first ever public fic so please be gentle lol I'd love some drabble requests in the mean time before I send out chapter 2. I hope you enjoy! :)

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 6: Before the Assault on Moonrise

Chapter 6: Before the Assault on Moonrise

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 2, Canon-typical violence, developing relationship, blood, boundaries

WC: 2.3k words, 6/18 chapters

Summary: A feeding-hug for Rogue!Tav and Astarion. They're still working out how to act around each other, with Astarion setting the boundaries.

Ao3 | [Hug5][Hug7] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

It feels like the calm before the storm. Come tomorrow, you’ll head to Moonrise and begin an attack on the evil that resides there. You’ve freed the Nightsong, given Shadowheart some time to herself, and now gathered the Harpers for a full-on assault. Your companions are all itching to get going– for the most part. 

Throughout the Gauntlet of Shar, Astarion had been a bit off. You imagined it was an odd combination of learning about the scars on his back and, selfishly, both of you trying to figure out something real between you. Now that you’ve left the Gauntlet though, Astarion still seems lost.

“Something the matter, love?” you ask him over dinner at the Last Light Inn. The two of you are eating together, though he only holds a glass of wine to your plate of actual food. He seems deep in thought, staring off into the distance as he runs his tongue over one of his fangs.

Astarion jumps at your words, taking a second to register that you’re speaking to him. “It’s nothing,” he says, on instinct. Then, after a stern look from you, follows it with. “I’m just a tad peckish, my dear.”

Tilting your head, you ask, “Have you not found something to your liking today?” Early on, you’d agreed that he can and should drink from any enemy with a pulse.

He shakes his head ruefully. “Not much on offer out here,” he sounds wistful, and you register an underlying desperation to his voice. “I don’t think I’ve had a solid meal… well, since we entered the Shadowlands.”

You balk at that, thinking back to every enemy you’ve faced so far. Undead, plants, cursed fish, the odd shade, and he hasn’t fed from you since you’d agreed to take things slowly– how did you not realize this sooner? “Astarion, you must be starving!” You push your own food away, as if its presence would only make his hunger worse. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What will you do, bring the undead back to life? And it’s not like I could drink from a Harper,” he rolls his eyes and pauses. “Wait, do you think I could–”

“Don’t you dare,” you stop his thought process in its tracks, holding up a hand. “We are nice to the Harpers and we appreciate their help, got it?” 

“Oh, you’re no fun,” he pouts. “I guess I’ll just continue to starve. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone without.” He adds that last sentence as a bitter afterthought. The thought of him having gone weeks, months, a year without so much as a drop of blood tears at your heart.

“And why don't you ask me?” you ask, quieting your voice so that only he can hear you in the din of the Inn.

He looks genuinely confused. “Ask you what?”

You narrow your eyes at him– surely he didn’t forget you are not an undead, not an aberration or anything of the sort. Right? “Um, ask me for blood?” you offer, equally confused.

“Ah,” he says, it comes out like a soft huff. “My love, I couldn’t.”

“And why not?” You bristle at the thought that your blood isn’t good enough, isn’t as satisfying as some random Harper’s. “Am I no longer to your taste?”

Placing a hand on his chest, he gives you an aghast look, “Of course not, dear. You’re quite possibly the most delectable creature I’ve had the fortune to taste. In every single way.”

You hear a startled choke from behind you. Astarion has not been keeping his voice quiet in the same way you have, and a blushing Gale tries to pretend that he is absolutely enthralled by the plate of food in front of him.

Shooting a look at Astarion, who doesn’t even have the good grace to look embarrassed, you say, “Let’s talk a bit more privately, shall we?”

“If you insist,” he replies, with a hand wave. “But I hope you know it isn’t the first time that half this team imagines devouring you.”

You decide to ignore the bait, opting instead to drag him gracelessly away from the Last Light’s central area. All but pulling him upstairs, you set him on a bed and place your hands on your hips.

“You’ve had your fun, now tell me truthfully,” you start, keeping him pinned with your eyes. “Why haven’t you asked to drink from me? You know I’m happy to offer.”

“Darling,” he starts, eyes avoiding yours, clearly intending to avoid this conversation. “I don’t see what the big deal is. We deal with the cult, we get back to Baldur’s Gate and I’ll have a veritable feast of ruffians to pick from.”

“The big deal is that you planned on suffering by yourself this entire time,” you say, and hurt begins to color your voice. “I thought we were being more… honest with each other. Maybe I was wrong about that.”

Astarion stands then, whispering your name as he takes a step toward you. “I am being honest, love. I can’t possibly drink from you, not anymore.” His hands reach up to cup your face, and the ruby eyes that lock with yours are so very conflicted.

“Why not?” you ask again, trying to keep firm under his piercing eyes but failing miserably.

“Because it feels different with you,” he says, quietly. He rubs a cool thumb across your cheek, bravado all gone as a searing sweetness settles between you both. “You’re not some bandit, some cultist, or goblin. I don’t want to hurt you and…” Astarion looks down, away from you. “I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything.”

You lean into his hands, closing your eyes. A strange sort of relief settles over you as you respond, “My sweet fool.”

“What?” he says, indignantly.

“I don’t feel like I owe you anything,” you say before opening your eyes again. “I want to do this for you.”

“And how do I know that I haven’t just entranced you against your will?” he says with a soft, disbelieving scoff as his eyes search yours. “In fact, I’m finding that, for perhaps the first time in my life, I'd rather someone’s blood remain soundly in their body.”

“What if,” you start, not sure how to say it without sounding insane. You drop eye contact with him to muster the will to continue, “What if I said I liked it when you fed from me?”

He’s silent and you’re suddenly worried that you’ve said too much, been a little too honest too quickly. But when you finally bring your eyes back to him, you just see a war going on behind Astarion’s eyes. A deep hunger, surely, but above all else, a concern– one that you know is for you and your well-being. 

“I promise I’m not just saying that,” you add, hoping to assuage his worries.

Your love doesn’t seem to believe you, brows furrowed and hands gripping your face a bit tighter as he tilts it this way, then that way. “You… like having your life force drained out of you?”

“Listen,” you start, placing a hand on Astarion’s arm to stop his examinations. “If you don’t want to believe me, you don’t have to. But I invite you to drink from me regardless. You can’t confront the armies at Moonrise like this.”

He finally releases your face, shoulders drooping with a heavy sigh. “In two centuries, I never thought I would be fighting an offering of blood like this, but darling, if I injure you, if I take too much…”

“You haven’t before,” you try reasoning. “Besides, I’ve pushed you off once, I can always do it again.”

“Fine,” he says with a frown. “But don’t you dare hesitate.”

“You know I wouldn’t,” you respond easily, tugging on one of his hands. “Shall we get comfortable?”

Astarion allows you to take him back to the bed, sitting down in a manner all at once defeated and eager despite himself. You can’t even imagine the hunger he must be feeling right now, and the fact that his feelings for you could have overridden even a portion of that astonishes you. You sit down next to him and bare your neck.

He settles in behind you, hands ghosting at your neck and shoulders. “You’re certain?” he asks again, eyes large and pleading. 

“Yes,” you stress. “But if you’re that worried, could I make a request?”

“Anything,” he says, the word a breath on his lips.

You still waver, the vulnerability new and quite frightening. “Well, the previous bites haven’t been exactly cozy. Would you mind… holding me while you bite?”

Astarion’s response comes in the form of his arms wrapping around your torso, pulling you into his chest. He places a fleeting kiss under your ear before burying his head into the crook of your neck. Nuzzling softly, his nose tickles your bare skin. “Cozy enough, my dear?”

“Mmm, yes,” you say, feeling a blush creeping up your neck. You hadn’t expected him to embrace you so thoroughly. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he murmurs and he sounds utterly bewitched as he inhales. The sharp bite that follows catches you by surprise and you know that he couldn’t resist any longer. He takes a long pull from your neck, drinking more deeply than he has in weeks.

However, unlike previous times that he’s fed on you, this feels distinctly different. It’s the first time he’s bitten you since you’ve agreed to figure out, well, whatever you have between you two. And it shows.

It shows in how his arms, which had previously held you in place while biting, gently squeeze around you. In how his lips, which he used to bare wide, press the occasional soft kiss as he drinks. In how your heads tap together, his curls caressing your cheek.

Oh, you think distantly as you lean into his devouring mouth. I see why this might feel different from a bandit. While it felt like a nice gift you could provide before, now the act of feeding him feels immensely close. Could you always feel his breath on you like this?

You don’t have to ponder long before he pulls away, placing one last kiss where he’s bitten. “There,” he says, taking a shallow breath. “How do you feel?”

Taking a second to check in with yourself, you find that you feel pretty normal. “I feel good, too good,” you say, turning to face him. “Are you sure you had enough?”

Astarion licks a few drops of blood from his lips as he surveys you, verifying your liveliness. He smirks before responding, “More than enough. As I said, I was only peckish. Thank you, love.”

He looks more vibrant now– his eyes shine bright in the firelight of the inn and there’s a rosy tint to his skin that wasn’t there before– so you decide not to push it. “You’re welcome, and thank you,” you say, grinning at him cheekily.

“Whatever are you thanking me for?” he asks, skeptically.

“If you always embrace me so tenderly while you feed, I may run out of blood asking for another go.”

Astarion clicks his tongue with annoyance. “I was not being tender. I was quite literally consuming you. Could you please have an ounce of self-preservation?” 

You keep a small, satisfied smile on your face as you shrug. “Some mighty righteous words from a man who was just refusing to feed.”

“How about this,” he starts, leaning into you. “I promise to seek you out if I need sustenance and you promise to never call me tender again. What will the others think of me?“

You lean right back into him, and give a short affirming nod. “Your secret is safe with me, my oh-so-fearsome vampire.”

“Thank you, my delicious little treat,” he responds. Swiftly bringing your hand to his face, he places a kiss on the back of it. “And thank you for…” He clears his throat. “Helping me navigate whatever this is.” The vampire vaguely gestures between you both and it’s evident what he means. If feeding felt different for you, he surely felt it too. Even the emotions bubbling at the surface now feel different. It would surely settle in time, but for now, learning together, it is a terrifying new unknown.

“Of course,” you say, placing your other hand on top of his. Your eyes meet in unspoken communication, marveling at the absurdity of your situation, of your gentle moment. Of course, you must be the one to break it. “I was worried for a moment there.”

“Whatever for?”

“I thought maybe you didn’t like the taste of my blood anymore, maybe I ate something off-putting,” you pretend to sniff at your arm, as if you’d be able to pin down the scent of your blood.

Astarion shakes his head at you, ruefully. “I meant it when I said you’re the most delectable.” His eyes get a distant look to them, as he thinks. “Maybe it’s because you were the– ehem– first. Or because you're just… you. But you have a lovely flavor.”

Unable to help your own curiosity, you ask, “What do I taste like?”

“It’s hard to pin down.” He pulls your hand to his nose for a long sniff. “But you taste like warmth feels.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, but by the way it’s sending your heart somersaulting, you’re not certain you’d be very coherent anyway. So you just give a little, “Mmm.”

Astarion laughs at your reaction and drops your hand. “Let’s head back to dinner. You’ll have to keep your energy up if we’re to defeat the Absolute or whatever nonsense.” He gets up to leave and you return to reality.

“And to keep my blood tasting warm,” you quip, standing up and following after your vampire.

[optiwashere]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Aww, thank you, mormo! What a fun lil game 💜

My favorite of my Asheera (Tav)/Shadowheart stories:

I have to start with the first fic of my Shadowheart/Asheera series, of course. It Is the Wound She Gave Me is a rather dark place to start off this story, but I think it makes the sweetness later taste all the better. Note: heed the tags!

The follow-up (with a breather between now!) to that first fic in the series, Like I Am Safe Again, is one of my favorite things I've written for the fandom, for sure! Using lost time and dissociation to explore some of Shadowheart's memory issues combined with what happens in Wound was just so... fun is not the right word, but as a writer I enjoyed digging deep into Shadowheart's brain here. Also, having the fic before this from Asheera's POV makes Shadowheart's misunderstanding of her own recent memories that much more tragic.

OK, so there's a theme here. Quelle surprise. After focusing mostly on Shadowheart and her memories, To Sever the Thread is a fic that I adored writing to more deeply explore Asheera's POV this early on. The Gauntlet is an event in canon that is super important in my interpretations of both the relationship between Asheera and Shadowheart as well as the way that Asheera's oath permeates so much of her life. One day I'll write that alternate ending...

I do have to recommend my currently ongoing multichapter fic for Asheera/Shadowheart, Blades in the Night. It's one of the more action-heavy things I've written for the fandom. Honestly, it's basically a full fantasy novel written as a sorta road trip that gets interrupted by Sharran assassins. It's also quite smutty, extremely introspective—my favorite!—and stitches together what post-canon life is like for these two. Even after the Netherbrain is defeated, there's still a few hanging threads (more Asheera backstory stuff throughout, as well)

My completed modern/band AU, Nightsongs. What if Shar was Shadowheart's abusive ex, and what if they were in a metal band together? What if their van breaks down in some shitty little town outside of a big city, and what if Shadowheart finds more than what she expected in some random mechanic working on their van?

I wanna cheat a little bit, so here's my favorite non-Asheera/Shadowheart stories under the break...

The Wind Blows So Light is an epistolary between Aylin and Isobel while they both assume the other one is dead. A sort of call-and-response letter exchange where neither writer ever expects a response. There is a happy ending.

I don't think I've written a Karlach/Shadowheart fic as good as Burning Hands. Writing Karlach's POV is not my usual, and couching it in T4T smut that explores bodies in an affirming, loving way was a completely unique thing that I'll likely never replicate.

I have a habit of being mean to Nocturne in my Nocturne/Shadowheart fics, but I really love how Fragrant is My Many Flower'd Crown turned out! Unrequited love and pining, my beloathed and beloved in equal miseries.

That Minthara/Karlach smut fic I wrote after seeing some amazing fanart is one of my favorites! I was really happy to see that so many people enjoyed the candle imagery in it as well. Link to fic here (fanart link inside!)

Writing a Minthara/Lae'zel fic for Kinktober on a whim turned me into a fiend for that rarepair. Honestly, they might be my canon/canon OTP, and that's a crying shame considering how few fics there are of the two of them. Link to the fic (heed the tags!)

[thewingedbaron]

Together, Always- BG3 Fic Feb Day Eight

Skipping ahead to the end of act 2 on this one. Today's prompt got a little out of hand and ended up being much longer than origianlly planned. I hope you enjoy :)

Minor warning for menitons of torture. I used a bit of Shadowheart's dialogue after the Gauntlet of Shar, since it seemed fitting.

Pairing: Shadowheart x Tav (Alyss)

Ao3 Link Here

Day Eight: “It will be okay, as long as we’re together.” 

“This is all some sort of terrible dream.” 

Alyss’ head buzzed with residual magic as the planeshift spell dumped them on Shar’s doorstep. The world came rushing back, slowly focusing like a kaleidoscope of shadow and rock. Shadowheart’s words rung in her ears as her feet touched solid ground. Her vision returned just in time to watch the former cleric of Shar collapse. 

“But… it’s real isn’t it?” Shadowheart’s eyes lifted, tears appearing at their corners as she took her in her friends. “I stood before the Nightsong. I heard Lady Shar’s words… and I failed her.” 

Tears streamed down Shadowheart’s face. “Worse than failed, I defiled her! All because of what that aasimar said!” 

Alyss took a shaky step toward her companion, her heart tearing. Her legs, however, were not quite ready to bear her, and the ranger collapsed to the ground. Gods damn it all, she thought. With tremendous effort, she forced her knees to bend, and her arms to work. She would crawl to Shadowheart if she had to. 

The former cleric’s stare was a thousand miles away as she murmured to herself. Alyss wasn’t sure that she was even aware that there was anyone there to listen. 

“I tried to leave…” She said. “But Shar blocked me. Punished me for failing her. I thought I knew the limit of pain that the incurable wound could inflict, but I had no idea.” 

Alyss’ heart strained, tearing itself to tiny pieces. She threw herself across the gap between them, forcing her tired body to obey as she reached out and placed a gentle hand on Shadowheart’s arm. The half-elf didn’t acknowledge the touch. 

“It felt like I was suffering the agony of a thousand people, all at once.” She murmured. “My blood was boiling, my hair on fire. I thought I’d claw my own face off with the pain…” Shadowheart’s voice broke. A half sob escaped her before she continued. 

“She released me. Banished me. She said I was an outcast, that all of her children would know me and revile me… I… I’m alone.” 

“No, love. You are never alone.” Alyss whispered. 

Shadowheart’s eyes widened, darting to her face as if seeing her for the first time. “Love?” She asked. 

Alyss froze. It had been some time since the two of them had spoken properly. Shadowheart had been so deep in the woes of the Shadow-Cursed Lands that she had time for nothing else. Alyss feared she had overstepped for a moment before a slight smile broke across the half-elf’s face. 

“I… I suppose that is true. I am not alone. Not anymore.” she lifted a shaky hand, her fingers ghosting over Alyss’ cheek. “You’ve done more for me than my faith in recent days. In a long while. Thank you.” 

Alyss smiled, tears pricking her own eyes. “I’m glad you finally see it.” 

Despite herself, a small crack of a smile touched Shadowheart’s lips. Then, she folded, collapsing across Alyss before sobs racked her body. The ranger folded her into an embrace while her own tears fell silently. They stayed there for a long time, embracing on the steps of a tomb as the shadow lands twisted and curved around them. As they sat in each other’s embrace, holding on for dear life, the shadows did something strange. They began to curl back, parting in places as silvery moonlight descended into the gaps. There, in the patchwork sky above, Dame Alyin flew for Moonrise, a brilliant speck of silver against a darkened sky. 

As Shadowheart’s sobs slowed, Alyss gently released her hold. Both women sat back on their heels, their eyes stained red as they found each other’s faces once more. A thousand words swirled in Alyss’ head like a maelstrom, but something bit back. Shadowheart had lost everything, her goddess, her family, her world had been upheaved. Now was not the time for grandiose love confessions. 

“Wait.” Shadowheart said. Gentle hands seized Alyss’ shoulders as she leaned away. “Wait. Please.” the half-elf held them both in their kneeling position on the ground. 

“There’s been something between us for some time. A connection more than friends…” 

“Shadowheart, you don’t have to do this now.” 

“No. I do. Alyss, please let me speak.” She said, placing a finger on the ranger’s lips. “I recognized it, but I didn’t act on it after that first night above the waterfall.” Shadowheart shifted, her eyes locked on Alyss’ 

“I thought my faith was the most important thing in my life. I couldn’t have been more wrong.” She paused for a breath. Alyss’ heart hammered in her ribs hard enough to crack a bone. “I’ve squandered too much time already. I want to be with you. Now and always. Do you want the same?” 

Alyss could feel the silence that stretched between them, like a muffling cloak in her mind. She fumbled for the words to say, but could not find them. Shadowheart’s eyes searched hers, desperation gnawing at her irises. Alyss stopped, sucked in a breath to steady herself, and let it out slowly. 

“I want nothing more, love. Now and always.” She whispered. Warmth flooded Shadowheart’s smile as new tears washed down her face. 

“It wasn’t too long ago that I could never imagine smiling again,” she murmured. “Shows what I know.” 

Alyss grinned, warmth flooding her body. Her mind buzzed, the trials and pains of the last twenty four hours forgotten. “I have been trying to tell you-” 

Her words jumbled and stopped as the former cleric of shar seized her by the chin and kissed her. Something in Alyss’ heart burst, flooding her body with warmth. Whatever she had been thinking, it was gone now. The kiss shocked her mind blank. Her skin was on fire. Her blood boiled. Her heart melted as it beat. She could taste the tears in their kiss, but it somehow made it all the sweeter. 

When Shadowheart broke away, it was too soon. Her face felt strangely cool without the cleric’s lips on hers. Alyss immediately began to scheme how to get her to do it again. Every nerve ending in her body felt as if it had been shocked, leaving her buzzing and dizzy. 

“Keep your sarcasm for later.” Shadowheart smiled. 

“I couldn’t possibly-” Shadowheart’s lips landed on hers, and Alyss’ mind was wiped blank a second time. 

“Not to interrupt,” Wyll called for a long way away. “But we do still have a battle to fight.” 

Alyss relaxed as their lips parted again. The world had righted itself in her mind. Now there was only one thing left to do. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet, hauling Shadowheart up beside her.

The former cleric of Shar seized her hand, interlacing their fingers. “Are you sure about this?” She asked, her former confidence eluding her. “I’ll have a target on my back for the rest of my days. Shar does not forgive or forget.”

Alyss smiled.  

“I know we have a lot to talk about, especially after all that.” she nodded toward the lonely gate leading back into the tomb. “But we will deal with it, right after we kick Ketheric’s ass. Sharrian assassins, old necromancers, even the gods damned Absolute isn’t going to stop us, alright?”

Shadowheart nodded, a small smile on her lips. “Together?” 

Alyss grinned. “Always.”

[blackjackkent]

Looking at the patch notes for patch 5! This is the first set of patch notes I've actively paid attention to and man, it's fucking huge!

Honestly, reading through this, I am just mind-boggled all over again about the scale and ambition of this game. Obviously there were (and probably still are) quite a few bugs, unexpected interactions, etc., but Larian have worked their fucking tails off to make a fully functional automated D&D combat system and a story that has a monumental amount of potential variables, and speaking as a programmer it makes my head hurt just thinking about all of the moving parts that must be involved in making this work.

And they seem to be blasting through fixes at an incredible rate too. This is a good development team who seem to have a brilliant combination of technical know-how, good humor, community-mindedness, and passion for their source material, and I'm incredibly impressed even in the short amount of time that I've been playing the game so far.

Obviously I already knew about the addition of the epilogues, which it sounds like makes the ending much more satisfying overall, but some other things that stuck out to me:

"While at camp, you can now access and manage the inventories of companions who aren't in your active party." Yesssss; this has been one of the more annoying aspects of the game up to this point.

"You can now sell and barter items inside containers when trading." This will simplify things for me given I have a System involving Karlach and Shadowheart each carrying a Bag Of Crap to sell.

"Improved grouping and sorting of items in containers while trading." Please tell me this means all the dyes will finally be grouped together when I try to buy them for hoarding.

"A romanced Minthara can now refer to her bond with you using a drow word for deep, unbreakable love." Minthara is probably coming a good deal later in priority on my playthroughs but this is cute.

"Withers will sneakily resurrect any dead companions that fell before the final battle so they can join the ending cinematics. What a helpful skeleton." Good job, Withers.

"The loading screen art now unlocks gradually as you progress through the game." That's a neat touch.

"Fixed occasional T-poses and frozen animations related to the Incapacitated condition." No more T-posing drunk goblins!

"Fixed the combat UI not automatically skipping to the next available party member after a controlled character dies." I think this was why Hector's whole party almost died to the Selune lasers. XD

"Two new play modes: Honour Mode and Custom Mode." No idea what that implies at all but I'm intrigued. More content!

"Improved Astarion's Ascendant route at-will gnome kiss for masculine body types." This is not relevant to any playthrough I'm currently doing but just reinforces what I was talking about above, regarding the incredible number of variables this game juggles (for the most part super successfully).

Also quite a lot of updates that just made me laugh:

"Boo will no longer take damage when thrown."

"When players start a combat inside the Elfsong Tavern, all the patrons will now cower instead of continuing to drink."

"You can no longer use the awesome force of bombs to flip the switch behind the final door in the Gauntlet of Shar to force the door to open."

"You can no longer loot the entire inventory of unconscious traders - instead you have access to a limited selection, as with dead traders. Nice try, pacifists."

"Added the intensely satisfying 'Ahhh' sound for players who Short Rest using a keybind rather than a UI button."

"Shar is now aware of Shadowheart's actions even if she is using Disguise Self."

"Using the lift in the House of Healing when in Turn-Based Mode no longer causes it to loop between floors indefinitely upon exiting Turn-Based Mode."

"Fixed a rare bug where Halsin would decide to turn into a bear whenever you went to talk to him at camp in the Shadow-Cursed Lands."

"If Wyll somehow managed to avoid Mizora's punishment for keeping Karlach alive, he'll be punished retroactively."

"Fixed Astarion accidentally telling the Dark Urge's future."

"Astarion no longer asks the Dark Urge about killing Isobel even if they didn't."

"You no longer comment on Mol if you haven't met her before."

"Locke no longer blames Zevlor for his death if Zevlor died in Act I."

"Fixed several instances of sleeping goblins waking up wanting a chat when they should have been hostile."

"Halsin will no longer forget about saving Thaniel if you travel back to Act I while he's waiting at the lakeside. Focus, Halsin."

"Players who arrive to the Ketheric showdown shape-shifted will have to face him person-to-person, not apostle-to-badger."

"If Isobel is thrown off her balcony, she'll make more of an effort to get back upstairs again."

"Fixed some beggars in the Brampton District facing the wrong way when asking for coin."

"Dame Aylin no longer waits ten days to bring up the time she killed Ketheric Thorm."

"We have convinced Shadowheart not to join the final nautiloid combat if she is already dead."

"Umberlee's worshippers are now considerably more security-conscious about the donations in the Water Queen's House. "

"Fixed a state where the Chamber of Insight trial could be both succeeded and failed."

"Apprentice Laridda will no longer assume you to be the bearer of bad (break-up) news if you didn't bring her the break-up message."

"Ravengard should now use the correct pronouns when addressing you during the ceremony in Wyrm's Rock."

"Karlach no longer thinks she's left the Hells when you explore the rocky outcrop near Hope's prison."

"Added a profanity filter for custom map markers. You'll have to find more creative ways to label the kennel master."

"Splitting a green dye stack in the Traveller's Chest at camp will no longer change the dye's rarity from Uncommon to Very Rare."

"The hanging cages in Cazador's dungeon will no longer tell you they're safe to step on, only to drop you to your death in the chasm below."

"Fixed Mirkon sometimes cowering in fairly deep water when you talk to him while he's running away from the harpies."

"Improved Cazador's home security by locking a chest and a door."

"Locked one of the Caza-doors."

"Fixed padded armour sometimes appearing as underwear on bigger body types. "

"A dead fisherman on the beach will no longer hint that you can find Shadowheart just ahead if you are, in fact, Shadowheart."

"Minthara's haughty stare will now correctly look at players she's talking to towards the end of the game. "

V excited to continue my playthrough, even more than I was already. Feels like we're in good hands. :)

[sinistercall]

” that look in your eyes, “ she pauses, hands that grip her spear as knuckles turn white. hidden away from the gauntlets that cover her hands. “ do try to tame yourself this time, wont you? “

𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄.

The forest had all but fallen deathly still with the rising of a brightly glowing quarter moon over the horizon, a welcome stage for Shadowheart's nectary voice to grace the Tiefling's lowered ears. Ithuriel lowered her dripping hands from her face, bringing the edge of her garment up to dry her skin as she was pulled down into the flood of embarrassment once the cleric's words registered in her mind. How long had she been kneeling beside the river's edge? How long had she been staring into the swirling black stream and using it as a background for the various thoughts of carnage twinkling in her memory? A fight would ensue tomorrow, a guarded sanctuary of refugees had fallen into their path, a religious community - one that had yet accepted the beckoning call of the Absolute, one Ithuriel knew to be the target of an attack. Her mind hums at the idea of such innocence being spilled, it would be a pretty thing surely, red paint was the most expensive. She reigns in the thought, 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 into her own reflection in disgust.

Ithuriel took a deep breath and stood up with a turn of her ankle to come face to face with Shadowheart's gaze - was there a waver of fear within her companions tone? Granted there is no blame or combative glisten in the tiefling's glowing eyes, she knows all too well the horror she inflicts. Her stomach begins to churn as the memory of Astarion creeps upon her, how pleasant he had looked fast asleep below her, how eager her hand was to choke the spit from his throat. Shadowheart is right to be wary, Ithuriel concludes, momentarily debating if she should seek the cleric's advice; a worshiper of the 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 should have opinions on these dreadful illusions sprouting in her mind. She did wonder, however, if Shadowheart would be poised to help her - she had devoted herself (miserably so) to Lathander, and the 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 often butted heads with the Lady of Loss. 

She did have to wonder how someone as ... adorably kind as Shadowheart ended up worshiping Shar; a miserable cult that seemed bent on sucking the personality out of everything that dared step into the Nightsinger's temple. The 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 didn't even exude the sheer amount of sadistic and nihilistic malignancy held within Shar's bosom, even 𝐁𝐇𝐀𝐀𝐋 offered power to his servants ... the sting of his lash palpable - there was no absence of feeling. What did the Dark Lady give that would entice someone seemingly as merciful as Shadowheart? Why would she crave nothingness so earnestly? Ithuriel feels her chest ache as she stares into the maiden's pale iris, how much had this sweet girl suffered to want to toss herself away entirely?

"The thoughts stir even now, if I am to be straight with you, Shadowheart - I fear what may happen if a peaceful agreement cannot be found." Still, her rich, smokey voice is calm, collected, prepared for the worst outcome; "I do have much to ask you though, I know little of Sharran worship, but the Morninglord does not hold secrets or hidden thought in high regard, I am afraid to forget myself. I have faced many things since we've left the Nautiloid, but this need for blood is something that I find frightening. It is a poisonous influence," her 𝐀𝐁𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 towards her own hunger palpable, "I'm often forgetting things, I am losing parts of my memory - Even now I've no idea how I have come to be sitting here at this bank - if the Nightsinger has any wisdom for that, I would much appreciate it." 

She glances away for a moment, gathering her scattered thoughts as she once again faces the cleric, "I spoke with Astarion the other night, my Urge was so strong I nearly killed him, since then I have been sleeping with a vice around my wrists - cursed so only the light of Day can unlock it." Ithuriel regards her curiously, before a slow smile crawls onto her plush lips - it is 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐄 and meets her eyes, "If tomorrow proves violent and you see me lose myself I expect you to put me down accordingly. If that happens I will not be of any use on the field, rabid dogs don't just attack their enemies after all." A nod, "Should this happen ... I trust in 𝐘𝐎𝐔 to take charge, the others can be a bit eager to cut and stab... Well, then again, pot meet kettle; anyone who threatens me either kills me or dies so I've not much room to judge. But tomorrow is a day for mercy, not capricious sacrifice - You've a steady head for that, you were raised well."

[pandoratelenor]

Just like i am still suffering from having made the bar too high for what is a horror vibe underground section is after the deep roads dragon age origins... events...

Has made me just happily vibing in the underdark

Temple of sacred ashes in origins, and all the times i got utterly stuck, died and just. Felt like i never would defeat our mirror images in andrastes gauntlet

Has made shars gauntlet feel like quite a fun romp

Tbf, this is effect of my having had about *looks at notes* 2000+ hours of dragon age playing to train me in solving this exact type of rpg tasks

[in-arlathan]

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Read on AO3 | Start on AO3

Here’s to another chapter. I love the conversation between Solas and Andruil more than I should, but hey... I hope you enjoy reading this! :)

____

Chapter Three: The Mad Huntress

After he awoke from his meeting with Ghil Din’an in the Beyond, Solas found himself drained, exhausted. If he had the time, he would lay down to rest, seeking solace in the sweet embrace of dreamless slumber, but he did not have that luxury. A day had passed since he ha been called before the elven pantheon at the Hahren’al and though he learned more about this mysterious threat in the south, he knew that he was running out of time.

He returned to the bathroom, splashing his face with cold water to dispel the remnants of dreams that still lingered in his mind. Sighing a breath of relief, he changed clothes once again, dressing in wool leggins and foot bandages combined with a tunic and dark green robes. 

While he was still regarding himself in the looking glass that served as a simple mirror, the glowing silhouette of a spirit entered his chambers. It was the spirit of diligence he had talked to the day before. 

“My friend,” it said in a way of greeting, its voice full of disdain and regret. “I am sorry to disturb you.”

Solas turned around and found a spirit of diligence flowing toward him. It took shape in a woman wearing the livery of Mythal’s personal attendants, yet maintaining the semi-transparent nature of a spirit. An expression of worry showed on its ghostly features. 

He could not blame the spirit for disturbing him. It would not have come to him if it had any other choice.

“How can I help you, my friend?” he asked.

The spirit wrung its hands, looking even more uncomfortable.

“The Lady Andruil has come to visit,” the spirit said. “I told her that you do not wish to be disturbed but she won’t leave. She send me here to bring you to her, so the two of you might talk.”

Solas sighed deeply. Instinctively, he wanted to ask how much the elvhen goddess had harassed the spirit until it had given in to her request, but he already had a clear enough picture of the matter. Spirits of diligence were humble servants and always tried to perform their tasks to full satisfaction, even if the person assigning them with the task had no right to command them in the first place. 

“Thank you,” Solas said and made a grateful gesture. “Where is Lady Andruil now?”

“She awaits you in the Hall of Contemplation,” the spirit told him.

Solas frowned. “Not her mother’s chambers?”

“While you slept, the All-Mother has returned to her palace in Ethen’an. She said she felt unwell and hoped the sea air would help her regain her strength.”

That caught Solas like a kick to the stomach. 

Mythal was gone?

“Why did nobody inform me of this?” he asked more briskly than he intended.

“I am sorry,” the spirit said, begging his forgiveness. “We informed the All-Mother about your whereabouts and she asked us to leave you in peace while you walked the Beyond. We would never disturb you in your slumber unless there was no other way.”

Solas rubbed the inner corners of his eyes with two fingers, groaning. Of course. This was his fault. If he had allowed the spirits to disturb him… He sighed again. It was no use. Mythal had left the city. If she had wanted to confer with him before departure, she would have called on him regardless of his wishes. Even in the Beyond, her voice would reach him, either through magic or by the help of a few good-natured spirits.

“Is everything alright?” the spirit asked.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he replied. “I simply assumed the All-Mother would speak with me after what happened at the Hahren’al, but I am in no position to judge. I will reach out to her personally when the time is right.”

“As you wish.” The spirit shifted slightly in the air. “What about Lady Andruil?”

“Don’t worry. I will go and speak with her.” Solas gave with his counterpart a soft smile. “Please tell her that I will join her as soon as possible.”

Though the posture of the spirit did not change, he could feel the air of relief that originated from it. “Thank you, my friend. I will.”

And with that, the spirit flew back the way it came, vanishing through the stone wall as if it didn’t exist.

***

Andruil waited for him in the Hall of Contemplation, just as the spirit of diligence had told him, and in full armor. She stood with her back to the archway that led into the hall, her hands clasped behind her back.

It was the first time he had found the hall in perfect silence. Usually, the Hall of Contemplation was open to all residents of Arlathan and was therefore often occupied by dozens upon dozens of elvhen seeking peace and advice from Mythal.

In the hall’s center stood a giant oak, the vhenadahl, that represented the All-Mother and her love for the people. Its roots ran deep and its branches almost touched the high arched ceiling above, sheltering the elvhen below and giving them comfort. Despite the stone wall that enclosed the tree, its trunk was painted with delicate drawings of Mythal that were crafted by elvhen as they said their prayers and asked the All-Mother for her guidance. 

Around the giant oak was a set of nine smaller trees, all of them reshaped into embellishments of Mythal’s power. Their trunks were smooth as silk, reflecting light like polished stone, while their branches folded upwards to form a rounded shape.

The love of the People that encircles the world, Solas though as his gaze flicked to the molded trees.

In his younger days, he had often served in the Hall of Contemplation on Mythal’s behalf and listened to the stories of weary travelers from all over Elvhenan. Back then, he had learned that the life of his brethren was a constant struggle imposed on them by the might Evanuris. Ever since, he had felt the urge in his heart to help his people, to lighten their load, to create a life worth living. If the Evanuris and their high keepers deserved that privilege, all elvhen should.

The constant whisper of prayers in the hall had become as natural to him as the hissing of the wind. To find it in silence and devoid of any elvhen made him feel uncomfortable. 

This was not bothered him the most, though. There was something about the Lady Andruil that tickled his sense. He stalled, watching the goddess as she slowly turned towards him. She looked like she always had, an agile woman with dark skin and thick dark hair that was braided at the sides and flowed freely on her back. It’s the armor, he noticed and regarded it more closely.

Andruil’s armor pervaded the air with a sense of danger. The harness and chainmail seemed to be manufactured of a glowing red metal he had never seen before. Even the arms and legs were covered in it, down to the gauntlets and sabatons. 

For a moment, he assumed it was crafted from bloodstone, but bloodstone lacked the gleaming quality. Coated silverite, perhaps? No, that didn’t seem right either…

He made a mental note to see into the matter later. For now, he had to deal with the Great Huntress herself. She was eyeing him intently as he stepped down the stairs to the main floor of the hall and walked the long way to the vhenadahl, where Andruil was waiting for him.

“Mylady,” he said as he approached her. She watched him, as he bowed his head to her, one hand on his chest. “To what do I earn the pleasure?”

Andruil licked her lips, sizing him up like she had before, during the Hahren’al. 

“You very well know why I am here,” she informed him. “Don’t pretend otherwise. I am no fool and I know that you aren’t one either.”

Solas clenched his teeth. Andruil had never been one for pleasantries, but this kind of behavior was different. 

“You came here because of the events at the Hahren’al,” he said, matter-of-factly. 

A satisfied smile tugged at Andruil’s lips, and she nodded.

“I am indeed,” she said. “In fact, I have come to offer my help.”

Solas regarded her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

”Oh, please, don’t look at me like that,” Andruil said with a wavy gesture. “I know you think me a selfish creature, only looking for more bloodshed, but you are wrong. This threat in the south is a danger to all of Elvhenan and I want to see it destroyed before it can inflict any more harm on The People.”

It took Solas all he got not to huff at that. Andruil did not want to protect the elvhen any more than a common hunter didn’t want to run out of deer to shot. They would only refrain from killing long enough for the livestock to recuperate.

“I am sorry,” Solas said, trying to sound as coyly as anyhow possible while biting back the vile taste in his mouth. “I did not know you were that concerned.”

Andruil snorted, then crossed her arms. “So, you are telling me, you didn’t you know that it was I who urged Elgar’nan to call for the Hahren’al?” 

Solas blinked.

“No, in fact, I didn’t,” he admitted and squared his shoulders.

This conversation will be much more interesting than I expected. 

“While you were away, dishing out good advice and supplies to our brethren,” Andruil explained, “I send a squad of my best hunters to go find this creature.”

“Did they send the reports?”

“No.” Andruil shook her head. “That was Dirthamen’s ilk. No, my hunters went before my brothers or even my beloved Ghilan’nain gave much thought to the curious events in the south, but most of them wound up dead, burned alive and drained of their spiritual essence, as you described it before the Hahren'al. Only two of my hunters made it back alive, though I found them fundamentally changed.”

Solas lifted his chin, curious “How so?”

“They were… apart from themselves,” she said, slowly, as if she was considering how much she wanted to tell him. “Their minds were ripped to pieces, barely able to remember what has happened. Soon after, their bodies gave out and they died, too.”

“A shame."

“A shame, indeed.”

For but a moment, they regarded each other, each planning their next move in the game of chess that was their conversation.

“I am glad that you chose to share this information with me,” Solas said at last.

“Oh, I intend to do a lot more than sharing information with you,” Andruil said with a sly smile. A wave of rippling light gleamed on her armor and Solas felt the urge to squint. It was as if the metal itself came alive with Andruil’s barely concealed lust and greed.

Solas steeled himself against the curious effect the red metal had on his awareness and tried to look the huntress straight in the eye. “Please allow me to ask,” he said and then went on without waiting for her response. “Why you did not share this information before the Hahren’al? Why let Elgar’nan call on me to tell him things you already knew?”

“Let’s just say that things have gone… awry as of late,” she said sternly. “That is all you need to know.”

“Hm,” Solas mused. “Well, you have my gratitude.”

“Oh, yes?”, she asked and licked her lips. “And how grateful are you?” 

“Very,” Solas said evasively and shifted on his feet in an attempt to create distance between him and Andruil. Unfortunately, the huntress was not so easily fooled. With a wide smile, she took off one of her the bright-red gauntlet and placed it on the stone banister than encircled the vhenadahl. The dark skin beneath was unusually pale and had a waxy quality to it. Solas was still trying to make sense of the fact when Andruil stepped closer and rested her now bare hand on his cheek. 

“Now, ‘very grateful’ is barely good enough for a goddess, is it?” she purred, caressing his cheek with her fingers. “I will have to try harder, then. I will send a squad of my best hunters with you. They will help you track down this dreadful creature, so you might return to me in one piece.”

Solas felt his jaws go tense, as he forced to smile at Andruil. “That is a generous offer, hahren,” he said, “but I can not accept it. It is bad enough that my own life is on the line. I could not bear the thought of your entrusted hunters risking your lives on my behalf.”

Red light glistened in Andruil’s eyes. The bright violet of her iris was interlaced with streaks of crimson, glimmering, giving off an aura of intense power. It reminded him of…

His eyes went wide.

No, this can not be, he thought.

“Oh, don’t be afraid of me, my dear Solas,” she said softly. “There is no need…”

“I’d rather not…” he said and recoiled.

Before he could step away from her, Andruil grabbed his chin with one hand while drawing a dagger from her belt with the other. She hissed and put the blade to his throat. The cold metal graced his skin, leaving the faintest cut.

“One day, I will leash you,” she told him. “You will serve in my bed, just like I demanded, and when I’m done with you, our body will be nothing but an empty shell.”

Despite himself, Solas felt a shiver crawling down his spine. Andruil had always been mad with greed, but this… 

Did Mythal know about this?

Andruil leaned forward and covered his mouth with hers. Solas didn’t even try to push her away. Rather, he kept still and waited for the moment to pass, knowing that even the tiniest movement of his lips would encourage the huntress. To her, he was nothing but prey, another thing for her to hunt down and add to her collection of trophies. But he was determined to not let her have her way with him, not ever. 

When the huntress finally realized that he did not return the kiss, she shoved him away with a groan. 

“You can try and deny yourself to me,” she spat. “One day, I will come and get you, one way or another." With a single gesture, she sheathed her blade, retrieved her gauntlet and put it back on. “You disgust me,” she said, her voice distorted by an overlay of energy. Solas could feel traces of it reflecting in the Beyond. 

For a moment, he expected the huntress to lunge forward and kill him right on the spot. They both knew he would not endure in a fight with her, especially if she shifted into her dragon form. It was the one ability that no one besides the Evanuris had mastered and that had solidified their rise to power in the first place. But Andruil did no such thing. Instead, she rushed past him. The sound of her heavy boots echoing through the Hall of Contemplation, as she stomped towards the entrance. 

Solas waited and listened. When her footsteps finally faded, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned around. The archway that marked the entrance to the Hall of Contemplation looked like it always had, just like the atrium beyond. It was as if the huntress had never come to pay a visit, expect for his thundering heart and the lingering sense of immediate danger. 

Time passed and yet, he did not move. He’d had unpleasant encounters with Andruil before and the impulsive kiss hadn’t been her first attempt to lure him into her bed. The last time, she had blindsided him while was hunting to the east and tied him to a tree to force him into submission. If it hadn’t been for Anaris, Solas might have ended up as Andruil’s slave, just as she had demanded.

He didn’t want to think about.

“My friend.” A whispering voice to his left. “Is she gone?”

Turning his head slightly, he found the spirit of diligence floated towards him, accompanied by three spirits of faith, a spirit of curiosity and two spirits of honor. 

“Are you alright?”, Diligence asked. “You look troubled.”

Solas nodded without looking at the spirit servants.

“Please send a message to Lady Felani at the Forge,” he told the spirit, still watching the archway through which Andruil had vanished. “I want to see hear as soon as possible."