#nightsong x tav

[nocturnalcharm]

Taking Care of You (Dame Aylin x Fem!Tav x Isobel)

𐙚 prompt: (Act 2 Spoilers*) After Dame Aylin kills Lorroakan, Isobel and Tav take care of her. 𐙚 cw: poly relationship?, normal bg3 violence, 𐙚 a/n: smut will be in part 2! i haven’t had a lot of time to write so i wanted to get something out there! thank u for ur patience

18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.

“Aylin!” You rushed back to camp, headed straight for Isobel and Aylin.

While they were resting, you and some others went out to explore Baldur’s Gate while you had the chance. You wanted to do some shopping, stocking up on potions and such, when you found a big store called ‘Sorcerous Sundries’.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Aylin immediately looked worried.

You could tell by her voice how anxious she was due to your tone and frazzled nature. You didn’t want her or Isobel to get too upset by what you had to say, so you tried to calm down before continuing. “I was at this store, and there was this wizard named Lorroakan. Um... Do you know him?”

“What happened? Did he hurt you?” She rushed over to you, grabbing your hands, giving your body a onceover, checking you for injuries.

“No. He, um.. He said he knows you.” They both could tell that there was more than you were letting on.

“Sweetheart.” Isobel said, seriously. “What do you mean?”

“He wants to.. trap you.” You turn to Aylin. “Trap the Nightsong. And use your powers to keep himself immortal.. We need to stay clear of his shop.”

“Stay away? Dame Aylin will do more than stay away!” She turns, grabbing her glaive. Her wings spread, perked up at the thought of a fight.

“We will kill him!” Isobel's voice growls.

“No!” Aylin interjects. “No. I will kill him. You two will stay here. I will not have either of you getting injured.”

“No, please, let’s just ignore him! I didn’t tell you this so you would go kill him. I told you so we could be sure to stay away from him.” You cried out. “He is crazy! If he knows where you are, or if you fight him and lose—”

Aylin grabs your shoulders. Her eyes meet yours. “I will not fail. You two will stay here, and I will go with the others.”

You look over at Isobel, trying to decipher what she thinks. She looks defeated, knowing that Aylin won’t stand down.

“But what if—” You try again.

“Love, I will not fail.”

You paused, waiting to see if she’d change her mind, but to no avail. “Fine. Just.. please be safe.”

“Please.” Isobel emphasizes, handing her helmet over.

Aylin kisses you, then Isobel, before sliding her helmet on and disappearing from camp.

***

Hours later, the party still hadn’t returned. The sky went from a baby blue, to a dark midnight, only worrying you and Isobel more.

“I hate this.” Isobel rants, pacing around the camp. “It’s been hours and we don’t know if she’s okay. If any of them are okay!”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You picked at your fingers, nervously.

“Don't blame yourself, Sweetheart. You’re not the evil, psychotic wizard after the one we love.” She tries to joke, attempting to lighten the mood.

Just as she does, you hear rustling in the woods behind you. “Aylin!” You call out, hopeful.

“Yes.” She finally comes into view from the campfire at your feet. You and Isobel rush over to her, embracing her in a tight hug.

“Are you okay? Are you injured?” It was your turn to check her for wounds. “You’re bleeding.”

“No, my love. It’s not my blood. It’s his.” Her voice was… off.

“Is he dead?” Isobel asks, wearily.

Aylin nods. She walks over to a log, sitting on it, staring at the campfire in a daze.

“Are you okay?” You question, and she stays silent.

“Sweetheart?” Isobel places a hand on her shoulder, and again, she is quiet, unmoving.

You and Isobel look at each other, brows furrowed in anxiety. “Don’t worry.” She finally speaks up again. “We’ll take care of you.”

She walks over to your tent, grabbing a healing potion and making her drink it until it was gone. You also stroll to the tent, grabbing some water and fruit to help her settle her stomach, that was probably in knots.

Aylin downs the health potion in one go, followed by the water, then takes a few bites from an apple. While she eats, you and Isobel rub her back gently, and stroke her hair, just wanting her to know you two are here for her. She normally didn’t act like this after a fight; It was odd. She didn’t seem to have any physical injuries at all, so the only conclusion was that the fight hurt her mentally.

You were unsure of how to comfort her, as that was never a strong suit of yours. You let Isobel take the lead, and you followed her actions. Isobel could tell you feel guilty, as if this was your fault, but it wasn’t. And that’s not what mattered right now. This was about Aylin, and you couldn’t let your self-pitying get in the way of taking care of the one you love.

“Why don’t we go to the lake? The water is warm, it’ll ease your muscles and help you relax. You can clean up, get that blood off of you” Isobel offered.

“That sounds nice.” Aylin finally spoke up.

You quickly grabbed three sets of camp clothes, and a few other things you thought you might need, and headed out to the lake. It was secluded, with only one entrance to the water. Other than that, the edges were covered with tall trees, dripped in vines and moss, and berry bushes. You knew you wouldn’t be bothered by others.

Once you arrived, Isobel started to help Aylin undress, removing her armor for her. She handed the pieces off to you, and you gently set them down on a tree stump a few feet away.

Once she was bare, you and Isobel also undressed. With one of you on each side, you took her hands and walked with her into the lake. As you sunk deeper into the water, you could feel Aylin’s body ease in the tepid water.

After minutes of silence, just filled with the sound of water and rustling trees, you finally asked Aylin if she wanted to talk about what happened.

“No. I’m fine. I just feel… different. I should be happy, killing a man who wanted to imprison the Nightsong yet again, but I’m not happy. At least, I don’t think I am. I feel numb.”

“You might be in shock.” Isobel suggests.

“I’m sure that’s what it is. After a bit of time, this feeling will go away and I’ll be back to normal.”

You rubbed her arms, in a comforting way, but also in an attempt to rid her body of Lorroakan’s blood. Isobel left the lake, only to return with an empty bottle. She filled it with water and poured it down the back of Aylin’s head, to wash away the red stains that were in her blonde hair.

Aylin had a slight smile across her face now, since she was safe with the women she loved; Her smile looked quite genuine. “I’m ready to head back, now.”

Once you were all back to the tent, dried off and cozy, you offered to give Aylin a massage to relax her even further, and she accepted. While you kneaded her aching limbs, Aylin let soft moans slip through her lips. Piquing your interest, you massaged her body deeper, wanting to draw out the moans even more.

Aylin laughed slightly, “You’re doing that on purpose, now. Aren't you?”

You smiled, “I just like to hear you. It lets me know you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I can enjoy myself in other ways, too.” She winked.

[moonselune]

Hello again! I am the person who asked about isobel and dame aylin, I dont mind if you do the request separately or poly. Moon girlies rise up!

poly, immediately poly, definitely no self insertion here, this definitely did not cause a minor crisis in what I want in life

Moon Lesbians x reader | All ours

You found yourself spending more and more time with Isobel and Dame Aylin. It began with shared meals and quiet conversations under the stars, moments filled with laughter and the warmth of genuine companionship. You never expected these interactions to turn into something more, something deeper. But as the days turned into weeks, the connection between the three of you grew undeniable.

One evening, you were sitting by the campfire, the flames casting a golden glow over Isobel's serene face and Dame Aylin's fierce yet tender gaze. You were recounting a particularly humorous tale from your adventures, and they both leaned in, their interest evident. As you finished your story, Aylin reached out, her hand brushing yours.

"You have a way with words," she said, her voice low and filled with admiration.Isobel, sitting on your other side, smiled softly.

"And a way with hearts, it seems," she added, her eyes sparkling.

You felt a rush of warmth at their compliments, but there was something more in their eyes, something that made your heart beat a little faster. Before you could fully process it, Isobel leaned closer, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered, "We've been talking, Aylin and I. And we both feel… something special with you."

Aylin's hand tightened around yours, and she nodded. "We want to explore this connection, if you're open to it. Together."

Your mind raced, but your heart already knew the answer. You nodded, unable to keep the smile from your face. "I would love that."

From that moment, the three of you were inseparable. Isobel's gentle touch and Aylin's protective embrace became your new normal. Nights were filled with tender kisses and whispered stories, mornings with shared smiles and intertwined hands. It was a relationship built on mutual respect and deep affection, a perfect blend of warmth and passion.

However, one day while you were in a nearby town gathering supplies, a stranger approached you, his eyes lingering a little too long, his words dripping with flirtation. You tried to brush it off, but you could feel Isobel and Aylin's eyes on you, their jealousy palpable.

Back at camp, the tension was thick. As soon as you were within the safety of your tent, they closed in on you, their expressions a mix of possessiveness and affection. Aylin was the first to speak, her voice a low growl. "Who does he think he is, trying to flirt with you?"

Isobel stepped closer, her hands gently cupping your face. "You belong to us," she said softly, but there was an undeniable edge to her words.

You couldn't help but smile at their jealousy. "I'm yours," you reassured them. "Only yours."

Their tension melted away, replaced by an overwhelming need to show you just how much you meant to them. Aylin's lips found yours in a possessive kiss, her hands roaming over your body, while Isobel's touch was softer, but no less insistent.

They took turns lavishing you with affection, their touches and kisses a silent promise that you were loved and cherished. Aylin's strong arms wrapped around you, her lips trailing down your neck as she whispered, "No one else can have you."

Isobel's hands were gentle, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin as she kissed you deeply.

"We'll always protect you," she murmured. "Always."

The night was filled with their love, their possessiveness a reminder of just how deeply they cared for you. You felt safe, cherished, and completely adored. As the dawn broke, you lay between them, your heart full. Isobel's head rested on your chest, her breaths even and peaceful, while Aylin's arm was draped protectively over you both.

In that moment, you knew that this was where you belonged. With Isobel and Dame Aylin, you had found a love that was fierce and tender, protective and all-consuming. And as long as you were together, nothing could ever come between you.

I LOVE THESE LESBIANS GODDAMN GIVE ME 20 OF THEM - Seluney xox

[hellcatalex1]

Part 1 -A Time for Celebration (Unbinding the Curse)

Astarion x Female Elf Durge

Post game, one year after the fall of the nether-brain, spawn Astarion, rejected bhaal durge

Triggers: Blood, adult language, adult themes consensual blood drinking , fluff, alcohol, getting drunk, trauma.

One year had passed since the fall of the nether brain. You and Astarion had journeyed across Faerûn, exploring the Sword Coast and beyond, to cities unknown and even finding your way to the enchanting hills and valleys of Evereska, home to a predominantly elven population. As elves yourselves, you delved into the rich elven culture and even rescued a member of the Evereska city council, though not without Astarion cheekily demanding a reward.

A wave of homesickness washed over you both after a year of ceaseless adventuring. Deciding to settle down for a while, you chose Baldur's Gate, where, as a hero of the city, Duke Ulder Ravengard generously offered you a home in the prestigious Upper City. Occasionally, you would lend a hand around the city, helping the good people of Baldur's gate. The city was still rebuilding after the illithid attack. There was plenty to do. On a quiet evening as the sun set and the merchants packed away their wares, your night was just beginning.

You slowly opened your eyes to the gentle flicker of a candle in the corner of your dimly lit bedroom, its windows boarded shut to protect Astarion from the sunlight. The sounds of the city outside dwindled as the evening deepened. Stretching languidly, you felt Astarion's arm tighten around your waist, pulling you into a warm embrace. His lips brushed against your neck, and you couldn't help but giggle at the ticklish sensation.

"Sorry, darling, I just can't help myself," he murmured, peeking over your shoulder. You turned to face him, his crimson eyes gleaming in the candlelight. His white curls were adorably tousled from sleep, and his smile radiated warmth and contentment. He had never looked more beautiful, peaceful, happy. You gaze into his eyes and run your fingers through his hair. As he gently pinned you to the bed, his lips hovered over yours before capturing them in a kiss that sent shivers down your spine.His tongue begs for entrance and you allow his tongue into your mouth. His tongue dancing with your own. His hands slowly pull the blanket down off your legs and glides his fingers up back up along your thighs.

His touch was electrifying as you savored every moment, wishing time would stand still. Over the past year, Astarion had opened up to you completely, learning to love and trust again. You had been there every step of the way, from stargazing in open fields to comforting him after nightmares of his past, whispering reassurances that he was loved and safe from Cazador's grasp. Getting over 200 years of trauma isn't easy but loving you was. Having you along side him to help fight his demons. And you would kill any bastard that tried to hurt him.

Pulling away from the kiss, Astarion gazed into your eyes, cupping your chin to draw you into another soft peck. You smiled at him, feeling a surge of love. How you loved this man.

"So, what shall we do with our night? Defy the gods again, save the world?" he teased.

You giggled, considering his playful suggestion. "Hmm, as tempting as that sounds, how about a walk instead? The skies are clear tonight, and the full moon should make for a lovely stroll."

He pouted slightly. "Not as fun, but with you, anything is delicious." He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, placing kisses up to your jaw. You tilted your head, pulling down the collar of your nightgown to expose more of your neck. "Go ahead, my love," you invited, giving him permission to feed.

Smiling, he placed another tender kiss on your lips. "Thank you, my sweet," he whispered, before sinking his teeth gently into your skin. The intimacy of the moment made you feel closer to him than ever. His feeding was always gentle, ensuring he never took too much. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he showed his gratitude, and you felt completely safe with him.

It still hurt a little of course but nothing compared to the first time he bit you at camp. Your blood was the first taste he had ever drank from a thinking creature. You remember the night vividly. The pain, the pleasure and the adrenaline you felt from it. Since your time together you have allowed Astarion to feed on you many times to help keep up his strength and keep him clear headed. There was no way in hell you would let him be hungry enough for blood to drink from rodents and vermin ever again.

When he finally pulled away, he licked a drop of your blood from the corner of his mouth. "As always, you taste divine," he said with a satisfied smile. You nodded, accustomed to the slight soreness in your neck.

"How are you feeling, darling? Do you need a moment?" he asked, concerned.

"No, I'm fine, love. But I should probably eat something soon. How about a trip to the Elf Song Tavern?" you suggested.

"Of course, darling," he agreed, rising from the bed to dress for the night.

Venturing at night had its ups and downs, the Baldurs Gate Market was always closed but of course the elf song was open, filled with the town drunks and drunken soldiers. The elf-song didn't have the best of food late at night but you made do. You didint really have a choice. Maybe one of these days you would go out in the morning and buy fresh baked goods for the house. You tried not to go out during the day. You were in this life with Astarion all the way. If he wasn't able to see the sun then you wouldn't either. You didn't see him for a few weeks after the brain fell. On the docks when the tadpoles influence was gone, you saw your love being burned by the thing he loved just as much as he loved you. How it broke your heart to see him run into the shadows. But you knew he needed time alone to process things and he would eventually find you.

You get up off the bed and also start getting dressed for your night. A little while later, you both exit to leave the house when you see a letter on the ground. "Hm, what's this?" You say as you pick up the letter. Carefully tearing open the letter you pull out a fine quality invitation. The invitation had beautiful intricate designs. On the invitation it read.

"You have been cordially invited to witness the love and union of Dame Aylin and Isobel Thorm. Celebrate with food and drinks and music. The celebration will be held in the newly built Last Light Inn on the 10 of Murtel.

May The Moon Maiden Guide you,

Aylin and Isobel."

You show the letter to Astarion and both agree you will be attending. The next night you both leave Baldurs Gate to make your way to the old haunt formerly known as the shadowlands.

A few days later, you arrive at Reithwin Town, a place once known as the Shadowlands. But now, it's almost unrecognizable. Where there was once darkness and decay, there is now a vibrant tapestry of life. Verdant plants stretch out in every direction, with trees heavy with blossoms and fruit, their branches swaying in the gentle breeze. Flowers stand tall, their colors vivid and rich, painting the landscape with hues of renewal. Above, the sky, once thick and oppressive, now gleams with a clarity that reveals a tapestry of twinkling stars. The moon hangs large and luminous, as if Selûne herself is casting her benevolent gaze upon the town, blessing it with her light. A warmth spreads through you as you take in the transformation, your thoughts drifting to the battle with Ketheric Thorm, the search for Thaniel, and the liberation of the captives at Moonrise. Every bloom, every shining star, stands as a testament to what you’ve accomplished.

“All of this... because of us,” you whisper, the words almost lost in the night.

“It’s certainly an improvement,” Astarion quips, his voice laced with mischief. “And look, there are even delicious little snacks scurrying about,” he adds, eyeing the rabbits and squirrels darting between the trees. You playfully roll your eyes at his comment.

You chuckle softly. “Come on, the ceremony will start soon. We don’t want to be late.”

Together, you and Astarion make your way toward the Last Light Inn, taking note of the freshly carved signs along the path. The main road, once closed off, now hums with life again, the marks of wagon wheels and horse hooves telling tales of revived trade and travel.

As you cross the familiar bridge leading to the Last Light Inn, the memories of what was and the hope of what’s to come intertwine, filling you with a sense of purpose and pride.

You and Astarion arrive at the familiar bridge leading into last light inn.

"What once was a refuge from the cursed darkness, now a beacon of light, where hero's have rested and enemies vanquished. Welcome to the Last Light Inn."

The plaque on the sign leading into the inn gleams with a freshly inscribed message, the metal polished to a bright sheen. As you cross the bridge, the gentle murmur of the stream below reaches your ears, its soothing sound a stark contrast to the chaos this place once held. Before you, rows of chairs are neatly arranged, all facing a beautifully crafted wooden arch adorned with delicate white blossoms that seem to glow in the soft light. A small crowd has gathered in the courtyard, and the once-dry fountain now bubbles with life, its waters catching the light as they dance.

As you scan the gathering, you spot familiar faces. Harpers and Flaming Fists who had stood with you in the battle against Ketheric Thorm, and others clad in the serene robes of Selûne’s followers. And there, among them, are your cherished companions, the ones who had fought beside you against the Absolute, the ones whose struggles you had shared and whose burdens you had helped lift. Shadowheart,now Jenevelle, stands among them, as do Gale Dekarios, Minsc of Rashemen, Jaheira the High Harper, and the former Archdruid Halsin. Though Karlach and Wyll remain in Avernus, and Lae’zel travels the Astral Plane, the sight of those present warms your heart.

As you approach, you notice your companions are dressed in their finest attire, a far cry from the bloodstained and battle-worn state in which you were so accustomed to seeing them. Who would have thought they could clean up so well? As you draw near, their faces light up, and you are met with enthusiastic greetings and embraces.

“I see you’ve made it,” Shadowheart says, her voice filled with warmth as she pulls you into a tight hug before turning to embrace Astarion. “It’s good to see you both.”

“It’s strange to be back in a place that once tried to kill us at every turn,” she muses, a hint of wonder in her voice. “I never thought I’d return here after turning my back on Shar, but her presence has completely vanished. It’s… a nice change of pace.” Her eyes reflect a deep peace, a contentment that was once foreign to her.

“I’m glad you came all the same,” you reply, your voice soft. “How have you been?”

“All is well,” she answers with a serene smile. “I’ve spent much of my time at the House of the Moon temple in Waterdeep.”

“Isn’t that the largest Selûnite temple in all of Faerûn?” you ask, a note of admiration in your voice.

She nods. “It is. I’ve been spreading the good word of our Lady of Silver and occasionally leading expeditions to recover lost artifacts from Selûne’s fallen temples. It’s not as thrilling as fighting mind flayers, but I’m happy.” Her expression glows with a quiet pride. The Shadowheart you once knew, lost, searching, and bound by Shar’s dark influence, is gone. In her place stands Jenevelle, a cleric of Selûne, whole at last. You realize how much you’ve missed her, remembering how close you became during your journey against the Absolute. She had a way of getting under your skin at first,then again, so did most of your companions,but unlike the others, she, along with Astarion, had been truly there for you when you needed it most.

“Enough about me,” she says, her tone lightening. “How have you two been? Astarion, are you staying out of trouble?”

Astarion’s lips curl into a sly smile. “Oh, I’ve been very well-behaved, thank you. We’ve taken a turn on adventuring, well, I have, at least. It turns out no one really minds murder as long as you’re murdering the right people. And, as it happens, I’m rather good at it.”

Shadowheart arches an eyebrow, her head tilting slightly as she looks at you with mild confusion.

You chuckle softly. “A story for another time.”

As people begin to take their seats in front of the arch, Shadowheart takes a sip of wine from her chalice. “The ceremony is about to begin,” she says, casting a last smile your way. “I’ll have to hear that story later.” With that, she drifts away to find her place among the gathering.

Following Shadowheart’s lead, you and Astarion find two empty chairs and settle in, the anticipation in the air almost palpable. As the last of the guests take their seats, the inn’s front door creaks open, and Dame Aylin steps out, a radiant smile on her face. She waves at the crowd as she glides toward the arch, her movements confident and graceful. Her hair is slicked back into a tight, low ponytail, highlighting her sharp features. She wears a long-sleeved white blouse with ruffled cuffs, tucked neatly beneath a light blue vest adorned with intricate embroidered designs, silver crescent moons woven into the pattern like whispers of divine protection. Her wings, a testament to her celestial nature, drape behind her, adding an ethereal quality to her presence.

When she reaches the arch, a hush falls over the courtyard, the moment suspended in time. Then, the soft, melodic notes of a flute begin to play, weaving through the silence like a delicate thread of music. You turn to see Isobel emerge from the inn’s doors, every eye drawn to her. She wears a gown of shimmering silver, the fabric catching the light with every step. The dress is elegant, with a deep V-neck and a corseted back that accentuates her graceful form. The bodice is embroidered with crescent moons and stars, symbols of Selûne’s blessing. In her hands, she carries a bouquet of wildflowers, their vibrant colors a striking contrast against her silver attire.

Isobel’s eyes are locked on Aylin, and the connection between them is palpable, an unspoken bond that needs no words. Aylin’s gentle smile mirrors Isobel’s as they exchange a look so tender and full of love that it makes your heart ache with the beauty of it. As Isobel reaches the arch, she takes Aylin’s hands in her own, their gazes never wavering from one another. In that moment, the moon seems to shine brighter, its silver light bathing the couple in a celestial glow, as if Selûne herself is blessing their union.

The sight stirs something within you, a curiosity about Astarion’s thoughts on marriage. It’s a topic that’s never come up between you, and while the idea has always felt distant, seeing Aylin and Isobel here, united in such a powerful way, makes you wonder. Would Astarion ever consider such a commitment? Would he ever propose, or is marriage something he doesn’t believe in? The questions swirl in your mind, unexpected but persistent, as you watch the couple before you, their love so apparent, so unguarded.

As the moonlight continues to caress the scene, a priest dressed in Selûnite robes approaches the arch, taking his place behind the couple. The ceremony is about to begin, and for a moment, all thoughts of the future fade away, leaving only the present, this beautiful, sacred moment, shared with those you hold dear.

"Dearly beloved, we gather here under the watchful gaze of Selûne, the goddess of the moon, who guides us through the darkness with her gentle light. Selûne is the embodiment of change and constancy, the ever-shifting phases of the moon that remind us of the cycles of life, love, and union. Today, we celebrate the love and unity of Dame Aylin and Isobel, who stand before us ready to embark on their journey together, illuminated by the light of Selûne’s blessings."

The priest pulls out a small idol of Selune.

"Aylin and Isobel, you stand before your loved ones and before the goddess Selûne to declare your intent to join in marriage. Do you, Aylin vow to cherish and support Isobel through all phases of life, just as Selûne shines in all her phases, in times of both darkness and light?"

"I do, this is my vow"

A small warm glow radiates around her for just a moment before disappearing.

"And do you, Isobel, vow to cherish and support Aylin, through all phases of life, just as Selûne shines in all her phases, in times of both darkness and light?"

"I do"

"Now , Aylin and Isobel will exchange their vows, promising to love each other under the light of the moon and the watchful eyes of Selûne."

"Isobel, when I had lost you, the light in my life was gone, trapped in the shadow fell for all those years, the only thing getting me through were happy memories I had shared with you. I vow to love and protect you and to ensure no harm ever comes your way again, together my love there is nothing we can't do."

You hear sniffles in the crowd, you look around to see people tearing up. Even the toughest looking flaming fists sniffle and wipe away tears with a tissue.

"Lady Isobel, you may state your vows" the priest giving her the okay to speak next."

"Aylin, from the moment I set eyes on you, it was love at first site. You are the most caring and loving person I have ever met. You helped me escape from my nightmares. My favorite thing about you is how much you understand me. You are what I want and exactly what I need. I promise to love you and be your biggest support for the rest of my mortal life"

As the two exchange your vows you can't help but think about Astarion again. What would his vows be to you? What would your vows be to him? Maybe that he was patient with you, never judged you for what you had done during your urges. That he would never have to put up his mask again around you. You were there to protect him and keep him safe always.

The thought brings a small tear to your eye.

"Really darling? I didint take you as one to cry at a wedding."

You snap out of your thoughts to hear Astarion whisper in your ear.

"Oh.. er I mean yea it's just so beautiful, they truly deserve eachother after all they have been through." You respond, trying to have a quick response to ease suspicion.

"You're so adorable when you get all sentimental"

He grabs your hand and gives it a small squeeze.

You both bring your attention back to the ceremony.

"May Selûne bless your union with her radiant light. As the moon waxes and wanes, so too will your love evolve, but may it always return to fullness. May the light of Selûne guide your way through all of life’s trials, and may you find comfort in each other’s arms, just as night finds solace in the glow of the moon."

Everyone rises out of their seats for the kiss.

"By the power vested in me by Selûne, the goddess of the moon, and the love that binds you, I now pronounce you married. You may seal your union with a kiss."

The two lovers lean in for a kiss, a moment so charged with passion that it sends ripples through the crowd. The courtyard erupts in cheers and applause as Aylin sweeps Isobel into her arms, spinning her around with a laugh that echoes through the courtyard. The air is thick with joy, the kind that feels tangible, like a warm breeze on a summer evening.

As the ceremony transitions into a lively celebration, the inn becomes a hub of merriment. The bar is bustling with guests, tankards overflowing with ale and wine as the barkeep struggles to keep up with demand. A band strikes up a series of lively tunes, filling every corner of the inn with music that seems to dance through the air on its own. Astarion finds himself at a table playing a round of Baldur's Bones with a group of unsuspecting patrons. You can’t help but smirk as you watch him, knowing full well he’s likely using his charming wit and sleight of hand to cheat his way to victory. The sneaky rogue.

Meanwhile, you decide to share a quiet moment with Jaheira, the venerable High Harper. "Have your nightmares finally ceased since being freed from Bhaal's influence?" she asks, her voice soft as she sips from a glass of deep red wine.

You take a moment before answering, the weight of her question settling over you. "The nightmares still come," you admit. "Some nights, it’s me waking up in terror, other nights it’s Astarion. I hope that one day, we can be rid of them for good."

Jaheira nods knowingly. "Ah, but you are free now. And that freedom, no matter how haunted, makes the nightmares a bit more bearable, does it not?"

Your gaze drifts to Astarion, who is now shaking a pair of dice with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the game’s turn in his favor. The table erupts in groans as he rolls the dice, and with a victorious sweep of his hand, he collects a small pile of gold coins. He catches you watching him and flashes a smile so full of warmth that it makes your heart swell.

"Yes," you murmur, your eyes never leaving his. "With him, it definitely makes them bearable."

Jaheira chuckles softly, rolling her eyes playfully. But before you can dwell too long on your thoughts, a raucous cheer rises from the center of the tavern. Aylin and Isobel, hands entwined, lead a gathering of guests into a jubilant dance. The crowd forms a circle, hands clasped as they move together in a lively round. Aylin, with the strength and grace of a Paladin, pulls you into the circle before you have a chance to protest, you can't help but to laugh.

You join hands with the strangers around you, spinning and twirling in the circle, your laughter joining the chorus of joy. The music quickens, and soon everyone is dancing with wild abandon. The on lookers clap to the beat of the music. You’re swept up in the energy, feeling lighter and freer than you have in years. As the dance transitions into pairs, you find yourself alone in the center, your eyes locking with Astarion’s across the room.

"Nononono," he protests with a smile as you stride over, determined to pull him into the dance.

"Come on," you laugh, grabbing his hand. "Darling I don't know how to dance" He says as your drag him to the dance floor. "I don’t know how to dance either, but let's learn together, unless you don’t want to…"

The hesitation in your voice is subtle, but Astarion catches it. He’s always been sensitive to your feelings, and he knows you know how important it is to not push him into things. But tonight, he sees how much fun you’re having, and he can’t resist the urge to join you. "No, it’s alright," he says, his voice softening. "I’m happy to dance with you, my love."

The two of you step into the center of the dance floor. Awkward at first as Astarion tries to figure out where to place his hands and which foot to move first. He overthinks it, of course, but you just laugh and take his hands in yours, guiding him gently. "It’s okay," you say with a smile, spinning yourself out of his arms before twirling back into them. "Just follow the music. It’s only me and you out here."

Slowly, Astarion relaxes, letting the rhythm of the music guide his movements. The two of you fall into sync, your bodies moving together with increasing ease. Around you, the other dancers whirl and spin, but it’s as if they all fade away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect moment. A laugh erupts from Astarion’s lips, a sound so precious that it makes your heart ache with love.

You continue to dance, your breath coming in gasps as the exertion catches up to you. But neither of you wants to stop. The connection between you feels electric, as if the world has narrowed to this single point in time where nothing else matters but the two of you. You gaze into Astarion’s eyes, seeing in them the man who has become your everything, your lover, your partner, your friend. And in that moment, you know he sees you the same way: the most beautiful, adventurous, and kindest soul he has ever known.

As the dance slows, you lean in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that feels like the culmination of every shared moment, every whispered word, every night spent holding each other against the darkness. The world around you falls away, the music muffling into the background as you lose yourself in him. His hand slides behind your head, fingers threading through your hair as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

When you finally pull back, the room comes back into focus. The other guests are watching, their eyes warm with approval. There’s no embarrassment, just a shared understanding of the love between you. Aylin raises her arms, her voice carrying over the crowd. "Is this not a day to celebrate love?" she exclaims. "What these two heroes have is true love. Perhaps one day we’ll be dancing at their wedding!"

Her words send a flush of heat to your cheeks, and you quickly look away, suddenly shy.

But before you can dwell on it, Isobel steps in, her voice gentle as she tries to guide Aylin away. "Not everyone shares our ideals on marriage, my love," she says, her tone soothing. "Let’s leave them be."

"Ah my wife, you are as beautiful as you are wise, Another round for my friend barkeep!" Aylin yells out loud. Almost loosing her footing and swaying back and forth. Isobel guides her to the bar. She gives you a small nod. Almost as if she understood what you were thinking.

Astarion notices your sudden shyness, his eyes narrowing in concern. "My sweet, are you alright?"

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts. "Huh? Oh, yes, just parched, my love." It’s not entirely a lie, dancing has left you incredibly thirsty, but there’s more to it than that. The question of marriage hovers in the back of your mind, a topic you’re not quite ready to broach. The idea of it excites you, but the fear of what his answer might be holds you back.

Sensing your discomfort, Astarion doesn’t press the issue. He knows you well enough to trust that you’ll talk about it when you’re ready. For now, he’s content to let it be, to enjoy the night with you by his side.

The rest of the evening is a blur of laughter and camaraderie as you catch up with your companions, sharing stories and getting lost in the revelry. By the time the party winds down, you’re thoroughly sloshed, your steps unsteady as Astarion helps you stumble to your room. Thankfully, it’s a windowless chamber, perfect for shielding him from the rising sun.

"I love you… soooooo much," you slur, your words tumbling out as he gently sets you on the bed. "You’re really great."

Astarion laughs softly, the sound full of affection. "I love you too, darling."

As he begins to undress for the night, you clumsily reach out, wrapping your arms around him and pressing a sloppy kiss to his neck. "I want to make love to you," you whisper, your voice meant to be seductive but coming out far too loud in his ear.

He chuckles, shaking his head with a smile. "Darling, you’re far too drunk for that." Gently, he guides you back onto the bed, helping you out of your dress and shoes before tucking you in under the covers. You’re asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow, a soft snore escaping your lips.

Astarion watches you for a moment, a tender smile on his face. Even in your drunken state, there’s a peacefulness to you that he finds irresistible. He presses a kiss to your forehead before slipping under the covers beside you, holding you close as he drifts off to sleep.

The next evening, you wake with a brutal hangover, your head pounding and your stomach churning. A bath helps to ease the worst of it, and by the time you make your way downstairs, you’re feeling somewhat better. The inn is quieter now, most of the guests having departed, leaving only a few stragglers and your companions.

You spot Astarion at a table with Gale, deep in conversation. As you approach, Astarion’s gaze lifts to meet yours, concern flickering in his eyes. "How are you feeling, my sweet?" he asks, his voice gentle.

"Like all of the nine hells are in my head." You rub your temples. You grab a tankard of water in front of you and chug it down. The cool liquid feels refreshing.

"What are you guys talking about?" Pulling the tankard away from your lips.

Astarion and Gale look at each other then back at you. "I was just telling Astarion about something I had discovered while in my tower in Waterdeep. It has great benefits that would be of interest to Astarion." He explains.

"Great, what is it?" You ask. Urging Gale to tell you the juicy gossip.

"I am unable to disclose that information here."

"Why not?" Sounding rather disappointed.

"Please just trust me, I would like to invite you both to Waterdeep to show you my discoveries. You can head back with me tonight. "

You look at Astarion who looks back at you. You can tell he's extremely curious. He gives you a pleading look. You were never able to resist his charm and his version of puppy dog eyes.

You take a deep breath. "If it's something that will help Astarion, I'll go."

Astarion gives out a reliving sigh and smiles at you. You wonder what it could possibly be. Maybe a never ending supply of blood. Or maybe something to help the sanguine hunger. The possibilities were endless and you knew Astarion was itching to find out.

Part 2 here

[optiwashere]

Here's another chapter of my post-game, pre-epilogue fic about Shadowheart and Asheera traveling to their happily ever after. Sharran assassins keep mucking up that journey, making it kinda difficult! Ah well, surely nothing terrible has happened to them since the last chapter.

I enjoyed writing a certain pair of motes of light as well...

Rating: E for graphic smut and violence throughout the fic

Category: F/F

Ship: Shadowheart/Trans Fem Tav

[abyssalaerlocke]

New Post-game HCs

Wyll, Shadowheart, and Halsin build their sanctuary, adopting all the animals and kids their hearts desire

Lae'zel and Karlach cutting through Avernus together, until they get Karlach's engine fixed. Then Karlach showing Lae'zel Faerûn, or they turn to the astral plane and overthrowing Vlaakith

Minthara and Durge (who's probably a mind-flayer) go to the Underdark together.

Gale and Astarion find and lead the spawn in the Underdark, probably some queerplatonic dynamic with durgethara

[eldritchelfwriter]

Hi Everyone!

You can call me Kel. I'm a writer of Baldur's Gate 3 fanfics on AO3. Shadowheart is my absolute fav and where most of the attention is, but I'm also Dame Aylin's number one fan. This is what's up and what's on the cards storywise:

Shadowheart Begins

COMPLETE

A Shadowheart/Tav F/F love story as Shadowheart learns about and to love. Tav in this story is a shy, half-elf storm sorcerer called Florwyn, and you will see quite a different side to Shadowheart while she's catching feels.

We're aiming for peak healing in this story, where by the time you get to Shadowheart saying she wants to be with Tav now and always, you will hopefully believe that they have a healthy non-codependent future ahead of them. (Tav may be shy, but she doesn't put up with bs). Lots of healing power of love and friendship abounds!

Artwork of Shadowheart and Florwyn

Reaching for you (a what if? one shot)

COMPLETE

Someone asked what Florwyn would do if Shadowheart killed Nightsong and I couldn't stop thinking about it. So this is a spin off of Shadowheart Begins, where Shadowheart becomes a Dark Justiciar.

Synopsis: it's twenty years since the Absolute has been defeated, and Florwyn finds out that the Sharran Church is to be declared a terrorist organisation and a bounty placed on the head of her old flame, Mother Superior Shadowheart. She can not help trying to bring her old friend back to the light, one last, and very final time.

Recommended to have read at least up to chapter 10 of Shadowheart Begins first.

One Hundred Years of Anger

IN PROGRESS

A work that tells Isobel and Aylin's love story right from when they first met, catching up to the events of the game and then afterwards.

This work (though not yet apparent from the posted chapter) will have some crossover with Shadowheart Begins eventually. This a multi chapter work.

I'll Be Your Light

PART 1 OF 2 RELEASED

Between the fascinating ranger who walks assured of her purpose and the tadpole in her head, Shadowheart has plenty to keep her occupied without discovering that she is a werewolf.

But as she struggles with her faith, her growing feelings toward Kat and her new form, the worst happens ...

Can Shadowheart and Kat find light in the darkness? And given her goddess' domain is the darkness, does Shadowheart even want to?

A wolfheart story for people who are not fond of werewolves.

Unnamed What if?

IN SKETCH

An upcoming thus far unreleased one shot based on the premise: what if Shadowheart made a different decision at the House of Grief? Florwyn POV.

Baldur's Gate 3 fics I recommend

[waterdeepthroat]

HEAR ME OUT… isobel thorm/aylin/shadowheart…

[savs-sims98]

Astarion loves seeing Sylvannah in middle part skirts🤭✨

She will catch him eyeing her down at times. He’ll come up to her at camp and playfully move her dress aside. Astarion just loves to see that flustered look on her face😌

Cause let’s face it. Sylvannah never wears underwear. Everyone is getting a show😂😅

[freyasilverbough]

The Cave Bear and the White Wolf - Part 5

Summary: Freya, Halsin, and Shadowheart explore the Gauntlet of Shar. Freya and Halsin have a bit of a heart to heart where Freya reassures him that he doesn’t have to drop everything to help her when she’s hurt. They share feelings about their anxieties around the gauntlet and the upcoming battle with Ketheric. Also, Nightsong scene. I hope I did it justice, it’s my favorite in the whole game.

Cw: blood, stitches, scars. Massive Act 2 spoilers

Freya and Shadowheart bickered incessantly through their exploration of Shar’s Gauntlet. They had battled the orthon and the necromancer hiding in its depths well enough, and Freya reluctantly allowed the cleric to take the trials while she, Halsin, and Minthara searched for the relic that Ketheric Thorm kept hidden there.

They were so close now, they’d meant to march on Moonrise that day but the battles they faced in the gauntlet took more time than they’d expected to spend down here. Halsin knew they would need to make camp, everyone would need to be at their full strength to take on Ketheric. The necromancer, in particular, had taken his toll on Freya. She limped slightly as she led their party to the large elevator that had materialized with the umbral gems they’d acquired.

“Wait,” Shadowheart said. Freya tossed her head back and groaned, the last of her patience with the Sharran long gone.

“What now?” Freya all but growled.

“There’s something I need to find down here first. A weapon,” Shadowheart answered.

“On my oath, Sharran, if you mean to sacrifice my life down here for your wicked fucking goddess I will tear you limb from limb,” Freya threatened the cleric with enough venom to fell a horse. “Regardless, we’re all exhausted. We can finish here tomorrow. Let’s get back to the others, I need a drink.”

————

Gale had been instructed to deliver a bottle of Cormyrean brandy as a gift to Freya by Quartermaster Talli. The merchant must’ve deduced that it was her favorite. Halsin had never known her to accept a gift without so much as a single protest, but she simply snatched the bottle and nodded to the wizard in thanks as he finished cooking their dinner. She uncorked the bottle and took a long swig as she limped to her tent. He unbuckled his leather bracers while he sat on a log near the fire and rested his elbows on his knees.

He wanted to follow her, to make her let him heal that damned leg, but he didn’t want to break the trust she’d placed in him by invading her private moments. So he sat. He took the plate that Gale offered to him and ate his dinner in silence while the wizard sat next to him. Karlach bounded over to the fire with Wyll following closely behind her, the warlock and his former quarry were near inseparable as their journey went on. Lae’zel and Minthara stood near the githyanki’s tent. The two women were sharpening their blades and polishing their armor, taking small bites as they worked. Astarion joined Halsin and Gale on the log. Gale offered the vampire his wrist as wildlife in these lands would do him more harm than good. Shadowheart was lost in prayer outside her own tent.

The wizard was the one to break the comfortable silence. “She’s in a mood today, isn’t she?” He jerked his chin toward Freya’s tent.

Halsin nodded. “She’s a Selûnite who spent the day in a Sharran temple, who has little patience and a short temper on her best days. That, and we thought we’d be going back to Moonrise today. I’d be more concerned if she was in a good mood.” Gale chuckled and Astarion scoffed in agreement.

The vampire broke away from the wizard’s wrist. “I’m surprised you survived the day with those three, Halsin. Well done,” he commented sarcastically, as was his way. Halsin only laughed, he knew that if it had come to a brawl between any of those women, any attempts on his part to break them up would’ve been tantamount to suicide.

He glanced back to Freya’s tent, and found himself wondering if he should take her any food. She had done the same for him on many nights when he was sulking in his remote corner of the camp. She had to be starving, they hadn’t stopped to eat since breakfast and he knew they had a big day ahead of them once the dawn broke. Gale chuckled again and clapped Halsin on the knee as he rose to make another plate. “You’ve got it so bad, my friend. Go talk to her.” The wizard shook his head as he handed the plate to Halsin.

The wood elf reluctantly took it and carried it to where Freya made her camp. He stood at the closed entrance and cleared his throat. “Freya?” he asked, and heard only an “ow, fuck” in response, so he stuck his head in.

She had discarded her armor and was wearing a sleeveless shirt with loose cotton shorts that revealed the gash in her thigh, crossing over the old scar. She took another swig of her brandy and splashed the contents of another less valuable bottle of alcohol over her wound. She held a needle and thread in one hand and, to no surprise on Halsin’s part, was stitching her own flesh back together. Blue light radiated from her other palm as she used what was left of her oathbound healing magic to aid the process. She flicked her eyes up to Halsin as he entered the tent and set her dinner on the small, unoccupied table near her bedroll. He knelt in front of her and watched her work for a moment.

“Don’t,” she said. She made another stitch with skilled, nimble hands that had clearly done this several times before.

“I could’ve taken care of that, you know,” he answered. He didn’t dare comment on the fact that she would have another scar. I wear my scars with honor, she had said once. Indeed, she had plenty. The one across the bridge of her nose, the punctures on her shoulder where the wraith had grabbed her while she defended his portal, claw marks running down her other calf. He sensed each had a story, just as the one across his own forehead did.

“I know. I don’t care. You don’t have to heal me every time I get nicked in combat, if you did you’d be glued to my hip and that would just be annoying for the both of us.” Halsin disagreed with her statement, he kept finding excuses to be close to her every chance he got. “Honestly, Halsin, I’m fine. I don’t need you to rush to my aid every time I’m hurt. Two hundred years I’ve survived, and I intend to live at least two hundred more.”

She finished her stitching and reached over to grab a clean strip of linen from her bag to wrap her muscled thigh. Every movement was practiced and deliberate, a soldier patching herself up to get back in battle. She used the ground as leverage to push herself up and test her weight on the injured leg, bouncing lightly on that foot. She seemed to be satisfied enough, so she sat back down and pulled one knee to her chest as she extended her injured leg in front of her.

“How is your mind?” He asked the question on a whisper. “Today can’t have been easy for you.”

She breathed deep before answering. “I’m sure Selûne’s Chosen would be a fine trophy for Shar, unfortunately for her I think Shadowheart still has time to turn from her path of darkness to one of light. She’s still very young, and there’s something more to her. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Do you think she will try to sacrifice you?” Halsin’s blood ran cold at the thought. He knew if it came to it, Freya would prevail, but she cared so deeply for each of her friends that the death of one of them, even in self defense, would haunt her for the rest of her long life.

“I think if she was going to, she would have done it when she realized where we were. I think there’s more to this than what we can see, and I have to trust that the Moonmaiden guides my way.” She finished her brandy and leaned back against her pack. “Enough about me, how do you feel?” Her eyes never left his as she leveled her question, perhaps trying to see into his very soul.

He had no wish to burden her further. To heap his troubles on top of her own. She, quite literally, took the fate of the world onto her own shoulders without a single complaint while a parasite threatened to strip her of mind and soul at any moment. As soon as their mysterious artifact faltered in its protection, she would be gone. They both knew that, and she soldiered on regardless.

Yet, Halsin knew that he could not ask her to trust him with her burdens without offering that same trust in kind. “I feel…hopeful,” he whispered. “More than I have in a hundred years.” She hummed her agreement. “If only I had met you sooner, my friend. I also feel afraid. We have been given the best chance anyone has had to rid this land of its curse, to set nature to rights and watch the healing unfold. If we fail, I dare say there is no one who will be able to take our place.” Her blue eyes welled with unshed tears at his words, for she knew them to be true. If they failed, the curse would live on despite all they’d done here. For Halsin, he would never restore the balance of nature. For Freya, justice would go unserved.

“Do you think we can win this?” A sliver of doubt crept into her voice as the question softly escaped her lips.

“I…I will not lie to you, Freya, I do not know. Ketheric is a formidable foe.” Her eyes slid shut as a tear slid down her cheek at his confession. He reached over and brushed it away with his thumb. “You, though, you might be even more formidable than he is. I am not a betting man, but if I was, I’d gamble on you.” He hooked his finger under her chin and pressed a kiss to her forehead, closing his eyes against his own tears before he moved to leave.

Freya caught his wrist before he could go. “Stay,” she whispered, the word a prayer on her breath.

How could he deny her?

He removed his leather armor and lay shirtless beside her. She rested her head over his chest and he pulled her closer until she was nearly on top of him. He wrapped both arms around her slender frame and held her tight until they both slipped into trance, never once letting go of the warrior woman who now guarded his beating heart.

————

Halsin stood in the pool before Shar’s statue with Shadowheart and Freya, the former knelt in prayer, the latter watching the cleric with her sword drawn. The tension between the Selûnite and the Sharran had grown palpable, Halsin almost thought that he could touch it if he reached out. Shadowheart wielded a new spear, the Spear of Night, she had called it, and it set the paladin on edge.

Shadowheart stood. “I’m ready,” she stated as she stepped into the pool. Tendrils of darkness crept up his legs, like phantom arms pulling him under. They crawled up his chest, his shoulders, his head, ever hungry, and yanked him down until all he saw was black.

————

Halsin woke with a start in a horrifyingly familiar landscape. Coughing, he clutched his chest and looked to Freya, who was on her hands and knees, eyes wide as she took in the broken rock and violet atmosphere.

The Shadowfell. Shar’s domain.

“Fuck.” Freya bit out the word like she’d been struck. Any average Selûnite would be in mortal peril in the Shadowfell, but Freya was Selûne’s Chosen. Fear and worry clawed its way into his chest at the realization.

The party stood, and Halsin noticed that he felt lighter, his bones no longer tethered to the earth. Freya stepped forward, her body practically vibrating, and jumped from one rock to the next before Halsin could stop her.

“Blessed Nightsinger, witness my adoration,” Shadowheart prayed as they followed the paladin. Undead Dark Justiciars lined the path before them, but made no move on the Selûnite as she descended.

“Descend to her,” they whispered in unison. Freya never faltered in her steps in front of him. “Look upon her.”

“See my actions, Lady Shar, hear my words of faith.”

“Kill her.”

“Lady Shar’s will shall be done, as sure as night will fall.”

They reached a large platform, where a tall woman with yellow hair stood, shackled by magic fists glowing green. As Halsin leapt closer, he noticed the cracks in her skin, glowing gold under the dirt and grime.

An aasimar.

Freya and Shadowheart bounded onto the platform, the former angling herself between the caged woman and her Sharran friend.

“You,” the caged woman seethed, pointing a finger at Shadowheart. “You, who have come to seek the praise of her wicked goddess. You, who have come to drive a dagger through my heart.” She stormed towards Shadowheart, blue mage hands restraining her as she did.

“Not a dagger, a spear. My Lady Shar’s spear!” Shadowheart turned on Freya, anger and hatred and desperation etched into her expression. “Her fate is mine to seal, let me handle this!”

Freya raised her sword, the point of the blade inches from her friend’s chin. A tear rolled down her cheek as she whispered, “Strike me down if you must, but I cannot let you do this.”

“The fate you seal is your own,” the larger woman said. “To be a Dark Justiciar is to turn your heart from everything but loss. You will know no love, no joy, only servitude. Until, of course, your mistress inevitably discards you. And there is much she does not tell you - a terrible blood price that may extend beyond my own death.”

Shadowheart bristled as she stared down Freya’s blade. The paladin looked over her shoulder at the caged woman, and something like recognition flashed across her features. Halsin didn’t dare breathe as Freya lowered her sword and stepped to stand beside him. He had no idea what she was doing, but she took his hand in hers and gripped it like a lifeline. “Trust her,” Freya murmured under her breath to him.

“Well, well, well,” the stranger said. “What’s that I sense? A spear intended for my heart. Empowered by your goddess, aye. Empowered to kill the child of a god,” she yelled. “Do you know what I am, little assassin? For I know you - a lost child, frightened by wolves in the dark.”

“What did you say?” Shadowheart’s voice softened, green eyes growing wide.

“Much has been promised to you, hasn’t it? But what has been taken from you? What do you know of your own heart - your own life? I sense more in you than you know.” The woman straightened, and Freya was taut as a bowstring next to Halsin. Her eyes were trained on the exchange happening before them, her other hand gripping the hilt of her sword so hard he thought she’d burst her gauntlet. She whispered prayers to her goddess under her breath, as if Selûne could hear her in her sister’s domain.

Shadowheart was never meant to sacrifice Freya at all, he realized. It was this woman, bound by a necromancer’s magic, whose death was somehow more important to Shar than her twin’s Chosen.

“Whatever you think you know of me won’t matter, once I become who I’m meant to be,” Shadowheart said with wavering conviction.

“She knows something about you, Shadowheart,” Freya said. “Don’t you at least want to hear her out?”

The mysterious wound on Shadowheart’s hand flashed amethyst as she pulled the spear from her back. Freya stiffened, her sword raising once more, as she took a small step forward.

Shadowheart hesitated. She stared at her goddess’s spear in her grasp. The cleric raised her weapon, and Freya released Halsin’s hand to jump in front of the aasimar.

Shadowheart threw her arm back and cast the Spear of Night into the Shadowfell.

Freya’s breath came in hard pants as her sword clattered to the ground. Her relief came off of her in waves, fresh tears springing to her sapphire eyes. She put her hands on Shadowheart’s shoulders as the cleric realized what she had done.

“I can’t believe I did that…Lady Shar will disown me…what will happen to me now…?”

“Now what will happen. What will you do?” The taller woman said behind them. “Your past is not yet lost. Your future is not yet fixed.” She knelt as Shadowheart stumbled forward to her, Freya stepping to the side. “Lay a hand on me in friendship, not-quite-Sharran, and I will fight the battle that has been waiting for me this last century. Then, oh then, we will have much to discuss.” She bowed her head, and Shadowheart considered her for a long moment before placing her wounded hand on the woman’s shoulder.

The mage hands caging her vanished, and she dropped both hands to the ground.

She pounded her fist into the ground. “Our Lady of Silver, hear me.” Her fist pounded once more, free from her shackles, holy fury lacing every word.

By Silvanus.

“She Who Guides, the Moonmaiden Selûne.”

Freya dropped to her knees.

“Mother of the so-called Nightsong, the Nightsong is no more!” Her eyes glowed pure silver as she stood, her Selûnite armor materializing over her battered rags. Her suit was an exact match to Freya’s own. A great golden sword floated down to her outstretched hand, and she swung it in a wide arc as white wings appeared from her back.

The relic Ketheric was after wasn’t a relic after all, but a person. Selûne’s own daughter supplied his immortality. Now that she was free, not only would he finally be vulnerable, but they had made a powerful ally in this war. Halsin could only stare in awe as her boots touched ground once more.

“You have given me a great gift, little warrior,” the Nightsong said to Shadowheart. “Don’t you find it oh so curious that you would spurn your Dark Lady? Perhaps you feel a stirring of the truth already”

Freya rose to her feet, collecting her sword. “And you, my mother’s Chosen. You did well to follow her guidance. I look forward to seeing what you can do.” Freya dipped her chin in a nod at the aasimar’s words.

“But that will come later. There is a battle yet to be fought. You have done what we feared was impossible, you have released me from a century of sorrow. Your power is great, so to must be your weapon. The Moonmaiden will provide. Thus I have said, thus will it be so.” A golden glaive appeared in Shadowheart’s hand, replacing the Spear of Night.

Freya retook her place at Halsin’s side, divine purpose igniting her confidence in their cause anew. He squeezed her arm, sharing in her newfound hope. She was radiant in her anticipation of the coming battle, blue eyes bright and wild and excited. She smiled up at him and Halsin’s heart nearly stopped. She was breathtaking.

“Are you ready?” Selûne’s daughter asked them.

“Ready for what?” It was Shadowheart who answered, still so unsure of herself after defying her patron deity.

The Nightsong’s expression hardened in determination and the promise of righteous vengeance as she readied to launch into the sky.

“To kill Ketheric Thorm.”

[mouldynoodles]

Um sorry guys just accidentally fucking killed Rolan

So was doing the lorroakan (evil(?) ginger wizard guy) thingo quest and the ginger was like BRING ME THE NIGHTSONG

said no cause she’s a person and like bro was being creepy about it

Anyway got back to camp after getting the quest told Dame Aylin and her girlfriend that ANOTHER dude wanted to enslave her to gain immortality and we went to beat him up

So took Karlach, Wyll, Gale and Aylin to beat this ginger wizard but Rolan joins the fight and fights against me

I was gonna try and just knock out Rolan cause I sorta wanted to keep him alive but Aylin hit him like twice and he folded

Felt bad but not enough to reload the save

RIP Rolan

😔😔😔

[nocturnalcharm]

announcement !!

ive been searching on here for awhile now for bg3 specific characters x reader and honestly having a hard time finding fics! so i decided to start writing my own.

ive been writing for 10+ years, fanfics and original stories, and i want to fill the gaps i see in this fandom ^.^

also ive only just started act 3 so pls no spoilers!!

who i'll write for:

karlach

shadowheart

astarion

orin

dame aylin

might add more later lol

boundaries:

x fem tav/reader only

tbh idk if i have any hard no's that i can think of rn so just request and i'll say if im able to write it or not!

also, pls dont just send "write for *insert character*!!!" only send a req if you have an idea!

[rinwellisathing]

Paint The Lines, Cut The Flesh: Part 13

As they entered the gauntlet, Sentry allowed Shadowheart to take the lead. As a paladin, he understood the importance of a pilgrimage like this and that she would want to prove herself fully to her goddess. He had to admit, her training was impressive. He watched as she easily crept through the darkness to solve the mechanism to open the doors. There was a heavy feeling of being watched, as though Shar herself were also keeping an eye on Shadowheart's progress. The path forward was dark and cold, the familiar smell of death filled the air as the party made their way into the main hall of the ruin. Ancient corpses littered the ground and the silence was all-encompassing. Sentry could have imagined the party were the only ones here, until he set eyes on a group of skeletal figures. Their construction was slap-dash and their gear was ancient. Some necromancer or another scavenging for scraps, he guessed. Still, the clattering creatures approached, holding up their hands as though to prevent the group from venturing forward. “Ugh...Myrkulites...of course there's loads of shoddy skeletons.” Sentry grumbled, narrowing his eyes at the creatures. “You trespass here...” The first skeleton accused in a noise that grated like metal on stone and earned an incredulous glare from Shadowheart, joining Sentry at his side. “No, it is YOU who trespass here in Lady Shar's domain.” She shot back, reaching for her mace. “Stupid worm infested cockheads!” The head skeleton hissed, drawing its own weapons. “Okay, nevermind, they're actually sort of charming.” Sentry chuckled, though quickly drawing his axe as he noticed several portals opening around them. ---

Jaina found she could do little but wander the tower and the balcony while she waited for her friends to come looking for her. She spent most of her time in the library. Ketheric had not left the roof top balcony since they had spoken up there, but he had given her run of the upper floors. Currently she sat on Isobel's old bed reading through some old letters and journals she had found in the library, smiling gently at the picture they painted of the girl who once called this room home. Isobel reminded Jaina of her mother, someone she could easily get along with as she read through story after story of the Selunite. Her eyes paused a moment as she glanced down at a page, reading a description of the day an emissary from The Moonmaiden had arrived in town. A daughter of Selune herself. The young woman's writing reminded her of so many romances she'd read alone in the dormitories at the school, both as a student and as a teacher. The way Isobel described the woman was like a knight in a storybook. 'Her silver armor shone in the light of the sun as she made her way through our town square and all seemed to come out to see the emissary our goddess had sent. Her skin was the porcelain shade of the moon itself and her hair was pale gold as starlight. She was of a powerful build and carried a sword made to cut down any evil that would eclipse her mother's light and in that moment as our eyes met, I knew I loved her.' The tiefling found herself laying across the bed on her stomach and reading intently over the next few pages, looking away only for a moment when a second body put pressure on the bed, the skeletal watchdog peering curiously at the book from beside her.

'Father does not believe Aylin's affections for me are true and he cautions me, but he is wrong. How could our love be false when we both feel it so intensely? Aylin, a daughter of Selune, has knelt before me as though I outshone her. She worships me in ways I cannot even worship my goddess. Such a love could be nothing other than true. Father will come to see that...' “Did you like Isobel's lover, Squire?” Jaina asked absently, patting at the dog's clean white bones. “What kind of a person was she?” The question was more towards herself than the dog, knowing that even when she had previously cast speak with animals, the dog was fairly resistant to small talk or indeed giving her much information at all. “Well, regardless of your opinion, she does sound quite dreamy...And anyway, dogs don't know about these things.” She decided before once more losing herself in the story of the priestess and the paladin. As she read on, a small part of her mind began to wander and imagine Wyll might come to her rescue. A smile slowly crept over her face and she closed her eyes, dreaming of him climbing through a window and tossing her a sword, the two of them fighting side by side and then back to back through The Absolute's forces, making their escape from the tower and pausing only for the kind of deep, intense kiss they only wrote about in story books. She sighed and nodded her head a moment, lost in the fantasy, until, blushing brightly, she shook her head and told herself she was being foolish. Wyll was an intelligent man and a sound strategist, he would never attempt something like that alone, but when she imagined Sentry, Lae'zel, Astarion, Octavia....mostly them, the others could at least operate with some subtlety...well, perhaps not Karlach, but she found Karlach's beautiful smile and strong arms were on her mind nearly as much as Wyll was, so her intrusion into the fantasy would hardly be an intrustion at all, but the other four that came to mind, they'd ruin any sense of romance with their style of combat...and then Sentry would, of course, say or do something unsettling... ----

“It's like I said, shoddy craftsmanship. Myrkulites are just no good at putting things together.” Sentry shook his head with a sigh as the party explored the crypt, the broken bodies of the skeletons scattered among the haunted armor of long dead justiciars who had attacked. “I could care less about some foul mouthed skeletons.” Shadowheart frowned. “I'm more curious as to why my Lady's own faithful would attack me. Is it some kind of test?” She seemed to fret as they approached a crumbling stairwell, stopping only as Halsin threw out an arm to hold Shadowheart and Sentry back, causing Astarion to crash into Sentry's armored back and hiss with complaint. “What in the sweet hells was that for?” He snapped, glaring at the druid. “Yeah, Halsin. I see the drop, I was gonna jump it...” Sentry explained, looking to the taller man for an explanation. Halsin nodded towards a dark figure at the bottom of the broken staircase, staring up at them with bright yellow-green eyes, its fur was so dark it seemed to absorb any light permeating the gloom around it. It regarded them only briefly and then turned to slink down the hall, barbed tentacles swaying from its back. “A displacer beast...” Sentry quirked a brow. “I mean...thanks for the heads up, Halsin, but I'm pretty sure we could've taken it.” The druid furrowed his brow. “And alerted what else in the process?” He chided, giving Sentry a chastising look. “I may dislike the Cambion as much as you do, but I listened well to his rambling and I haven't forgotten what he told us was down here.”

“Right...Orthorn...yeah...” Sentry nodded. “Well, we'd better go find it so we can get this over with and help Astarion. Besides, these 'trials of Shar' will be all the more difficult with him creeping around.” The tiefling hopped down to the lower level and followed in the direction the cat-like creature had gone. The others followed along and soon found themselves in a large open room decorated with bodies in various stages of preservation of decay, some flayed and turned into sculptures, some fully skeletal and made into trinkets, a bed of faces frozen in expressions of terror and pain gazed at the party from an alcove where the displacer beast now sat watching them with a smug sense of satisfaction. “You look lost, little rabbit.” A deep voice boomed from above. The party turned in unison to see standing on a balcony of shattered stone behind them was the hulking figure of the orthorn, his flesh red and bumpy with ridges and prongs, cunning yellow eyes glaring down at them as he trained his crossbow in their direction. “Ugh....rabbit, mouse....don't you devils ever get sick of imagining everything as a prey animal? What if I preferred to be a wolf? Or perhaps a snake? What then?” Sentry folded his arms across his chest. “A wolf would have been smarter than to stumble into my lair and a snake would have done so quietly.” The creature replied, not lowering the crossbow. The bridge of his nose wrinkled a moment and he sniffed the air. “Wait a moment...sulfur...and cherries...You're dealing with Raphael.” His lips twisted in a snarl of rage. “Not willingly, I promise.” Sentry scoffed, rolling his eyes. “But look, tell me something because I'm curious...maybe I'm weighing my options here? What's your history with that smarmy asshole?” “Raphael trapped me here ages ago with his damned contract.” The creature's nostrils flared, rage burning behind his eyes.

Sentry nodded his head, putting on a look of deep thought. “I see...And this contract, can I see it?” He noted the creature's incredulous expression. “Only, I'm a paladin and my friend here is a damned fine magistrate, perhaps we can pick up something you missed.” “Aha...one moment.” Astarion plastered on a large, false smile as he grabbed Sentry by the shoulder and pulled him in close. “What do you think you're doing!?” He hissed, “Just kill him already! Otherwise Raphael won't help me.” “I'm getting to it... I'm getting to it.” Sentry replied out of the corner of his mouth before turning with a huge grin up at the orthorn. “You can't 'see' it.” The orthorn frowned. “He gave it in the form of a song.” Astarion gave Sentry a withering look as if to say 'well now look what you've done' as the hulking devil paused a moment and began to sing, his tone flat and following no particular key to speak of. “Spill all the blood sworn to the night, Silence all prayers; smother each rite, Wander Shar's halls; hungry to slay, Leave no Justiciar alive to obey, Leave none to hear it, then be set free; This song is your oath, swear, swear it to me.” Sentry winced and gave an awkward half-clap. “Well, we won't be seeing you on any grand stages any time soon, but it gets the point across....” Shadowheart nudged Sentry and her eyes flicked towards the company of merregons flanking the party, they had stood silent and at attention the entire time. Sentry raised a brow and looked at her in confusion, just barely catching the sudden twitch of her ears. “Oh! Well, they've got ears, haven't they?” Sentry asked, gesturing to the small army. The devil looked at him, somewhat dumbfounded. “They are merregons, they are made only to follow orders, they don't have a thought between them.” “Thoughts, no, ears, yes.” Sentry insisted. “They've heard the song, and yet they're still here.” The orthorn seemed to ponder this a moment, but could not find fault in the tiefling's logic. He nodded to his soldiers and gave them a gesture and within moments, every single merregon had fallen upon their own blade. “It didn't work...” The creature growled, eyeing Sentry with a warning look. But by now, Sentry understood what Shadowheart had meant and he nodded towards the displacer beast. “Your companion has ears AND a mind to comprehend.” He continued.

“Kill Nessa? But...” The orthorn paused a moment, gazing mournfully at the sleek, shadowy creature. He sighed heavily and leveled his crossbow. “Hold still, my beauty...” As the beast collapsed to the ground, lifeless, he snarled with rage. “And still I remain!” The voice in the back of Sentry's mind solved this quandary, urging the paladin on. “But sir, you've heard the song as well...” The devil's eyes widened and a hollow laugh escaped his throat, his expression a mask of rage. “Of course...that bastard would....” He shook his head and glared down at Sentry. “If this doesn't work either, I will return from the hells and hunt you to the ends of the earth...” He snarled as he drew a dagger and handily disemboweled himself, his body slumping over lifeless as his innards spilled. “Well...that's one way of getting the job done...No need to find Raphael, I suppose...he usually does a good job of finding us first...” Astarion folded his arms, taking in the scene of carnage. “Told you I wouldn't let you down.” Sentry smiled confidently. “You certainly do have a honeyed tongue, Sentry.” Halsin remarked, gazing somewhat uncertainly at the havoc that tongue had wrought. “Shall we look around? He's bound to have had some kind of treasure, maybe a powerful weapon or two?” Sentry suggested. “I mean, waste not, want not and all?” “See, I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Astarion smirked. --- Back at camp, Kroger stole nervous glances towards the corner where Arabella had immediately latched onto the camp's mysterious benefactor. She bombarded Withers with question after question and showed no fear towards the undead being, seeming to regard him as an indulgent grandfather almost.

“I should tell her...I shouldn't keep it to myself, it's cruel to let her hope for so long...”The ghustil frowned to himself, inhaling deeply as he tried to work up the nerve to tell the child what he had seen in the house of healing. After all, there was no leniency or indulgence for githyanki children, they were forced to confront such things far younger and far more viscerally. But no, Kroger remembered those feelings, he remembered being expected to handle so much so young. His upbringing told him it was meant to make him strong, but his instinct as a healer told him he had needed, more than that, deserved tenderness. There was too little tenderness in his world when he was young and too little in this girl's world right now. “Brother?” Kroger was shaken from his thoughts by Octavia's interruption. “Sorry to startle you, it's just the others are returning, I thought you might want to see to any injuries, especially considering how you only just finished treating Mr. Ojeda not too long ago.” She continued before making her way to where Gale was cooking a meal to help him. Kroger nodded. Yes, the distraction he needed. He slowly rose to his feet and met the returning party at the fire. He noted Sentry had a large grin across his face and looked slightly dazed. Pressing a palm over his eyes and inhaling deeply, Kroger braced himself to hear what the group had gotten themselves into. “Well, we came through it mostly unscathed, actually.” Shadowheart assured him. Then her expression fell, nose wrinkled in disgust. “And then Sentry had to taste a dead spider we found and he's been weird ever since.” Kroger sighed and shook his head, approaching Sentry. He produced a small wand of light from his pouch and waved it at differing angles in front of Sentry's eyes, deactivating the spell and putting it away, taking out a small metal rod and looking up at the tiefling. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue, Mr. Ojeda...”

Once Sentry had been examined and Kroger was satisfied the effects of the strange ingestion were temporary, Sentry joined Astarion at his tent and the familiar scent of sulfur and cherries filled the air. Yugir was right, that really was a disgusting scent, Sentry thought.

“Do you know what happens when a devil is struck down on this charming plane of existence?” The cambion mused, striking his usual self-important pose. “It returns to The Hells. To the very point where it last stood before venturing into whatever Devilforsaken plane it died on...” He gave a chuckle and a nasty little smirk. “In the case of our friend Yugir, the Orthorn you so handily dispatched in the Temple of Shar, he manifested in my House of Hope.” “Uh-huh...None of which has anything to do with us. The deal was kill him, we did that. Now tell Astarion what he wants to know.” Sentry demanded, arms folded across his chest. The tiefling was unimpressed with Raphael's posturing and pretty poetry. He still wasn't sure why, but he had less trust, less tolerance for this man than the rest of the party did. Something scratched and gnawed at the back of his mind that even before the incident with Mol, he had reason to dislike Raphael. “Yes, exactly! We did as you asked, now I want what I'm owed. We had a deal.” Astarion glared at Raphael, impatient and irritated that the cambion would, of course, drag this out as much as possible. Raphael's smirk widened. “Indeed we did. I discovered all there is to know about those scars of yours. Rather a grim tale, even for my own tastes...” “Sure, I'll bet.” Sentry snorted. “You're just trying to frighten him so you get something for nothing.” Astarion nodded. “I don't care how gruesome it is, I need to know.” Though he did for a split second seem a big apprehensive, did Sentry note fear in his eyes? “As you wish...” Raphael chuckled darkly. “ Brace yourself, Astarion! We are about to uncover your destiny.” The cambion gestured grandly. “Carved into that ivory skin of yours is one part of an infernal contract between the archdevil Mephistopheles and your former master, Cazador Szarr.” Sentry grimaced. He was afraid of that. The wording did seem official, though he had chalked that assumption up to his own lack of experience in legal matters and hadn't wanted to hazard a guess and risk being wrong, frightening the other man for no reason. He looked to Astarion, checking to see if he was still alright. The vampire was listening intently.

Raphael continued. “In full, the contract states that Cazador will be granted knowledge of an infernal ritual so vile it has never been performed....” Raphael's expression grew dark and serious as he intoned nearly reverently. “The Rite of Profane Ascension.” Sentry and Astarion looked at one another, Sentry's expression one of concern, saying without words that he was here, that Astarion was safe. Astarion for his part held a look of equal parts fear and fascination. “It promises to be a marvelous ceremony, very elaborate, incredibly ancient, and entirely diabolical.” Raphael smirked, his gaze remaining on his captive audience. “If he completes the rite, he will become a new kind of being-- The Vampire Ascendant!” “And what would that entail?” Sentry raised a brow. “All the strengths of his vampiric form will be amplified, and alongside them, he will enjoy the luxuries of the living.” Raphael replied smugly. “The arousals and appetites of man will return to him, and, unlike Astarion, he will have no need of a parasite to protect him from the sun.” “The catch? I mean, apart from it being Cazador and all...” Sentry asked, impatiently. The nasty gleam in Raphael's eyes grew brighter. “Ah yes, the ritual has a price, as do all things worth while...” He leaned in closer. “ Lord Cazador will need to sacrifice a number of souls, including all of his vampiric spawn if he is to ascend...” The cambion laughed aloud. “Imagine, then, how he felt when one of those spawn simply disappeared into thin air...” “Well, I guess it's not a problem then. He won't be ascending because I will never allow him to lay a hand on Astarion.” Sentry replied, instinctively taking a protective step in front of Astarion.

“Either way, our business has concluded and I have much to do elsewhere.” Raphael smirked, Sentry's protective nature was almost adorable. With a snap of his fingers he disappeared in a cloud of red smoke. Astarion frowned, looking at the ground pensively, his eyes fearful but with intense thought behind them. Sentry reached out to him, not touching, not without permission, but leaving his hand open just inches from his shoulder if he need him. “I meant what I said, that rancid old shit won't touch you ever again.” Sentry assured him. “You've got not just me, but all of us. We're stronger together.” The paladin smiled gently. “Cazador wouldn't let me slip away so easily when I was just another plaything, now I know he'll never stop hunting me....” Astarion replied. “He'll keep coming after me until the end of days...” He inhaled deeply. “The only way I can be safe is to kill him.” Sentry's expression brightened. “You know me, I'm really good at that! I'll be right by your side when the time comes.” Astarion smiled and finally allowed himself to lean into Sentry's touch. “Thank you.”

----- After a night's rest, the party had returned to their explorations of the temple ruins. Several uneventful encounters with skeletons and ghostly justiciars led to a strange room, which Sentry half-way recognized as a necromancer's lab of some sort. Ghouls skulked about tidying and replacing incredients, and a large man in a black robe stood at a table guarded by an even large creature of twisted flesh. “Hmm...Not many True Souls could make it this far...” The man gave a wicked smile in Sentry's direction. “You should be proud.” The man looked so familiar, Sentry was sure he had seen him before, even just in passing. Something about him struck a similar chord to Raphael, that instant visceral dislike. “I am Balthazar, advisor to General Thorm...and since you have made it this far, I can only assume you're here to assist me in aiding him...” The man continued, steepling his large, wormlike fingers.

As he spoke, Sentry's eyes drifted to what seemed to be a specimen shelf and his eyes fell on an odd little bottle. Inside there seemed to swim a brain in a viscous green liquid. The colors were enchanting, so charming together. Sentry's mind swam with ideas, the textures such a brain could make as a painting tool and the tint that greenish liquid could give to the right shade of paint. Or, another sculpture, perhaps one of those creatures he had encountered on the nautiloid. He was barely aware of what the necromancer was proposing. “Yeah, yes...we came to help...um...from Ketheric.” Sentry nodded. “If you want to go over the details further with my companions...” He began to inch towards the shelf, by some miracle, either the necromancer didn't notice or assumed Sentry wouldn't do anything. “Yes, I'll take the details. I'm far better at keeping them in mind, our friend is a bit absent minded.” Shadowheart easily picked up with a cover story, her Sharran training on full display as she pretended to be another agent of General Ketheric here to retrieve his artifact. As the necromancer explained the details to Shadowheart, who nodded along and occasionally asked what could have easily been a pertinent question, Sentry palmed the bottle and slid it into his pack before making his way back over. “Fascinating specimens, really just top notch...and that fleshwork you've got there, did I hear you tell my accomplice he was your brother? Amazing.” Sentry nodded with approval, looking up at the creature. “In part, yes—my unborn twin. Mother always resented me for it, said I strangled him in the womb if you believe such tripe.” The necromancer sneered. “Ah, yeah, I've heard similar, I had a sister once with seven twins...um...I feel like there's a word for that, but anyway, she killed them all too...of course, they had already been born at the time, I think she was twelve years old, as she told me...Still, similar stories.” Did he have a sister like that? Or was it just an old story that popped into his head? For some reason, the beautiful smiling elf from his fractured memories came to mind and he made a mental note that she was probably dangerous.

“At any rate, once I developed my powers, I fetched him from the graveyard, brought him back—gave him a new, better body...” The man sighed and shook his head. “Alas, mother was not pleased...” “That's too bad, you know, sometimes parents just don't understand real artistry. That certainly is phenomenal work on his new body...I hope she eventually understood.” Sentry gave a sympathetic nod. “And how's your mother now?” “Oh, we're still close.” The necromancer grinned wickedly. “She's in that jar on the shelf over there.” He blinked and paused as he noticed the jar was missing, his eyes widening. “This jar?” Sentry asked innocently, producing the one he'd stolen from his pack and holding it up. The necromancer sputtered a moment, reeling with angry. “ What the...!? Give me back my mother this instant!” “But she has so much potential...” Sentry frowed, drawing the jar back to himself, holding it up to his face and gazing through the green liquid at the necromancer.. Shadowheart was hiding a mirthful grin behind her hand and Astarion looked ready to burst out laughing. Halsin looked rather ill. The necromancer cried out and aimed a ray of green energy at Sentry, who quickly leapt out of the way. “Damn! And here I thought you were a fellow artist!”

----- Octavia frowned. Usually Gale would be starting to cook by now, but there was no fire prepared and the smell of food was uncharacteristically absent from the camp. She looked around for any sign of him, and finding none, she approached his tent, coming face to face with a shimmering simulacrum instead.

“Greetings! I am here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep, he wishes you to join him at another location, I can take you there when you are ready.” The figured beamed. “Oh...um...yes, I'm ready.” Octavia nodded and took the figure's hand, finding herself in a clearing beneath a sky full of brilliant stars. Gale sat not far from where she had arrived and she walked over to join him, sitting beside him and smiling. “What a beautiful place!” She beamed. “You imagined all of it?” She breathed, gazing in awe at the stars. Somewhere far beyond them was her home. “Yes....having time to contemplate one's mortality will often make a person sentimental...” Gale nodded, leaning back. “I...I wanted to thank you for traveling with me, for all you've done...” “Of course! For a charming man like you? Anyone would have.” Octavia beamed, joining Gale in reclining a bit more. “Gods, this is such a perfect night...is it one you remember distinctly or just what you might imagine one to look like?” She continued. Gale gave her a small, sad smile. “I've spent much of my time absorbed in study and entwined in the weave itself, so I must confess this is put together from what I've read and from what I've seen on our journey.” Octavia nodded gently, her fingertips softly brushing his hand. “Then you are a powerful wizard indeed to conjure this from imagination.” “You could as well, Octavia. The power and potential you've shown while we've traveled together, the brilliant mind you possess....” He began and then sighed. “You make me wish I had more time...” He shook his head. Octavia gripped his hand, squeezing it tightly, she frowned a bit. “And you don't because Mystra decrees it?” She looked up at him with those wide, eloquent eyes.

Gods, she was giving him the reproachful look Tara gave him so often, usually when he was doing something foolish. “It's the only way to defeat The Absolute....” “Is it?” Octavia cocked her head to one side curiously, “Because did Mystra not also decree that her followers, and especially her chosen should preserve magic in all its forms?” Gale opened his mouth to respond, but Octavia held up a hand. “Why then are you being punished for trying to do just that, Gale Dekarios?” Gale thought a moment, lowering his head and exhaling deeply. “Let's...let's not talk about that just now...I actually brought you here because I wanted to confess something...” He took both of Octavia's hands in his, his deep brown eyes meeting her bright lizard-like blue eyes. “I love you, Octavia of Creche K'liir...and I wanted to spend just one night with you before...before the end.” Octavia blushed, smiling softly. “Oh Gale...There were signs, certainly, but I have made errors before, so I said nothing, but...” She pressed her forehead to his. Her skin was smooth and cool to the touch. “I love you too...and though it doesn't seem it now, there will not BE an end, not so soon...but you're right, for now let's simply enjoy one another's company.” The world around them faded and reformed, a beautiful, cozy study taking the place of the quiet glade. Octavia's face lit up as she gazed around in awe. A real wizard's tower! She had only seen them in books or a few lesser ones once or twice when a curious fellow mage would invite her to share knowledge and a meal. Gale's was beyond all of them, however, books lined every wall and more still were stacked on desks, comfortable chairs, ornate statues, and even out on the sun drenched balcony which overlooked a beautiful harbor. “I could stay in this place forever....” Octavia breathed, leaning against the balcony rail and gazing out at the sky. She smiled, pressing her body to his as Gale slid an arm around her waist and leaned in close.

“There's more I can show you, if you like....wonders of the weave itself that even few wizards experience....” He smiled gently. “Then show me. I'm eager to learn.” Octavia gave a coy, playful smile. “And don't be shy, I have loved before, even if never in the way you're suggesting...I like to try new things.” ---- “You know, my memory isn't all that great, but when I became a paladin I don't think I had to jump through nearly as many hoops.” Sentry groaned as the party picked their way over the fallen undead justiciars and made their way into the library's vault to retrieve the sacred weapon which was said to lie within. “Well, that's simply because Ilmater is not as discerning as my lady.” Shadowheart replied, placing the correct book on the pedestal and standing before the massive golden embossed door, waiting as it lowered and stepping in to claim her price. The magnificent spear glimmered before her along with a set of beautifully crafted armor and she breathed deeply as her trembling fingers brushed the shaft of the weapon. Sentry rolled his eyes. “Pretty rude for someone who still needs me to cover them in battle.” The tiefling murmured. He glanced at the weapon and whistled. “That IS a pretty fine weapon, though...the blade looks particularly nasty...” “If all the pomp and circumstance is through with can we PLEASE find this Nightsong and get out of here? I'm all for the whole gloomy crypt look, but even I'm getting tired of this place.” Astarion whined, folding his arms across his chest like a petulant child.

“Far be it for me to complain, but this place truly is far from welcoming.” Halsin added. “We're almost through, I can feel it. My destiny awaits.” Shadowheart took a deep breath as the party made their way back up to continue on. After making use of the strange glowing baubles they'd found in each tedious trial, they crossed the black expanse on another floating platform. Sentry marveled at the statues they passed. Not his preferred medium at all, but he recognized the craftsmanship that went into depicting the goddess of night and every painstaking detail of her elaborate garb and beautiful yet cruel face. They made their way through a final door and into what appeared to be an ancient baptismal bath. The silence was oppressive, but still Shadowheart went to her knees in the water and began to pray. Astarion rolled his eyes impatiently, but Sentry and Halsin both gave him a look which plainly said 'this is important, do not interrupt her.' Sentry understood all too well communion with one's god, and though he wasn't sure he'd ever heard Ilmater's voice, he was well aware the anger he'd feel if he was disrupted while speaking to Commander Ojeda's spirit. Finally, Shadowheart rose to her feet and inclined her head. “Thank you for your patience. We'll press onward now...” And the party ventured forward into the water, slowly sinking, the darkness enveloping them until they emerged on the other side into what felt like a tempest. Shadowheart led the way over the craggy terrain and across the daunting gaps in space. Spirits of past justiciar hopefuls whispered their wisdom on all sides and the storm grew louder. Finally, the party alighted on the final platform, where a pale woman in rags, her body struck through with gold scars, struggled against phantasmal bindings.

“Another would-be Justiciar come to seek the praise of your wicked goddess, come to drive a dagger through my heart...” She woman spat, pacing the floor and glaring at Shadowheart as she regarded her distrustfully. “Not a dagger, a spear.” Shadowheart replied forcefully, hefting the beautiful weapon she had acquired. “My Lady Shar's spear!” Shadowheart turned to Sentry and looked intensely up into his eyes. “Her fate is mine to seal, let me handle this!” The woman shook her head and frowned. “The fate you seal is your own, to be a Dark Justiciar is to turn your heart from everything but loss. You will know no love, no joy, only servitude.” Sentry felt a gnawing in the pit of his stomach at those words. The love he couldn't remember, the sharp jolts of pain throughout his entire body while he saw only red agony, the compulsions that tormented him, the nagging voice in his mind urging him towards evil. He felt a chill through his body, but he took a deep breath. This was Shadowheart's choice, whether he liked it or not. “Until your mistress inevitably discards you...” The woman continued, her expression softening, her eyes held a look of truth to them, she did not seem to care about saving her own skin, only warning Shadowheart away from this awful fate. “And there is much she does not tell you-- a terrible blood price which may extend beyond my own death...” Sentry looked to Shadowheart uncertainly. There was hesitation, she didn't seem certain anymore. Behind that look of determination, there was doubt. If she did this, Sentry worried for her, what her future would be. He had felt this worry before, he realized, though the memory of who it was for was shrouded. He reached out to her. The woman was eyeing Sentry curiously, clearly it was obvious to her that he was not a Sharran, but she seemed to hold no expectation that he would intervene, only that his presence here meant something was very different than the trials of justiciars past.

Sentry inhaled deeply and placed a hand on Shadowheart's shoulder. “I trust your judgment, Shadowheart, I know you'll do what's right.” The half-elf paused a moment, gripping the spear tightly in trembling hands and squeezing her eyes shut tightly. She bit her lip as though fighting back a thought clawing at her mind and for one awful moment, Sentry's own mind raced with excitement, eager to see celestial blood spilled, but he forced it down, no, he didn't want this. But it was Shadowheart's choice....And as he waited with bated breath, he saw his trust was well founded. “...for I know you, a lost child frightened by wolves in the dark...” Shadowheart gasped. “What did you say?” “Much has been promised to you, but what do you know of your own heart, of your own life?” The woman asked. She gazed at Shadowheart, pale grey eyes locking with bright green. “I sense more in you than you know...” The spear flew over the edge of the platform as Shadowheart hurled it into the abyss below them, breathing heavily, eyes wide as it dawned on her that she had betrayed Shar. She had failed her goddess. Sentry offered her am arm for support. “I can't belief I just did that...defied Lady Shar....she will disown me...” Shadowheart murmured, still trembling. “What will happen to me?” “Not what will happen, what will you do...” The Nightsong corrected her gently. “Your past is not yet lost and your future is not yet fixed.” She explained. She knelt before Shadowheart, even going as far as to bow her head in trust to the girl who might have killed her. “Lay a hand on me in friendship, not-quite-Sharran, and I will fight that battle that has awaited me this last century. And then, oh then, we shall have much to discuss.”

Sentry took a step back, allowing the two their space, and he kept watch beside Astarion and Halsin as Shadowheart hesitantly approached, laying her hand on the woman's shoulder. The air around them grew cleary, the darkness abating even if only a little. It felt as though strains of reverent song rang out through The Shadowfell as the woman's fist connected brutally with the ground in rhythmic succession and her rags were transformed in glimmering armor the color of pure moonlight and inlaid with blue gems and glass. A beautiful sword appeared in her hands and pristine golden wings extended from her shoulders. Shadowheart gazed in disbelief at the figure before her and Sentry was unable to hide his awe as a fellow paladin. She was a creature of legend, a true being of light. And with one final glance down at her rescuers, she inclined her head gracefully and flew off at great speed from her prison. A shimmering portal appeared in her stead and the party made their way towards it. “You know, I'm kind of surprised Shar is this quiet about being defied, I'd always heard what a jealous goddess she was.” Sentry mused as his eyes darted around the relatively unchanged domain. “Still, I guess better safe than sorry, we should probably leave.” “A fair point...I shudder to think what's in store for me..” Shadowheart whispered, gazing fearfully behind her as the party left the Shadowfell.

[whiskeyskin]

Praise You

Premise: Thaniel and Oliver are reunited and Halsin's feeling a bit aimless, a head massage is just what Silvanus ordered. Not that kind.. well, maybe that kind too 😏🍆💦

• Halsin x gn!tav • M rating • Religious themes •

Cleric Gn!tav, religious experience but it's sexy?, Silvanus take the wheel, m!masturbation, hair braiding, massages, taking care of Halsin, kissing, confessions, revelations, deliciously wet Halsin, horny, connection, divine threesome if you squint?

5.4k words

Gods bless @naariel for these beautiful shots of this delicious man 😚👌✨ Get The Full Picture

(Just imagine Tav is the bedroll 😏)

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•°•°•

It was a particularly jovial time in camp this evening, despite the grim surroundings, however they seemed a little less bleak now that Thaniel and Oliver were together again.

From inside the protection of the Moondome, they sat together with many bottles of wine, as so generously provided by the Last Light's cellar.

They still had Ketheric Thorm to deal with but that was tomorrow's problem. Tonight, they drank.

Halsin had been carrying the weight of the Shadowcurse for over a century, now he'd finally been able to lessen it's hold and rescue his childhood friend from a terrible fate. There was almost a glow about him as he sat nursing his only glass.

He looked a little lost at times, almost in mild shock. As though he couldn't quite believe what had happened.

Tav smiled warmly, they wondered what was in store for Halsin Silverbough.

They'd been brushing out Shadowheart's hair for 45 minutes to redo her hair ready for tomorrow's foray into Shar's Gauntlet, down to find the Nightsong.

Finally, the brush glided through her long raven locks with ease.

"There, that's half the battle won already. Ketheric will be a walk in the park after dealing with your tenday's long hair." Tav jested, brushing her hair up into a ponytail.

"Oh, shut up you," she threw with failed derision, "I would have done it myself, but you offered." She shrugged, taking a sip of wine.

"Oh, yes. Forlornly calling out that you wanted to gussy yourself for Shar, only.. alas! You can't remember how to do your hair. The pinnacle of passive aggressive whinging." Astarion threw across the fire, nursing his own goblet.

"Well, you're the expert." Shadowheart countered, illiciting a jeering reaction from the group.

"Ooh, she's got you there Fangs!" Karlach nudged his shoulder with her elbow, a little too forcefully. Astarion rubbed yelped and rubbed his shoulder.

"What do you mean? When I'm unhappy, I come right out and say it. I don't waste time beating around the bush."

"Correct, but your continued and incessant complaints regarding self-cleanliness in this wilderness are tiresome." Lae'zel sneered.

"Not to play devil's advocate, Lae'zel but I have to agree with Astarion on this one. Trying to maintain any kind of a bathing routine whilst braving these perilous lands is a task most impossible to undertake." Gale retorted, holding his hands up in gesture.

"Well, now that Thaniel and Oliver are restored, these lands will flourish once more when nature takes it's course. Oakfather willing." Halsin did his customary gesture.

"I don't really mind, and you've been a very good model sitting here without whining." Tav stated, tying off her hair and pulling it tight but comfortable, "it reminds me of my childhood, we'd spend hours brushing and braiding each other's hair. It was practice for when we'd be braiding those in ceremony."

"Ah yes, the braids of your people are intricate indeed." Wyll nodded, "I've met a few with the most complicated of braidwork, it's very impressive."

"Well, I was never good enough to braid those. It's more about the smaller victories that I specialise in. Smaller and more personal to the individual." They explained, twisting her hair to make it more manageable to thread through her hair adornment.

"Smaller victories?" Lae'zel narrowed her eyes with a curious tilt.

Shadowheart handed Tav her silver adornment, "Yes, they can be anything really. Anything that the person overcame; hardships, trials, successes, even failures."

"Your people celebrate failure? Bah. Mediocrity must be cleansed-"

"-Cleansed, yes we know what the Gith think about all of that. Despite this apparently fatal flaw, my people are great warriors, Lae'zel." Tav interceded, threading Shadowheart's hair through the chains to secure the hair piece.

"I know this. You have shown yourself distinguished in battle many times." Lae'zel insisted, frowning in the way she did.

"And yet, I'm not your 'typical' warrior. I'm valued because of the strengths I do have, not shunned for the ones I don't. My people embrace failure without shame, or repulsion because it takes more from a person to admit their mistakes, than to admit their success."

A hush fell over the group as Tav's words sank in. A few uncomfortable shuffles echoed around the group.

"I feel like there was more I could do to help the Tiefling refugees. I should have done more." Wyll said, breaking the silence.

"That's not a failure, that's a regret. Regrets are useless, Wyll. They keep us from seeing the good. You taught those children enough to survive that attack. You told Umi it's about giving him enough time to escape and they did. So, I'd count that as a success." Tav replied, smiling. Wyll took a stuttered inhale, surprised by their perspective.

"I failed to stop the Shadowcurse, it shouldn't have come to this." Halsin admitted, a pained expression on his face.

"You failed to kill Ketheric Thorm but so did many others that day. But you, my friend," Tav leaned to rest a firm hand on his muscular shoulder, "are the only reason it's ended now."

"If it had not been for you-"

"-Then you would have found a way. Your failure, is now your triumph, Halsin. This pain that has clouded you for a century, is finally done." Tav jolted him hard to emphasise their point, then scanned his hair, "I need to give you a new braid."

His head jerked to look up, hazel green eyes wide, "I did not think-"

"You need two; one for your failing, one for your victory. We are defined by both and must wear them proudly. If you'll permit me?" Tav paused, seeking consent.

They allowed the revelation to seep inward. The tenants of their people were often the cause of deep realisations regarding the self. Even when those people were as wise as Halsin.

"You would honour me." His warm, kind eyes brimmed with the threat of tears but he stoically swallowed them down.

~~~

The evening passed in reflective revelry, the gang admitted many deep seated secrets that had shamed them. It bonded them further, in a way that was Tadpole-free. By the end, Tav would need to braid all of their friends.

Lae'zel touched the fresh re-plaiting Tav had done for her, adding another to symbolise her small achievement of befriending Istiki. She seemed pleased.

Halsin had peeled away from the fire a short while ago but hadn't returned. Tav hoped that they hadn't caused him hurt by what they had said.

After such a long time of carrying this burden, taking a step back and looking at the situation in it's entirety after being so intrinsically entwined with it.. blinded within it.. would take time.

But they'd meant every word. He was an incredible man. And they hoped he saw that in himself.

Eventually, everyone resigned to their bedrolls. A goodnight hug from Karlach, Wyll, Gale and surprisingly Shadowheart, a pat on the shoulder from Astarion, and the usual nod from Lae'zel, imparted with more warmth than before.

"You can feed on me again tonight, let me just go check on where Halsin's got to." Tav gently patted Astarion's arm.

"I appreciate that. Unless I want to eat cow, there's nothing around here."

"Cow can be delicious but not in the way you experience taste, I'll bet."

"Ugh, no. Livestock taste - ugh - well, you can imagine." He curled his lip in disgust.

Tav laughed, "If they taste as bad as they smell, I think I can."

~~~

After very little searching, Tav found Halsin by the lakeside, just inside Isobel's protection. There seemed to be a large, silver basin in front of him.

He was naked from the waist up, revealing his impossibly muscled physique. Tav gasped. They'd obviously seen his barely contained body in his Druidic armour, but laid bare in front of them like this, their mouth had suddenly run dry, yet salivated hungrily simultaneously.

His hair looked longer, almost freer, as he took the basin over his head with ease and poured it over his hair.

Again, Tav gasped and a pooling of lust hit low in their belly watching this mountain of an Elf drench himself in water.

Halsin placed the basin back on the rock and pinched the water out of his eyes. He shook with an exhale, squeezing out the excess water from his hair and caught Tav's gaze.

Immediately feeling foolish, Tav jerked themselves out of their stupor and waved nonchalantly, making their way down to him. Halsin returned with a half wave as he wiped his face down with his hand.

"I didn't see you there, didn't realise anyone else was awake." He smiled brightly, towering half naked and beautiful.

Tav returned the smile, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"You were concerned for me?" He sounded surprised.

"Of course, I understand that what I said might have been quite a lot to digest before one sleeps. I wanted to see that you were well, and rested."

Halsin's brows pulsed together but his expression remained warm, "It has been quite some time since someone checked to make sure I was rested but I promise you, I'm perfectly fine."

"I didn't mean to offend, or speak out of turn. The Shadowcurse has superceded everything else in your life and having that finally lifted from your burdens-"

Halsin held up a large paw to silence them, "Hush now, you did not speak out of turn. In fact, you spoke more truth than I've heard in a long time. A redeeming quality of yours.." he trailed off, with an intense stare.

"I'm glad to not offend, because I don't regret what I said. What you've achieved today will change the course of this land forever, for good this time."

"I must admit, it is a strange feeling to see hope sprout anew in these lands, after so much darkness." He mused, looking to the spot he'd brought Thaniel through from the Shadowfell.

Tav thought on the fierce battle for the portal, the desperate need to keep Halsin safe. The sheer relief that flooded them when they saw him return with Thaniel unconscious in his strong arms.

They stole a glance at him while he looked out towards the water. He truly was beautiful.

The strong line of his scarred jaw, the definition of his muscles, the uncharacteristic growth of chest hair dark against his sun-kissed skin. The lingering droplets of water chasing each other down the contours of his torso and into the damp waistband of his camp clothes.

Tav swallowed. Halsin was obviously a stunningly attractive man, but the energy and presence that exuded from his very soul was intoxicating; His strength, his compassion, his bravery and his boundless capacity for goodness and hope-

He'd taken out his braids.

Tav blinked twice, then glanced down to the empty silver basin and now what they saw to be soaps, glass bottles and tubs.

"What are you doing down here, Halsin?" They asked, plainly.

He blinked, returning his gaze to them, "Well, I had hoped to commemorate this occasion, as you suggested. That you would honour me with a new braid. However, my cleanliness has not been the top priority these last days and my hair is seldom touched by anyone but me. It required some attending to." He chose his words delicately. It made Tav laugh.

"Would you like some help?"

"I think I have imposed enough on your good will for one day. Although, I must admit, I do not know anything about hair care." He admitted with a chuckle.

"Well, I see you come fully stocked." They motioned to the jars, picking them up to read the labels.

"I spoke to Isobel about blessing some water so that I may bathe, one of the Harpers kindly gave me some of their own poltices and potions to use."

Tav opened a container to gauge the consistency, Halsin also reaching for a bottle. They took a sniff of the thick, white poltice and found it to be coconut.

"Ah, this is to soften and strengthen hair. Plus it smells divine." They offered Halsin to smell the balm, to which he let out a hum of agreement.

"This is an oil. To help with hair?" He said shrugging his shoulders and unstoppering it, the scent of lavender and rosemary strong on the air.

Tav nodded in agreement, "That's for the scalp as well as the hair. A scalp massage is unlike anything else for relaxation."

"Is that so?" Halsin asked with a playful lilt.

"It is so. Would you like a scalp massage? I am very proficient in them." Tav boasted, taking the oil bottle Halsin offered.

"Another of your many talents." He admired in a low register. Another intense gaze burned them in place.

"Well, in order for me to braid you, your hair must be in a good condition. If you'll allow me?" They gestured for him to sit.

"Now? Here?" He asked.

"Where else could be better than at the site of your achievement?" Tav posited, gesturing to the jutting rock.

Halsin turned down his lips and nodded in agreement, "I can't argue with that."

They both settled on the rocks, Halsin sat lower down in front of Tav's crossed legs. Tav rolled his camp shirt to place against the rock to afford Halsin more comfort, to which he rewarded them with another warm smile.

Once they were both in position, Tav pushed their sleeves up, "Tilt your head back for me." Halsin dutifully acquiesced, and they poured a good helping of the rosemary and lavender oil, assuring that it didn't drip.

"That smells wonderful." Halsin said through a smile.

"That it does," Tav agreed, flexing their fingers against Halsin's scalp in small circles, "It should feel even better." They returned with a smirk.

"Ooh, that it does." He mimicked, after a few moments of groans.

Tav proceeded with the scalp massage, fingers practised and strong, offering healing and relaxation.

They saw the tension in his shoulders ripple away and he sank lower into the feeling, "You can rest your head against my legs if you'd like." They offered. A normal suggestion in these circumstances but this time it felt far more loaded.

They'd given hundreds of these kinds of treatments but this time felt different, important.. charged.

Wordlessly, Halsin sank back into them. The back of his neck resting on their crossed calves, as they continued their practice. His handsome face was contented.. at peace, as he gently lay on them.

Tav watched the small changes in his expression as their fingers worked their magic. His brows would flex, his closed eyelids would stretch as though his eyes were rolling back in his head.

Tav employed the subtle use of their nails to awaken the scalp for regeneration, raking them across his head. Halsin's jaw tensed and he let out a low rumble that sounded not quite human but it made their stomach tumble over uncomfortably.

"Apologies," Halsin's voice came out slightly breathlessly, "This is feeling quite good, and my grip over the animal within can be tenuous at times. I hope it doesn't frighten you." He opened his eyes to look up at them, his incomparable green hazel eyes shadowed with lashes and uncertainty.

"You could never frighten me, Halsin. You make me feel safe, protected. Never afraid." Tav spoke in a hushed tone and moved their thumbs to massage the worry lines that appeared there, "You are immense and powerful and you deserve to feel good."

"Mm, you make me feel good. Very good." Halsin licked his bottom lip and took a shaky breath.

Tav paused to add more oil to their hands, rubbing them together and gliding their full width to smooth his hair down. Then tossing his hair from side to side to work their way to the underside to massage the back of his neck.

Halsin groaned at the force of their fingers, "Tav, that feels quite extraordinary. You have a real talent for this." He let out a breathy chuckle.

"I'm not even started yet, Bear man." They teased, "You'll be practically unconscious by the time I'm finished with you." The tinge of unintentional sexual energy peppered their words, as they pushed the muscles of his neck under their hands.

"Bear man?" He shot out a laugh, "We shall both be exhausted after this, I'll wager."

"I've been doing this for many years, I could do this for hours." They braced into their strength and worked the heel of their palms hard, down into the extremely tight musculature of his shoulders.

Halsin let out a shuddering yelp, then a rumble paired with a gasp, "That.. was unfair."

"You're wound tighter than a Patrirar's arse, Halsin. You need to relax."

He sat up a little, pushing against the force.

"Oh, and how would you suggest I do that, when you're burying your fingers into my shoulders? Gods." He strained through gritted teeth.

"Besides a massage? A bath, masturbation, meditation, booze? There are lots of fun ways to unwind." Tav smirked, thumbs working over his wound muscles.

"All sound suggestions, apart from masturbation. That would be a tad inappropriate, don't you agree?" His tone was light and dark at the same time, it curled a devious smile to Tav's lips.

Their eyes flitted down to Halsin's crotch subconsciousally, only to almost choke at the sight of the thick snake straining against the fabric.

The aroma of arousal suffused around them, now turned to a thick smog, covering them unabashedly.

It gripped Tav low in their belly and held them by the throat, their own desire throbbing between their legs.

They folded themselves over him and leaned to whisper in his ear, their firm hands gliding down the strong plains of his chest.

They had never been good at being coy.

"Halsin. I would love you to touch yourself while I massage you. I would love to hear the sweet sounds of your pleasure and satisfaction, as we celebrate this together. To see you, to hear you. To bless this with an act of self love." Their lips caught on the hard edges of his Elvish ears, and he shuddered beneath them, his muscles bunching under their palms.

"You would?" He muttered, swallowing thickly.

"To see your beauty laid bare to me in such an intimate and scared act, yes I would.." They hummed into the shell of his ear.

He stretched his head back, pulling his lips back and baring fangs for a split second.

"Show that you're free of this regret, that it holds you no longer. Own this. Take this moment as yours. Praise the Gods with your surrender and pleasure."

Halsin huffed out an unsteady breath and began unfastening his trousers until his large, thick erection jutted free, sprouting from dark hair.

Tav eyed his cock hungrily with trepidation and intrigue, the image of Halsin buried deep inside them flashing before their eyes. The ghost of the stretch around him clenched their sex, filling their mouth saliva.

"Is this truly what you want?" Halsin asked, his large hand waiting in a fist on his toned thigh.

"If you mean to ask; is this an appropriate scenario for two friends to participate in, then no, it's probably not."

His fist squeezed tightly in frustration, as he sighed.

"I thought not." He said bitterly through tight lips.

"However, I was never one to follow rules." They moaned through a grin, as they flicked the tip of their tongue across his earlobe, nipping lightly with their teeth.

The air from Halsin's lungs whooshed out, as he slammed his to grip the back of their head, the other placed on their's across his heart. He fisted their hair, as he writhed against their suckling of his sensitive ears.

He pulled on their thickest braid, desire tugged them deeper with every follicle. Tav's eyes rolled back as they moaned, open-mouthed. Halsin trembled out a repressed groan, biting down on his lip and closing his eyes.

"Silvanus forgive me." He whined, sliding his hand from their hair, finally allowing himself the freedom to touch his twitching, weeping cock.

"No, 'Silvanus bless me'," Tav corrected, as they slid their oiled hand from under his grasp and held his forearm across his chest. They looked up, passed the moon barrier, to the sky, "Silvanus, bare witness to your faithful servant. Bless this act of devotion."

"Yes.. yes." He uttered, head sliding to their shoulder, cradled into their embrace. His huffed, hot breath jagged against their jaw.

Tav looked down to watch him pump his cock mercilessly, the beading precum that had leaked coating the blows. They swallowed his gasps and moans as he pushed against them.

Suddenly, the cold night of the shadows were ushered away, replaced by the sensation of sunlight and the smell of the trees and fresh earth. Tav could taste the juice of the fruits bore and the brilliance of light shining.

Tav smiled joyfully, bathed in the light of Halsin's God.

The All-Father was here with them.

"Do you feel-" He barely managed through gasps. They nodded against the sweat of his skin.

"Silvanus sees you, Halsin," they breathed, an irreverent smile across their face.

They heard words that had no source booming through their mind, they knew the meaning and listened.

"He has felt your faith and love. Your devotion and dedication to him and to the task of freeing these lands. He has found you deserving of his blessings. He granted you passage to retrieve Thaniel because he knew that you are worthy."

The divine words came out without thought, as tears slid down their cheeks.

"Thank you, Oakfather.. but.. none of this.. would have been possible.. without Tav." He keened, grip on his throbbing cock intensifying, "Bless them, Silvanus. Bless them."

The swell of the divine enhanced tenfold. Tav wept at the radiance coursing through them. The heat, the force.. it was indescribable. Incomparable.

"We would have been lost without you. All would have been lost without you." A low whimper rang from the back of his throat, as they kissed his markings.

The voice thundered inside their head once more, words of affirmation and benevolent boon. Tav gasped, their vision blinded by light, their lips rounded into a serene smile.

"You are the catalyst, Halsin. You are the might that wrenches away the rot, you are the sunlight and water to feed the earth.. Yours is the seed that brings new life."

Their other hand came down to grasp at his forearm, feeling the furious movement of Halsin's joy. Halsin yelped, gulping moans as he pumped his massive cock in abandon, thumping his strong hips to meet every stroke.

"I'm-I'm.." He choked, his jaw clenching, rhythm erratic.

"Yes, Halsin. Spread your fertile seed upon this land.." The feeling of the divine power crescendoing in their head.

"Silvanus.. Silvanus.." He struggled, "Bless me.."

Halsin convulsed and spasmed, roaring as he climaxed in hard, thick shoots of cum, spilling over the cold, grey earth beneath him. He jerked and strained, as he spurted thick and full, spattering the grass.

Tav held him close, guiding him through his orgasm, soothing him with sweet words, until his white seed wept down the sides of his softening member.

Still panting heavily, he licked his dry lips and removed his grip from his trembling cock; the remnants of his elation coating his fingers.

Tav's hand slid up his forearm in delicious abandon, bringing his hand to their mouth and greedily licking his cum off his fingers. Halsin hummed in appreciation of their enthusiasm.

Suddenly, the night was cold again, the warmth of divine embrace ended. However, heat rolled of Halsin in waves, chasing away the chill.

Several moments stretched between them, their breath still calming; both needing a moment to recompose. Tav moved their fingers to his temples and wound them in strong circles, Halsin exhaled long and slow.

Tav was reeling. Their body wrung out, their ears ringing. It had not been the first time a God had spoken to them but it was certainly the first time they acted as messenger for a God, especially for one that wasn't their own. They weren't even sure it had ever happened before, and especially not during such a sexual explicit act.

It was incredible.

"That was.." Halsin eventually began.

"..I know." Tav finished, as they carded their hands through his hair.

"What do we do now?" He asked, cock large and limp against his taut belly. An uncomfortable air of something akin to shame tinged his voice.

"We continue the celebration." Tav smiled, picking up the poultice beside them, smoothing it into Halsin's semi-dry, oiled mane of hair.

Wordlessly time spanned before them, as Tav slowly worked through his tangled hair. The coconut poultice soaked into the mess and loosened the knots, the scents of lavender, rosemary and coconut dancing together on the silent air.

Nothing stirred, apart from Halsin's soothed groans and the sounds of the brush through untangling hair.

"Did you feel it too?" He asked, uncertainly.

"Silvanus?" Tav clarified.

"Yes. I've heard his words before but that was.. different." He said, gravely. He sat taller removing himself from their touch, "I took advantage of the situation. I have been without the touch of another for some time now and I sullied this act of friendship with my own desires-"

"-Hush now," Tav murmured, gently pulling back into their chest, "You did not sully anything, nor take advantage of anyone." They kneaded their cheek into his to offer comfort.

"Silvanus was able to speak through me because I opened myself to you and by extension, to him. Put aside these fears. I wanted this too." Tav reassured him, grazing his cheek with the back of their hand. Halsin turned his head, nuzzling slightly and rested his hand on theirs, with another warm smile.

"That is good to hear. Thank you, my friend."

Tav laid their chin upon his head and pressed a small kiss there. A happy moment surrounded them both.

Conversation flowed easily between the two, now that the air had been cleared.

Tav brushed his hair through, with a modicum of difficulty, then sectioned his hair and retied the braids that had previously existed with Halsin's guidance. While he regaled the story of how the Shadowlands had come to be, Ketheric Thorm, Shar, the Harpers and Druids coming together. Fierce battles, death, terror, success, hubris and finally how he'd dedicated his life to the eradication of this curse.

Tav was just finishing the last braid, the one commorating his achievement.

"I've spent this last hundred years of my life in persuit of this goal, forsaking most everything else. Now that it's nearly done, I do not know. I-I feel.. hollowed.. aimless. Like I am without purpose. Apart from helping you with your tadpole, of course." He added with a incline of his head.

"Is that why you're helping us? To feel like you still have a mission?" Tav asked, curious.

The only reason he'd come to Moonrise with them in the first place was to get closer to the Curse. It would make sense that he would return to the Grove, now that that part was complete.

"Gods no, never think that. I'm here with you till the end, regardless of what comes next. You have aided me in ways I could never repay, there's not a chance I'll abandon you now." He said firmly.

"But you mustn't need to feel like you owe us anything, there's no-"

Halsin reached across himself to grab their arm, and with a fluidity becoming of an Elf, he slowly turned to face them.

His earthen eyes looked up at them with a fierceness and urgency that stopped their thoughts.

"My friend, I have lived a very long time. Many lifetimes of others. But I have never met anyone quite like you before. Your bravery, your warmth, your valour. You are unique," his big, warm hands covered theirs with ease as he edged closer, "and I am yours, for as long as you need me. Against Ketheric, against the Absolute.. everything."

Tav swallowed. The radiant energy flowing from his heart was almost unbearable to withstand. They felt themselves drawn to him, leaning in. Halsin followed.

The distance between them seemed miles and nothing at all, as they were pulled together. His eyes focused on their lips, head tilting to accommodate their impending meeting.

The air was hot and doused with lavender and clean soap; the energy palpable. Tav closed their eyes to let it overtake them.

"Ahem." Came a voice far too close, "Not to break up this lovely little moment, but that strange ox is looking more appetising by the second." Astarion drawled with a sass that was entirely his alone, "Any chance of wrapping this up?"

Tav opened their eyes to see Halsin looking irritated but resigned to the intrusion.

They laughed between themselves; the bubble of their celebration had clearly clouded their awareness for intruders.

"I'll be back up shortly." Tav said, tight lipped, their focus still on Halsin.

"I told you to leave it." Came angry, hushed chiding from Shadowheart. Tav heard a small scuffle of clothes being wrenched and Astarion being dragged away, bickering following their leave.

"Reality beckons it seems." Halsin said with a small smile.

"It seems so." Tav breathed out, disappointed.

They pressed their foreheads together, chuckling lightly. A moment shared between them, connecting them.

They both took cleansing breaths and Halsin kneeled up to stand. He took a little time to familiarise himself with his new braids, while they gathered the various glass containers, soap and brush, placing them gently within the silver basin for ease.

Tav had chosen one above either ear, pulling them up into his half-do, to help secure it.

He gave a murmur of agreement, "I will wear them with pride. Thank you for honouring me."

"Thank you for trusting me to do so." They leaned up and pulled out his usual loose curls around his ears to frame his handsome face.

Their eyes met and air around them stilled, cloaked in coconut and lavender.

Halsin quickly grasped them into a desperate kiss, wrapping his strong arms under them and pulling them into him.

Tav's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling in closer, willingly losing themself in him.

Halsin's heat flooded into them; his desire, his adoration, his need.. and into him they poured their reverence, their respect and loyalty, their awe and their unyielding desire.

They felt is arousal pressed flush against their own, and Halsin huffed out air.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, "My heart. If I could, I would take you as many times as you would allow. I would caress your skin and fill my mouth with your taste until you could bare it no longer," he licked his lips with the ghosting thought of your essence on his tongue.

"I would bury myself slowly inside you, feel you gloriously stretch around me. Gently make love to you underneath the light of the moon again and again until we are both spent.."

There was a pregnant pause.

"But?" Tav asked, eventually. Halsin gave a long, frustrated sigh.

"But.. tonight is not that night. Not here." Halsin looked disappointed but sure in his judgement. Tav brought a hand to cup his face, pulling their lips into a side smile.

"I know, I agree," Barely nodding, Tav looked into Halsin's gorgeous face, "But know that every fantasy that keeps me awake at night, has your name falling from my lips."

Halsin's eyes darkened, then softened with a sheepish grin.

"Those are unfair words spoken to a man so close to giving in." He teased, still grinning, "I would like to at least repay you for your efforts. It seems a travesty that I should reach orgasm and you should not."

"Dear one, I had Silvanus' light coarsing through me. Trust me when I say that is more than enough excitement," They paused for a moment, "I do believe you're the only man to have actually made me 'see the Gods'." They laughed, quoting previous, over-confident lovers. Halsin joined them, his chuckle warming through the night.

They kissed again, softly this time. Several slow, peppered kisses. Each one reaching new depths in their desire for him.

"We'll have to continue the celebration another time." Tav licked their bottom lip and gently sucked it between their teeth, trying to contain more words, that could potentially leave them delightfully bruised and aching the next day.

"I will sorrowfully count the hours until that moment comes." His loving gaze pouring over their face.

"I will gladly kill anyone who tries to stop it."

Halsin gave a short, breathy chuckle, "I'll take care of this, you have another waiting for you." He swallowed, beginning to pull away but stopped. His eyes narrowed in confusion and he looked to the ground.

Tav turned to see what he was concentrating on, to see a tree sapling unfurling out of lush greenery, on the spot where he had spilled himself.

Their mouth gawped open, eyes wide.

"That's an oak sapling." He breathed in shock.

Tav blinked hard twice, "Well. Silvanus did say that you were the seed to fertilise the land. Apparently that wasn't an aphorism." They returned their gaze to him, expression almost identical.

Halsin shot out a laugh, "Praise Silvanus. Praise you, my heart." He chorused, pulling them close, cupping their jaw.

"Praise you, my love."

•°•°•

Mmhm, that's some good eatin'.. want some more? 👀😏

[optiwashere]

Welp, here it is. The epilogue for my modern/band AU is done, and it's extremely bittersweet to see it posted. I'll leave you to see what the tone of the epilogue is, though.

Does Shadowheart get a picturesque ending? Is she living in a happily-ever-after with Ash? Are there pets involved?

Anyways, this fic was a ton of fun to write! It's still wild to me that so many people jumped along for an AU that I randomly mused about over coffee on a random morning last year. I go into some more details about kinda "behind the scenes" stuff in the end note if you're curious. Thanks for reading 💜

Rating: E for a few smut scenes

Ship: Shadowheart/Trans Fem Tav

Tags and AO3 Summary under the break.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Band AU, POV Alternating, Romance, Angst, Strangers to Lovers, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religious Cults, Abusive Relationships, past abusive relationships, implied/referenced past prostitution, Dissociation, Trans Female Character, Smut, in which a traumatized guitarist finds love in a small town, and searches for her cottagecore fantasy

Summary:

Shadowheart, the guitarist for a small-time metal band on tour, nearly crashes her band's van into an auto body shop in a podunk called Rivington. That's the least of her worries. Every day on the road revolves around the devolving relationship with her ex, the Avatar of her religion and the frontwoman of the band. Everything is Shar, and Shadowheart knows no escape nor if she deserves one. At least until Ash, the head mechanic of that dinky garage, questions everything Shadowheart's ever known, digging into her life until they both bleed.

[mumms-the-word]

Daydreams

Characters: Rolan x fem!Tav (Fawn) Summary: Rolan's apprenticeship isn't everything he thought it would be. On yet another dreary day of retail, he lets his mind wander to the frustrating adventurer he met at the grove and left behind in the shadow-cursed lands, a beautiful woman named Fawn. A/N: A gift for the AMAZING @orangekittyenergy for her birthday!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY friendo!!! Also this is a companion piece, a continuing of this fic about Rolan in Last Light Inn <3

Rolan could taste blood again, coppery and bitter and sharp. It no longer alarmed him. In truth, the taste of blood had become something of a daily occurrence, for one reason if not another. Just another perk of the job, he thought, his mood dark.

He rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth, searching for the source of the blood. Two tender spots lined the inside of his right cheek where his teeth had broken through the soft tissue—old wounds, about two days old, from when his master had struck him with the side of his staff for answering out of turn. The spots were sore, but they weren’t bleeding. He kept searching until he felt a sharp but fleeting pain along the side of his tongue. He managed to hide his wince.

He must have bitten down on his tongue, but he couldn’t remember when. Was it when Master Lorroakan had sent one of the books flying toward his head this morning, or more recently when a customer had wasted half an hour of his time complaining about the shop’s herb selection (as though Bonecloak’s Apothecary were not literally across the plaza) and he’d literally chewed on his tongue to avoid yelling that at them? Perhaps it didn’t matter.

He sighed softly through his nose and eyed the potions stocked underneath the counter. They had a few healing potions, and a quick swig from one of them would surely heal his bruised and bleeding tongue…but then he’d have to pay for it.

Or would he? It wasn’t as though Master Lorroakan minded the shop at all. The bastard never came down from the top floor of Ramazith’s Tower, let alone venture outside of the Upper City, even with his magical portals that linked Ramazith’s Tower with Sorcerous Sundries. No, it was Rolan’s job to man the shop, keep track of the stock and proceeds, and listen to customers and adventurers alike complain about everything. 

Some glorious apprenticeship this was turning out to be.

He again contemplated the potions but decided against it. He might be the one manning the sales counter, but Master Lorroakan kept an animated armor or two around to keep order, not to mention magical images of himself to test cocky adventurers who thought they could con their way into a reward for the Nightsong. One of them would surely tattle. If Master Lorroakan chose to care, it would mean another “surprise test.”

Rolan wouldn’t be surprised if the surprise test was another myrmidon attack.

He swallowed down the saliva and blood that had mixed on his tongue and tried to forget about the pains in his mouth. And face. And body. He rolled his shoulders to try and ease some of the stiffness there and shifted his weight on his aching feet. Just another few hours and he could close up the shop and return to Ramazith’s Tower. Perhaps his master would be in a better mood today. Perhaps he would finally let Rolan learn a new spell or two. Perhaps…

Perhaps he was just fooling himself. 

Since arriving at Baldur’s Gate, he had learned almost no new magic or magical theory, and what little he had gleaned was from books he had attempted to read when Lorroakan wasn’t looking. Instead what he had learned was how to quickly memorize the shifting pricing and stock for Sorcerous Sundries, how to listen to a complaining customer’s every third word to get through the ordeal of listening to them with less of a headache, and that Lorroakan’s Nightsong venture attracted a very particular brand of increasingly stupid imbeciles—sorry, adventurers. There was one outside right now, still shouting at one of the animated armors about the injustice of not getting to personally see Lorroakan.

Get in line. The bitter thought practically crackled inside Rolan’s mind. He rolled his eyes, mostly to himself.

He had half a mind to cast silence over the adventurer, over this entire shop really, and dull the chaotic, neverending combination of spellcasting, customer chatter, and general chaos. The shop was never quiet, what with all the magical items humming or crackling or occasionally catching fire, or the elemental summons they conjured every morning swirling with water or creaking with the full weight of their molten rock forms, or the clanking of the animated armors. There was always something happening inside the shop, something colorful or dangerous. Sometimes it was amusing. These days most of it was just annoying.

He remembered when he thought all the lightly controlled chaos was thrilling. His first day at the shop and at Ramazith’s Tower, finally in a place that would appreciate his talents. Finally somewhere with color and light, unlike those dark and twisted shadow-cursed lands they’d just escaped. But that excitement had quickly faded.

It was hard to maintain a sense of excitement and wonder when his training involved his master lashing out with violence for every wrong answer given to every nonsensical, impossible question. He wanted to be angry—he was angry—but the anger tangled up in his mind until he was never entirely sure if he was upset at Lorroakan for not making sense, or at himself for failing to understand and learn.

These days, very little made sense. 

He sighed. What he wouldn’t give to have Cal and Lia here. Just to chat over the counter, if nothing else. But more than that, just to see them again. Ever since Lorroakan had refused to let Cal and Lia join them at Ramazith’s Tower, they’d been off finding work around the city and taking rooms at various inns and taverns. Last he heard, they were trying to find rooms at the Blushing Mermaid, just a few streets away. So close, and yet so far. 

He hadn’t seen them in a few days. Either they were busy, or he was. They left notes, and he sent notes back, but he hadn’t seen them physically in a while. He missed them.

But at least they were safe. There had been a moment when he thought they were gone for good. Gone forever. He still had nightmares about it, if he let himself linger on the memories too long.

He folded his arms loosely over his chest, letting his mind wander back to that time, only a few short weeks ago. Most of the early days in the shadow-cursed lands were a haze. A drunken dream he stumbled out of only at the last minute when the shadows attacked him outside the docks of Reithwin. It should have ended with his death.

But then she appeared. 

Fawn.

Gods, he was furious when he saw her. Why her of all bloody people in Faerûn? 

He smiled a little to himself now, remembering. He’d snapped at her and griped and sulked, and she had just let his words glance off her like flimsy darts against an adamantine shield. Completely unfazed. 

He still remembered the look of concern and worry she wore before he’d yelled at her.

Even in that darkness, half-illuminated by his torchlight and the moonlit magic that protected her from the shadows, she had been…lovely. Distractingly so. Even with her eyebrows drawn with concern and the down-turned corners of her mouth, the softness of her lips and hair had distracted him almost entirely. And that distraction had made him angry. How dare she meddle in his affairs again? 

But he’d be dead without her. Days of introspection had finally let him admit that to himself. And more than that, Cal and Lia would be dead without her. It was only because of her that they had survived Moonrise and made it out alive. 

He shook his head to himself. What an annoying, infuriating, maddeningly baffling woman Fawn was.

He wondered what she was doing now.

Probably wrapped up in some chaotic adventure, no doubt. Chaos and danger seemed to follow her every step wherever she went. Or perhaps she intentionally sought it out. That seemed just as likely.

Maybe one day he could walk into chaos at her side.

He blinked, the thought taking him a little off guard. At her side? He uncrossed his arms and rubbed at his temples. Maybe the stress of retail work was getting to him. It was much more likely he’d never see her again, so what was the point of even thinking about her?

But…he glanced around the shop. All the customers were either busy studying the wares or milling about. No one looked ready to approach the counter just yet, which gave him time to…well. Daydream.

Just for a moment.

He bent and rested his forearms against the counter, allowing his back a brief rest as he let his mind wander back to her. The beautiful Fawn. These were daydreams, right? So anything could happen there.

In his mind’s eye, he pictured her walking into the shop with a crooked smirk on her plump lips, her green eyes glittering with untold mischief. She’d approach the counter and stop, setting a hand on her hip, and tilt her head to one side, her soft brown bangs brushing against her forehead.

You up for an adventure? she might say. Or perhaps, Long time, no see. Or maybe, I thought I might find you here.

He would fondly roll his eyes and respond with something clever. It took you long enough. 

And she would laugh. A bright, sparkling laugh that would buoy his dampened spirits, or a sweet, quiet giggle meant only for his ears that would make his calloused heart flutter.

Perhaps he’d get lost in staring. Perhaps he would find himself tracing the line of her nose or the shape of her ears, find his gaze trailing down the scar on her right cheek. Perhaps their eyes would meet, infernal gold with wilderness green, and he’d find in her gaze answers to questions, about her, about the two of them, that he had asked himself a dozen times since they parted in Reithwin. Or perhaps his gaze would linger on her lips, his favorite distraction, and he’d think, not for the first time, not even for the hundredth time, about what it must be like to kiss such lips. To take her mouth with his own and consume her. To pull her body against his and fit himself against her curves and lines, like a puzzle piece locking into place, two parts of one whole. 

He straightened up suddenly, hands pressed against the counter, and shifted his weight. He ought to know better than to entertain such thoughts in the middle of a busy work day.

He tapped his nails against the counter, mostly to get out some of the pent-up energy that had been building up inside him. Click-ck-ck-ck. Click-ck-ck-ck. Click-ck-ck-ck. Another noise to add to the din of the shop.

It was a stupid thought anyway, and he was a fool for playing the lovesick idiot in his dreams. Even if she walked through those doors—and she wouldn’t, he was quite sure—there would be no leaving with her. Not with Master Lorroakan holding his leash.

Oh, he could leave whenever he wanted, sure. But that would mean leaving behind the most lucrative apprenticeship he could possibly secure as a refugee of Elturel, not to mention leaving behind all the treasures of Ramazith’s Tower, be that arcane artifacts or tomes rich with knowledge. His place was here—his purpose was to stay here and make a name for himself, to provide for his family, to become the greatest wizard he could possibly be. He had the natural talent. He wanted to hone it into something awe-inspiring. Something that had value so great it would be impossible to ignore or dismiss.

If that meant dealing with Lorroakan and his insanity…so be it. He could endure it. The violence. The impossible questions. The dull inanity of retail work. He could. For Cal. For Lia.

And…in a way, for Fawn. To prove to her that he was as good as his word. That he was a wizard worth knowing, but more than that, to prove to her that he could learn from his mistakes and improve his craft. Perhaps, eventually, to prove that he was a man worthy of her attention.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his cheek, on his tongue, in his back, his feet, and rolled his shoulders. Better get back to work, then. 

Back to mindless, repetitive, neverending work.

He was just turning away to check the organization of the trinkets and potion bottles beneath the counter when he heard an all-too-familiar masculine voice at the front entrance.

“Look around you. Indulge your curiosity! Sorcerous Sundries is the finest purveyor of magical miscellany for miles around.”

Rolan turned his head a little too quickly, scarcely daring to believe it. Gale, that pretentious wizard from Waterdeep? But if Gale were here, then surely—

His eyes fell on her immediately, watching her laugh at something Gale said, or perhaps something the tiefling, Karlach, said. He felt himself go a little slack-jawed with surprise. He wasn’t imagining this, right? That was actually her—Fawn was actually walking into the shop with her companions in tow.

Whatever he had imagined in his daydreams and fantasies, the sight of her there in the real world was far superior. Even his best imaginings couldn’t quite capture the way her hair, tied up and back, swung gently with each step and brushed against her shoulders, or the way she moved with grace and confidence. With her staff secured on her back and her easy smile, she looked perfectly at home among the crackling magic baubles and spell summons as she carefully stepped around a wandering illusion of a crab and looked around the space.

Suddenly the shop felt alight with color and wonder again, with her occupying a space in the room. Was he only imagining a fizzling new magical energy in the room now that she had arrived, or was that simply something that always happened when she entered a room? 

Gods, she was beautiful.

He couldn’t bring himself to speak just yet, but it didn’t take her long to notice him. The delight that lit up her features was enough to sustain him the rest of the tenday. “Rolan?”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Fawn! What are you doing here?”

She laughed and jogged over to him. “Well it is called Sorcerous Sundries, isn’t it?” she said with a wink. “I figured I should check it out. What are you doing here?”

“This is my apprenticeship,” he said, shrugging.

“This?” As she reached the counter, she stopped short, her smile fading. “Rolan…”

“It…has not been what I expected,” he admitted, unconsciously lifting a hand to his face. He caught himself before he could touch one of the bruises and clenched his fist, pressing it down onto the surface of the counter. “Master Lo—”

But she didn’t let him finish. She leaned over the counter and cradled his cheek gently in her hand. The touch of her warm skin made all other thoughts fall completely away. There was that look of concern again, the down-turned corners of her mouth, and he felt himself faltering under such a look now where before it had only angered him. 

What had he done to earn such compassion from her? After all the times he’d yelled and snapped at her, tried to drive her back or insult her—he may have let his imagination get the better of him, to let himself fantasize that perhaps she would regard him as a friend, or (perhaps foolishly) a would-be lover, but he never actually expected…

“What happened, Rolan?” she asked, her thumb brushing featherlight against his cheek.

Gods, he would give anything to banish that concerned look away and see her smile instead. If this weren’t the middle of his work day, if there weren’t animated armors and Lorroakan illusions watching him at every hour, he’d abandon this counter now and follow her anywhere. But that simply wasn’t an option, and he didn’t feel worthy of it just yet.

Still…

He reached up and took her hand, gently pulling it away from his face. Normally he would let it go, try to push her away, but today…for now…he could take a small risk.

He kept hold of her hand as he lowered their hands to rest on the counter. “Nothing for you to worry about,” he said quietly. 

He felt his chest tighten as she shifted her hold on him, turning her hand so that she could hold his more comfortably. She didn’t look convinced, but she seemed willing to let the matter rest, at least for now. More than that, she seemed willing to linger.

He offered her a slightly crooked smile and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Enough about me,” he said. “I want to hear what you’ve been up to. Tell me everything, and leave nothing out. It’s not every day the savior of the world comes walking into our humble shop.”

She rolled her eyes at his teasing, but settled against the counter, still holding his hand, and began to chat. He smiled to himself as he listened to her recount the latest adventures since they’d last seen one another, content to listen to her voice. The whole time, she never let go of him and she didn’t seem to mind when he began to rub absent-minded circles into her skin with his thumb.

It all felt so natural and easy. Comfortable. Normal. Unlike so much else these days. There was chaos, there was bitterness, there was frustration…and there was Fawn, who felt like a breath of fresh air and the crackling of new energy all in one.

Funny how things change.

If he weren’t physically holding her hand, he might have convinced himself she was just an illusion, something his bored and tired mind had conjured just to get him through another monotonous day. But no, she was here. She was here, and she didn’t look any the worse for wear, and she made the entire room glow with her mere presence.

And she was beautiful.

Maybe one day he would actually tell her that. Out loud, outside of his daydreams.

But not today. He bit his tongue gently on the un-injured side and contented himself with simply listening and holding her hand. Ten minutes ago, he was certain he’d never see her again. Now, it was enough to know she was in the same city as him, adventuring and getting into trouble mere blocks from where he manned this dismal little counter. 

The world looked a little brighter now that she had walked into his shop. He could work with that.

[bg-brainrot]

*spoilers for all of BG3 below!

Imagine, if you will, a Tav that wanted a romance with Astarion, truly. But was too kind, too honest, too much of a people pleaser to wind up with any companion at all.

They spent all of act 1 trying to be what everyone wanted them to be: helping Karlach fight the Paladin's of Tyr, giving Gale magic items as soon as he needed them, welcoming Shadowheart's faith regardless of how others may perceive it, providing Astarion with blood, going to the creche for Lae'zel, promising to help Wyll's father. When the time came for the tiefling party, they all wanted a piece of Tav, Tav had grown fond of Astarion. Tav, unable to disappoint anyone, decided to spend the night alone.

Come act 2, they continue to help their allies at every turn-- until push comes to shove. Throughout the Shadowlands, their soft, pliable attitude begins to harden. They convince Shadowheart to spare the Nightsong, they tell Lae'zel to defy her queen, they warn Astarion off of Ascension. They have no time for romance, but, try as they might, they can't forget the beautiful words of a particular vampire. They wonder if they should have rejected Astarion all those weeks ago...

By act 3, they're more confident. Though still not entirely convinced that they should be leading this group, they find it less difficult to push back against their ideas. They convince Gale to give up on the crown, they break Wyll out of his infernal pact, they make sure Karlach makes it to Avernus, they allow Shadowheart to make her choice and release her parents' souls, they encourage Lae'zel to lead her people to the Astral Plane. Most importantly, they stand up to Astarion, keeping him from Ascending and preserving their friendship. The world is saved, and their only regret is letting their relationship stay that of friends...

Fast forward to the rebuilding of Baldur's Gate.

Astarion and Tav haven't so much as shared a kiss, let alone a bed, but they are the closest of friends, sharing a room at the Elfsong together.

So close that when Astarion burns down Cazador's mansion, Tav is right there, holding the reserves of Alchemist's Fire for him.

After the mansion burns, the city puts the ashen land on auction. Astarion expresses that he'd love the chance to build upon its ashes-- For the sake of moving on and to rub it in his old master's face one more time. Tav loves the idea, always supporting their chaotic friend in all of his endeavors, never straying too far.

However, when Astarion goes to buy the plot of land, he quickly finds that someone else has already bought it. The source of all of their timid, people pleasing tendencies: Tav's controlling, domineering, land baron of a father.

Caught between their best friend and father, Tav has no clue what to do next. What they do know, is that their father won't be helping. At least not until they fulfill his request.

When Tav proposes a solution to their best, most handsome friend, they begin to find the lines between them blurring, begin to wonder how much their own pleasure is factoring into the decisions they've made...

--

Anyway, if you've ever been like, damn, I want to see an arranged marriage Astarion x Tav, wow, do I have the fic for you: The Consequences of Convenience

(Ty to everyone who voted on this trope, I'm so excited for it hehe)