#like why Gale was in baldurs gate if he’s from water deep

[beckiboos]

Gale - before all this I was a reclusive lock-in in Waterdeep pining in my tower waiting to explode

Tav- Cool, what brought you to Baldurs gate then where we were all kidnapped?

Gale- So… tadpoles eh?

Tav- are you just going to ignore my-

Gale- Ceremorphosis. What does it make you think of?

[aerynwrites]

Unexpected, But Not Unwelcome

Gale Dekarios x afab!Reader/Tav

A/N: based on this request - god I literally wrote this the second that I got it lol. Gale was the perfect one to write this request for imo and it was such a pleasure!

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: pregnant reader, slight angst, pregnancy, fluff.

The longer you’ve lived in Waterdeep the more you start to understand why the balcony outside the study is Gales' chosen spot in his tower. 

You still remember the slight shock you felt when you first arrived to see the space was exactly like the illusion he showed you all those months ago. 

Now it’s also become your place of solace, much to the wizards delight. 

“Views like this are much better enjoyed with company. And I couldn’t wish for a better half to spend it with.” 

The balcony is swathed in deep orange light, the sun slowly creeping towards the horizon, the bottom just barely kissing the edge of sea way out in the distance. Her fading rays dance along the calm bay waters, the only disturbance to its surface being the few ships leaving or entering port. 

‘What do they carry?’ you wonder. 

Fine silks and clothing? Or perhaps rare spices from across the world. It’s a game you find yourself playing more often than not whenever you sit out here. But now…

Now it’s all you can do to try and focus on the ships, your mind constantly flitting back to the news you were given earlier in the day. 

You’d missed your monthly cycle a few weeks back, and while it wasn’t immediately alarming, that along with other symptoms finally made you decided to seek out a healer. 

Gale had told you of his plans to spend the day at Sorcerers Sundries, looking for a specific tome for research he was working on. So, today was the perfect day to slip away unnoticed. You didn’t want to worry your husband unnecessarily, but now you want nothing more than for him to be home, the news eating away at you. 

You’re pregnant. 

It’s honestly nothing you’ve ever truly thought about. Before the tadpoles, you’d been alone, just living day to day in Baldur’s Gate. Then of course the whole tadpole incident happened and then…you met Gale and fell in love and started to build a life with him here, in Waterdeep. 

You’re honestly surprised the topic never came up. But now, with it staring you in the face…a sense of uncertainty settles deep in your belly. 

Tara noticed immediately of course, aware of your unusual quietness as you retreated to the balcony as soon as you got home. You’d found yourself spilling the news to the intelligent cat as soon as she asked, her deep eyes softening ever so slightly as she jumped in your lap and curled up. 

You couldn’t help but sense a wave of excitement coming from her, though. A sense that somewhat calmed you despite the nerves running wild in your mind. 

That was a few hours ago, Tara hasn’t moved from her spot, lounging peacefully as you stroked her fur and watch the ships glide across the water. 

Only the very distant sound of the tower door opening and closing, and Gales faint greeting finally pulls you from your thoughts, that anxiety creeping back in full force as you tense. 

Tara sits up as well, stretching and letting out an enviable yawn. You wish you could be that relaxed. 

“Relax, dear,” Tara says gently, nuzzling your hand before turning to jump from your lap. “I feel you have nothing to be worried about.” 

She turned and pads towards the inside of the tower just as Gale appears in the archway, stopping to offer her a welcoming scratch before she disappears.

He sends you a warm smile as he rights himself, approaching and taking a seat next to you on the padded bench, arm wrapping around your waist instinctively as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“How was your day, my love?” He asks, nose nuzzling your cheek. 

You smile, realizing it doesn’t quite reach your eyes past the anxiety roiling in your chest. “It was good,” you tell him, not completely lying but not offering the full truth either. “How was your adventure to Sorcerer’s Sundries?” 

At the mention of the bookstore Gale’s eyes light up as he tells you about what he found. Slowly, as he talks about the new information he found regarding his research, you both maneuver into a more comfortable position. Gale moves to lay across the length of the padded bench, leaning against the armrest as you settle between his legs, back resting against his chest. 

His arms wrap loosely around your middle, hands resting over your stomach, completely unaware of the life that’s now growing there. 

His words fade into the background as your mind starts to wander again, your hands moving to rest atop his own, your fingers slipping to toy with the simple gold band around his ring finger.

You don’t truly have many worries about the news. You know that Gale will weather anything with you but…you don’t want this to be a storm, or anything negative. What if Gale doesn’t want children? What if he pulls away from you when you tell him the news or is just as scared as you feel?

Soft lips against your neck pull you from your thoughts, familiar fingers slipping between your own to give them a squeeze. 

“I know my research ramblings can at times be boresome. However, you seem to be lost to me more than usual this evening.” His words are gentle with just a touch of amusement as rests his head against yours. “What’s on your mind?”

You don’t respond right away, your nerves at an all time high and making your already tumultuous stomach even more uneasy. You squeeze his hand in yours.

“I went to see a healer today.”

Gale’s arms tighten around you, and you can feel the way he sits up straighter, your words concerning him. 

“A healer? I didn’t even notice - are you sick?” He asks, worry clear in his voice. “I cannot believe I was so preoccupied I failed to take note of-“

You tug on the sleeve of his robes, holding him tighter to you. “I’m not sick. At least not…” You trail off, taking your lip between your teeth.

Gale urges you on with a gentle press of his lips to your shoulder, and that action alone seems to calm the raging sea of anxiety within you. 

“I’m with child, Gale.” 

The silence that follows your revelation feels oppressive. The only sounds meeting your ears being the lapping of waves against the shore and the distant call of gulls in the air. 

Emotion clogs your throat as you clutch his hand. “Please…say something.”

You sit up then, turning to face the man behind you, but before you can fully do so, two strong arms wrap around you and bring you to your feet. Your surroundings turn into a blur around you as Gale spins you through the air, boisterous laughter falling from his lips until he brings you to a stop, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss. 

His lips are warm and his arms secure as he holds you to him, as if afraid this would all fade away if he were to let you go. 

Heat floods your cheeks when he pulls away, elation adorning his features as he looks at you, eyes glowing with an utter joy you’ve never quite seen on him before. He cradles your face in his hands, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks. 

“I’m going to be a father? We’re going to have a child?” He asks, whispering the words in unbelieving reverence. 

The smile that splits your lips is almost painful, any and all anxiety dissipating from you as you take in his reaction. 

“Yes they…The healer said I would start showing soon, and if we want…Towards the end of the pregnancy they should be able to tell us the gender,” you tell him, hands grasping at the fabric of his robe. 

Gale smiles wider, hands falling down to cradle your stomach and the new life that sits there. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says gently. “They will be loved either way, and no doubt a powerful wielder of the weave if I have anything to say about it.”

You can’t stop the chuckle that slips past your lips, and the surprising happy tears that fall down your cheeks. Gale notices the streaks immediately, smile faltering ever so slightly as he reaches back up to wipe the tears away.

“Why the tears? This is a joyous occasion, we should be celebrating!” 

You shake your head, reaching up to place your hand atop his own as you turn to press a kiss to his palm. “They aren’t tears of grief…I was worried. Worried about telling you. I didn’t…we’ve never talked about children.”

Your husband smiles gently, eyes reassuring as he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. “I can admit that this news was unexpected, but it’s…it is not unwelcome,” he tells you, eyes bright once more. “I’ve never given much thought to children because of everything that had consumed my mind in the past and then you appeared in my life and took over the rest of my thoughts,” he laughs. “But this…” He presses his hands to your belly again. “This is more than I could have ever asked for. More than any power I’ve ever dreamed of having. I find myself filled with indescribable joy at the thought of creating a life with you - a family.”

You press your lips to his as soon as the words leave his lips, pulling him impossibly closer until you break away to nuzzle into the space between his head and shoulder, excitement and happiness threatening to burst from your chest. 

“I love you, Gale Dekarios.” You say, smiling as he pulls you tighter against him. “I can’t wait to start a family with you.”

You move to speak, but the presence of a familiar winged feline interrupts you as Tara rushes onto the balcony, wiggling happily. 

“Oh my!” She exclaims, weaving between yours and Gale’s legs before jumping effortlessly up to perch on his shoulder as you both separate. “This is most exciting! Another Dekarios, can you believe it?” She asks, turning to Gale. “Hopefully this one won’t light himself on fire like you did all those years ago.”

You watch in amusement as Gale flushes a light shade of pink, flicking Tara’s ear playfully. “I was just starting to learn to master the weave! And I was eight, you can hardly blame me.”

You chuckle at their antics and reach up to card your hands through his hair at the nape of his neck, drawing his attention back to you.

“Well, they will have the best teacher. There’s no telling what they will accomplish with you as their guide.”

Gale smiles, leaning down to kiss you one last time before embracing you once more. 

“We’ll guide them together.”

You hum in agreement, basking in the golden rays of the setting sun, the snapping of sails echoing across the water as you whisper against his skin. 

“Together.”

Tags:

@dark-and-kawaii

[blkgirl-writing]

Hi, I saw your smut requests post and was wondering if you could write one about touch starved Gale finally being alone with reader/Tav and getting his satisfaction? (Yeah, I got inspired by your nsfw headcanons about him, how could you tell?) Please and thank you!

PS Can I be 🧀 anon?

What happened at the moon lit pond

Gale X Fem!Reader

Baldurs gate 3

It’s been, probably three years since I’ve written a full fanfic? I’ll admit I’m probably a little rusty. Thank y’all for hanging in, and I hope this fulfills our nerdy wizard boy needs. thank you so much 🧀 anon for the request! I hope you stay and request some more.

Important tags: lots of pining, some angst (no sad ending), smutty (male and female Masterbation, male giving female oral), spoilers for gales mid game story, romance, Gale is an anxious mess, The thought of gale brushing his hair from his face got me GOING 😩

Word count: 1.9k

(Part 1.5 HERE) (PART 2 HERE)

(Gale headcanons that inspired this here)

-

Gale didn’t know how to handle these new feelings for you. He makes a fool of himself everyday, it seems. He always offers you a slice of his bread, even if you gave your own, he saves some of his own morning coffee for you, since he wakes up earlier, and even warm it up for you with a spell.

He simply wanted you to like him. That would be all he needed, but anything else that may follow that would be a true blessing. Gale wanted nothing more than to make you laugh, to see your smile and know he was the reason why, to camp and be the first and last person you’d speak to before sleep.

Gale wouldn’t let his mind wander much past that, or he tried to not let it. The occasional dream would slip through where you were his, and he was yours. It simply put him in panic mode In the waking hours, trying to not be obvious, scared you’d find out, what exactly? He wasn’t sure. You were too kind to break his heart so effortlessly, like he feared you would.

Endless scenarios danced in gales head of rejection, humiliation, and what would happen if he let himself go, life he was tasked to do. It wouldn’t take much, to convince him to live. Friendship, a place to call home, even if it was ever moving. Company he could entrust his life to. It was all so appealing. Luring him into life, breathing a new passion into his purpose, one he’d lost many years ago, sometime when he was alone for so many years.

Those thoughts seemed to linger on forever, sweeping over his barely conscious brain to awaken him again, rustling him from what could be a good nights rest. Eventually, Gale decided to just get up and go for a walk.

Camp had been set up in one of the most beautiful places any of you had seen. Waterfalls tinted emerald green, sand fine and shimmering in the light, may it be sun or moon. I’m one of those waterfalls, he found you.

Waist deep in the pond. Skin and hair dripping wet, shining more than usual water would, adding a silver glow to the night. You looked better than a goddess could ever imagine, and still, his eyes never dipped below you shoulders, even though he deeply wanted to look lower. Instead, he stood there, looking like a fucking idiot, gods know how long. Maybe a tree branch snapped, or maybe you finally snapped out of your trance, but your head whipped in his direction, eyes darting across the small beach, only relaxing when you realize only gale stands before you.

“Oh, Gale, it’s just you…” you let out a deep, jagged breath, the anxiety flowing out of your body just as quickly as it racked through it.

“Just? Are you disappointed?” Gale smirked, although his heart raced in his chest, one word and he'd sulk back to camp, but gods he wanted to stay and spend the whole night with you under the stars.

“Far from it, really. I was just thinking about how much you’d enjoy this view if you were here” you tore your eyes away from Gale, focusing on the stars. “I thought it may remind you of waterdeep. You paint a very beautiful picture of home.”

“I can think of a few things much, much more beautiful than Waterdeep,” his voice low, raspier than usual. Easily explained away from the lack of sleep or old sleeping bags, not for what it really was. Deep yearning, wanting, needing.

“I’d love to see them someday, then.”

“We’ll just have to get you a mirror, then,” “All the beauty in the world would reflct

"Gale, I-" You finally looked into his eyes, he wore his heart on his sleeve, at least for a moment. Those puppy eyes, dark bust glistening in the full moonlight, his hair messy from turning in his sleep, he wanted you, in many more ways than one. Gale's emotions could never be that simple, of course.

"Well," you walked towards him, water inching lower and lower, revealing more and more of your body, yet gales eyes stayed on yours. "Why don't you join me for a swim. It's a beautiful night."

"an offer I could not refuse." Gale's face was plastered with that cocky smile, the one that could melt anyone into a puddle in seconds.

He might have been a gentleman and kept his eyes upwards, but you were not so much, Gale untied his robes, gods why were there so many damn layers? It was quite a sight, his little mannerisms that showed more of him to you than he had shown to you. He was nervous, his fingers missing the simple ties frequently, he got annoyed by his hair getting in his eyes, a grimace appearing before he swept his hair behind his ear.

Your eyes lingered on his circle smoke tattoo, his toned arms, his downright massive hands. he was more tan than you realized, To be fair, he's always covered in those loose robes, leaving you to wonder what was underneath. You were more than happy to finally be finding out. But not below the waist.

"Isn't it a bit cold to be this naked?"

"The water is warmer than the air, I promise." You extended a hand out to Gale, even though he was feet away from you. "Come on, Gale from Waterdeep being afraid of some cold water? Sounds redundant."

"You got me there." He finally stepped into the glimmering pond surrounded by rocks and sand, enough to have your own little corner, to lessen the echo if it was needed. The whole camp didn't need to know all of your business. It must've been a magical lake, as both you and Gale noted separately. Unnaturally still, even when you moved freely, small glowing lights pooled at your sides, occasionally bubbling into the air once you leaned against a large, bright rock.

"May I ask what you were doing out here at this hour?" Gale spoke, still much further away from you than he wanted to be,

"Can I not take a mid-night swim?" You raised your brows in a questioning glance his way "A woman needs time to herself. These days and nights have been very stressful."

Gales very audible oh, slipped through the silence. "You don't have to relax alone." His eyes finally gave in to the need, scanning your body with a low moan slipping past his lips. His excitement was immediate, brushing against your lower stomach all the way past your navel.

"You've wanted this." You stated, brushing your hand against his thigh.

"There's plenty of magic around us, I want the Gale right in front of me." You dared to inch even closer, his thigh fully slipping between yours, inches away from touching your pussy. His hands floated inches from your waist, "Let me give you everything"

"Give me everything" With that, Gale's hand grabbed your waist, gently guiding you onto his thigh, motioning your hips down and swaying only him. The sensation sent sparks flying through his body, you were right in front of him, completely bare and rocking with pleasure onto him. Better than any dream he'd thought up, any fantasy that ran through his head even at the most inappropriate of times. Yes even during the throws of battle. Even in hard times like that, he was so drawn to you.

Gales other hand came up to your jawline, tilting your head so he could latch his mouth around your neck. Deep marks left behind while he inches his way in hickeys up your neck, jaw, and finally to your lips. Any semblance of anonymity flew out the window, not a single person could miss what he gave you, artfully placed dark spots painting your skin. "I have never seen such a beautiful being in my life"

"I could say the same about you gale," You said betwixt breathy moans, picking up the pace of your grinding hips against his thigh, his hand on your waist moving between a tight grip on your ass, and a light but so effective caress of your clit. Every time you got so close, his fingers moved, he was teasing you. His cocky smirk felt even through his kiss.

"I want you to come on my mouth." As if he was reading your slightly frustrated thoughts, "I want to taste you in my dreams."

All you could manage was a frantic nod, a mumbled yes, and shakily hoisting yourself up onto a rock that was perfect for gales pretty head to be between your thighs. Gale pushed your thighs apart with one hand, which stayed firmly grabbing onto you. The other sneaked up your thigh, tracing patterns along your skin. "Gale, please," you whispered out of pure desperation. The only warmth coming from your feet still in the water, otherwise your skin exposed to the biting air.

"All you had to do was ask, my lady" Gales fingers easily slid into you, curling up and pumping in and out, while he leaned into your pussy, maintaining eye contact as he placed one kiss just to the right of where you needed him to be. All he needed was to be touched, to touch you. Your legs wrapped around him to get Gale even closer, urging him closer.

"Touch yourself" Barely a whisper, but Gale caught it, and certainly didn't need to be told twice. Secretly, he could cum from this alone, your taste, how soft you were, how loud you could get. It was more than enough to orgasm right there with you, however, that is not exactly how he wanted your first sexual experience to go. His hand clutching your thigh came to his cock, rubbing much faster and harder than he was fingering you. he was eager. He wanted this to last forever, he wanted you to cum again and again and again into his mouth. He wanted his face even more dripping from your juices.

"Gale I can't hold it-" You nearly screamed, his tongue swirling and sucking, lightly biting, it was almost too much. Then, he moaned. A loud, deep moan and that was it. Vibrations running through your body from his mouth. there noise that left your mouth could've been heard across Baldurs gate, you silently thanked this magical pound for being so secluded, as you would be borderline embarrassed if people heard. Gales didn't come back up for hair until he was sure you were finished, getting every last drop of you.

"You certainly are loud" Gales tone was so smug it almost made you laugh. You gripped onto his shoulders as he swept you down from the perch, pressing his whole body to yours. After all that, after her definitely came, he was still so hard, and so pressed against you that you couldn't help but gasp. "I want to hear that again."

"Hear what, exactly?" you teased, lifting a finger to trace his chest.

"To hear you cum," his lips dipped down to your ear, slightly nibbling on it, before he rasped "and to feel you on my cock."

-

Part two, here

(Requests Open)

[miaowitch]

The Hardest Part

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read on Ao3 or below !!

gale dekarios x tav oc (baldur's gate)

cw ⋆｡‧˚♡ m/f, semi-public sex, fingering, innapropriate use of mage hand, smut with feelings, pet names, oc/canon

summary ⋆｡‧˚♡

Elle was never the type to assume feelings. Gale wasn’t that elusive anyway. She could always tell how he felt, or at least weasel it out of him. Camp was quiet though, and a lot weighed on Gale’s mind.

AKA

Local Wizard might be obsessed with a Cleric of the Moonmaiden, will he ever actually tell her how he feels? or will he be alone with his cat forever in a library?

Elle was never the type to assume feelings. Gale wasn’t that elusive anyway. She could always tell how he felt, or at least weasel it out of him. Camp was quiet though, and a lot weighed on Gale’s mind. They had only been traveling a few months, everything was fine in Elle’s eyes. The elf found it easy to say that she considered her party to be very close friends with one another. Growing up, she didn’t have too many friends, so traveling with the group was more of a practice in socialization. When you’re known as the bookish nerd with a heavy devotion to Selûne; not that many people want to approach you in the grove. Except Gale just understood her. She couldn’t joke the same with anyone else, no one understood her when she went on tangents. Just Gale.

Their tents were in perfect eye shot of each other, it’s not like she wasn’t allowed to look in his direction. They set up camp by the shore for a reason, the lakeside is beautiful. Easily she could claim that she was looking at the water, but each time… Gale found her attention. It was always a pleasant distraction in the evening, her dear friend Gale wouldn’t blame her for her wandering eyes anyway. Though when he looked back for a second time, eyes locking directly with Elle before he looked away, she began to think. “The lake is right there, why does he look at me?” Elle had an imagination from the amount of romance novels in her collection, but never would she imagine someone falling for her. She could only picture herself as a spinster holed up in a grove far from civilization. Not that she didn’t notice the attractive qualities of everyone she’d met, the romantic in her could never be silenced. Gale just didn’t seem the type to pay attention to her when people like Wyll or Shadowheart traveled with them. Even Astarion was more appealing than her, in her mind at least.

For just a moment though, she imagined walking up to Gale and just announcing her suspicions. Her eyes for the third time had fixed on Gale. The moon broke through the trees and illuminated his tent now, as if her Goddess was giving her better sight for her fixation. She watched as he sighed, broad shoulders rose and fell quickly as he thumbed at the page of the book he definitely wasn’t reading. The water still distracted him.

Elle took a deep breath to gather her courage. The rest of camp had either retired for the night or had taken up an activity that they couldn’t be pulled from. She thanked Selûne, Elle wasn’t sure if she could handle Shadowheart’s cautious gaze as she watched her with the ‘dangerous wizard’. They’d all worked on their gripes with one another, but Shadowheart still struggled to see Gale as anything but power hungry. Elle couldn’t see him as anything but Gale. Quietly, she gathered herself, wrapped a blanket over her shoulders to help keep her warm on the walk over. The cool night air also helped cool off any embarrassment from rejection, too. It wasn’t that she expected rejection, Gale wouldn’t be so cruel, but she’d been wrong before. The crunch of the dirt beneath her leather shoes alerted Gale, snapping him from his daze. He seemed more on edge for the past few nights than he ever had. “Well, I didn’t expect your company tonight.” He smiled, as if all the previous concern had washed away. “What can I do for you, friend?”

“Is there something on your mind, Gale?” Elle asked, stepping closer and taking a seat on the cushion laid out by his own. He’d always been happy when she stopped by to sit with him for a chat, that he added a seat just for his favorite company. Gale only responded with a sigh, “Oh, just the usual melancholies of the enlightened mind. Brain worms and what not…” Gale’s comment only made her more suspicious, his moodiness was more than the usual tadpole concern. He seemed genuinely lost in his mind with something more. “Of course, it’s your usual weekly brooding session…” Elle looked off towards the lake, the moonlight dancing on the water. “You’re positive it had nothing to do with me? You kept looking-” She was cut off by Gale’s boisterously nervous laughter. “Oh, Elle, what would I be thinking of you for? Aside from your never ending wit or your b-” He sputtered to clear his throat, “Your vocabulary, I mean. My apologies. Perhaps the cold is getting to my head? I should retire.” He began to stand, but Elle grabbed onto his wrist. His pulse was fast, his face flushed, but he still lowered himself back to the patterned cushion.

“What’s really troubling you?” Elle asked earnestly. She didn’t catch onto his thoughts this time, she really had no clue what the wizard was thinking. For all she knew, the mindflayer transformation was upon him, and she would have to do the unthinkable. His hesitation didn’t fully melt away, but she could tell he was easing into the confession of his thoughts. “I just…don’t wish to burden you with my mind. It’s nothing concerning, but it just might be a little…complicated though.” Gale finally admitted, but still kept it vague enough to make Elle officially frustrated.

Complicated? Elle didn’t wish to brag, but nothing was too ‘complicated’ for her to fathom. She’d been subjected to a tadpole behind her eye, she could surely understand the inner workings of a dumb wizard. So, she scoffed. Rolling her grey eyes, she took her hand away. “Right, too hard for me to understand.” Elle now stood up. “I can understand when I’m pressuring you though. I apologize, Gale.” She felt offended, flustered, and most of all disappointed. Perhaps she’d just been misreading the signs from Selûne. “Not everything can be fixed, stupid Cleric.” Elle scolded herself internally, but was interrupted by Gale’s calloused hand grasping her wrist now.

“You must understand…the hardest part is understanding my own feelings for you.”

It clicked at that moment. “Oh...that’s why.” Elle looked around, hoping that no onlookers would interrupt them. “Y-Your feelings?” She felt like her heart was pounding straight out of her chest. “I just can’t get my mind off of you, Elle.” Gale sighed, removing his hand from her wrist to run over his hair earnestly. “I can’t even spend an evening without looking your way…” Brown eyes met grey now, eye contact holding for a moment before Elle broke the silence. She lowered herself back down to his level. “You…um…you mean that?” She questioned in an almost whisper, his response was an honest nod. “Did you not catch me staring your way earlier?” She leaned in, as if the secret would leave the space between them. “I was so afraid I’d been bothering you with my attention.” Elle’s cheeks felt so warm, but she refused to back away. Not with Gale.

“Did you not expect my adoration? Even after all this time?” He questioned, looking at her as if he was studying each feature. He just didn’t want to lose her with this new proclamation. “How was I supposed to ever expect this.. I’m not the type to fall for..” Elle’s own esteem issues would rarely surface, but she found it hard to find the good in herself. “Not the- Not the type to fall for? Elle, that is just utterly absurd.” Gale’s hand gripped each other in his lap, just to hold back from holding her. “How could you not be the center of all my attention when you challenge me so often. Your beauty shows itself in so many ways, how am I supposed to ignore you?” Now his right hand reached out to brush a piece of her longer bangs from her eyes. “I’m obsessed, honestly..” He sighed again, but now she understood his reasoning. Lovesickness wasn’t fatal, but it definitely could hinder a traveling party.

“How long..?” She asked finally, but Gale could easily answer. “When you pulled me from the portal..” He lowered his head, as if to be ashamed. “I suppose you’re not alone then..” Elle scooted in closer, the gap between them just kept getting smaller with each shared confession. When she pulled the wizard from the whirling portal, she almost felt like it was a divine gift from her Goddess. After being with two of the most sarcastic members, it was a breath of fresh air to have the wizard tag along.

“Gale, you don’t understand how long… I’ve wanted you to say this.” She sighed out, her manicured hand resting on his knee closest to her. Elle had such a hard time admitting her own feelings, even if she spent so much time worried about others. “I’m still having such a hard time even believing I’m not dreaming.” Gale’s throat bobbed as he swallowed his anxieties. “What can I do to convince you that you’re truly awake?” His voice was confident, with a slight waver. Not that his own experience was anything to worry about, but being in his tower for so long hadn’t given him a chance for practice. “What do you mean?” Elle asked innocently. Her experience in the love field was basically nothing outside of her novels and mage hand. She had no clue how to respond to his moves.

She didn’t need to respond, though, as Gale had leaned in now. Their lips met with a tender touch, Gale just couldn’t be anything but gentle with Elle. Her tension melted away at his touch. Elle didn’t feel uneasy or unsafe when it came to Gale. Even when the kiss became more intense, she didn’t feel any boundaries being crossed. Pulling her into his lap, Gale helped her sit on his thigh as he held her waist closer. The sound of the crickets chirping, the owls sounding off, and the water crashing soft on the shore just covered the sounds of their clothes rustling. Elle was the first to let her hands wander.

First, they traced his collar bone. Detailing each small scar and running over the low ridge of his tattoo. Then, she traveled lower with her left hand. She just rested it on his chest, but Gale was bursting just from her sweet grazing on his body. Breaking from the kiss, Gale panted to catch his breath. Elle just folded her head into his neck, leaving even sweeter kisses with every whimper he’d release. “Elle…p-please…hold on…” Gale begged, feeling himself about to burst. Elle thankfully relented. “I-I’ve never done anything like this before, Gale… I don’t know what I should do…” Elle confessed, hiding her flustered face in his shoulder.

“Allow me to help you then, my dear.” Gale whispered soft into her ear, not wanting to scare her any. “Will you trust me?” He smiled, pulling her back to look at him. Elle of course agreed. How could she not trust Gale Dekarios?

With a wave of his hand that wasn’t holding her, he cast a veil over the tent. The world seemed normal, just as if a haze had fallen over the tent. “What happened…?” She questioned, Gale just started to smile. “Just something to deter the others.” He leaned into her neck now, trailing kisses from the bottom of her ear to the base of her neck. “My tent appears closed now, so they won’t bother…this.” They were still in the night air, exposed, with all the risk warded off.

Gale’s free hand now moved to hold her thigh, causing Elle to gasp with surprise. Their lips met again, this time with more urgency. The spell could wear off at any moment, so they had to make it count in one way or another. Elle’s own hands began to move down again, this time pushing the limit. Gale groaned into the kiss as Elle palmed his already hard cock through his lounging pants. Her palm rubbed at the length over the cloth as she tried to deepen the kiss. Gale allowed her, his tongue working its way into her mouth now. He moaned with a deep grumble into her, not wanting to waste a moment any longer.

“I’ve dreamed about this exact moment for months now, Elle…” He broke the kiss to now move his pants down. Elle moved off his lap to sit on her knees. Patiently waiting for him, as if she’d expected the evening to take this path. His dick sprung from the tightness of his pants, Gale audibly sighed in relief.

Elle would be lying if she said she wasn’t mildly intimidated by its girth, but she sure was excited. Only reading about this in her risqué books, Elle had no actual experience with sex in real life. “M-May I…” She started to ask, but Gale just feverishly responded with a nod. Elle took it as permission to reach out. Positioning herself between his legs, she pulled at his pants just slightly to make it more comfortable for him. With one hand she began slowly moving up and down, with the other she palmed at his balls that perfectly rested on her hand. “E-Elle…oh gods…” Gale threw his head back when she started to pump at his cock, his wrist moved up to cover his eyes. She was focused, though, her speed quickening with every second passing.

His panting grew louder with her speed. Elle was stopped, though. Gale moved his hand back down to hold onto her hand. “I need you…” He confessed desperately. Pulling at her wrist softly, his puppy dog eyes were too much for her to resist. “Please.” Gale begged again. If Elle wasn’t a sane woman, she’d be clawing at the tent behind them.

She moved back, pulling her pants off with haste. The cool air hit her, the only things keeping her warm was the sweater she wore and the heat from her full body blushing. Crawling forward on her knees, she didn’t feel as exposed, knowing their moment was hidden. She felt almost more excited, knowing that if the veil fell, she’d been seen for all that she is. Elle wanted Gale more than she ever thought possible. His firm hands grabbed onto her soft ass, pulling her up to straddle his lap now. Gale’s cock bobbed with his movement. His erection now rested on her pelvis, throbbing in anticipation. Gale held himself firmly to not absolutely devour her on the spot, needing her more than the magic he craved. He took two fingers to ready her for their endeavor, but was not prepared for just how wet she’d become. Elle wasn’t even aware that a person could make her feel so…euphoric.

Biting her lower lip to hold back her moans, he moved around her clit just to tease at her. Elle’s body crumpled against his torso again, head resting on his neck. “G-Gale-” She sputtered out, breathing heavily into him. Two fingers moved down her pussy, inserting one after another into her. She shook, thighs quaked the deeper he pushed. Gasping softly as she gripped at his shirt with one hand and pulling at his hair with the other, Elle couldn’t sit still. Even the thickness of his pointer and middle finger was enough to drive her mad. “Darling, if I don’t do this I won’t fit, just try to hold on a little longer.” Gale cooed in her ear, petting her head soft to coach her as he began thrusting his fingers faster.

His fingers coated in her wet was a feeling he’d savor. Gale wasn’t surprised that he was growing harder by the second. Each time he’d move his hand, his cock would throb. Tightening around him, her back arched into his body, just trying to hold patience. “Haah… Hah… Gale…” Elle breathed out, her grip getting tighter. Gale wouldn’t let her finish, though, he needed Elle to help him. Pulling his fingers out, fighting the tight suction of her virginity. She mewled at the absence, but Gale tried to console her. “Shh, love. J-Just wait. Please.” Holding the shaft still, he helped Elle stand on her knees to hover still.

Anticipation made him shake slightly, he anxiously ran the tip down from her clit to her waiting hole. Meeting her pussy with a deep moan, Gale felt like he could’ve melted. Elle helped him by lowering her body, her pussy resting right on the tip. Gale sped it up by pulling her further, going deeper. Elle quickly moved a hand over her mouth, his girth stretched her more than just his fingers. Forgiving her cluelessness, Gale just kept trying to soothe her while easing her down. “Gods… Elle…you…” He breathed as he finally bottomed out, “You are….divine…”

Tightening around him from the compliment, Gale once again felt the need to burst then and there. It’d been upwards of a year since he’d been with someone so intimately, but he tried to remain patient. On her own, though, she began to move. Gale tried to lighten the load by guiding his hands to her ass again, allowing him to move for her. “Thank you…for trusting me with this.” His brown eyes looking at her with the sweetest smile, but she was too far gone as he began speeding up his pace. Her arms laced around his neck to hold her stability, she laid on him with her full weight.

Gale was stronger than he looked, but it also just could’ve been the instinct to rail into her. The amount of sound coming from the pair almost made her doubt the spell truly hid what they were doing. The soft padding of skin meeting skin, the soft moans and groans, and the sound of lips against lips. Fucking into her was easy, but Elle couldn’t stop from kissing him. Trailing along his tattoo (which only drove him mad) up to his mouth, Gale’s pace sped up faster to match his own needs. “E-Elle-” He sputtered out, breaking the kiss she kept leaning further into.

He had to pull her off, trying not to upset her too badly by cumming inside her. Pumping at his own cock, he used the lubrication from her pussy for ease. Elle started to whine, but Gale just cast Mage Hand to help her along. A mystical blue hand appeared to work at her clit with the same speed he’d shown prior. He smiled as Elle laid back on her knees, so Gale could get a good look as he stroked his dick. As Elle’s body shuddered with pleasure, she arched her back to fend off the eventual climax. She wasn’t sure what she was fighting off though, maybe she just didn’t want the moment to end. Gale helped her legs get more comfortable, holding her still just to watch her squirm under the hand. Gale felt himself at the point, so he rose on his knees as he continued pumping at his dick.

Elle came with a sigh of relief through her nose, but Gale had to bite his tongue as he came into his fist. The hand still moved, even as Elle softly begged to slow down. Only as she squirmed around did he snap out of his daze, waving his hand once again to send it away. The two sat in exhausted silence, crickets outside acting as a white noise to their panting.

“Well…” Gale began. “I don’t suppose that’ll be the end…right?” He looked at Elle with hopeful eyes, holding out a hand to help her up. Elle paused for a moment to allow herself to catch her breath. “Well, you don’t just expect us to never explore the notion.” Gale scrambled nervously, now expecting rejection from the silence.

“Shut up, Wizard.” Elle finally sighed out, giving a soft kiss onto his cheek.

[parvulous-writings]

Aagh thank you so much for taking my Selkie!reader request!! it’s so cute, I absolutely love it!! 💓🦭 I would love a one-shot if you wouldn’t mind 🫶🏻

Warnings: Reading is referred to with she/her pronouns and fem descriptors, vague descriptors of peeling off skin. Somewhat abrupt ending, maybe? Not sure, I've been staring at this for too long

Words: 2.4K

Notes:  My requests are currently open! My request post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too! If you’d like to support me more, consider reblogging! I’d appreciate it loads!!

Gale had certainly been one of your more courteous companions, on your group's slow and steady journey up to Baldur's Gate. Whilst a lot of the others - particularly Astarion, and at times, Lae'zel - would often mutter or complain about how often you would need to stop to 'bathe'. The only ones who didn't try and hurry you along were the wizard, and Wyll. Wyll understood why the others were getting so frustrated, and so did Gale, you were all under a tiny bit of a time constraint on the road. "It's only once a day," Wyll would often defend - not that you were usually in earshot of this. "It is rarely even over an hour or two - I am well aware that we have issues to resolve-" He held up a hand to silence Shadowheart, who had just opened her mouth to retort, most likely with some remark about how they would all be in deep trouble if they kept stopping for everyone's habits, bathing or otherwise. "But, she is the one who holds us all together, and for such a feat, I feel we could... Afford her this much." "Perhaps I should start bathing as much." Astarion drawls, examining his long nails idly as he spoke. "I mean... If one of us can 'afford' to do it, then evidently the rest of us can as well, hm?" Wyll gave the vampire a look of mild exasperation, whilst Gale spoke up. "That isn't what Wyll meant - and you are well aware of that fact." He stated, his voice firm. "You know that she has been incredibly kind to us - you in particular - so we are showing her some kindness in turn." He folded his arms across his chest as he practically scolded the Elf, trying to appear intimidating. It didn't work all that well, at least, not from Astarion's perspective. "But, if you are really so intent on being bothered by this, I will go and ask her to hurry along..." He then continued, as Astarion's eyes became dour. If there was something that the wizard didn't want to do, it was irk the paler man's ire.

With that, Gale trotted off down the same path that you had taken merely half an hour prior, muttering to himself about how easily he had caved to the demands and how he should have stood his ground more. If not for his own dignity, then for your sake. Gale was immensely fond of you, perhaps more than he should have been, considering the short amount of time that he had known you for. But for the wizard, the kindness that you had shown him meant the world. It was the same kindness you showed to all the other companions, but he felt it was special, when it came to him. After so long without such affections - if they could even be called such - Gale's mind was going into overdrive in the presence of it, latching onto you in a way that he tried consciously to ignore, but every time the thoughts of staying at arms length from you left his mind, he would slowly drift ever closer to you. You had never shown any aversion to him. Even when he had admitted to you about the perilous situation thanks to the orb embedded in his chest, you had not shied away, nor had you cast him out. It was more - so much more - than he deserved.

The stroll to the riverbank only took him about ten minutes or so. He had been so wrapped up in his internal battle about whether to just turn around and leave you be, to stand his ground, that he almost dipped his boot into the cold water. He blinked for a moment or so, shaking his head to centre himself, before he made his eyes try to focus on the banks. Where had you decided to take your dip? He assumed it wouldn't be right at the end of that small path, where anyone would be able to wander and see you - you liked your privacy. So, he began to wander, sweeping his eyes across the spaces in front of him, looking for any sign of you or your belongings. In bushes, behind the odd tree, but there wasn't anything, for quite a while. He was beginning to grow concerned - what if you had been caught unawares by a bear, or even a stray goblin? No, that makes no sense, the rational voice in his head countered. She has taken on owlbears practically by herself. Why would a goblin pose a threat? He couldn't argue with that voice, he had seen you do marvellous, perhaps even borderline terrible if the circumstances were different, things. Whilst he was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he almost ended up face-first in the slick grass of the verge after stumbling over one of your boots. Thankfully, he caught himself, saving him from such embarrassment. Gale hummed gently to himself, discovering your discarded blouse and trousers not far from where he had tripped. But you... You were nowhere he could see. He thought about calling out for you, trying to grab your attention - wherever you may be... In the nearby reeds, perhaps? Before he could, however, the splash and ripple of the water beside him diverted his attention from his forming words.

Upon turning his gaze, he locked eyes with something he had not expected to see, so far from the coast of the North. It was a seal. The roundest, darkest eyes just stared back at him, unwavering. Despite the creature being rather adorable, the stare was downright unnerving, and almost... Human. That wasn't entirely something he was expecting - that level of sentience behind it's eyes. Even when he had consumed a potion of animal speaking, there wasn't that look, that shine, to an animal's eye. "Um, forgive me, I-" Gale wasn't entirely sure why his first instinct was to speak. He hadn't taken a potion of animal speaking since their last long rest last night, he would have no way to understand the beast. His eyes trailed back down to the clothes he had discovered as the animal started hauling itself out of the water, and onto the verge. "I was looking for someone, I think she might be somewhere around here..." Why was he still talking? He had no idea. But for some, inexplicable reason, it didn't feel at all weird. Perhaps he had been relying too much on the potions, recently. "These are her clothes, see, and-" He started to turn back, and instead of the seal becoming the focus of his gaze, it was, instead, you. Dripping wet, a mirthful smile dancing across your features. Peeling away from your body, and still partially clutched in your hands, was a seal skin. Gale's mind completely blanked for a moment, and his eyes drifted downward of their own accord, towards your chest as his cheeks began to heat up. As soon as he realised he was beginning to practically ogle your naked form, he averted his eyes. "By Mystra's robe, I-" He started, clearly flustered. His mind felt like it was going blank, over and over, unable to make any clear thoughts.

He tried to focus his eyes anywhere else, anywhere but you, his mouth opening and closing over and over, but little more than stuttering sounds leaving it. "Gale." Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, but he still cannot quite get himself to look at you. He offers a gentle hum, to show he heard you. "May I have my clothes, please?" Without another word, he gathers your garments, holding them out to you, one by one. "Shouldn't you... Dry yourself, first?" He asked, hazarding a glance your way. "It's just a bit of water, Gale... It'll dry." You chuckled, pulling your blouse on over your head. It did stick in a couple of places, but, for someone who had just come out of a river, it wasn't as bad as Gale had anticipated. Perhaps that was the seal skin? "Did you need something, Gale..?" You asked, whilst in the middle of redressing yourself. You glanced over to the wizard as you spoke, noticing he had his back to you, clearly still bashful about seeing you in the nude. It was rather sweet, really, how sweet he could be. "The uh... The others were wondering where you were..." He replied, almost lamely. "So I came to see if you were... Finished bathing..." He was finally able to meet your gaze again, now that you were fully clothed, and he didn't risk catching a glimpse of something more intimate. He wasn't entirely sure what to think, or what even to ask. Why had you been a seal? How had you been a seal? You spotted that look of inquisition in his eye - that twinkle that always seemed to appear when he had a barrage of questions stewing in his mind.

"Something on your mind?" You asked him, your voice almost teasing. You knew there was, it was impossible to miss; and you were well aware of how odd the situation the one he had just seen you in could look, even to someone as well-studied as him. "I just... How?" He asked, vaguely gesturing to you as you gently folded your seal skin, carefully placing it in your pack, right at the bottom, away from prying eyes. "You were you when I saw you this morning, and now you're some sort of seal... Shifting... Creature?" He asked, the cogs audibly turning in his head as he continued waving his hands about, as if this would help him to think. You had to hold in a laugh - this was a seriously confusing moment for him, but you would have thought with all his time spent with his nose stuck in a book before this adventure, that he might have had some sort of idea of what you were... Part of you didn't want to tell him; it took a lot of trust to disclose to anyone what you were, you knew all too well that there were many humans who were all too eager to take advantage of your situation. But, you were almost backed into a corner now. He had seen you, not just in your seal, but physically peeling it off, too. Why had you done that? We trust him, a small voice, nestled in the very back of your head spoke quietly. He has been kind to us... Perhaps he is not like the stories. You considered this for a moment. Before your unforseen adventure, you had always tended to avoid humans; tales from your family and friends had struck the fear of them deep into you. But now that you had been travelling with a few for a while... They didn't seem so bad. Sure, none of them knew that you were a selkie, but they had shown no inclination that they were malicious, for the most part. Wyll was the pinnacle of a knight in shining armour, and Gale was a very considerate man, especially after such a long period of isolation before his abduction.

"It... Is a thing that I keep somewhat... Secret." You said, slowly, and this caught Gale's attention. A secret? Something you had kept from the rest of this group, for all this time? "Is it an... Affliction, of some description? A curse?" He asked, his brows furrowed, clearly concerned for you. "To an extent, I suppose..." You shrugged slightly. "The only real 'curse' of it, is needing to swim, and be in water, as a... Well, a seal, often..." Gale's expression turned contemplative at this. "Your daily habits..." He mused, more to himself than to you. His hand absent-mindedly moved to his chin, slowly stroking at the stubble that littered it. "Shedding skin... Seal.. Must be near to water..." His voice was low as he murmured his thoughts aloud, trying his best to connect the dots. Then his eyes lit up, and his head all but snapped towards you. "A selkie-?" He blurted. Ah, so he did know of your kind. You give a somewhat sheepish smile, telling him all he needed to know. His gaze shifted to one of pure awe. "I... Had no idea - I mean, you had given no true hint, I suppose. You're beautiful, to be sure, but I never realised that it was because-" He stopped himself mid-ramble, his cheeks flushing as he realised what he had just said in his hurry to rationalise himself, and his thought process - or lack thereof in the past couple of months. You give him another smile, "You think I'm beautiful?" You asked the wizard, teasingly. Gale slowly began to nod - he couldn't exactly backtrack his words without insulting you, which was something he did not want to do, at near any cost. "Breathtaking, even... If I may." His voice was low, little more than a murmur.

The two of you share a look, then. A look of what could only be mutuality. And it was - you had eyed Gale for the past two weeks, at least. He had been caring, attentive to your needs, to your likes. It was hard for you to deny the flutter in your chest, that only seemed to be caused by him, or his presence. Without another word, you held out your hand to him, which he took without question, not even a second guess. It was something he had craved for a while, himself. Holding your hand in his, it felt right. Like bliss, even. He was happy to oblige you. So, the two of you began to walk back. You were anticipating a flurry of questions - things both mundane and not, about your life as a selkie. Yet, the wizard was oddly quiet, seemingly basking your presence, now that there were no secrets between the two of you. It felt nice, to him. Freeing, even. It was like, for the briefest of moments, there was nothing and no one outside of the two of you; no illithids, no pressing quest, no monsters lurking on the road ahead. Gale wanted it to last forever, and kept stealing glances your way, finally being able to take in your beauty without shame. Part of him knew he would be teased by some camp members when this came to light, but he didn't care. Perhaps now, the pair of you could bond more. Gale would like that - and he was starting to get the impression, that you would very much like it too.

[commander-krios]

Juniper's Kitty Catastrophe

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: f!Tav/Rolan Rating: Teen Summary: What's worse than your girlfriend turning into a cat by accident? That same girlfriend doing it on purpose. Or, Juniper pranks Rolan in the worst way. Words: 8829 Additional Tags: Bard Tav, Tieflings, Pranks, Magic, Post-Canon, Cats, Idiots in Love, Friendship

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Ramazith’s Tower was strangely quiet when Rolan exited the portal from Sorcerous Sundries. A quick glance around didn’t immediately set off any warnings, but something wasn’t right. There was none of the usual chaos. No Lia teasing Cal about his newest crush, some young Harper whom he'd met on a blind date. No Juniper strumming her lute while goading them on. No tiefling orphans running around the Tower, breaking everything within reach. No Gale or Shadowheart researching with one of the thousands of books in the library, or hells, even Astarion causing trouble by trying to lift anything valuable that wasn’t nailed down.

No, instead, Cal was sitting on an overstuffed chair, nose buried in a book, completely unaware that he’d returned. 

He didn’t see Lia or Juniper anywhere in the immediate vicinity.

That should’ve been his first warning.

The distance from the portal to Cal was crossed in a few steps, and he hurried down the steps to the small study they’d set up in the weeks after the defeat of the Netherbrain. He’d been using it as a space for sorting through his correspondence or spending time with his family. Reading, drinking tea, relaxing… it’d become a space of peace and quiet, but at the moment, that peace was suspicious.

“Where is Lia?” He asked, glancing at the book cover briefly, seeing Cal was once again deep in reading a romance. Lorroakan had many of those hidden throughout the Tower. Rolan wasn’t one for trivial nonsense like that, but it still surprised him that someone as awful as Lorroakan had that type of taste in literature. Honestly, in retrospect, Rolan was more shocked that Lorroakan could read at all.

Cal didn’t even glance up, turning a page and continuing to read as he answered. “She brought the kids back to Zevlor’s. She’ll be back.”

Of course the children had been here. If Juniper was running around the Tower, the tiefling kids were not far behind her. Though it was odd that the entire place wasn’t destroyed. 

“And Juniper?”

“She’s around here somewhere.” Cal’s eyes flicked in his direction briefly. Or, at least, it appeared they did. “Said something about a bath.”

Rolan’s eyes slanted in suspicion. “Why would she need a bath at this time of day?”

Cal didn’t reply, only continued to turn to the next page of his story. Gritting his teeth, Rolan put a hand in the center of the book, moving it out of the way so that he could get a clear view of his brother’s face. There was a grin that Cal was trying to desperately hide.

“Cal.”

“Juniper had this great old trick she used to do with her troupe. It involved smokepowder and clown paint.” 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rolan released a tight breath through his teeth, attempting to reign in his temper at what most certainly happened after. “And?”

“It made a mess, what else? But you should’ve seen it, Rolan! The colors were beautiful. That is, until they ended up on the walls. And the chairs. And the rugs.”

Rolan groaned, rubbing his temple to try to stop the headache before it throbbed behind his eyes. “Then what happened?”

“Lia offered to take the kids back to the orphanage while Juni cleaned up.”

The room was too clean. There were no buckets of water or mops or rags. There was no way she would’ve been able to clean it before he’d returned. So there was only one other way she could've scrubbed the Tower clean and it only made his concern grow more.

“To be honest, she’s been in there for a while.” Cal lifted his book again, trying to find where he’d left off.

“And you didn’t check on her?” “I’m not going to walk in on your girlfriend when she’s naked!”

He bit his tongue, refusing to get into such a childish argument when the real issue was Juniper. First, he needed to find her. Then he needed to see what ridiculousness she’d gotten into. Most likely, it wasn’t going to be something she could get herself out of without his help.

Their bedroom was quiet, and at first glance, also appeared empty. A tub full of water stood on the far side of the room, prepared for a bath but there was no occupant in it. Dipping his finger into the water, he wasn’t surprised to find it cold. Rolan doubted it’d been heated at all.

A sigh slipped from his mouth. “Juniper.”

He turned away from the tub, pausing when he realized he wasn’t alone. A fluffy grey cat sat on the floor beside the bed, eerie blue eyes watching him curiously, the tiny white horns on its head and a familiar nose ring the biggest clue to her true nature. Her fur was covered in splotchy paint, red and white and black. There was soot on her paws and the floor beneath her. 

“Prestidigitation?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, a smug smile on his face as he gazed down at his girlfriend. It didn’t take much for her to turn herself into animals nowadays. Her wild magic seemed to be just as unpredictable as ever. “You should’ve waited for me.”

Juniper turned her little head to one side, studying him with those eyes that looked so wrong on a cat. 

“You could’ve made Cal help you, since I’m certain he only encouraged this nonsense with the exploding paint.” Rolan sat on the bed, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. He leaned down slightly to scratch her behind the ears. A purr was his reward. “Did you want me to magic the paint from you?”

She chirped a meow, winding between his legs, tail thwapping his knees as she did so.

“Yes, yes, I know. Hold still.” Surprisingly, she did as she was told and sat in front of him. It took only a moment to cast the spell, the magic settling over her in sparks, cleaning her fur of the ugly paint. Once it finished, she meowed again. “That’s how magic is meant to be cast. Perhaps you could use some training in the arcane.”

Rolan swore her eyes slanted dangerously in his direction before she jumped onto the bed. Tiny paws rested against his leg as she forced herself into his line of sight, large azure eyes blinking up at him.

“Mrph!”

She bumped her forehead against his arm, the tiny horns catching on his sleeves briefly before she pulled herself free. “Or maybe we should keep going on as we have. The nights are certainly much more peaceful when you’re incapable of normal speech.”

Her tail swished in annoyance.

“An enchantment to make this more permanent?” He continued, hiding a grin behind his hand. She huffed through her adorable little nose, leaning more heavily on him though it wasn’t much, considering her weight in general. There were many days he easily moved her out of his way if he needed to, humanoid form or not. “What do you say, dear?”

No response. She only stared at him, pupils dilated so large that only a sliver of the blue was left.

“Come now, Juniper. You must have some opinion on it?” 

She trilled, arching her back in order to stretch her body out. Adorable, he thought, as she yawned wide, tiny sharp teeth glinting in the light. Despite what he’d said, he treasured each and every chaotic moment with her because it was normal. Or as normal as their life could get, with her being the Hero of Baldur’s Gate and him being the city’s archmage. He almost looked forward to it, if he was honest.

Juniper sneezed, shaking her head briefly before climbing onto his lap. He lifted a hand to pat her again before she continued on, stepping directly on his crotch with all of her weight.

The weight he was considering with mockery only moments earlier.

Pain shot down his legs and across his groin, his testacles crying out at the sudden pressure. Before he could even make a single noise, Juniper smacked him in the face with her tail, the force of it like a whip. Then she was gone, leaving him in their room dealing with a pain he’d rarely experienced before and never wished to again.

~~~~~

It’d been a tenday since the incident as Cal so affectionately called it.

Rolan was sitting at his desk in the study, pouring over letters that’d come in over the week. The post would go out again in the morning and there were quite a few responses that needed to go with it. Myshka was lying on his favorite chair beside him, purring a comfortable background noise to the scratch of his pen. Cal was again sitting on the settee in the corner, a different novel in his hands, his nose buried in the new fictional world.

With a sigh, he turned to the next letter on the pile, pulling the scroll closer with more force than perhaps it needed. The paper knocked into the ink pot and the object spinned dangerously, nearly tipping over in his haste. Cursing, he reached out to grab it before it dumped black ink on his finished correspondence and instead, knocked something small to the floor. It landed on the rug with a muted thud, rolling a few more centimeters before stopping.

Rolan set the ink pot back on the desk, eyes focused on the unfamiliar object on the floor.

When it didn’t move on its own, Rolan wandered closer, gaze unwaveringly sharp. It had to be a trick of some kind. Lia, perhaps. Maybe even Cal. He wouldn’t put it past either of them to set up some harmless yet irritating prank, if only to get revenge for an imagined slight he’d made against them.

Or to just poke fun at him.

Myshka made a curious sound when he brushed past, leaning down to snag the tiny object from the rug. Turning it between his claws, he was confused as to why it was on his desk in the first place.

A tiny cat figurine, carved from wood, with a tiny number 1 etched into the base. 

Glancing at Cal, he realized his brother hadn’t even noticed he’d moved. “Cal? What is this?”

“Hmm?” Cal raised his eyes to look at the cat carving he held out, brow creasing in confusion when he realized what it was. “It looks like a cat to me.”

Rolan scoffed, returning to his desk and putting the carving on top of the pile of letters. “Yes, I know it’s a cat, Cal. Why is it on my desk?”

“Because you… left it there?” 

He slanted his gaze at his brother, only to receive a dramatic sigh in return. 

“If you didn’t leave it there, Rolan, then who did?”

Who, indeed? There were only two other occupants of the Tower unaccounted for, but an educated guess would most likely be correct. The question wasn’t really who it was, he almost knew for certain it was Juniper, but why did she leave it there in the first place?

“Hmmm.”

A cat… an obvious choice considering her frequent wild shape changes into the damned animal. His eyes wandered to the actual cat snoozing in the plush chair at his side, oblivious to the chaos of the world now that he was safely inside Ramazith’s Tower. Had Juniper started collecting wooden figurines? It wouldn’t be the first strange hobby she’d taken up since retiring from adventuring.

Rubbing the spot between his eyes with his thumb, he tried to focus his mind on the rest of his task. There was a letter to Elminster to draft a reply to, as well as an invitation to some patriar’s party in a month that he truly didn’t want to attend. Preoccupied with his thoughts, Rolan turned back to his desk only to find Juniper sitting on his chair… in her cat form.

She blinked up at him, face stoic in the silence, tension stretching between them.

When the hells did she get home? And why was she a cat again?

It took his brain a moment to catch up with his chaotic thoughts and he opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what exactly it was he planned on saying. But something needed to be said because it was getting out of hand. Juniper was truly the most frustrating woman he’d ever known, and it was true, he adored her in ways he’d never felt before, but her wild magic was becoming an issue.

“Juniper.”

At the sound of her name, she tilted her head slightly, watching him with a pointed gaze. 

“Perhaps it’s time to-”

“How’s it goin’, soldier?” A booming voice echoed across the tower. He whirled around to find Karlach strolling his way, another cat slung across her large shoulders, a brown haired animal with piercing amber eyes. The animal watched him as the barbarian hopped down the small set of stairs, a laugh bubbling up in her throat, and he felt threatened suddenly, as if the cat was judging how he stood, how he looked, the expression on his face. Why did it look so eerily human as it stared at him? 

Because of the sudden distraction, it took Rolan far longer than it should’ve to realize Karlach was addressing him.

“That’s an excellent question.” He muttered, watching as the cat leapt from Karlach’s shoulders to his desk, those strange eyes focusing in on the wooden figurine. “Who is your friend?”

Karlach’s face scrunched in confusion. Rolan sighed, exhaustion seeping into every muscle in his body, and he waved towards the cat sniffing around his desk. The third cat that was now in his tower, intent on disrupting his evening.

“Oh! That’s just Rhodeia. We were on our way to visit. We ran into Lia earlier and well, she mentioned Juniper had a new trick to show off.” With an infectious grin, she clapped him on the back, nearly sending him sprawling to the floor from the force of it. “We love seeing you too, Roly Poly.”

The nickname grated on his ears and his body stiffened in response. No one called him anything other than Rolan, except maybe Lia but it was usually to annoy him. The name brought a snort from his brother whose attention was now focused on their conversation. Instead of a biting response, knowing it would be lost on Karlach with how happy she’d been since getting her engine fixed, he went another direction in his questioning. 

“So she… polymorphed into a cat to come pay a visit?”

“Nah, she polymorphed so I could carry her across the city.” Karlach shrugged when he raised an eyebrow at the answer. “The city can be overwhelming for some people.”

While he could certainly understand the sentiment, spending time as an animal was certainly not on the list of things he’d enjoy.

“Does she do this often?”

“Often enough. But I don’t mind.”

That was a bit odd, although Karlach was a bit odd as well. “You don’t?”

“Nah. She gets to avoid the chaos of the city and I can carry her wherever I want without people lookin’ at me weird. It’s a win win.” Karlach wandered over to the desk, using her claws to gently scratch behind Rhodeia’s ears. A loud mew came from the polymorphed druid’s throat, purrs following in close succession. The sound was calming and cat Rhodeia closed her eyes, nudging Karlach’s hand for more when she paused in her ministrations. “Besides, we get to be close and there’s nothin’ more important to me than Rhodes.”

Guilt clawed at his insides at Karlach’s words. Of course, the barbarian was right. There was nothing more important than the people you loved. For so long, it’d been only him, Cal, and Lia. He’d put everything into protecting them during the Descent into Avernus, getting them out of Elturel and to Baldur’s Gate, to make a new life for them.

But as he glanced at Juniper, who was on the desk now as well, knocking around his abandoned feather quill with a paw, he had the realization that maybe… maybe he was acting like a cad. It wasn’t like Juniper could control the wild magic surges. And it’d never been a sore spot with her before, the wild magic and his frustration over it. However, as of late, she’d been spending more time as a feline. He thought it was accidental, possibly more wild surges, but now… 

By the Nine Hells.

Was she polymorphing on purpose?

“Hey soldier, what’s this?”

Karlach’s voice broke into his thoughts, drawing him back to the conversation. She was holding the small wooden cat, turning it between her claws carefully to study the craftsmanship. He’d already forgotten about the tiny object, sitting so innocently in the palm of Karlach’s hand, the lamplight gleaming against the smooth wood.

“A carving. It was on my desk. How it got there, I have no idea.”

Karlach hummed under her breath, squinting at the figurine as if she could decipher its meaning by glance alone. “It looks a lot like the ones that Rhod-”

Juniper suddenly launched herself forward, cutting Karlach off as she swatted at the figurine, knocking it out of the tiefling barbarian’s hand and onto the floor. It hit the ground with a thump before disappearing under the sofa Cal sat on. The papers on the desk slid at the sudden movement, knocking into the ink pot. Rolan stood by helplessly as the pot tipped over, dumping its inky contents on his paperwork, hours of work gone in the blink of an eye.

The Rhodeia cat suddenly leapt onto Karlach’s shoulders, narrowly missing being covered in ink, saving herself from disaster. Juniper, however, wasn't so lucky. The papers slipped beneath her feet, sending her tumbling to the ground in a heap of fur and limbs. He stepped forward to check on her but she sprang to her feet immediately before darting down the hall. The chaos sent Myshka fleeing as well, in the opposite direction Juniper had headed. 

Karlach stood there, wide eyes fixed on the mess, Rhodeia curled around her shoulders, tail furiously whipping behind her. "Uh, that wasn't my fault."

Rolan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. Wonderful.

~~~~

Juniper was still angry with him.

Not surprising, considering everything he’d said. Normally she took his cutting words or sarcasm at face value, ignoring it until his mood improved and they’d had a conversation about what had sparked the issue in the first place. But this was different. He’d hit a sore spot that she wasn’t willing to discuss and that irked him fiercely. 

So, instead of continuing on this unwinnable path, Rolan tried for another solution.

The tray was heavy in his hands, but he managed to balance it well enough as he exited the kitchen, the smell of freshly baked cinnamon sweet rolls mixing with the citrusy scent of the peeled oranges and the sticky honey syrup that he served them with, a teapot full of hot lavender-lemon tea: all of Juniper's favorites in one meal. He hoped it was enough to get her to sit down, to listen to his apology, to forgive him.

The small dining area was lit with golden sunlight, dust motes dancing in the air, undisturbed in the quiet. A peaceful corner in their lives, free of responsibility and expectations, free of concerns, somewhere where they could be themselves. It was usually a well used spot. Until now.

It was empty except for Lia who was drinking coffee from a mug, the latest Baldur's Mouth Gazette open on the table. She didn't even glance up at him as he set the tray down, careful not to knock into the teapot and make a mess on the delicate lace tablecloth he'd laid out. The smell of the food caught his sister's attention and he had to swat her hand away when she reached for a sweet roll.

"Hey!"

"Those are for Juniper. Claws off." He sank into one of the free chairs, glancing around the room and noticing at how empty it felt without the usual chatter and laughter coming from Juni and Cal. His brother had taken an early shift down in the shop so that Rolan could take the time to set his apology breakfast, but Juniper was nowhere to be found.

Lia stared at him, not attempting to hide her disdain at how he was acting. "Too bad Juniper won't be able to enjoy them."

He tried not to groan. There was always a complication. "And why do I have a feeling that you know where she is?"

Lia rolled her eyes, grabbing a slice of an orange before dipping it in the honey syrup, taking her time to pull it from the dish, the honey dripping from it a few times before she popped it into her mouth. She chewed slowly, watching him as if waiting for the steam to come from his ears. She swallowed, licking her lips with her tongue before chasing it with a sip of her coffee.

"Lia..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Rolan. I seem to have forgotten what Juniper told me this morning before she left." The sarcasm was heavy and he gritted his teeth, knowing what she was playing at and that he would immediately cave to her demands. "I'm so hungry, I can barely think straight. I think I might need something sweet to help my memory along."

With a sigh, Rolan grabbed a small plate and placed one of the rolls on top before sliding it in front of his sister. She danced happily in her seat before taking a huge bite of the pastry, icing smeared all over her mouth, crumbs falling onto her shirt. He cringed, trying to control the urge to clear the mess away.

Lia was enjoying this torture entirely too much.

She took the smallest bite of the sweet roll, chewing slowly, a stupid grin on her face.

"Are you happy with yourself?" He muttered, pouring a cup of hot tea for himself, ignoring her self-satisfied smirk as she continued to eat, her lips sealed as she enjoyed Juniper's intended breakfast.

"Yes." She said, before taking another bite. "Besides, Juniper will be fine for a few hours. She's in the Lower City."

"And why is she in the Lower City?"

"Because that's where she said she'd be." Lia grabbed another sweet roll before he could stop her, standing up quickly, her tail lashing behind her. She was definitely enjoying this more than she should.

"And?" He pressed her, refusing to let her leave without any elaboration. "Did she say how long she'd be? A time when she'll return? The reason she was going to the Lower City in the first place?"

Lia shrugged. "Who knows? I sure don't! Well, look at the sun! I need to be off to Fist training!"

With a disgruntled noise low in his throat, he watched as his sister made her way to the portal, finishing the last of her food. As soon as she disappeared through the swirling magic, Rolan inspected the tray of food, lost as to what to do next. He didn't know what Juniper's plans were and it would be a waste of time to wander the Lower City looking for her. She could be anywhere, with anyone, especially with how popular she was. 

In the end, the only thing that made sense was to wait for her to return. Whether he stayed in the Tower or worked at the shop wouldn't matter. Juniper would find him when she was ready to talk.

Before he could decide his actions for the day, he would need to clean up breakfast. Reaching for the teapot, he noticed something that didn't belong. Another tiny cat figurine.

"What-"

Where were they coming from? He was certain it hadn't been there when he set the teapot down. That meant it wasn't Juniper who put this one down. Lia? It was entirely possible. It was the type of thing she'd lower herself to do.

Turning it over, Rolan noticed a #2 carved into the bottom.

So there were more figurines in the Tower. He had a sinking suspicion he wouldn't like how many there were in total.

~~~~

The last time Rolan worked behind the counter of Sorcerous Sundries had been weeks ago. The majority of his time was spent in the upper levels of the Tower, either correcting Lorroakan’s atrocious library organization or making repairs to the arcane cannons. The mundane task of accounting was a welcome reprieve, though he had much left to accomplish if he wanted to open the Tower to the public. Even now, Cal was busy alphabetizing the spell scrolls and cataloging the objects they’d found in the vaults, each one more unusual than the last. He expected to be busy for the foreseeable future if the rate they worked at was any indication. 

The day had been blissfully quiet, the allure of Ramazith Tower’s new master having died down as the attention turned to rebuilding the city. Though, his thoughts were focused elsewhere: on Juniper, on the apology he owed her, and on the tiny bag of carved cats on the counter next to his ledger. During his early morning preparations, both in the Tower and the Sundries, he'd found a total of twenty little cat figurines, all with numbers etched into the bottom. They weren't in consecutive order, the largest number of the bunch was 45. Which most likely meant there were at least forty five of these things scattered throughout his home and workplace.

After he closed the shop, he was going to rip everything apart to find them all.

Currently, the doors were opened wide, a cool spring breeze bringing the scent of new blooms, a far cry from the stench of smoke and death that had wafted ever since the Netherbrain’s destruction. A beautiful spring afternoon, the sky a brilliant blue, few clouds to block out the bright sun. For a fleeting moment, he wished he’d gone on a walk through the Lower City anyway, leaving his projection in charge of the Sundries.

The desire only increased when a certain vampire stumbled in, a magically spelled cloak protecting him from the sun. A sigh escaped Rolan before he could stop it, closing the ledger with a thud, trying his best not to scowl at Juniper’s friend when he stopped on the threshold, tossing his hood back as soon as he was in shadow. A hulking figure followed and it was only when both stood beneath the magical lights that Rolan realized what he was looking at.

An ebony-scaled dragonborn with gold-orange eyes shifted behind Astarion, gaze on the falling stars overhead with an almost wide-eyed wonder. He wore elaborate gold plate armor, the kind that princes or knights in children’s storybooks wore, and the light from the spell glinted off the metal. For the first time in a long time, Rolan was speechless at what stood before him.

“Ah, there he is!” Astarion exclaimed as his crimson gaze landed on him, walking further into the shop with a graceful walk that he envied. “Ramazith’s Tower’s new master looking more dashing since the last time I saw him.”

Rolan slanted his gaze, suspicious of the easy banter, of the affectionate grin aimed in his direction. He and Astarion barely spoke on the best of days, only dealing with each other for Juniper’s benefit. “You saw me a tenday ago.” Movement to his left drew his attention and Rolan turned to watch as the dragonborn trailed a claw over the tomes piled on a table with interest. He hadn’t said a word, too absorbed in his surroundings to pay him or Astarion any attention. “And who is that?”

Astarion’s lips curled into a cruel smile and Rolan knew he’d immediately fallen into a trap that’d been set for him. “Well, it’s so nice that you asked. That, my dear wizard, is Lymrith Vkriss. Dragonborn nobility, a good swordhand, should you need it, and a lover of all things musical.”

“Is there a reason the two of you are in my shop?” He didn’t mind those of the non-magical persuasion visiting the Sundries, sometimes he met some of the most delightfully intelligent people that way, but the grin that Astarion bestowed on him hadn’t faded a modicum. “If you’re looking for Juniper, she’s out for the day.”

“Well, we did come to see Juniper, in fact. Lymrith came all the way from Neverwinter to visit so I’m sure he won’t mind waiting a bit longer.” Astarion leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes on the dragonborn as he made his way to one of the animated armours. 

Neverwinter.

The name tickled at something familiar in the back of Rolan's mind but he couldn’t remember why. Before he could speak, Astarion’s new friend appeared in front of the counter, a mountain of a man that towered over them both. Rolan was tall, even for a tiefling, but this Dragonborn made him feel small, insignificant, even in his own home. This close, he could see the copper edges to the black scales, the fiery glow to his eyes, the spikes that framed his square face… the intimidating stance and the smell of ozone as if his very being crackled with unspent energy.

“Uh…” Rolan’s tongue felt useless as he gazed into eyes that reminded him of the flames of Avernus. “Welcome to Sorcerous Sundries, I am-”

The dragonborn threw his arms wide, that enormous mouth breaking into a grin so wide that it took all of Rolan’s collective intelligence to realize that he was smiling and not merely baring his teeth in threat. 

“Master Rolan of Ramazith’s Tower!” His voice boomed in the quiet room and Rolan nearly flinched at the volume. “I am honored to be welcomed to Baldur’s Gate by such a hero! Word of your magical prowess has reached the farthest reaches of Faerun and I am humbled to know that my dearest Juniper is counted among some of your closest friends.”

Rolan stared in shock, all words failing him while Astarion burst into laughter at the display. Without waiting for permission, Lymrith reached across the counter and lifted him into a bone crushing hug. A squeak left his mouth as all breath rushed out of his lungs, leaving him dizzy and confused, and perhaps a little annoyed at how Astarion bent at the waist, almost unable to hold himself upright thanks to how violently he was laughing.

It was over faster than it’d begun. Lymrith released Rolan, his feet finding purchase on the smooth stone floor, before clapping him on the shoulder (and nearly knocking him prone from the force of it). Then he walked away without a word, humming some strange tune under his breath.

Astarion flashed another smirk in his direction, seemingly satisfied with what just happened. “Oh, Lym is also a hugger.”

Rolan pressed a hand against the counter and attempted to gain control of the situation. Through gritted teeth, he tried his best not to snap, but knew he failed when Astarion lifted a perfect eyebrow as soon as he opened his mouth. “Thank you for the warning.”

The vampire tsked, giving what Rolan assumed was meant to be a chiding look, but his mouth was curled into a smile that only proved he enjoyed himself. "Now, where did you say our darling Juniper was?"

Rolan cleared his throat, shifting his accounting book to the left, away from Astarion's prying eyes. "She's out. In the Lower City." "Such a help you are." 

"I don't actually know what her plans were. She left before breakfast this morning." Rolan glanced away from Astarion's perceptive gaze, attempting to appear busy with the scrolls that he'd brought out, separating them by wizarding school before organizing them by cantrip type. Which would be so much easier if he didn't have a captivated audience watching his every move.

"Hmm." Astarion scratched at his chin with a long nail, pondering Rolan's words with an intention that the wizard did not appreciate. "That doesn't sound like the Juniper I traveled with for the longest few tendays of my entire life. What could she possibly be doing that was so urgent that she didn't even let you know that she was leaving?"

Astarion leaned closer, the sharp points of his teeth flashing under the magical lighting. 

"Do I detect some trouble between the lovebirds?"

Rolan gritted his own teeth, trying to control the sudden surge of anger curling nauseatingly in his gut. "No, but even if there was, why would you care?"

"Oh, I don't care." He inspected his nails as if that'd convince Rolan that his response was anything but the truth. He knew how much Juniper meant to Astarion. The vampire would've left for the Underdark long ago if she didn't. "Baldur's Gate has been so boring since the Netherbrain plunged into the Chionthar. I'm expected to be nice." He scoffed, as if that was asking too much of him. Rolan supposed it was, if the stories Gale had once told him held any truth. "Nice? Me? These fools truly have made me soft."

"Ah, yes. Such a terrible thing, isn't it? To feel kindness and have morals of any sort."

Astarion watched him in silence, a near perfect blank expression but for a slight slant to his eyes. Rolan swallowed past the lump that had formed in his throat, trying to appear unaffected by the sudden hostility he felt from the vampire. He'd never been more thankful to be in a public place.

Waving his hand in Lymrith's direction, Rolan tried the only thing he could to save himself: distract Astarion with his favorite pastime. "You said Lymrith is from Neverwinter. Why does that sound familiar?"

Astarion flashed an easy smile, the insult immediately forgotten. "Oh, that's where Juniper hails from. Did you forget?"

Shit. 

"I... I knew that."

"Did you?" Astarion lifted one of the small bottles off of the counter, inspecting its contents. "You seem surprised by the revelation."

"I'm not." He snapped, trying to control his tone. Astarion so easily got beneath his skin and he knew it was on purpose. "It slipped my mind. I've been busy-" 

"No reason to get so defensive, tiefling."

"I'm not." 

Astarion set the bottle down, the glass clinking loudly against the counter. Rolan winced at the sound, hoping it wasn't broken. There was no way he was getting a single gold piece from him to replace it. Something must've shown on his face because Astarion raised an eyebrow in question, but he refused to say a word. His mouth had already gotten away from him.

Astarion sighed, eyes finding Lymrith across the shop, completely taken by the sight of a magical cat leaping at a dust mote. His fondness for the dragonborn was obvious even if he tried to hide it behind a sneer. 

"Who is he?" Rolan asked, unable to stop from asking. Questioning Astarion about anything was only going to end with him saying something stupid, but Juniper didn't speak much about Neverwinter unless it involved her father. He was curious, despite himself. 

Astarion, for what it was worth, didn't even tease him for asking. "An old lover. And an even older friend."

"Oh." To think that Astarion had friends outside of the adventuring crew was certainly unexpected. Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, Rolan scrambled to find something to say that wouldn't get his throat ripped out. 

When he trailed off, Astarion glanced at him, not bothering hiding his disgust. "That's all you have to say? Oh?"

"I... don't want to pry in your love life." That was certainly one of the last things he wanted. "If we could drop it-"

"I always thought you were stupid, tiefling, but you've only proven to be stupider." Astarion rolled his eyes, lifting something off the counter and twirling it between his fingers. "Lymrith isn't my former lover."

"I don't underst-" He paused, eyes widening as he realized what Astarion meant. The dragonborn was from Neverwinter, the city that Juniper hailed from (how he'd forgotten that, he had no idea), which meant only one thing. Juniper and Lymrith were not old friends, but much more. "I- but- Juni-"

"Ah, there you go. I knew you'd get there eventually." Astarion reached out as if he was going to pat him on the shoulder then paused, pulling his hand back as if deciding he wouldn't lower himself to touch another being so affectionately. "Now that that has been taken care of, what in the bleeding hells is this thing?"

Rolan glanced at what he was holding. The familiar gleam of the smooth wood of another blasted cat carving. He reached out to snatch it out of Astarion's grip, turning it over to see an etched 100 in the base. His blood turned to ice at the sight.

How many of these things were there?

"You are nearly paler than me, wizard. Is something the matter?" 

Astarion grinned at him, satisfaction clear on his face. 

"Nothing at all." He snapped, shoving the cat into the bag beside him with the rest. "Unless you need assistance with something, I have work to do."

~~~~

Astarion and Lymrith had left not long after finding the hundredth cat on the counter, and with them finally gone on a hunt through the Lower City for Juniper, Rolan left his projection to take care of customers while he ripped the store apart, looking for more cats.

When he finally closed up for the night, the silence was more deafening than the day's chaos, the elementals returned to their planes, Tolna’s desk cleared away, Sorcerous Sundries nothing more than a quiet echoey room. The pouch in his hand weighed heavier than it had on the way in, filled with nearly fifty of those little cat figurines (the illusive other fifty haunting him), and now… he didn’t know what to do with it. 

The time was late, much later than he’d wanted to return. Juniper… he missed dining with her tonight. Despite how he felt about the carvings, leaving her and his siblings for the majority of the day to tend to things in the tower alone… duties that weren’t theirs to bear, it filled him with a crushing guilt. He’d sworn to be better than this. 

Rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes, he trudged up the staircase to the portal, hoping that Juniper was sleeping. Like the coward he was, the thought of seeing her after everything that happened between them in the last few weeks was terrifying. Even if she wasn't angry with him any longer, even if she forgave his loose tongue for insulting her, he knew he wouldn't deserve it. She did so much for the city, for him and his siblings, for the entirety of Faerun. The least he could do was not act like a fool.

If she was asleep, he could gather his courage, his thoughts, and properly make an apology, a real apology. One that she deserved because Juniper deserved everything.

The portal whirled close behind him, leaving the tower as quiet as the shop had been. Heaving a tired sigh, Rolan trudged down the steps towards the sitting area, each step muffled against the burgundy carpeting. 

Juniper was in the library, sitting in her usual spot on the couch, but instead of her normal evening novel, she was bent over the small table in front of her, studying some ancient book that's paper was yellowing around the edges. A plate with a leftover sweet roll sat beside the book, with only a small bite taken out of it, the cup of tea beside that probably gone cold long ago. She didn't even glance up as he entered, too absorbed in whatever she was reading to notice that he was home.

With a sigh, he dropped the pouch of figurines in the center of the page she was browsing. She paused, staring at the bag, brain working behind those bright blue eyes as she tried to reconcile what she was looking at. 

"What's this?" She asked, reaching for the pouch and opening it. Lifting one of the figurines out of the bag between her claws, she turned it in the light, watching as the smooth carving caught the light of the fire burning beneath the mantle. "A cat?"

"Yes, a cat." He sank into the chair opposite of her, eyes never leaving her face to see if there was any guilt, perhaps a smirk of triumph that she'd gotten under his skin. When her lips didn't even twitch, he frowned, unsure if perhaps he'd been wrong about her role in all of this. "There are fifty of them in that pouch you're holding."

Still nothing. 

Juniper glanced up at him, no change in her expression except for interest. "Is that so?"

"From what is carved into their bases, there should be a hundred." Rolan clenched his hands in front of him, letting them hang slightly between his knees. 

She turned her head to the side slightly: she was interested in whatever it was he was going to say about the situation, though all he felt was concern. "That's quite a lot of carvings."

He hummed in response, unable to stop the snort of laughter that escaped his mouth directly after. He felt like he was going insane, perhaps she was an excellent actor despite everything he'd seen to the contrary. Maybe Lia and Cal were the ones trying to drive him to madness, it wouldn't be the first time. But the manner of the carving was so familiar that it kept tugging on his thoughts, a memory hidden.

So he did one of the stupidest things he probably could in that moment, knowing that she was probably still angry with him and was only talking to him for his benefit.

“A hundred cats, Juniper?" She raised her eyebrow at the question, and he felt his heart drop through his stomach into the floor. He hoped his instincts weren't wrong here or there might be a much bigger apology to be made later. "How did you manage to hide them all while I was going between the Tower and the Sundries? Where did you even put them all?”

Juniper shook her head, moving the pouch of figurines so she could close the tome she'd been reading. "What makes you think it was me and not Cal or Lia?"

An excellent question, one he thought of himself many times throughout the day, but there was only one conclusion to be had from all of this. "As if either of them could've pulled this off."

Her mouth twitched suddenly and he knew he had her. She wasn't going to be able to deceive him. He knew her as well as he knew himself. 

"You're very sure of yourself, Rolan." She shifted to lean back into the couch, crossing her leg over her knee, a smile curling her lips, the ends of her teeth poking out. "Cal and Lia are a hundred percent capable of pranking you."

"Yes, yes, I am aware of that. But the cat is easily decipherable as you. And all of this chaos screams Juniper."

She laughed lightly, covering her face with her hands, trying to stifle the giggles but failing to do so. When she caught her breath, she waved her hands as if fanning herself. 

"Where are they, Juniper? I'm not going to be able to sleep until I find them all."

The images of those little cats already haunted his thoughts, a hundred tiny carvings that could be anywhere: his bookshelves, his washroom, his bed... Rolling over onto one of those things wasn't going to be pleasant.

With a grin, she shook her head. “There aren’t actually a hundred. Astarion thought-"

"Astarion?" The entire interaction in Sorcerous Sundries was beginning to make more sense. "Why am I not surprised? He seemed to enjoy my discomfort over... everything." He waved his hand as if to elaborate his point and that only pulled another grin from Juniper.

"Truthfully, I was only going to put a couple in your office. Something to drive you crazy." 

"Of course you were."

He tried to sound exasperated, but he couldn't help but feel relieved that she wasn't ignoring him. At least, not for the reasons he'd thought.

"But-" She interrupted, raising an eyebrow as if waiting for him to say something else. He bit his lip to keep his tongue in cheek. "Astarion thought it’d be fun to put randomly numbered cats everywhere. The Tower, the gardens, the shop-"

Rolan rubbed at the spot between his eyes, feeling a headache coming on from the stress of the last few days. "I ask again, how did you manage this? Besides having Astarion sneak around my home."

She glanced away sheepishly, twisting one of her curls between her fingers. "I might’ve had some help from Shadowheart as well."

He knew she was holding something back. Astarion was definitely not the only person involved in this.

"Astarion and Shadowheart helped you carve fifty... or more... cats? I find that hard to believe."

"Uh, Karlach and Rhodeia might have helped." She nervously adjusted the pouch of figurines on the table, trying to look anywhere but his gaze. "Rhodes did most of the carving, if I’m being honest."

Not much surprised Rolan, not concerning Juniper, but this did. Though, her friends were as loyal as they came. Perhaps he shouldn't be as surprised as he was. "Rhodeia? I trusted her. Who else? No way was it only five of you." 

Who was he missing? Cal? Lia? He doubted Cal would've been able to keep quiet about the entire prank, not for this long at least. Lia definitely knew something, but what, he wasn't sure.

Juniper's voice was small when she spoke again. "Halsin."

"Halsin?!" Rolan ran a hand through his hair, claws getting stuck on a knot. With a frustration hiss, he pulled it free, scalp stinging with the movement. "I thought he was in Reithwin."

"He is. He sent them with a courier."

Rolan ran his hands over his face. "Juniper, I know this is my fault. After everything I said... I deserve it." He dropped his hands in his lap, eyes pleading with her to understand. "I didn't intend to hurt your feelings. My mouth runs faster than my brain at times, I say things without thinking them through. But... I've been worried about you. You left and I-"

"I know." She moved to where he sat, brushing her fingers through his hair, loosening the strands from the tie at his neck. "That's not the main reason why I've been gone lately."

Her hand dropped away and she turned, lifting up the book left on the table, the one she'd been reading when he entered. She handed it to him and it took him a moment to read the title.

Mastering the Wild Shape and Other Druidic Magic

It took a few times for the words to penetrate his mind, and with it, the implications. "Why are you studying druidic magic?"

"Jaheira has been helping me learn how to wild shape. She's willing to teach, so I'm willing to learn."

"Why?" Rolan set the book on the floor, reaching for her hand. She eagerly entwined their fingers, missing his touch as much as he missed hers it seemed.

"I want to learn how to control my wild magic and this is as good a place as any to start." 

Juniper might’ve been chaos incarnate with a side of exasperation, but she was also the most genuine and kind hearted person he knew.

"I don't deserve you. Especially after the things I said."

She knelt beside his chair, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, lingering briefly, her breath hot against his skin. "Rolan, I don't hold anything against you. Especially not something so stupid."

Rolan slanted his eyes in her direction, noticing the way her lips twitched as if fighting a smile. "Did you just imply that I'm stupid?"

She smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I would never do such a thing."

His stomach twisted in both excitement and worry at the look, wondering what sort of things she had in store for him next. Because no matter what he thought was going to happen, Juniper always found ways to surprise him. “I have two younger siblings. I know sarcasm when I hear it, Juniper." 

"From me?" She asked with a gasp, laying on the performance so thick he could see through it easily. If she wanted to, it wouldn't be difficult for her to weave a fabrication, a detailed and convincing lie, her abilities at deception and persuasion having saved her and her friends many times during the time of the Absolute. But with him, she didn't. She teased him, yes, but had never lied to him once. Even now, she watched him with a grin, looking ever the menace she was.

A laugh burst from his mouth, the absurdity of the situation hitting him like a thunderwave. Tears sprang to his eyes, laughter leaving his chest in gasps, his focus completely on trying to control himself and failing. What a sight it would be if anyone noticed the Master of Ramazith's Tower acting in such an undignified manner.

Her fingers brushed the tears away, and when he gazed down into her eyes, she smiled cheekily.

“You’re maddening, do you know that?” Rolan muttered in an attempt to sound irritated, but it was hard to concentrate with her touching him. Or looking at him. She made everything more difficult when she was close. “Why do you torture me?”

“Because I like seeing you smile.” She shifted to press a soft kiss against the tip of his nose. When she pulled away, her expression had softened considerably. "Did you want a demonstration?"

"Demonstration?"

His mind immediately conjured all of the demonstrations she could make for him and his face flushed, deepening the already dark red of his skin. Her eyes took note of the sudden change and that only made him even more embarrassed. 

"Of the polymorphing." With a breathless laugh, she waved at herself dramatically, the bells on her tunic jingling slightly. It was so comical that he nearly laughed again. "Jaheira was an excellent, if impatient, teacher."

Oh, he could believe that.

"You could've asked me if you wanted that sort of learning environment." Rolan reminded her with a smile of his own. She snorted out a laugh, taking his self deprecation for what it was: a truce. "Stern, grumpy, impatient. Perhaps a bit harsh when I'm trying to be helpful."

"It was meant to be a surprise." 

"Well, I'm certainly surprised."

Juniper raised an eyebrow at him. "Now who's being sarcastic?"

"I'm being one hundred percent sincere." Rolan brushed a stray curl behind her ear, lingering against the point of her ear longer than necessary, but it brought a bright smile to her lips. "Show me."

She clapped her hands together in excitement, jumping to her feet and moving a safe distance away. Rolan could feel her pull gently on the weave, a tug at first, like she was twisting its strands around her fingers and trying to draw it closer.

A sudden surge in the weave was the only warning he had before a flash of brilliant light filled his vision. Shielding his eyes, he waited for it to pass. Once he was certain that he wouldn't be blinded, he dropped his hand, only to see the familiar grey hair and blue eyes of Juniper as a cat sitting where her humanoid form had been a moment earlier.

She'd done it.

For the first time in years, he was completely speechless. She let out a meow and he laughed, a slightly manic sound. Without waiting for an invitation, she jumped onto his lap, the feeling of her weight against his legs welcoming.

"I'm so proud of you, Juni." He whispered, running a gentle hand over her fur, enjoying how she bumped her nose against his chin, soft purrs filling the quiet room. "Despite the way I've acted, I will always be here for you. And I'll help you, whatever you need. You only need to ask."

She circled twice before plopping onto his lap, eyes closed as she rested her head on his abdomen. Rolan wasn't sure how long the polymorph would last, but for now, he was content to sit there with her, enjoying the calmness that had finally descended. Tomorrow would probably be back to the normal chaos that Juniper brought to his life, and while he would never admit it aloud, he was excited to see what else she had up her sleeves.

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Grove

Three evenings with Beatrice, a half-drow war cleric of Selune, and Zevlor in the Emerald Grove. NSFW for the last section. SFW for the first two.

When the human called the very handsome tiefling a foulblood, Beatrice Wildheart knew what she was going to do.

I punched that little bastard in the face!

When the same extremely handsome tiefling introduced himself as Zevlor, Beatrice knew what was going to do.

Not my usual silent pining that always leads to heartbreak.

Not this time.

When she, Gale, Wyll, and Shadowheart returned to Zevlor and Tilses informing them that the ugly nasty bitch wanted the refugees gone, she not only offered her support in taking care of the goblins but also asked him to find her along the shore later.

And now it is “later” and where is he?

Beatrice was standing ankle-deep in the cool water, her armor discarded. She had traded one of the druids for a tank top and a pair of knee-length trousers that sort of mostly kind of fits? Whatever, better than rags.

“Greetings, Lady Beatrice Wildheart.”

A deep, gentle voice rumbled, causing Beatrice to turn around. Shit. Does word travel this fast?! Fucking hells. “Zevlor, who—”

To her surprise, he chuckled. “Word travels fast.” Of course. “Though I must beg your pardon, my lady, for not showing proper respect to a woman of your standing.”

Lady of Silver, spare me.

She shook her head, hands resting on her wide, soft hips. “Please, I like it better when I’m just Beatrice. Or Bea, my friends call me that.”

Zevlor smiled. “Am I a friend already?”

Her brown eyes widened.

Wait.

Is he flirting with me?

Should I try to flirt with him?

“I hope so!” Giggling nervously, she carefully walked out of the water, stepping back onto shore. “I mean, I did volunteer to kill goblins for you, so that must mean something.” Heat rose in her freckled cheeks as she sat down on a large rock, heart beating in her chest. Don’t fuck this up. Be bold and brave. Let the Moonmaiden guide me.

“It’s kind what you’re offering to do for my people,” he sat next to her, shoulders sagging. Selune’s tears, when was the last time he had a good night’s rest? “But why do you want to speak to me? Is there something I can help you with?”

Be brave.

Be brave.

Don’t be weird.

Moonmaiden, guide me.

Smiling softly, she turned to face him. “I want to spend some time with you. That’s all.” Maybe he won’t notice me blushing?

He did not respond to her immediately, brow furrowed. “Surely there are others more worthy of your time? More deserving?” He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. As if the weight of everything on him is too much to bear. Moonmaiden, give me the strength and wisdom to help him. He is not alone. Not anymore. “I’m well past my prime, Bea. My faith was shattered. I’m an old, broken paladin who was forced to leave his home. Surely, there are others whose company is preferable to mine?” He now looked at her, infernal eyes ablaze. The most beautiful eyes…on the most handsome face…

She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“You’re worthy of my time, Zevlor. I want…” Oh wait, maybe I can try not to come too strong but still be helpful! “Would you like to hear about Baldur’s Gate? I’m from there, and assuming you’ve never been—”

The tiefling finally returned her smile. Aww, he looks a bit happier. Moonmaiden, give me some charisma to charm him…or something. “Correct, my dear. I would like that very much.”

For the next hour, she told him nearly everything she knew about the city, its inhabitants, and tradition. The Gate is home. It’s a bit shit but it’s home. When she began to explain the noble houses, he shifted the conversation to her---her family (obviously explained that I was adopted), friends (lots of them all over Faerun), her profession (I felt the call to protect and serve Selune by smiting the enemies of light), and then…

“There must be a special someone waiting for you back in the Gate.”

A statement.

Not a question.

As if it’s fact.

Oh dear.

She shook her vigorously. “No, no. It’s been a…saga of sorts trying to find a match for me.” Beatrice then added quickly, “A love match, I need to emphasize. Mum would never support anything less.” And Da, gods rest him. “But it’s complicated.”

Zevlor blinked. “I-I…why, if I may ask?”

You have got to be kidding.

A bitter laugh escaped her. “I’m the large half-drow daughter of a dwarven countess. That is, quite literally, the problem.” She squeezed her eyes shut, her shoulders tensing. “It’s been made very clear that I’m not what anyone wants for a partner or wife or anything romantic really.” Mum cannot raise my dowry enough. I’m just…undesirable. But maybe not to him? A girl can hope, right?

“I will not deny that there are prejudices against drow, which certainly play a role in your situation. However,” he’s grabbing my hand?!?!? “I find you to be beautiful, brave, kindhearted, and of excellent character.” With his other hand, he tilted her chin slightly so he could admire her, lightly tracing her jaw with a finger. “There should be dozens, if not hundreds, of suitors vying for your hand. If I were a few decades younger,” Zevlor smiled sadly, now caressing her blushing cheek. “I would be as well.”

“Please don’t say that.” Da always said to listen to my heart because it would never lead me astray. Heart says… “I like you. A lot. I think you’re all those things too. I…I hope we can have time together like this again soon. We’re heading back out tomorrow, but we’ll be around to trade and rest and…” Beatrice trailed off, her brown eyes watching his thumb gently touch her bottom lip. “Zevlor?” she whispered.

For the first time since meeting him, the paladin genuinely smiled. “Waking gods,” he cupped face and leaned so that his forehead met hers. “I’d given up on them sending me an angel, but here you are.” He can’t just say things like that and not expect me to get misty eyed. “Are you certain? I’m no prize—”

Beatrice released an annoyed huff before kissing him. The kiss did not last long but to her, served its purpose. “I don’t mind.” She said sweetly before giving one another peck. “Are you certain?”

His hands landed on her waist, squeezing gently as if I’m made of glass. Zevlor, I’m not… “Though I don’t feel deserving of your affection, I would be a fool to refuse it. A fool to deny it. I am certain, my darling.” When his lips next captured hers, the kiss was far more intense. Clawed fingers danced under the hem of her top but stayed at her thick waist. “I am very certain.”

So certain that when Beatrice’s party returned a day and a half later, he brought a bouquet of wildflowers he picked for her at our spot.

That little hidden place along the shore at the grove. It’s our spot now.

***

“May I tell you something?” Beatrice whispered, sitting in our spot with Zevlor the night after she recruited Karlach to her party. They sat side by side on a large stone, bare feet in the cool water. Her head was resting against his, and he snaked an arm around her broad shoulders.

“You can tell me anything, darling. What troubles you?”

Gods, where to start?

No.

Focus.

“I told you I felt like I was called to serving My Lady, but I’m not like most clerics you’ve met I bet.” She chuckled softly and reached for his free hand. “I’m not one to proselytize. I prefer using a great sword to attack and protect instead of healing. My temple would send me to besieged enclaves and villages, and I’d…well, get rid of their problems.” Beatrice wrinkled her nose and giggled. “It was a good time. I was doing a lot of good.” Then. “Then Da got sick, I came home, it was terminal, three years later he’s gone, and I…” Squeezing his hand, tears down her freckled, pale ash face. “The Moonmaiden told me to be a light in the darkness, but I feel like I…I’m not doing enough.”

Zevlor shifted, turning to face her and taking both her hands in his. “You,” he carefully lifted one hand, placed a kiss on her knuckles, and repeated the gesture with her other hand. “Are far too hard on yourself.” They both shared a small laugh with him rubbing his rough thumbs over her hands. “While I’m not entirely impartial,” There’s that lovely little teasing smile I adore. “I’ve no doubt that there are many in this grove, as well as those in your temple, who would say you’re doing wonderfully.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with an all too brief kiss. “I’ve never met anyone whose soul burns as brightly as yours, my dear---that is all you. Not Selune. You.” Follow my heart. It will never lead me astray. “So please, my beautiful Bea, be kind to yourself.”

But I’ve never been kind to myself, have I?

Not when some of the trainee war clerics called me a fat, useless drow.

Not when I’ve been politely and less than politely rejected by potential suitors.

Not when Da got sick and I couldn’t save him…

Not when Lewson got murdered by bloody Zhents.

Not when I got abducted.

Not when…

As he pulled her into a tender embrace, she felt herself practically melting into him. “Shh, quiet your mind. Stay right here with me, darling.” That’s his tail wrapping around my waist. He is so sweet. “Don’t let the weight of your own high expectations crush you. Don’t let it dim your light.”

“I’ll try, but you must promise me something in return.” When she heard him hum in assent, she smiled. “Be kinder to yourself too. You’re doing the best you can out of a frankly awful situation, Zevlor.” And that’s putting it mildly. She leaned back and cupped his face in her hands. “You deserve happiness. We deserve happiness. Don’t we?”

That night he did not answer her.

But I’m confident he will. We do deserve happiness, Zev. We do.

***

“A pity for us you have promised your body to Zevlor.”

Beatrice’s eyes widened as Lae’zel continued to speak about trophies? Bodies? Lips?????

“—I intend to, myself. Wyll looks particularly promising.”

And that’s my cue to get the fuck out of this conversation.

She giggled nervously, wished Lae’zel a good evening, and then she nearly knocked him over as she walked away from the gith.

“Oh, Bea! How nice to see you.” He winked adorably as he sipped wine I’m assuming. Not that I drink… “Are you enjoying yourself this evening?”

“Yes,” mostly. That interaction with Lae’zel was something else. Her fingers brushed against his free hand, and she took a step closer. “And you?”

“With you, I couldn’t be happier.” A knowing smile tugged on his lips as he sipped his wine. “Once things die down, my dear, shall we meet in the Secluded Chamber? It’s more…private than our usual place.”

More private so we can…maybe…perhaps…

FUCK?!?!?

Wait no, Zevlor doesn’t fuck. He makes love.

And no, I didn’t read that in a romance novel.

I read it in several romance novels.

Feeling her cheeks burn in a mix of desire and anticipation, she nodded quickly. “Sounds perfect. I, um, I can slip away soon.” The only person I want to talk to for the rest of the night is you. Only you.

A low hum escaped him as he led her towards the edge of the party. “Meet me in fifteen minutes.” Zevlor murmured, bringing her hand to his lips. Sharing one last longing so much longing look, he turned and departed the camp.

Luckily for Beatrice, fifteen minutes went by fast. Got a pep talk from Karlach who told me to “fuck his brains out” and “pull his damn tail” while also showing him “who the real Hellrider is.” Quick little wash because no one wants a stinky lady in bed, right? And it’s not like I have my favorite perfume in the middle of nowhere.

When she arrived at the Secluded Chamber, she nearly gasped at the sight of Zevlor. In all their meetings along the shore, he was always in his armor, refusing to remove it even when she was always wearing something comfortable.

But now…

He looks so yummy.

He greeted her wearing a cream tunic, dark brown breeches that show off his legs MOONMAIDEN TAKE ME, and worn but still nice shoes. “Dearest,” he began with a tender smile. “I hope it wasn’t too difficult for you to leave. After all, everyone wanted a word the hero of the hour.” Gods that wink again. “That she would grace me with her presence…I’m an incredibly fortunate man.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” She swayed her hips as she walked to him, warmth blossoming within her. One look from him, and I feel desired. For the first time in my life, I feel desired. And I… Standing in front of him but having no idea what to do, she wrapped long arms around his neck and kissed him. “I want…” Beatrice whispered, her brown eyes meeting his infernal ones. Just say it. Say it. There’s no shame in wanting this. In wanting him. “Can we…” Spit. It. Out. She squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. “Sorry, I’m nervous. It’s my first time.” WHY DID YOU SAY THAT, BEA? WHY? HE KNOWS.

“We don’t have to be intimate tonight if you’re this nervous—”

Her eyes widened as she quickly reassured him. “No. No. I…I…” Breathe. “You may not like what you see.”

It was at this moment Beatrice saw his expression shift from concern to molten. Hot. Smoldering. Moonmaiden preserve me. “If you allow it, my lady,” his already gravelly voice was much lower. “I will show you just how much I like what I see.”

She knew that too often she thought too much.

Not this time.

Barely a second passed when she released a breathy “yes please,” and his hands found their way to her ample behind, cupping and squeezing. His lips crashed into hers, and he moaned in her mouth. “Zev…”

That earned her another moan. “Been too long…since a lover called me that…” Her hands roamed to his narrow waist and slowly, carefully went under his shirt. Gods, he feels incredible. Muscle. Warm skin. Ridges. Bumps. Scars. I love them. I love them all. I want to— “You make me feel young again.”

No.

Beatrice slipped out of his grasp, giggling. “I’ll make you a deal, Zev. You don’t talk about how you’re old and I won’t say I’m ugly.”

And to really put this matter to rest…

“Darling, I…” His eyes widened as what he was going to say died on his lips. “I…”

She threw off her shirt, tossing it near a chair? We can sort it later. Fighting the urge to cover her breasts, she instead focused on untying the laces on her trousers. “What’s the matter, love? Cat got your tongue?” She hoped her teasing tone would distract him (and me) from the hammering of her heart. He likes this. I think? I hope?

As she stepped out of her smalls and pants, Zevlor continued to watch her, unmoving except for his wagging tail. He…does like how I look? “You are enchanting. Stunning. So beautiful.” In two strides he reached her and led her to a pair of bedrolls on a stone slab. Aw, he lit candles too. That’s so sweet. “Now, be a dear and lie down.”

HE JUST PINCHED MY BUTT?!?!?

Something between a surprise yelp and a giggle escaped her as she scrambled onto bedrolls not at all gracefully.

“What a sweet, eager little thing you are.” He cooed, kicking off his shoes.

Beatrice snorted as her head hit a somewhat soft pillow. “I’m not little, love.” Leaning to prop herself up on her elbows, she watched, slack jawed as Zevlor discarded his shirt (yummy) and trousers (NO SMALLS?!?! HE JUST…WALKS AROUND LIKE THAT?!?!). She panted at the sight of him and his incredibly hard, ridged cock, swallowing thickly.

His eyes twinkled as he crawled to her. “What’s the matter, Bea?” With his breathtakingly handsome face inches from hers, weight on his strong forearms, he teased, “Cock got your tongue?” The resulting squeak from her as she wrapped her long arms around his neck made him chuckle. “Don’t play innocent with me, my angel. I saw you gawking. Leering. Staring.” With each word, his lips touched hers.

Into one of the kisses, she smiled wide, her hands threading through his hair and loosened it. “Admiring is the word I prefer to use. Admiring my beautiful paladin and his very large cock.” I can tease too, love. “Zev, ah, want you…” Beatrice moaned, rolling her soft hips. Want you. Need you. Now.

“Patience, dearest. Want this to last, and more importantly,” he pressed several kisses down her jaw to her neck and then settled with his mouth above one of her breasts. “Worship you.” Moonmaiden take me. He licked and suckled her with abandon, his own hips grinding against her. This is already better than anything I could’ve imagined. Already so good, and we’re not even—

She inhaled sharply when she felt the rough pad of one of his fingers touch the curls at the apex of her thick thighs. “Oh gods…”

“You are so lovely,” the older tiefling panted, lifting his head from one breast before eyeing the other. Oh dear, that’s his tail around my leg. Selune save me. “Everything about you…you are perfect. Simply perfect.” His tongue circled the nipple on her opposite breast while her hands found the base of his horns. “Do whatever you wish, pulchra. Love me however you please. I would know…all of you…” After he lavished her other breast, he trailed kisses down her belly (Moonmaiden, was it my imagination or was he kneading me like dough? If so, that was amazing and he needs to do it more often) and then rose on his knees between her legs. “May I taste you, my love?” His hands rested on her soft thighs, and she could not help but smile at the look of adoration in his eyes.

She did, however, raise an eyebrow. “Pulchra?” It’s Infernal. Not sure about the meaning though.

Zevlor’s cheeks reddened. “It’s Infernal for ‘beautiful woman’ but for a gentleman of my vintage it means ‘mistress.’”

Okay, now I’m even more confused. “Mistress?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I cannot call you uxor. We are not married.”

OH.

“Pulchra it is then, and…yes. Please. Do wha—” Instead of finishing her thought, Zevlor dove into her, easily lifting her legs over his shoulders and tasting her as he promised. “Oh gods please…please…”

“There are no gods here, pulchra. Only me.” He grunted, continuing his ministrations. The feel of his horns against me as he’s eating me out…there are no words.

Beatrice did not know how much time had passed when he stopped and adjusted himself. “Zev?” she panted, letting go of his horns. Turns out I really love fucking his face.

Responding only with a smirk, he lowered his head and began to lick her swollen bud.

WHAT IS THAT?!?!

She immediately tensed, and Zevlor squeezed her thighs. “Easy, pulchra. That’s just my tail. Come…tail first then my cock…”

Oh. Oh wow. This is happening.

The only coherent reply she could manage was moaning his name along with “please” and “more.” As she quickly reached her peak, she felt his nails digging in her thighs slightly, which only made her more aroused. “Zev…please…want to…want…”

Then something inside her snapped, and she fell apart on his tongue. Small gasps escaped her, her ample chest heaving.

“That’s it, my darling…such a good girl…” Moonmaiden take me. With a grunt, he crawled over her and lined his achingly hard member towards her entrance. “We’ll go slow, pulchra. I won’t hurt you.”

“Show him who the real Hellrider is, soldier.”

Beatrice’s eyes widened as she touched his shoulders. “Can I be on top? If that’s okay?”

He exhaled sharply, nodding and laying on his back. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Zevlor watched as she less than elegantly straddled him. “Careful, sweetheart. Don’t want you falling over.”

“I think you’ve realized by now that sometimes I’m not the most graceful person.” She chuckled, settling over his swollen length. With his hands firmly on her wide hips, she began to slowly lower herself. Fuck me, he’s thick. A lot thicker than he looks. Hells. “Zev…”

Whatever he was saying though, she could not understand.

Infernal.

Holy fuck.

Moaning as she took him inch by torturous but glorious inch, laughed breathlessly. “What’d you say?”

“Ah, so fucking tight, pulchra. Queen of my heart, have me…all of me…I am yours for as long as—ah, oh waking gods!” Zevlor gasped when her pelvis met his.

He’s got ridges on his…and on his?!?? YES!

Rocking her hips, she rode him with abandon.

I feel alive…

And beautiful…

Because of my paladin…

She threw her head back as she reached her second peak, her hands gripping his harder than I do the Everburn Blade. “I love you! I fucking love you! I love you, Zev!” Panting, Beatrice’s broad shoulders slumped as he thrusted inside her, his hips stuttering.

“Pulchra…my angel…I-I…I love you, my darling…”

Moonmaiden take me, that groan from him!

Zevlor let out an oomph when she collapsed onto his chest, his strong arms wrapping around her. One clawed hand rested on her back while the other cradled the back of her head. “Bea? Are you alright?” He whispered, gently caressing her.

“Yeah.” She sighed and then muttered a spell to clean them. Gods, even soft, he’s huge. “You? Was I okay?”

As she rolled off him, he chuckled. “Okay? My dear, the way you were riding me,” he placed a kiss in her black-red curls when she curled against his side. “I’d say you’re the Hellrider, not me.”

YES! YES! YES! MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! I DID IT, KARLACH!

She traced the ridges on his chest and giggled. “Gods, you’re too much, love.” Laying in his arms and feeling sleep take her, shit, I should tell him I meant it. Just in case. “When I said I love you before, I meant it. I love you, and I…I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. And I know that there’s still much ahead, for both of us, but I want this. I want you. That is, if you even want—”

He squeezed the pillowy part of her upper arm. “Are we still not mentioning my age?” Zevlor teased. Oh for fuck’s sake. You. Are. Not. Old. “I do want you, pulchra.” He heaved a sigh. “Protecting my people must come first. That’s been my priority---my mission---for most of my life.” This sounds decidedly not good. He once again squeezed her arm and reached for her hand on his chest, bringing it to his lips. “But we deserve happiness, do we not? After everything that’s happened…everything that is still to come…we deserve happiness, and I firmly believe I’ve found it with you.” I’m gonna cry. I’m gonna cry so much. “I love you too, dearest.” He raised her hand to his lips again and placed another tender kiss on her knuckles. “Gods willing, we make it to Baldur’s Gate hale and whole.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she prayed silently.

Moonmaiden, I have served as your righteous fury. I have cut down the enemies of light. I have protected many.

I beg of you, Lady of Silver, keep him safe.

Keep them all safe.

[justcallmefox89]

Submission: Chapter Two - Consequences

Drakul has reached the end of his very limited patience with a certain wizard.

It had been four days, four bloody days, since Drakul and his merry group of misfits had appeared at the Grove with wild promises of aid against the druids and the goblins.  But as far as Rolan can tell the under-elf hasn’t accomplished anything of note.  Oh, he’s charmed the other tieflings surely, especially Cal and Lia.  And he manages to flirt with Dammon every chance he gets, flustering the usually oblivious weaponsmith until he’s a blushing mess.  Not that Rolan cares who Drakul flirts with, of course he doesn’t.

What he does care about is the way Drakul looks at him, watches him when he thinks Rolan doesn’t notice.  The way the drow’s eyes linger over his form, drinking in every inch of his body like it’s water and he’s a man dying of thirst.  And when Rolan dares to meet his eyes Drakul smirks at him, impish and lascivious, crimson eyes widened in faux innocence.  It’s maddening, the reactions Drakul can tease from him with just a look… and even more infuriating is that Rolan finds himself enjoying the attention, even searching out Drakul’s flirtatious gaze on occasion, eager to once again feel the heat that races over his skin every time their eyes meet.

With considerable effort Rolan wrenches his thoughts away from Drakul and back to more immediate concerns, namely getting himself and his siblings to Baldur’s Gate as soon as possible.

“We should have left by now!  Damnation!” he growls for the umpteenth time, scowling at his siblings.  “Instead we’re just sitting here- practically begging to be attacked.  Staying is a mistake.”

His sister glares right back, ready to retort but is interrupted by approaching footsteps.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Karlach says, hefting her battle axe on her shoulder.  “The tieflings need help.”

“And what about us?” Rolan argues.  “There’s every chance we’ve doomed ourselves by helping these people.  We will end up fodder for some goblin’s blade – all because Lia insists on helping every wounded foal we see.  Our best chance is to make it to Baldur’s Gate own our own.  This place is lost.”

Drakul snorts and mutters something in the drow tongue, too low for Rolan to make out, but the tone is clearly disparaging.

“Something to add?” Rolan sneers.

Drakul laconically shrugs one shoulder and continues cleaning bloodstains from his sword with a damp cloth.  He pointedly avoids Rolan’s gaze, refusing to acknowledge the patronizing tone of the wizard’s voice.     

“Why the rush to leave?” Gale, the human wizard and only sufferable member of Drakul’s company as far as Rolan is concerned, interjects.

Rolan sighs.  “My apprenticeship with Lorroakan begins shortly.  I cannot be late.”  He pauses to allow the revelation sink in.  “Yes, that Lorroakan.  The greatest wizard in Baldur’s Gate.”

Gale hums in contemplation.  “I’ve heard that name before.  A young man, yes?  Lives in Ramazith’s Tower in the Upper City?”

“The very same.” 

“Word in Waterdeep is that he’s a bit of a cad.  But you say he’s an accomplished wizard?”

“Of course he is!” Rolan scoffs.  “The greatest spellcaster along the Sword Coast.  As if I’d settle for a lesser mentor.”

“Of course he is!” Drakul mimics him, chuckling and sheathing his blade.  He rolls his eyes.  “You colnbluth are rarely as powerful as you believe yourselves to be.  ” 

“In that case, I’d very much appreciate it if you could arrange an introduction should we reach the city,” Gale cuts in, shooting Drakul a warning look.  “One can never have too many powerful acquaintances.”

“If it’s powerful acquaintances your after, you have to look no further than yours truly.”  Rolan preens, brushing down his robes.  “Few can match me – in either magic or talent.”

“Then by all means, oh great and powerful magus, please rid these wilds of all the dangers you will face on your journey to Baldur’s Gate,” Drakul drawls, lowering himself into a deep bow.  “Surely one so powerful as yourself will have no issues eliminating these obstacles posthaste.”

Rolan gasps, outraged.  “You dare speak to me-”

“I will speak to an arrogant child however I like,” Drakul replies calmly, straightening up and meeting his eyes.

Knowing their elder brother’s temper and the storm that will soon be coming, Lia and Cal take several steps away from the pair.  Barely a heartbeat later, Gale and Karlach follow them to safety.

“Arrogant child?” Rolan sputters, completely incensed.

“What else would you have me call you?  You sit here, behind the safety of these walls, whining and complaining.  You do nothing to aid your kin or assist in your escape from this place.  Oh you posture and you brag about how powerful you are, how easily you could vanquish the goblins… but like a child you cower behind the true warriors.  You disparage our efforts, my efforts, extolling your own virtues like a puffed up iblith, unconcerned with anyone or anything else.  Do you think I choose to be here?  That my companions and I are just on holiday, that we have nothing better to do than solve the problems of other people?  You take for granted the fact that we give over our might and our talents to your cause and have agreed to protect you and your people.  Thankless, egotistical child.”  Drakul steps toe to toe with Rolan, so close that their chests brush together, and stares down at him with cold, furious eyes.

Rolan grits his teeth, his anger flaring even as his traitorous body responds to Drakul’s close proximity.  He breathes in deeply in an attempt to calm himself, but only succeeds in dragging more of Drakul’s delicious scent into his nostrils.  Beneath the smells of sweat, musk, and blood, which even under pain of death will Rolan never admit that he finds deeply erotic in their own profane way, he smells the scents he associates only with Drakul… night-blooming flowers, sandalwood, and evening twilight. 

“You pompous, self-important, high-handed bastard!” Rolan hisses.

Drakul lashes out, catching Rolan’s jaw firmly with one hand.  He tilts Rolan’s face up so that he can stare directly into his eyes.  Rolan flushes a deep burgundy as his cock thickens in his trousers, licking his lips and involuntarily swaying closer to Drakul, painfully aroused by even this fleeting touch from the drow.

Something Rolan can’t quite decipher flashes across Drakul’s face, but it is quickly replaced by stern, uncompromising authority.  He leans towards Rolan, bringing his mouth close to the tiefling’s ear.  Rolan shudders and his cock grows even harder as Drakul’s warm breath ghosts over the sensitive shell of his ear.

“Usstan'sargh wael!  I am Drakul’ayne, eldest son and weapons master of the noble and honoured House Barri’mtor.  I am a lord, and you will give me the reverence I am due.  Am I understood, little wizard?” Drakul growls, his deep voice rumbling low in his chest.

Rolan nods wordlessly, for once eager to obey another.  To please. 

Drakul draws back, a faint smile on his lips as he carefully studies Rolan’s face.  “I asked you a question, Rolan.”

“I understand,” he answers, nodding rapidly.

“I understand, what?”

Rolan scowls, realizing what Drakul wants but reluctant to give it to him.  He hesitates long enough for the smile to slip from Drakul’s face, replaced by a look of disapproval. 

“I understand, my lord!” Rolan blurts out, tension seizing him at the thought of disappointing the paladin.

Drakul smiles at him then, bright and dazzling, releasing his jaw and gently brushing the backs of his fingers against Rolan’s ridged cheek.  “Good boy,” he murmurs.

Rolan flushes with equal parts shame and pride at the praise.

“Uh, Drakul?” Karlach call hesitantly, shuffling from foot to foot.  “We need to get going.  Astarion is waiting.”

Drakul huffs and rolls his eyes.  “And just when we were getting somewhere,” he grumbles under his breath, taking a small step away from Rolan.

Rolan mourns the sudden loss of his heat and internally curses Karlach, wishing for nothing more than to keep basking in Drakul’s presence, reveling in his fleeting touches and authoritative words.

“Be good for me, little wizard,” Drakul says, tapping the tip of Rolan’s nose with his forefinger, the seemingly innocuous words a thinly veiled command.

“I… um…yes,” Rolan stutters.

Drakul wordlessly arches one white brow.

“Yes, my lord,” Rolan quickly amends.

Drakul’s eyelids flutter and he releases a quiet, slightly obscene groan, just loud enough for Rolan to hear.  “Such a good boy,” he whispers, before turning and quickly rejoining his comrades.

Rolan stays rooted to the spot, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he gasps for breath, aroused and furious.

How dare he?!  How dare he speak to me like that!  And what the hells is wrong with me that I… that I…

Rolan huffs and crosses his arms, unable to even finish the thought.  Cal and Lia approach him slowly, trying to gauge his mood.

“So uh… that was something,” Lia says slowly, biting back a smile.  Cal elbows her, unable to conceal his own smirk.

“Oh shut up!” Rolan snarls, shoving past his annoying siblings, eager to find some place where he can be alone and sort through the confusing jumble of feelings and thoughts Drakul has awakened within him.  He unobtrusively tugs at the front of his trousers, annoyed to find himself still hard and wanting.  Yes, some place with a bit of privacy would be welcome right about now.

[twitchinkittenart]

Chapter two is up!

Rue gasped and held her stomach. Her fangs ached, and her need for blood was rising. When was the last time she fed? She couldn’t really remember. She usually carried blood vials around with her, but had lost them when she was abducted. She kept wishing she had them with her to satiate her thirst. Not many people took too kindly to Dhampirs in faerun, so she needed to keep her secret hidden. She cursed her bloodline for making her this way.

She slowly stood up and took in a deep breath, running her hands through her shoulder length black hair. She tucked a few strands behind her elven ears.

“Rue are you okay?” Shadowheart asked placing a hand on her shoulder. Rues eyes widended and quickly turned around. Her mouth was salivating. How easy it would be for her to push Shadowheart to the ground and drain her dry. But she was so nice, Rue didn’t want to give into her thirst. Not again.

“I’m fine” she said with a forced smile. “Just a little anxious is all” she said taking in a deep breath trying to steady her racing heart. “Let’s go”

After sometime of walking through the wreckage of the nautiloid, they ran into what looked like a magical circle. Rue bit her lip as she inspected it, a voice shook her out of her thoughts “A little help please?” Came a voice from the circle, a hand shooting out. Rue jumped back and let out a little yelp.

“What the hells?” She shouted staring at the hand

“Don’t just stand there, a little help please?”

Rue blinked and stared at the magic circle. A dispel spell could work well to help whoever was stuck inside. She conjured up the magic in her body, speaking latin to dispel the magic circle. After a minute, a man with brown hair and facial hair walked out of the circle.

“Thank you for the help” the man said “my name is Gale Dekarois, of water deep.” He grabbed her hand and shaking it.

“Don’t worry about it” Rue said with a smile “I’m Rue, Rue Marnik” she replied shaking his hand back.

“Ah, a lovely name for such a lovely lady” he winked. Rue felt herself blush at his compliment.

“Why thank you kind sir” she said taking a bow . The three laughed as they started to walk away together.

“I saw you about on the ship. You must have been taken too?” He asked curiously.

Rue nodded. “Yeah I was. I was in Baldurs Gate when I was abducted” she said bitterly. She was so close to her uncles castle, so close to killing the man who had destroyed her family. So close to getting the revenge she has wanted for the past 10 years.

[spacemonkeysalsa]

God of Ambivalence

A tiefling Artificer trying to carve a new path for himself splits a large stone on a beach to discover something truly shocking: a wizard missing a hand and in need of a lot of help, and magical items. Lucky for the wizard, Elion happens to be a fount of magical items. Pairing - OC/Gale & Shadowheart/Lae'zel but there will be more as it goes on.

Read on Ao3

or Chapter One below the cut

Chapter One

As a stone mason’s apprentice Elion had looked forward to the finer parts of the craft. Unfortunately, it would be years before he could dazzle some lucky beloved with a carved rose, or anything at all that was delicate or beautiful. So far, under master Faydor he seemed to be good for little more than hiking and hauling heavy rock. He acknowledged the bitterness he felt and gave voice to it in a sigh, as he removed the scarf from off his horns. He dampened the scarf with his water jug to cool off his neck and shoulder.

Weren’t Selûne’s penitent followers more appropriate for this task?

It certainly didn’t require his skill to walk a half-mile in the heat, dragging a borrowed cart to move great pieces of rock back the way he’d come. Couldn’t one of the other denizens of Moonhaven Anew do it? It was their harvest season, that’s what Faydor had said. Elion was pretty sure the old man was having him on though. Born and raised the city, Elion didn’t know much about provincial life, but he was fairly certain harvest time was another month out.

What am I doing here? It was the hundredth time he’d wondered, since leaving Baldur’s Gate. His mother was right, it was a stupid, rash decision. Switching career paths at this stage—and stonecraft? It had always been a hobby. Maybe he was giving his skills too much credit, maybe Faydor knew it and that’s why he had him hauling rocks rather than working with a chisel.

Of course, with the right materials, and a little time, he could make up for that, but he didn’t think Faydor would like it. The man was old fashioned in his craft as much as anything else. He wouldn’t appreciate innovation. A rustle from the bushes caught his ear, but it was the kind of sound that was easy to overlook. A rabbit, surely. Then he saw horns. A goat? Horns like his. Another tiefling.

He started and dropped the cart, but the girl looked startled to see him. She was tense all through her petite stature, very small for a tiefling, but not a child any longer, to be certain. Her burning orange eyes skewed him. The word that came to mind when he looked at her was 'wild.' Her orchid pink skin was blackening at her clawed fingertips and the end of her tail. Her horns were carved with lines of script and grafted with something shining and black. She wore clothes, almost. More like scraps falling to pieces, though at one point the pieces could have been druidic armor. Her ash brown hair was a pile on top of her head, braided near the scalp, bond where it came loose, and filthy with leaves and the remnants of a flower crown of pink.

“Oh!” She stood, sighing in relief as she hid a flare of green light in her palm. The girl smiled, sheepish, “You’re so big, I thought you were a cambion for a moment! But there, no wings, far too cool and too dark a complexion.” she darted out from the bushes and approached him, at a tumble. Her feet were bare, blackened as well.

The smell of magic hung heavy around her, it burned his eyes and thumped against his head when she spoke. It wasn’t like the taste of weave he knew. There was something deep and far away and echoing about it. The girl stood grounded; he couldn’t help but imagine great cords, like roots, holding her, pulling her into the heart of Toril itself.

A druid, probably. But, was that all? There was something nearly fey about her.

Whoever she was, she was powerful, and so he held his tongue and stood still, letting her examine him.

Her tail lashed behind her as she peered at him, tipping her chin all the way back to look up at him. “Hmmm. You’re perfect,” she declared.

“Perfect for what?”

“I need a little help, will you follow me?”

Even a city boy like Elion knew that it was foolish to follow a mysterious person, maybe fey, into the woods.

But, she wasn’t going to the woods, instead, she was gesturing down the path. “I don’t have the right tools, or the muscle,” she flexed for him, her arms twiggy.

He shifted, watching her. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry, at least. She stared at him with an unnerving smile. “None of the animals will help,” she continued. “I made the mistake of admitting to them that it would be loud, so they all left.”

“Who are you?” He was owed that much.

That he was even considering following her still felt foolish. But, he rarely met another tiefling, and one with fey ties (rather than infernal ones) was intriguing to say the least.

“I’m Arabella,” she said with a little laugh at herself. “And dear me, I forgot all that! Introductions. Handshakes. Do people shake hands, or did I dream that? Do we touch horns because we’re tieflings? I don’t think I’ve dreamt that. Or done it. Is that silly? Or too intimate?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know many other tieflings.”

“Me neither—well, not anymore." Arabella’s shoulders slumped and for a moment she looked incandescently sad, so much so that it startled him. She recovered with another beaming smile. “Help me, and it will be trouble, but the good kind. I need to split a stone. You’re out here to do that anyway, aren’t you?” she gestured to the cart he was hauling, and the tools inside.

“I’m supposed to bring back a few blocks. They’re rebuilding the old Selûnite Sanctum.”

“They are, or you are, or you all are?”

A question he’d been asking himself. It felt like he was doing a larger part of the work than anyone besides his own master, and for a god he didn’t even worship.

“It’s good rock,” she promised, “I don’t know what you call it. Granite? I don’t use as many words as I should, I suppose.” She shrugged and started down the path again, in perfect confidence that Elion would follow her.

His tail twitched behind him, anxious. It didn’t seem like any of the stories he’d heard of foolish travelers trusting mischievous fey in the woods. For one thing, he wasn’t desperate for anything that a fey would try to take advantage of him, was he? He might be desperately bored, but that was different.

Besides that, he wasn’t even sure Arabella was fey. She could be a very strange druid girl with poor communication skills. The rock might be in the way.

Ocean spray rattled in the distance as it showered over the old ruins and wreckage. Elion had only seen the nautiloid up close once since coming to this little corner of the sword coast. He was sure it didn’t look how it would have looked back when it could fly, before it rained in deadly burning pieces over the beach. The land had reclaimed much of it, trees extended through its fractures, and roots bubbled up under the charred carcass of the ship. 

She led them very close to it, but then to a pale, sloped stone, old rune marks long faded, though Elion could still feel some pull to them, some power.

As Arabella approached the stone, she leaned into it, embracing the rock like an old friend. From the sigh on her lips and the way she relaxed, he imagined it was warm from the heat of the sun. “Yes. In here. Something old. Powerful. Hungry. Something dead. Something returned.” She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder without releasing the stone, “could be dangerous,” she enticed and warned, all at once. With one blackened nail she tapped the surface of the rock. Then moved a hand over and tapped again. Then up, so it was almost eye-level. “Here. Strike here, and it will divide.”

It didn’t look like terrible rock to use for rebuilding the temple pillars, and the runes were so faded. Whatever magic had crackled there long ago, was long since faded. The air didn’t even have the scent any longer. He made a mark with his chisel, right where Arabella had shown him. It was a little bit higher than was comfortable, but he found he trusted that she might know what she was talking about. He did have something in the way of a heightened sense when it came to these things, and there was something trembling and weak about where she’d placed her fingers, like the rock wanted to peel open and had already chosen its own soft spots. He didn’t have to work very much at all before there was an opening. The stone was not granite, but it would do. He made enough of a gash that he could wedge his splint into the stone, then went back to the cart to get a wooden mallet.

Arabella watched the whole time, sitting cross legged on the ground and gazing up at him, or at the stone, fixed smile, curious, and eyes flamed.

Now came the part that was loud, the part that had dissuaded the animals from being any help to the strange druid. He hit the splint hard with the mallet and the few birds that remained in the wreckage scattered into the air. The bang barked in the distance. Elion was strong and had managed to split stones in few hits before, but this one cracked immediately. The rock wanted to break open, perhaps it would have done so, left to its own devices, and with a little more time. The crack of the rock and its split all the way through the middle was even louder than the strike of the mallet, and Elion stumbled backwards to avoid being caught and crushed under the falling rock.

He caught sight of something in the center of the dust and debris, a dark undulating light of purple, with a sickly sweet acrid scent, and something else. Necrosis.

Arabella was on her feet again, backing away. “Oh,” she looked frightened, he realized, “oh no. Oh dear.” She threw her eyes around, as though quite worried that there was something coming. Or someone watching. “He needs help and I cannot help him,” was she talking about Elion? Talking to herself? “I can’t get any closer, tiefling boy who’s name I do not know. I can’t get closer, now that there is no rock to protect me.”

You don’t know my name because you didn’t ask. “Closer to…?” The dust from the rock’s destruction was still thick in the air, but the crackling swirl of magic at the center of it was starting to sharpen. Whatever it was, it was still, but stinking of magic and danger and death. The dust started to clear, even as he watched, he turned back to Arabella, to demand instructions, insight, something—but the tiefling girl was gone.

Of course she was.

Fey creature indeed.

As the dust fully cleared, Elion finally saw what he’d unleashed from the stone. In the center of the wreckage a man lay limp, his features and body obscured by a strange dark looking film of black, green and purple that Elion couldn’t identify. He was hurt badly, by the unconscious state of him and the grayish tinge to his skin under the film, but he was certainly alive, trying to breathe. 

His right hand had been severed and ended in a messy cauterized stump.

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

Greensleeves Chapter Eleven: Burning Pile

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Wordcount: 5k Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence

The party infiltrate and investigate the goblin camp in search of the druid Halsin

Read on AO3 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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It transpires that everyone has had the same dream. Every one of them. The apparitions had differed - two tieflings, a drow, a gith, an orc. Uncharacteristically, Gale won’t tell them what his looked like. They all said the same thing, the visitor guardian chraith. In a circle around their doused fire, they share the message brought to them all. Protection. In exchange for allowing the worm to take. That’s the interpretation most of them have arrived at, Lae’zel spitting and swearing. She’s never heard of these side-effects of ceremorphosis, and Gale’s limited but precise research hadn’t found anything on this either.

“What sort of power could it give us?” Astarion keeps asking, seemingly unafraid of the githyanki’s fury at the proposition.

“And at what cost?” Xaph asks. The dog they’d encountered the other day has found his way to their camp and has wedged himself between the ranger and the cleric and the former is slowly stroking him to keep him calm, working warm water through his fur to rid it of blood. He’s envied for his lack of last night’s dream.

“I’ll be the first to admit that the tadpole has already weakened us,” Wyll says, “We started from the nautiloid as though from scratch,” the dog’s ears perk at the sound of his name, “No matter how powerful or accomplished any of us were before.”

“These gifts could be a way to regain some of that power,” Gale posits, “But it’s not something to be taken lightly.”

“It is not something to be taken at all. Not considered, or thought about or can,” Lae’zel’s nose twitches as she tries to place the word, “con-tam…”

“Contemplated.” Wyll supplies.

“Yes. Contemplated.” Lae’zel nods her gratitude. None of them have ever heard her say the words thank you but they recognise this movement as appreciation now. Eyes turn to Shadowheart. She hasn’t said anything. She holds her strange artefact in her hands, turning it over and over. No new runes present themselves. She finds no previously unnoticed hinge. It just sits there.

“Whatever that toy of yours is, I’m glad it's on our side.” Astarion says. 

“Will you tell us what it is now?” Xaph asks, a far gentler bite than the vampire’s.

“I don’t know…not exactly. All I know is that it’s important I get it back to Baldur’s Gate. At any cost.

“Why Baldur’s Gate?”

“There’s a Sharran cloister there. My home.” Shadowheart sighs. Her eyes scan the group, then return to the artefact. She has deemed them worthy of information. For now. “A group of us were sent to retrieve the artefact. Now I’m the only one left. I can’t afford to fail. I also can’t tell you more than that. This mission required utmost secrecy. We were all submitted to having our memories suppressed so that we wouldn’t betray Shar’s confidence. If I reach my contact in the city, I will have my memories restored. Until then, I have to guard the artefact with my life” she scans again, waiting for someone to respond, “You have the truth. For what it’s worth.”

“You know, Shar and Mystra don’t exactly-”

“Thank you,” Xaph cuts across Gale’s words and leans to the side to bump Shadowheart’s shoulder with her own, “For trusting us.” It’s another part in the puzzle of Shadowheart. She doesn’t tell them about herself just because she worships Shar, but because she literally can’t remember. Xaph can live with that, even if some of their allies can’t. 

For it only being noon, the goblins are deep in their cups. Gale’s trying to restrain his reaction to the smell of the place, but those with more sensitive noses are far less fortunate. The place stinks of various bodily fluids and roasting flesh. Not that of a chicken, or a pig, or even a rothe.

“Dwarf.” Xaph’s not sure who says it, but no one argues with the assessment. The party hang back for several long moments, expecting…some sort of reaction to their appearance, but there’s none. The goblins are too drunk, or trusting that since they passed the gate they’re supposed to be here. A trader approaches them with the promise of exquisite goods picked from the rubble of their last raid. Wyll convinces him to give up a little more information and comes away from the interaction with the knowledge that a nearby settlement has gone up in flames and a pair of gloves he hands to Xaph. Archer’s gloves.

“He saw you had one of their quivers,” Wyll tells her, gesturing at the cone of arrows that sits by her hip. She’d taken off a goblin body she’d found that first day off the nautiloid, “Offered me a discount. In the name of the Absolute.” He grimaces at the sound of the god’s name, but he knows an advantage when he sees one. Xaph takes the gloves and slide them on. There’s one for each of her hands, which isn’t always the case. The shooting glove encases her three middle fingers, leaving her thumb and pinky uncovered, and the other covers her index and thumb but cut off before her fingertips. They’re a little loose when she pulls them on, but then magic tugs them snug. Magic. She’ll have to ask Gale about it later. When she looks up to thank Wyll she finds their group is split. Wyll and Lae’zel stand either side of her, but Astarion has drifted over to the other side of the courtyard and the other two have followed him.

“What-”

“Don’t look at him,” Lae’zel orders, “He has a plan.”

“Okay.” Xaph nods, turning on her heels. A flash of blue passes her eyeline, but she fixes on something past the bard trying to come up with rhymes against goblin jeers. She hears Wyll tell them that it’s Volo, the bard that had been staying at the druid grove. Lae’zel says something in reply, Xaph’s not listening. She approaches the goblin her gaze is fixed on. A ball of feathers is at her side. An owlbear cub. Frightened. Trembling.

“Well now…you look like a tough ‘un,” the goblin announces, giving Xaph an appraising look, “But have you got smarts? Skills? Guts?”

“I can handle myself just fine.” Xaph replies. The owlbear coos, and Xaph’s suspicions are proved right. He recognises her smell. This is the cub of the mother they’d met in the Selunite cave.

“You’re gonna need all that and more. This ain’t your standard dungeon-delve, right? This…” she holds her arms out with the energy of a circus ringmaster, “Is chicken-chasing.”

“Chicken-chasing.” Xaph repeats, her mouth downturned. Caution, Xaphania, a voice not unlike her grandfather’s impresses on her, caution. 

“Only the greatest game since eggs sprouted legs, mate. You’ve gotta chase the chicken round the course and through the posts, but that ain’t all. Gotta do it quick, unarmed, and alone. Any of your mates step in, you lose. Time runs out, you lose. You cheat, you lose,” she looks Xaph up and down again, “Better contenders than you have been bested by the bird.”

“That’s not a chicken. Or any kind of bird. That’s an owlbear.”

“Got feathers, ain’t it? Or are you chicken?” the goblin leers.

“Xaph?” Wyll’s at her shoulder, he’s seen the nervous swish of her tail. He’s further confused when she passes him her unstrung bow and both of her quivers.

“So you do fancy yourself. Care to pin that down with some coin?”

“What are you-” the owlbear squeaks, “Oh. Right.” Xaph drops some coin into the waiting goblin’s hand.

“We’ve got the coin, we’ve got the challenger, and now we need a crowd.”

***

“What was that?” Shadowheart asks. Xaph still isn’t sure. She had chased the owlbear cub to get close to it, to give it her scent, and then she’d turned back to the goblin. She’d felt…powerful. Undeniably powerful. Authoritative. When she’d told the goblin to hand the cub over the goblin had stuttered and stammered and curtsied with panicked gasps of a True Soul! True Soul, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Anything you want. It had been a rush. A disgusting rush, that left her dizzy and the tadpole turning in rapid circles, but a rush all the same.

“I don’t know.” She rubs at her brow bone, at the twisting pain there. The cub had bounded away with happy shrieks and Xaph holds hope that he’ll either find a good cave or their camp.

“These tadpoles…we can use them to…influence others?” Astarion asks, sliding cold fingers down Xaph’s arm. Several voices warn him against considering the idea, and Xaph shakes him off before his fingers can slip into her pocket. He has a habit of pocketing his allies' less valuable possessions. Just to borrow them, of course. Like the vial of wyvern poison Nettie had forced upon her. The vial of poison he’d tipped into the bathtub of homemade booze the goblins had been drinking from all day. Gale and Shadowheart had gotten them into the decrepit temple before any of them could be accused of poisoning the entire camp. They’d had a peaceful week, but over the last day, things have been unravelling. They have to catch the loose threads before their mission falls apart entirely. 

The smell is worse inside, in containment, though Astarion comments almost wistfully on the chaos of it all. The inner sanctum of the temple has a three-stories-high ceiling and though the walls are crumbling and sections of the floor are replaced by wooden planks and rope ladders take the place of stairs, statues of Selune with her blocky fringe and soft arms that Shadowheart only looks at for a reason to frown dot the remnants of the walls. A disconcerting display of bones, tusks and skin forms what can only be described as a pulpit in the centre of the room. An unusually large elk skull is fixed at the top of the structure, the antlers reaching out at least five feet across. The smell of burning flesh still lingers here. It’s fresher. Charred. Goblins are loosely gathered around the perimeter, their attention entirely focused on another goblin that stands by a brazier full of crackling coals. Feathers fan out from her pauldrons and a bony headdress arcs over her head. Booyahg? She holds no staff, no arcane focus. A goblin kneels in front of her and she pulls a thin metal rod with a flat shape on the end out of the brazier. A brand. But then, she puts it back. The poor person who had been about to accept the burn looks up at her, confused, priestess, they say, but her eye is elsewhere.

“Now here’s someone special,” oh hells, she’s looking at them, beckoning them forward. She holds a hand up to Xaph as she approaches, “The Absolute has touched you, hasn’t She?” she’s taking out the brand again and the other goblins are complaining that hellspawn and grub-gith will be getting the Absolute’s blessing before them, “Priestess Gut needs to touch you too. Hold out your arm so I can mark your flesh.” Her tone crawls unpleasantly under Xaph’s skin, and she makes no move to get closer to the goblin priestess.

“I’m not letting you burn me for life on a whim.” Xaph says firmly, keeping her arms folded tight to her chest. Scratch plants his backside between Xaph’s feet. The priestess tilts her head to the side,

“Maybe you don’t need it. After all, you’re special ain’t you? Like me.” Like me? She’s a True Soul, which means-

Not slinking into a shared connection initiated by Astarion, not the gentle overlaying of Gale’s train of thought on her own, not even Shadowheart’s quick spikes of confusion when their worms yearn for communication. With forceful probing, Priestess Gut pries Xaph’s thoughts open and pushes images onto her. A vision of the goblin herself standing in front of a man. His face is obscured, his whole being in shadow, but Xaph knows him. He is one of the Absolute’s Chosen, shown to the party only the day before. Xaph manages to wrangle the tadpole and pushes it quite literally to the back of her mind, severing the connection between her and the goblin. 

“Don’t wanna get intimate,” the word would make Xaph shiver in disgust if she wasn’t holding herself oh-so-still, “in front of the novices? Fair enough. Got some weird shadows in your ‘ead though. Maybe I can help with that. Us True Souls got to look out for one another.”

“And can you get rid of the shadows?” She asks hesitatingly. For such an incurable infection, treatments have been crawling out of the woodwork left and right.

“With the Absolute’s will, I can fix anything,” the priestess looks around the room, “Let’s deal with this in my chapel. It’s private. Don’t want this lot interfering with True Soul business.”

“Of course.” Xaph nods, trying to look gracious. This is a ringleader, someone chosen by a Chosen. She must hold valuable information for the other goblins to flock to her as though she’s a prophet of Maglubiyet. From the way she talks, it’s as if she has a direct line to the Absolute. The party’s conversation with her and her announcing that they are True Souls, gives them free rein to walk around the temple. When asked questions, the goblins answer without hesitation. Some of them bow, which pleases half of the party but makes the other half deeply uncomfortable.

“Shadowheart, Astarion, take the dog and find somewhere we can hunker down when we need a rest,” Wyll proposes, “We should find out where they’re keeping the druid. And the bard. And…if they have any other prisoners.”

The group splits in two, Shadowheart and Astarion peeling off to the left and the other four going to the right. Xaph, Lae’zel, Wyll and Gale are almost immediately sidetracked and split further. Wyll and Gale baulk at screams coming from the end of the corridor and instead gravitate towards the sound of Volo’s voice. Xaph and Lae’zel find a crude torture chamber in the direction of the screaming, complete with a rack. A young man is shackled to the rack, his limbs stretched almost-but-not-quite to popping point. Two goblins are prodding at him. One is winding up with a thick club, preparing to smash his kneecaps, and the other is turning various pieces of bent metal in a fire.

“Humans are so…soft. So fragile.” Lae’zel says.

“Their bodies, maybe, but on the whole they’re strong-minded.” Xaph tells her. The tiefling and the githyanki are mirroring each other with their arms folded and their feet spaced shoulder-width apart. The goblin with the club pauses just before his club can connect with the prisoner’s knee and turns to his new-found audience.

“‘Ere to see your friend, are you? Come an’ join ‘im, if you like.”

“Say we’ll take over,” Lae’zel mutters, “His work is sloppy, he’ll kill the prisoner too quickly,” Xaph clears her throat, “What? Quick torture is not effective torture.” When Xaph looks at the goblin, she feels that strange rush again. Cool and calm up the nape of her neck, greeted by excited corkscrew movements of the tadpole. She’s in control. She is a so-called True Soul. He will listen to her.

“Leave. Both of you.” It’s an order. They comply with vague complaints about drow. Xaph ignores the irritated noise Lae’zel makes when she moves forward and cranks the lever of the rack in the opposite direction so the man’s arms and legs bend again.

“Please. Please let me out-” his words are hardly intelligible.

“Shhh,” Xaph clucks before turning to Lae’zel and asking for a lockpick. The githyanki hands her one without comment and Xaph starts to work on the locks holding his limbs in place, “It’s okay. What’s your name?”

“L-Liam.”

“You came from the grove, with Aradin?” Xaph asks. Liam nods, his head hitting the rack, “With Halsin? Where’s Halsin?”

“I…I don’t know. He changed into a bear, but I lost sight of him.” Liam tells her. When his wrists are free he’s unable to stop himself from falling forwards, and Xaph catches his weight over her shoulder and gets Lae’zel to free his feet. Xaph sits the man down by the rack and presses a red bottle into his hands. A health potion.

“Drink this,” rummaging further in her bag, she collects more potions and some food and ties it all together in a pouch to give him, “Did they break anything? Can you run?”

“I…I think so. I think I can run.”

“You need to go. Find somewhere safe to hide outside before they realise you’re gone.”

“I need to get to the grove. I need to warn them.”

“Warn them?”

“The drow…she’s putting together a raid. They’re gonna raze the place.” He lets Xaph lift his arms to put a tunic on him, but her hands are shaking. The tieflings. Refugees. Children. The druids too, she supposes. They have no backbone but that’s no reason to condemn them to death. If the goblins find the grove they’re done for, fish in a barrel, and if the druids force the tieflings out…

“You didn’t tell them?” Xaph asks, having to swallow. Her throat is dry.

“No.” He answers. Xaph cups his face in her hands, watching the health potion lighten his bruises.

“Thank you. Now go. We’ll find Halsin and stop the drow. Go.” She helps Liam up, and he makes for the wall that has fallen in and left a tight tunnel that must lead outside. Xaph stays crouched for a moment, letting herself breathe. Everything keeps getting worse.

“Come on, istik. We must keep moving.” Lae’zel says, her voice as harsh as ever. It’s what Xaph needs to bring her back to her feet.

“Not a word about my soft heart.” She says to Lae’zel as they leave the room. Lae’zel says nothing until they find Wyll and Gale again. They trade information. Volo has been released, an invisibility potion aiding his escape after Gale had convinced his goblin owner to let him take the bard for a walk. They must move quickly. But where is the druid?

***

The worg pens, someone says. If he’s in wildshape, the worg pens. They’ll want to dehumanise him. Put him in a cage. They don’t ask for directions, lest they bring attention to themselves poking their noses where they don’t belong. The worgs are kept in a particularly dilapidated part of the temple. The floor of the hallway has collapsed, and the boards aren’t as tightly lashed together as any of them would like. What did a temple to the Moonmaiden use a prison for? There’s an altar to her between the cells. Sure enough, a litter of worgs the same age as Klaw are in one cell. A giant bear in the other. Goblins are butchering a pig for the worgs on one side of the room. A third goblin has herded two children toward the bear’s cell. The children are throwing rocks at the animal, crowing with delight when it makes pained noises.

“Get me out of here.” The words mingle with the howl, half lost to animal nature. When the little boy lifts his hand again, Xaph seizes his wrist and holds until he drops the rock.

“Let him go.” Xaph says, but that rush of power doesn’t race up her neck again and her words don’t carry the weight they did with the torturer, with the chicken-chaser. 

“It’s stayin’ right here,” the adult goblin tells her, “The beast came in here with those robbers. Killed Dink. An’ Mince, too. Boss is thinkin’ of serving it up to the worgs. But first, Three,” she addresses one of the children, the one Xaph hasn’t got a hold of, “More stones. Make it nice and bloody.” The other child wrestles out of Xaph’s grip only to be grabbed by Lae’zel and lifted off the ground. A growl builds in the back of Xaph’s throat, low enough for the bear to hear and the goblins to recognise as a threat, we’re here for the grove. 

“Stop it. Let him go.” Xaph says again, her words firm. Wyll draws his rapier. 

“I’d advise you listen.” Gale warns. There’s a small crackle behind Xaph that signals either flame or electricity. All three of the goblins jump when the full weight of the bear’s body slams against the door of the cell. At a second hit, pieces of stone fall from the wall and a hinge pops out. Xaph is tugged back by her quiver. Lae’zel drops the squirming child. The adult goblin doesn’t dodge quickly enough. The thick iron gate falls and they can hear her bones being crushed into dust. Shouts are raised from up the steps, and Xaph wouldn’t be surprised if the guards outside the door had heard the noise. The child Lae’zel had dropped zips away and out of reach before she can blink, but the other one is frozen to the spot staring up at the bear. The bear is rearing back on his hind legs, paw raised and ready to knock the child to the ground. The force of the hit would be enough to kill her. Xaph slips out of Wyll’s grasp, pushes herself into the child’s place and roars. Her teeth snap together so hard she may well have broken one of them. In that moment, she’s an animal too. She takes the blow of bear claws on her forearm and doesn’t even wobble. The goblin child scrambles to her feet and takes off after her friend. Lae’zel swears, knowing they’re going to fetch the guards, and sprints towards the door herself. Xaph is in a staring competition with the bear, her chest heaving with huffs and puffs that must somehow be conversational in a way neither the wizard or the warlock can understand.

“Hey!” Wyll sends a bolt of red energy towards a goblin who is hobbling as fast as he can towards the worg pen, clearly intending to let them loose. He misses, curses, and hops up the steps for higher ground.

“Ohh, no you don’t.” Gale almost laughs at the ease with which the Weave curls around his fingers, sealing the gate shut, claustrem. The goblin can yank the lever all he likes. It’s not moving. Another incantation is shouted above his own, as Lae’zel yells a warcry. A fresh handful of goblins have tripped into the room, alarmed by the children, just as a human-sized spider materialises in the middle of the floor. It makes a strange shrieking rattling noise, the hairs on all of its legs standing on end, and sticky web cements Gale’s feet to the ground.

The bear is on the move, lumbering up the steps to join Lae’zel and leaving Wyll with the other two goblins. When Gale glances sideways he sees Xaph is stuck in the web as well, the spider quickly advancing upon them.

“Ignis!” Twin bolts of flame rocket towards the spider and its shriek takes on a frankly fearful tone as it retracts its now-burning legs and when Gale looks at Xaph again he can see her teeth in a - if she would pardon the expression - devilish grin that he can feel mirrored on his own face. Gods, it’s good to feel useful. 

“Cover!” Xaph calls to him, twisting to reach her pack.

“Covered.” Gale confirms, sending a second fire bolt at the spider’s underbelly that makes it scuttle further away. Wyll has dispatched one goblin, the other has slipped his net, and he joins Lae’zel and the bear at the stairs. The second goblin, injured but still running is unseen as he heads for the wizard.

“Gale, back!” Xaph’s yell is panicked and Gale leans back as several darts of weaponised Weave wind their way up the steps and towards the spider. An axe whirls past him, hardly a foot away from his nose, turning blade over handle until it buries itself in the goblin’s chest. 

“Xaph-”

“Thank me later. Wyll, headcount!”

“Three!” the Blade of Frontiers shouts back. The bear growls. “Two!” Xaph works her way out of the webbing now the spider has fallen and then seizes Gale by the elbows to pull him out too. 

“You know, you’re very good at helping me out of, ahem, sticky situations.”

“Ha.” Xaph says, deadpan, but her eyes are bright. As the closer of the pair to the dead goblin, Gale leans over to pull the axe out of his chest while carefully averting his eyes from the blood. He holds the weapon out to his friend with a mock bow,

“My lady, I bow to your endless kindness.”

“Dear sir, you’re hilarious.” She takes the axe back without even rolling her eyes, but her gaze slides past him and her jaw drops. Gale turns, prepared for more goblins, but finds the giant bear dissolving into leaves which then take the shape of the biggest elf he’s ever seen.

***

They have found the druid Halsin. For a brief moment, it feels like the odds are finally in their favour. 

“Something is different,” his hand is still raised, passing over Xaph’s face and - with permission - her horns, creepers of druid magic latching onto her wherever his fingers touch. Wyll has submitted to the same treatment from the druid’s other hand, but no healing comes, “You are aware of the monster inside you, yet you do not bow to the Absolute like the True Souls do.”

“Perhaps the worm’s vat was poisoned,” Wyll suggests, “Perhaps we’re uncommonly fit, or maybe the tadpoles are on holiday. We could conjecture all day, but the real question is whether or not you can get them out.”

“I’ve been studying these parasites for a while now, ever since I discovered these so-called True Souls are infected with them,” Halsin lowers his hands and Gale’s heart sinks with them, “Someone is using very powerful magic to modify these tadpoles. They are using them to exert control over the infected. I am sorry to say that I cannot undo that magic, which means I cannot cure you. But, that doesn’t mean I can’t help. I didn’t find what I came here for - a way to remove the tadpoles - but I found the next best thing. I found out where they came from.” He tells them what he knows of the tadpole’s origin. Moonrise Towers, midway between Elturel and Baldur’s Gate, seems to be where the Absolute worshippers are coming from. Innocents go in, True Souls come out. He offers the party his help, but on the condition that they help him destroy the threat to the druid grove, “I foolishly left them vulnerable to this rabble”

“You left them vulnerable to more than this,” Xaph tells him, “My people took shelter there, desperate. Yours intend on cleansing the rot they see tieflings to be, regardless of the threat of goblin raid.”

“What has happened?” Concern creases the druid’s forehead, pulling at the scars over his eye

“Kagha was hells-bent on killing a child for stealing an idol of Silvanus,” the others let Xaph take the reins on this, “She has invoked the Rite of Thorns and I’m no druid but I know that that is a drastic measure to take to be rid of a few dozen refugees.”

“The Rite of Thorns?” Halsin repeats and yes, there’s shock in his voice, “I would never-”

“She’s happy to let them all die so the druids can keep hiding. Nettie told us you would stop her. Please.” It’s the closest her companions have seen her to begging. She’s not even angry now. She just wants help. Halsin reaches out again and she lets him put his hand on her shoulder.

“I will stop her. But I can only do it if you help me further. I’ve no right to ask more of you after my people have treated yours so poorly, but I cannot allow these butchers to threaten my grove. The natural order must be protected. And that includes the tieflings, I assure you.” He lifts his hand off Xaph’s shoulder, sensing he’s close to crossing a line, and she steps back to be part of her group again. 

“I will help you. If my companions agree.”

“Of course we’ll help.” Wyll says, and Gale echoes the sentiment. Lae’zel says nothing. 

“My thanks. If you prevail, I will owe you the debt of a lifetime. Rare is the beast that survives decapitation. Help me eliminate the drow Minthara, the hobgoblin Dror Ragzlin and that perversion of a priestess, Gut. They are the ones holding these parasites together. Remove them and nature will cure itself.”

“We will destroy them,” Lae’zel promises, showing her approval of the decision, “We have already singled out the heretic Gut. She too has tried to convince us she holds a cure.”

“She’s willing to speak to me in her chapel. That could be our chance to eliminate her.” Xaph says. Halsin nods to show he’s listening while he smooths healing magic into his arms.

“Then we go to her chapel.” Lae’zel decides, but Xaph shakes her head.

“I think I should go alone,” She says, putting up her hands when the others protest, “It was me she spoke to, and she clearly covets her power. She won’t want to share it. Besides, I’m sure I can manage one goblin.”

“I can’t say I like the idea of leaving you alone with the priestess, but I understand why you think it’s the best course of action.” Gale tells her, and his approval solidifies Xaph’s confidence, further bolstered when Wyll agrees. “The moment they see you free, they’ll attack, won’t they?” Xaph asks the druid. Halsin nods.

“We should find Shadowheart and Astarion,” Gale says, “If we can at least get him to our hiding place, it will be safer than in here,” the worgs still prowl back and forth behind their gate, “Though exactly how to conceal you…” Gale ponders a few possibilities aloud, but then Wyll nudges him.

“Druid.” He says simply. Druidic magic wreathes Halsin’s body as he shrinks down to the shape of a rat and scrambles up the warlock’s leg to sit on his shoulder.

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

[biowhore]

A Brighter Flame

Halsin/Named male tav

AO3 | Fic List

CW for entire work: implied alcoholism, implied suicidality, explicit sexual content

Why are you here? What is your purpose? What is the point of life if yours has only been suffering? Ko gave up on a life of meaning long ago, but a tadpole and a druid might lead him to one. A deathless warlock might as well have some purpose on this plane, right?

Chapter 1: Infinitely Interesting | 2k words

The man’s name was Ko, and each time Halsin looked at him, he felt something stir in his chest.

Halsin felt lighter than he had in nigh on a century that night.  

The stars shone brightly in a twinkling blanket that swaddled the sky, the air was warm and breezy, the night creatures singling as merrily as the people gathered. There was drink to be had, tales to be told, and hope aplenty for the tieflings he’d sheltered in the Grove. Finally, they could begin their journey to Baldur’s Gate, searching for a new life after the horror of Elturel. His heart soared for them, even through the guilt he felt for the harassment they endured from Khaga after his departure with Aradin and his group. His good intentions would not make up for the harm caused, he knew, but now they had another chance at happiness.  

He shook off the melancholy enough to smile and survey the bright faces gathered. Alfira was adjusting her lute strings in preparation for her next song, Lakrissa smirking at her friend's wine-darkened cheeks. Some of the newcomers mingled with the tieflings, the wizard – Gale, he believed his name was – chatting animatedly with Rolan near the fire. A friendly white dog weaved between everyone’s legs, seemingly elated to be there. It warmed his heart that this group had taken him in. Scratch had lost his friend and found a whole host of new ones. He continued to be awed by the group’s generosity, even while desperately attempting to cure themselves of the tadpoles. 

Notedly absent from the throng of joy and hope was the infected’s leader. A few people had paired off for the night, seeking comfort and adventure in each other’s bodies, but something told him the human warlock had not wandered away with a partner. 

Curious, he scanned the riverbank, only seeing the Blade of Frontiers gazing into the waters. He did not envy the Ravenguard heir that fresh wound of his new form, and knew he likely needed that time alone to sort through his thoughts. That change was very permanent, and very personal.  

Again, he scanned the camp, seeing no sign of the man who led the brutal but necessary assassinations of the goblin leaders. He had not batted an eye at Halsin’s request, taking the three others with him and skulking through the damp stone walls to carry it out, his strange broadsword out and at the ready. That sword unnerved Halsin, even now. It was double-edged like all broadswords, but had no basket, and bore a single dark stone in the quillon. The stone was a red so deep it appeared black in the center, as with an eye. A sinister red iris with an abyssal pupil. The aura around it bade others look away, to not come near, and yet the human bore its weight easily. 

His curiosity about the man pricking at his mind, Halsin turned his head to glance at the stone ruin set behind him in the camp. It was a good place to be alone yet keep eyes and ears on the camp if needed, he wagered. It was also the only place left other than the forest he had yet to search for him. He nodded politely to Zevlor and turned, lumbering up the small trail and through the stream into the dark, quiet space. 

The man’s name was Ko, and each time Halsin looked at him, he felt something stir in his chest. This time was no different. Ko perched within the ancient frame of the west window, each leg dangling carelessly on either side. The moon rose behind him, lining him in silver, like a roguish prince of a bard's tale, slinking through the window to save the maiden. Without his armor, he wore a simple linen tunic modified to be without sleeves, with trousers that were light and made for ease of movement. He had haphazardly tucked in the long length of his shirt into the high waist of his pants, leaving half bunching around his left side as he lounged in the window. His exposed arms bore silvery scars against night-darked skin, skin Halsin knew shone golden in the sun. Ko turned his head at his approach, taking a long swig straight from a bottle of wine. Those deep brown eyes, black in the low light, assessed him quickly, shuttered, and turned away.  

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Halsin murmured, his voice coming forth somewhat awkwardly. Was he nervous? His gaze dropped from the bottle at Ko’s lips to the dozen or so yet untouched at his feet. “Ah, is this the stash of wine Mol believes she can sell off?”  

Ko pursed his lips as he set the bottle down between his legs, “Uh, yeah... I’d appreciate it if you didn’t sell me out to her. She’ll kill me.” He chuckled and then muttered under his breath, “Or try to.” 

He took another generous swig of the wine, the clink of the bottle as it was set back down overly loud between the two of them. His gaze swung back to the camp outside the window, and it seemed to Halsin as though he was sitting in vigil over them all.  

“Oh, and you’re not,” Ko murmured, again lifting that bottle to his lips. 

“Not what?” 

“Intruding,” Ko said simply, softly. 

The corners of Halsin’s mouth lifted slightly as he studied Ko’s profile. His raven hair reflected the moon, worn half up and shorn close to the skin underneath. The shape of his eyes and the roundness of his face marked his Shou Lung heritage, a people that very rarely made their way this far into the wilds of the Coast. Halsin’s eyes caught the flex of muscle in Ko’s arm as he rested his hand on the neck of his wine bottle. That stirring in his chest started up again, his eyes following the bottle up to Ko’s lips as he drank, watching his throat work.  

He mentally shook himself. What had gotten into him?  

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat and leaning against the wall, “Rest assured, I won’t be telling Mol. I learned the hard way with her.” 

Ko’s eyes swung back to him, “Oh?” 

“Why do you think her operation was doing so well? We made a bargain before I left with Aradin.” 

A small chuckle worked up Ko’s throat. He smirked and shook his head, bending down for a new bottle. Halsin now noticed that a few of those bottles were empty.  

“She’s certainly going places, that one.” 

Halsin felt a thud in this chest at Ko’s smirk, despite himself, “Indeed - I certainly won’t stop her.” 

A quiet fell between them, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. Ko looked out at the camp and Halsin looked at him. Ko looked so young. It was hard to conflate the man before him with the man in the goblin dungeon; how that man had, already covered in goblin blood, ruthlessly worked through the beastmaster and worgs at Halsin’s side. How that man had quickly agreed to slaughter the goblin leaders, how their eyes met across the sea of bodies, how Halsin was struck by the rage he saw in them. Ko was so young; how could he have the eyes of one who had seen too much? Eyes he himself saw in his reflection on the hardest days. Yet when they spoke again at the Grove, and here now, he saw something much softer in them. Something easily bruised. 

Halsin’s eyes fell from Ko to the sword propped against the wall at Ko’s hip. It was wrapped in layers of rough cloth, only the ends of the quillon peeking out. He had not noticed it when he entered, but now that he looked upon it, the feeling of dread the sword seemed to leach while unsheathed slithered down Halsin’s spine, raising the hair on the back of his neck. 

“Has the great healer Halsin ever seen a hexblade before?” Ko asked softly, a slight slur slanting his words.  

Halsin’s eyes flicked back up to Ko’s, grateful to be distracted from the oppressive aura of the blade, “I have not, though I have heard tell of them.” He saw bleakness in Ko’s eyes now, resignation, “I thought them legend for a long time.” 

“They are. She has few sisters,” Ko said, referring to the blade. He tilted his bottle up, no longer meeting Halsin’s gaze, as if he couldn’t bring himself to.  

Silence fell between them again, this time notably uncomfortable. Sensing that this probably wasn’t the direction Ko wanted the conversation to flow, Halsin asked, “You fight extraordinarily... had you belonged to a company before your capture?” 

Ko grunted as he lowered the bottle with a clink, resting his hand over the opening. Shaking his head he said, “No, no armies. Got roped into a few militias and mercenary groups over the years though.”  

“Over the years? Were you so young?”  

“I’m much older than I look.” 

“Oh? How old are you? If you don’t mind my asking.” 

Another swig, “I turned sixty about two months ago.” 

Halsin took a moment to process that statement. He had little knowledge of warlock pacts, but he had more knowledge of the Shadowfell than most, and it was said that the hexblade’s powers were of the Shadowfell. Perhaps his patron’s power was keeping him in some state between life and death as part of his pact. He was not surprised that Ko had an unnatural life, but it also seemed like quite the twist of fate that the man he would escort to Moonrise would have such a connection to the dark plane. 

“A gift from your patron?” He asked. 

“Gift is not the word I use, but yes,” he shrugged. 

Halsin decided to navigate that road another time. He was lost in his thoughts, eyes following Ko’s hands. They were nearly unblemished, which was odd for a man who wielded a double-edged sword without a basket. He was staring at the faintest sliver of a scar at Ko’s right wrist when he suddenly realized he was being asked a question.  You came for the wine, right? You can take those bottles,” Ko said, gesturing to a few that remained sealed at his feet. 

“Ah, yes, right.” Halsin stumbled over his words, realizing that he hadn’t exactly given a reason for being there. 

He pushed off the wall and bent to take the three bottles. The clinking as he gathered them into his arm rang through the ruin, loud and awkward. This close he could smell the other man, a pleasant scent that reminded him of rain on stone, of rough surf along the coast. And because he couldn’t help himself, he stayed in Ko’s space as he straightened.  

Towering over him, he could count the freckles over the bridge of Ko’s nose, see the little star-shaped scar at the corner of his mouth. His inhuman vision also caught with painful clarity how his pupils expanded when he met his eyes, swallowing him into the warmest darkness his soul had ever known.  

“I.. Should get back to them.” 

Ko only nodded shallowly, averting his eyes and taking a deep draw from his bottle.  

Halsin struggled to turn away, something like magnetism keeping him close the man, his abdomen flexing with the effort to refrain from leaning toward him. With a gentle clearing of his throat, he mastered himself, retreating through the ruin’s doorway on silent feet. Over his shoulder, he allowed himself one last glimpse of Ko for the night, leaving the warlock haloed by the moon and drenched in wine. 

⁂ 

In the small hours, when the wine finally ran dry and the tieflings left their camp, Ko remained at the window. His mind swam with whispers and wine, but sleep did not come. Sleep rarely came for him. In the darkness of his mind, amidst the echoing memories, the druid’s features passed through often. His hazel eyes left golden flecks in the dark corners, drawing him into a light he didn’t know how to endure. The kindness in his stare was searing, but it kept him company though the night. And across camp, unbeknownst to him, Ko’s own features haunted the druid’s rest as he fruitlessly attempted to push them aside for the journey ahead. 

Next chapter ->

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - A Baldurs Gate Fanfiction

Chapter 5

After about two miles, the waves of nausea begin to hit me again, but I am trying to pull through because I don’t want to feel like a burden. Oddly enough, I never usually feel like I am a burden, despite all the insanity we’ve gone through. I proceed to puke on the ground violently and unexpectedly, feeling much worse than I did before. I clench my stomach with my hands, retching and feeling miserable as hell. When will it ever end?

“Well, that’s not good. Are you okay, soldier?” Karlach asks with clear concern in her voice. I take a deep breath, realizing how starving I am after the horrid vomiting and lack of food in my system. As I bring my body up from the violent retching, I can feel shakiness throughout my nerves and bones.

“I’d be lying if I said I was doing alright. Can we camp? I want to attempt to eat.” Gale and Karlach exchange glances of extreme concern, but then look back at me. Shadowheart and Wyll begin to set up camp so everyone can rest, in hopes this will help me at least a little bit. I hope we’re closer to Baldur’s Gate than I thought, but only time will tell. I close my eyes to take some deep breaths, and all I can visualize is Orin in my face: Death. Blood. Carcass. Skulls. I will split you open and inhale your scent to cure my hunger. I will drag you down back to the Hells and feed on you until you beg to die over and over again. I jump, wondering why her image just showed up in my mind. I think trauma is visiting me again, causing my anxiety to skyrocket and it could be the reason I’ve been so violently sick.

As they set up camp, I sit down to gain the strength again to walk. I sit down by the campfire, and I begin to reminisce about Owlbear and Scratch, who are both living peacefully with our friend Halsin. I keep thinking about how much they played and how happy they were living alongside us. They were more suited to stay with a nature-loving elf who has all the time in the world rather than in a tower with us, though I do hope I get to visit them soon. Believe it or not, those two furry creatures saved my life multiple times.

Gale sits down next to me by the cozy campfire, handing me a pork roast and some potatoes to eat. The cackling of the fire relaxes me, nearly putting me to sleep where I sit. I finally feel my brain ease from tension, relaxing as I stare at the delicious food in front of me.

“Here, I hope you can eat. You need to fill up that stomach of yours,” he says. I managed to take a few bites, which ended up turning into the entire plate. After eating everything handed to me, I begin to feel like a brand new person. Maybe I just need to eat frequently. If that’s been my problem this entire time, I will lose my mind.

“That…helped. Thank you.” Gale smiles, wrapping his arm around me as I drink my water. “Whew. I actually feel great. Thank the Gods.”

“If your only issue was that you were hungry… Well, that’s valid because it’s the same for me,” Karlach says, shrugging. “I’m not me when I’m hungry, though I’d like to say I’m not nearly as dramatic as you are when it comes to food. On that note, I’m so glad that helped you.” I stand up, not feeling nearly as shaky-legged as I was before, and I am actually able to pay attention to the lovely scenery around us. The campfire brightens up the sky, making the area calming and aesthetically pleasing.

“I’m so glad my baby is okay. We still need to figure out what’s going on in those innards of yours though,” Gale says. Shadowheart gives him the stink eye, squirming at the word that makes her feel extreme discomfort. I can’t help but burst out laughing at her disgusted expression.

“Ew, Gale, do not say ‘innards.’ That word gives me the heebie jeebies,” she says. Of course, Karlach has to chime in with her outburst of saying “INNARDS!” Wyll and Shadowheart both roll their eyes and sigh, though Wyll is very much aware of what he signed up for.

“Well, I’m still breathing, despite everything,” I murmur, taking a deep breath as I begin to feel more myself again. “Though I’ve had some very close calls, including today.”

“Well, between the mind flayer tadpole, Astarion biting your neck, Ketheric, Orin, and Gortash, I’d say it’s a damned miracle you’re still alive. Thank the Gods, though.” Wyll has a point. I’m lucky any of us are still alive. Karlach and Gale both had extremely close calls, between her engine nearly blowing up and Gale himself blowing up from the netherese orb.

Gale and I lie down in our tent, curled up but yet comfortable. The sound of crickets chirping is somewhat comforting to listen to as I lay here attempting to sleep. They bring back some sort of nostalgia. It’s been awhile since I’ve had to camp; I’m so used to our bed at home, embraced with our thick, suede comforters with a sleek pillow underneath our heads. As I fall asleep in Gale’s arms, I feel his fingers brush my hair out of my face, relaxing me. He knows how to make me fall asleep with ease, and it’s something he does every night. When he’s anxious, I play with his hair and run my finger down his bare chest delicately.

“Sssh…” he hushes, admiring me as I begin to fall into the deepest of slumbers.

When morning arrives, we immediately get up to pack up our camp and head out. Luckily, we don’t have too much farther to go, but we are rushing through the area that was once the Shadowlands. Maybe on our way back we can admire the new structure and pay our respects to the tieflings that lost their lives trying to find refuge in Baldur’s Gate. As we are walking along the trail, a loud rustling noise is heard behind the bushes nearby. It doesn’t sound like a small animal but rather someone is in hiding, keeping tabs on us. Not the first time someone is being sent to spy on me.

“What the Hells is that?” I ask, looking around us in hopes I can figure out what it was. Could it be a goblin? Maybe what’s left of the Absolute cultists? Surely not, because I remember wiping out all those predatory assholes.

“I swear, if it’s Astarion playing pranks on us, I will lose it,” Karlach chimes in. “I hope that’s what it is, at least.”

“Well, unfortunately he can’t be out in the sunlight or he’ll burn into a crisp. Silly Karlach.”

“You got me there!”

The person – erm, a half-orc – reveals themselves as we try to press forward and to our surprise, they appear to be an unfamiliar face, with nothing but a raggedy white shirt on and ‘face paint’ on their face that seems to be made of blood, resembling the mark of the Absolute. Oh Gods, here we go again.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Karlach groans, leaning her head back as the orc approaches us. I take a few steps back, trying to observe their body and face, making sure I haven’t seen them somewhere before.

“Whoa, uh, who are you?” Gale asks, positioning himself to stand in front of me. The orc’s nostrils flare as they look around the area, as if they’re trying to locate something – or someone – specific. I notice his fists clenching, causing the veins in his arms to bulge through his green flesh.

“I’m looking for…” His voice is deep and ominous, giving me the creeps immediately. He spots me and points directly at my body, giving me a grim smile and knowing damn well who I am somehow.

“Oh Hell,” I say, groaning under my breath. Karlach approaches the orc with a pent-up body posture in an attempt to intimidate the guy, but he doesn’t seem to be a bit threatened.

“Not one of you fucking clowns. We killed your ‘God’ or whatever it was, what else do you want?” She says, growling under her breath. She may be a goofball, but she can also be terrifying to get entangled with. The orc looks at Karlach, holding back laughter. There appears to be some sort of secret he’s hiding, or maybe he’s part of another cult. I study him, noticing a sort of anger hidden in his eyes, or maybe a hunger for control.

“That was just one elder brain. You think there aren’t more? You think this will ever stop? It’s far from over, you ignorant fools,” he growls, getting extremely defensive. “I ought to rip your brains out of your thin, delicious skulls and eat them for dinner tonight unless you submit to the Absolute.” Wyll whispers in Karlach’s ear.

“Is this guy on something?”

“Damn, I really am more trouble than I’m worth apparently,” I say followed with an irritated sigh. This isn’t the first time I had someone demand my presence, nor is it the first time someone is trying to convince me to join their cult.

“No, don’t say that please,” Gale says. “This guy is just delusional. Clearly, there’s no more Absolute and he’s just off his rocker. Though, he does look like he’ll pound our faces in with those angry fists of his. They’re rather beefy.” He appears to be a barbarian like Karlach, judging by his muscles, rage, and the battleaxe on his back. As his nostrils continue to flare, he looks fed up and impatient, ready to attack any second.

The orc tries to charge at me, but Karlach bludgeons him in the torso with her warhammer, causing a massive indention in his stomach and knocking him several feet away from us. He lands on the ground, causing dirt to rise up in the air from the intense impact of his body. He groans loudly in pain, but continues to move regardless. Blood drips from his body as he tries to stand up from the ground. He gets back up on both feet and charges at her like nothing happened, knocking her over on her back in return. Gale then uses the Magic Missile spell, which hurts him pretty badly, and I can tell by the look on his face and body posture that he’s contemplating on giving up. The man looks much tougher than he actually is, lucky for us. He stands up once more, looking defeated but proceeds to glare at us with a disturbing look, his eyes shifting to a blood-red, hungry for blood. It’s as if he’s being controlled, and I don’t doubt it because I have seen this look before. What source is taking over his mind?

“This won’t be the last of me,” he threatens, his voice somehow deeper than before. Wyll then performs Eldritch Blast, causing him to fly back several feet; this time, he didn’t stand up. His deceased body lies there, a necrotic energy escaping every orifice.

“Oh Gods,” Shadowheart says, “now I’m afraid to see what’s going on in Baldur’s Gate now. Hopefully we won’t come across more trouble like that again.”

“As unfortunate as this sounds, it appears someone got ahold of the crown that was given to Mystra,” Wyll chimes in. This just changed everything entirely, leaving us horrified at what’s to come next. Could it be that Mystra could not handle the crown? How could a goddess, especially the Goddess of the Weave, not handle such a powerful artifact? Who would manage to take such a powerful item from such a demanding, potent deity?

[soartfullydone]

Astarion Thing Maybe!! And "I don't like this"

Astarion thing maybe

This is my no doubt shoddy attempt to write a self-indulgent ship with Astarion when I know nothing about Baldur's Gate 3, its plot, or any other characters really. I was inspired by that moment a player found in an earlier patch of the game where Astarion didn't cross the river with the party, so they left him behind on accident. He apparently wouldn't cross unless you made him, and when he did, he took damage besides. I really hope this is something that stays in the game because it's hilarious. This is the scene I've decided to set the fic, turning it into a bigger moment for storytelling and side scene shenanigans. I'm not far with it at all, but I can share a little something.

They really had just left him behind, hadn’t they? Astarion would laugh if he weren’t so offended. Imagine, leaving someone as charming and well-dressed as him behind.

It wasn’t like he felt particularly weepy over it. Their little band had only ever been a means to an end for him, and it was relieving to be free from certain presences. Wyll, with all his honor and straight-forwardness, was insufferable. Lae’Zel was always a mere two steps away from complete savagery that he kept waiting for her to fully devolve back into a fish. Shadowheart wouldn’t know a good time if it waltzed up to her, wearing fashionable leathers and a too-sharp smile. As for Gale… Astarion held back a shudder. He didn’t want to think about everything that was wrong with Gale. Where would he even start?

No, Astarion could confidently say he wouldn’t miss any of them. Their appointed leader, on the other hand…

Ever since his little roll in the sand with Melody Westfire, both of them battling for control over a knife, Astarion had felt a deep-seated amusement towards the human woman. She was fun to tease and rile, even—and, perhaps, especially—whenever she wasted his time by being such a busybody. He supposed part of him would miss that. A much larger part would simply miss being able to undress her with his eyes whenever he wanted.

He would move on soon. For now, Astarion was content to linger here, basking in the sun, his face turned up toward its golden rays. In all his years of living and torture, he’d never thought it would be possible for him to do something so simple as feel the sun, not without causing tremendous pain if not death.

If only the damnable water had gotten the missive.

“There you are!” Ah, so thinking about her had summoned her. Melody’s voice was unmistakable even if it was higher than usual yet still possessing of its sultry quality. She was also short of breath. Delightful. “I’m going to strangle you.”

I don't like this

Why, this is none other than my self-ship fic with Lotor. Y'know, the one I haven't written anything past getting dicked down real good in a very dub-con way? Well, that's not wholly true. There's a good bit of the second chapter written, but then the rest of Voltron happened, and I lost my sense of urgency to continue it. You'll likely recognize it by its official name, Invictus, but its Christian name is I don't like this because that was the fic's opening line, and I decided to save it like that lol. I really should get back to this, though, someday. I had so many plans for it. Lotor, his generals, and all of them being evil together mattered so much to me. Here, have a good chunk of chapter 2 since it's been so long.

“Eventually, Allura or Coran’s going to lock the castle down with how all you paladins keep sneaking out of it without permission.”

“I can blame you this time,” Pidge quipped. “Plus, better to beg forgiveness.”

Suddenly, Melody was somewhere else. She couldn’t move, wasn’t permitted. A claw scraped slowly up her thigh before stopping, and that was an unbearable thing. Beg, pet.

She snapped herself out of it, and if her voice was a little higher pitched than usual, she prayed Pidge didn’t notice. “Hard to believe Hunk turned out to be the responsible one.”

“I know!” Pidge grinned in disbelief, snapping her cases shut with familiar finesse. “I never thought he’d ever be able to hold down his lunch in a simulator let alone a magical space lion.”

Melody helped Pidge carry her equipment as they made their way back to Green, which was sitting just outside, waiting for them. “They grow up so fast.”

Their trip back to the castle was uneventful. Melody wasn’t sure that was a good thing because when she stepped down from the lion, her legs jumped with restlessness.

“There you are!”

Melody and Pidge looked up at Shiro’s approach. Melody bit the inside of her lip. She still hadn’t asked Shiro all the uncomfortable questions she really needed to ask him. With Team Voltron busy with the coalition and some new plan in the works to attack the Empire where it would hurt, there hadn’t been a good time.

“You missed training,” Shiro told Pidge. “Again.”

“It was for a good cause.” Pidge held up her computer case, as if it explained everything. Which, for everyone who was familiar enough with her, it did. Shiro’s eyes visibly softened, and his stance relaxed.

“Did you find anything?” he asked, concerned.

“This was actually my little escapade,” Melody cut in with a rueful sigh, “and no, we didn’t. I thought I’d found a lead on my dad, but I was wrong.”

“Hey, maybe not,” Pidge reminded her. “I still have a good chunk of data to weed through, but it should only take me a few days.” She eyed Shiro pointedly. “Maybe less if I could cut back on a little training…?”

Shiro looked like he wanted to object, but facing both of their imploring faces caused him to relent with a sigh. “Fine, just so long as you launch back into it as soon as you’re done, Pidge. Every day gets us closer to the Blitz, and I need you focused.”

“Yes, sir!” Pidge saluted before grabbing the other suitcase from Melody and running off, no doubt to find her brother and get to work.

Shiro sent Melody an inquiring glance. “Y’know, I’m surprised you haven’t tried to find out what we’re talking about yet.”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m nosy?” She smiled to ease any sharpness in her words.

Shiro smiled back, a warm little expression that made her feel like she’d won something she didn’t entirely deserve. “No, it’s just— Well, yeah, I guess so. It’s just you’re usually a lot more investigative. And vocal about strategy. I’ve missed it.”

He was dancing around the issue of her capture. Melody had come back different from the experience, she knew she had, but still, she’d let Shiro dance if he didn’t want to ask her directly. She didn’t want to talk about it.

“Loose lips,” she told him. “Whatever attack you’re planning for the Galra, it’s best that it doesn’t spread too quickly before it’s finalized. Besides, not much I could do to help anyway. I don’t have a ship right now.”

“Actually, about that.” Shiro gestured for her to walk with him. “Allura and I just got something we thought you might like.”

Melody arched a brow and followed. “A gift from the coalition?”

“One of many.” Shiro grinned, leading her towards the castle’s ship hanger which was separate from where they stored the Lions. “Though, this one’s a little more personal. Kolivan must still feel bad about what happened because he donated an old ship he doesn’t need anymore.”

Melody smiled back. “Dude. I love free shit.” Their high-five was the definition of camaraderie.

The ship was small, easily manned by one person though it had room for around four other ship hands to comfortably live. The Blades must have used it for smuggling in the past, for it was already equipped with a false floor, leading to a storage area. Space was cramped, sitting room only, but people or crates of supplies and weapons could fit down there for a short while.

Shiro walked with her through the brief corridors, which led to two bunked sleeping quarters, a small mess and living space, two turrets, the captain’s quarters, and finally the cockpit, where Shiro showed her how to power on the ship along with the controls. Melody was grateful for his assistance because the controls were mostly unlabeled, but the ones that weren’t along with the text appearing on the viewport were in Galran.

Her Galran speech was okay. She could understand most of it that was spoken to her. Reading it was another matter she hadn’t dedicated much time to, and this ship clearly once belonged to the Empire before it belonged to the Blades.

By the time the tour was finished and Melody felt comfortable with the controls, she felt as giddy as if it were Christmas morning.

“Thank you guys, really.” With a dark look, she grumbled, “I’ve been beyond pissed that Lotor took my old ship.”

“Yeah, um, I’ve been meaning to ask…” Shiro turned to her fully now, frowning. “Have you… Are you okay?”

If he hadn’t been looking at her so intently, Melody would have taken a huge inhale and exhale. Instead, she crossed her arms and shrugged. “Sure, never better. Why?”

“It’s just… Ever since we found you, you’ve seemed a little off. Especially whenever Lotor’s brought up.” Shiro’s eyes glanced above her head, scanning the hanger as if he were searching it for the right words to say. “It’s obvious you hate him, especially after being captured by him, and no one here’s his biggest fan on a good day, but did anything else happen?” Shiro’s eyes found hers, their gray depths shadowed with disquiet. Even though they were alone, he lowered his voice. “Did he hurt you?”

Had he hurt her? What was the definition of that word in this case? Was it synonymous with change, and if so, had she been changed because of him, because of what he’d done? Did that change harm her, making her into something somehow less than what she’d been before?

Beneath her arm, her left fist clenched. Hell no, it didn’t. It just pissed her off.

“He was surprisingly accommodating, actually.” A simple half-truth. “He handled interrogations himself because there weren’t any druids aboard his ship. I got the distinct impression he doesn’t care much for them. I don’t think he expected me to escape which was why nothing worse happened to me than confinement. He thought he had more time.”

Melody shrugged again and uncrossed her arms, bracing one hand on her hip. A cocky smile spread across her face. “That’s what he gets for underestimating us humans. I suppose I’m just acting weird because I keep thinking what might’ve happened if I hadn’t escaped. I’ll try to get over that.”

“Take your time,” Shiro said with an uncertain smile, though he was also relieved. “I just wanted to check on you. No one expects total normalcy after an experience like that.”

Because he’d given her the opening, Melody decided now was the time to go through with it. “There was something he let slip that I’ve been thinking about.”

Melody turned and leaned her back against the hull of the ship. Her ship now. She did release that sigh then. “I don’t mean to pry into your past, Shiro, but when you were captured…” She waited for him to stop her. When he didn’t, just continued listening with a sober stillness, she continued, “Did you ever hear the guards or anyone mention something called the Galra Killer?”

Shiro’s shoulders loosened slightly, probably because the question hadn’t actually been about him. His gaze bored into the floor between their feet as he thought. “I’m… I’m not sure. My time in the arena is still mostly fuzzy.” He raised his head. “I can’t say off the top of my head I remember the name, no, but I can try to remember. Do you think it’s something—or someone—who would be willing to help us?”

“With a name like Galra Killer, probably. Given they’re still alive.”

Melody’s heart had been pounding waiting for his response, but now… She couldn’t tell whether or not she was relieved or disappointed that Shiro hadn’t been able to confirm her suspicions. That not only was she, Melody, this Galra Killer as Lotor had claimed, but that somehow her path had crossed with Shiro’s. They had similar gaps in their memories, some of her missing time overlapping with his. She’d been found with serious physical traumas like Shiro had once had, though at least she still had all the parts she’d been born with.

Maybe it’s for the best he didn’t recall anything. She wanted to put her time with Lotor to rest anyway, so what did his claims matter in the end?

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Pretty Thoughts

Chapter Four: A Hand of Caution

-dragonswithjetpacks

Notes: No summary. Just another chapter to the retell. I did space this out a bit. I got to the point I just wanted to write the conversation and details more than I did the in-betweens. Plus I just finished the bite scene and am really excited to get it up so I’m impatient.

Read here on Ao3.

Ferelith jumped, her feet landing hard on the rock surface below. She felt a shift and a piece crumbled off, rolling down the steep hill toward the river. It was close, but she remained unscathed. Taking another step forward, she felt the ground rumble. Her eyes widened. The front half of the cliff began to roll forward. She jumped backward, sliding to the side and losing balance. She reached up to grab the rock wall behind her. But felt the firm grasp of a hand. She looked up seeing Astarion reaching down with another hand. She grabbed it, feeling the rest of the dirt turn loose under her feet. She kicked up, walking up the wall as he pulled her. It seemed to be safe until she reached the top, rocks tumbling followed by the collapse at the base. She staggered for a moment, only brought back to balance with a hand on her shoulder. Her hand reached out, hitting him in the chest. But he had caught her. And she was stable once again. They looked over the edge, watching the rocks tumble down to the river below.

"You should be more careful," he chided her quietly.

Ferelith's head snapped, feeling the need to lash out from her insecurities. Her strength was not in her hands and she had lost a moment of grace. But she certainly did not recall asking for help. And she was ready to inform him he had caught her a moment to soon when she saw the concern on his face. It made her hesitate, and though he did seem quite distressed, she was fascinated by the idea of Astarion caring. Not that he hadn't put for the effort before. But it always came as a bit of a shock when he did.

"Ferelith!"

She pulled herself with a frustrated groan, much to the satisfaction of her savior. Looking back down, Lae'zel was shouting up the bank. She, along with Gale, had safely made it to the water's edge where Ferelith and Astarion could see them.

"I'm alright," she replied.

"This path is out of commission, I think," Gale called up. "That slide took out any way down from there."

"Shit," Ferelith mumbled under her breath. "Alright. Just... Just wait there. We'll find another way."

"Not a problem," he gave a salute from below.

Ferelith dusted her gloves off on her pants and grumbled as she scraped the mud that had caked on her boots onto a nearby tree. Astarion watched, only grateful that it was her and not him who had slid down the hill.

"I suppose I should thank you," she turned to him when she was finished, still full of irritation.

"I suppose you should," he crossed his arms.

Astarion waited, but the roll of her eyes accompanied by a half smile told him he would not be receiving such gratitude today.

"We should get moving," she stated.

"That didn't sound appreciative at all," he complained, remaining at a standstill.

"It wasn't supposed to."

"Oh, well it's a shame that my hand might just slip the next time you need someone to catch you."

"I don't need you to catch me," she stuck her chin out as she walked by. "Besides, if it wasn't for my footing, I would have drug you into that river with me."

"That would be unwise," he pitched in behind her.

"Little choice you have when taking my hand."

"Yes, I suppose I'll have to remind myself of the never ending uncertainty that follows you."

"Ah, but what fun would it be if you were certain?" she grinned, spinning around with her arms out while taking a few steps backward.

"Aha..." he chuckled, trotting behind her and watching the waves of her hair bounce as she turned her back to him. "That is a fair point. And, say, where does this hand hand take me now?"

"To find a way down. To rejoin the others," she panted while hiking up the steep hillside.

"Just you and I? Through the forest?" he came to a sudden halt.

"Is that a problem?" Ferelith stopped as well when she had gotten solid footing.

"No," he shook his head. "No complaints here."

"Then let's go," she motioned to the forest floor up the hill above them.

With a heavy sigh, he prepared himself for a hike he had not anticipated that morning. "After you... my lady..."

**********************************************************************

"So," Astarion breathed heavily as they had been walking quietly for several minutes through forest. "You're from Baldur's Gate."

"I am," Ferelith replied, walking a good few feet ahead, focused on their trek.

"Any... family?"

She stopped, turning around to look at him curiously. "Are you making small talk to fill the silence?"

"No," he frowned while shaking his head. "Maybe I want to know more about you."

Ferelith scrunched her nose. "No you don't."

"Sure I do," he waved his hands. "We've known each other four at least three days, now. And you've barely said a thing."

"I know very little of you and I don't have any issues with it,"  she waited for him to catch up.

"But you do know a little."

"I'm not that interesting," she replied, still making her way up the hill.

"I disagree. I think you're fascinating. And that you're lying."

She stopped again, turning around so fast he nearly ran into her.

"You think I'm lying?" she followed the question with a laugh before resuming her walk.

"Tell me how boring you are, then. What did you do in Baldur's Gate?"

"I was a book keeper."

"Book keeper?" he responded in a disgusted way. "That does sound boring. Family business?"

"No."

"Do you have family?"

"No."

"Friends?"

"One or two."

"Sweethearts?"

"Definitely not."

"Shame," he muttered under his breath.

"Are you done with your interrogation?"

"If I must," there was a long drawn out sight between his words. "I only thought if we were alone we could make some use of it."

Ferelith came to a stop in the middle of the trail. There was something off to the side in the brush. Something that had been covered poorly. As she approached it, there was something strange about the way it was arranged. She uncovered it to find a boar, perfectly healthy but quite dead.

"That's strange," she looked over it.

Astarion, who approached but remained a bit of distance away, crossed his arms.

"The pig's dead, my friend. Staring at it won't bring it back. Come," he beckoned her, drawing her attention back to himself. "We'll never stop these brainworms if we stop and gawked at every piece of carrion you find."

The change in his tone alarmed her. He did not seem so rushed before. No, he seemed invested. It struck her as odd he would be ushering her along. She looked back down to the boar, noticing it had not been dead for very long. Not even a day. And there were two small marks at it's neck.

"You don't find this remarkably odd... at all?"

"No," he shrugged. "Is it not dead enough for you?"

"Look at the damn boar, Astarion," she motioned in front of her. "Don't you see anything?"

She watched carefully as he stepped closer to her, looking down at the dead beast. His shoulders relaxed. He took a deep breath with a look of defeat.

"It's been drained of blood with wounds it's neck," he pointed out.

The shift in tone. The distracting conversation. Ferelith crossed her arms.

"You're not tell me something."

"I..." he hesitated. "It's been killed by a vampire."

"A vampire?" she rose her brow in disbelief.

"I didn't want to say anything," he said solemnly. "Because I didn't want to worry you. They are ferocious creatures."

"And you know about vampires?" her head tilted to the side.

"I do, unfortunately," he nodded. "But don't worry. I'll keep watch tonight. We won't have to worry about nocturnal visitors. Now please, let's go."

He motioned her forward with his hands.

"Why? Does this bother you?" she asked, looking back down to the boar.

"Not at all," he shook his head with a convincing grin. "I just want to keep moving. Before it gets dark."

Astarion was right. The sun was starting lower itself from the center of the sky. If she wanted to search the forest, she would have to move quickly in order to get to camp before nightfall. She looked over the boar one last time. But saw nothing else unusual. And even though she was unsure of her companion's intentions, she was still not convinced he was guilty of anything at all. While his strange behavior was enough for her to pause, it was not enough at all for accusations to be thrown. She left it to the thought that perhaps there was something more to him he was not yet willing to share. And for that... she did not blame him.

"Alright," she nodded. "Let's find the others."

***********************************************************************

"Still awfully steep, isn't it?" Astarion looked down the path.

"It's not too bad," Gale shrugged. "At least it's not as far down. Or covered in mud."

"I'm tired of waiting," Lae'Zel sighed. "Either get down here or I'm going in the cave alone."

"No need to rush," Astarion sighed.

With a few hops, he managed to climb down the rocky path. The soil was by far more sturdy and he barely felt the rocks shifting beneath his feet at all. It was as if the stones were placed there like stairs for that very purpose. He smiled with a bit of relief, eyeing the stream running nearby. He was glad they found the bridge when they did in order to cross over. Lae'zel wasn't too please with crossing through the river, but it was most amusing listening to her curse as her boots were drenched in the cold water. Ferelith followed behind him shortly, though not as quick as she was not nearly as nimble. She was however, graceful with steps. Her stance was well balanced. And they all watched as she carefully made her way down. Lae'Zel and Gale eventually turned, assuming she would be close behind. As reached the bottom, Astarion held his hand to her to bring onto the bank. She looked at it suspiciously.

"I know you don't need it," he said softly to where she would be the only one to hear. "But with your optimistic promise of uncertainty, I'll gladly offer a hand where it seems fit."

"Strangely charming of you," she eyed his hand carefully. "But what sort of guide would I be if I declined?"

She rested her hand in his, feeling his hand gripping hers, and suddenly, she felt a swirl of old memories. The tadpole was stirring something inside her. She was on a marble staircase. Coming down, she could see the back of someone. They turned, but she couldn't quite make the face. Then they held out their hand. The hand that she was holding... the face that appeared... Astarion... She took it stepping down from the last stair into a room filled with debutantes. But their eyes were only on each other. Reality flashed back into a burst of greenery around her. But he was still there, his brow lowering out of of concern as her eyes filled with bewilderment. He felt the weight of her in his hand and he, too, caught a glimpse of his own life that was once more luxurious. However, the moment her feet touched the ground, their fantasy disappeared. And they stood staring at one another on the bank of unknown forest floor.

"A cautious one," he finally replied as things cleared around them.

She took her hand back, her fingers gliding across his palm, his skin holding onto her warmth for as long as it could. She looked at him a bit longer, wanting to question his statement but unwilling to be left behind. He thought it best to leave her in silence and wait until she was ready to press forward. Ferelith shifted her attention to her other comrades. And they pressed forward once again. She was unsure of what sort of connection had been made. But it the familiarity in the moment was all too disturbing.

[warlock-enthusiast]

“Did I ask?”

Fictober day 20

Prompt number: 20

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3

Rating: E

Warnings/Summary: This is Halsin smut with my half-elf cleric Sile

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

Sile brushed out her hair and kept her armor off. She’d put on some clean underthings and a tunic instead, which showed off her bosom and hips. No needs for pants now, not with a mission as important as this one.

Gale’s voice sounded sleepy as he rolled around to watch her. “Maybe not the best idea to fraternize with our resident Druid?”

“Did I ask?” She wasn’t in the mood for a discussion about her morals and life choices. As of now, she just longed for a bit of peace and enjoyment. With a tadpole still latched into her brain, time seemed awfully short.

The wizard rolled around and waved at her. “No, just offering some friendly advice for my favourite half-elf.”

Somewhere Shadowheart groaned and pretended to be asleep.

No love lost between those too.

With a night as deep and dark as this, she felt excitement creeping through her body. Only a few stars lightened the sky, but her elven heritage offered a clear view of their camp and surroundings. All of them slept peacefully or meditated in Astarion's case.

Sile found him standing close to the water, broad back tense. “Halsin?”

“Yes?”

Sile took a look over her shoulder, making sure that no one slept in close proximity, and just went for it. She had to go on her tiptoes to lick his neck. Halsin smelled like musk and forests and thankfully didn’t push her away. Sile felt his hesitation, though. It lasted for a few seconds, before his hands found her hips. Fingers digged into her skin. Heat rose between them.

He lifted her up without missing a blink. Sile crossed her legs around his middle and let herself be carried to his bedroll.

They hadn’t talked about this or flirted. Well, not that much to be fair. Still, it had worked and she would never complain about a lack of romance.

Halsin’s bedroll didn’t offer any softness and neither did he. He pulled Sile’s tunic over her head and followed her movements. Cold air hit her and she decided against complaining or using some spell to warm the air. Halsin seemed enough to quench any shivering.

His strong body offered a fair share of scars as did hers and Halsin put his hand between her legs, finding her already wanting. Sile trembled beneath his touch and bit her lip to suppress a moan. Gale probably guessed what they were doing and yeah, why not. At least something to gossip about in the morning.

Sile’s fingers held his neck as he leaned down to place kisses and tender bites on her skin. His lips closed around her breast and another jolt of pleasure ran through her. Halsin left marks there and growled quietly. She still saw the smile waiting in the corner of his eyes, now more a subtle joy at finding her naked beneath him.

With a few strokes, he'd already brought her close to finish. It’d been too long and too lonely and her body just wanted to get it done. His fingers seemed rough and far too strong for someone that used magic in most battles.

“Halsin!” He smiled and positioned himself between her legs, keeping her knees apart.

A single push and she felt him inside her. Thick, hot, Sile closed her eyes and lifted her lips. He teased her with slow, drawn-out movements, almost pulling out and Sile dug her fingers tighter into his neck. It was enough to convince Halsin to go harder and cover her with his body. Skin against skin, every thought of cold vanished from her mind.

He supported Sile’s hips and closed his eyes, while leaning in for a kiss.

Their first.

Something about it felt crude and needy and Sile felt her orgasm building with his tongue pressing against her own and his lips stealing her breath. He moaned and growled and thrusted faster, harder. His powerful body moved in unison with hers.

Halsin finished inside her after minutes, which seemed to turn to hours. She followed, finding herself enjoying the rhythmic pulsing and stickiness of all.

Sile needed a few seconds to calm her mind and senses. Her skin seemed on fire, her thoughts muddled and exhausted. “I sleep here?”

Halsin moved and laid down at her side, one hand covering her breasts, the other wrapped around her waist. “Yes, of course.”