#she and gortash were fucking at one point

[nightingaletrash]

Tallis stomped on the special tadpole right in the Emperor's face and he called her an 'absolute horror'

My guy, have you not been paying any attention to who you're dealing with?

[meanbossart]

im so curious-- how well does DUDrow get on with the other companions? I've only seen your art and going off that I feel like: he gets along with Shadowheart, Gale I think he borderline cant stand, and Wyll/Lae'zel/Karlach I have no idea how he'd feel about them but id love to know!

So, funfact, because I was not familiar with these kinds of games at the time I played BG3, I practically stuck with the same exact party the entire playthrough. I distinctly remember swapping Wyll in for Astarion once at the end of act 2 because I thought he NEEDED to be there to find Mizora, and I replaced Gale with Karlach when I went to kill Gortash. Otherwise... It was pretty much always just DU drow, Shadowheart, Astarion and Gale. I did this because they were the characters I liked most, so I wanted to see all they had to offer.

Anyways, I mention this because it reflects how DU drow related to everyone - which is to say that he didn't. He picked his favorites (two because he liked them, one because he has fireball) and didn't get particularly close to anyone else.

BUT, there were definitely notable dynamics!

Lae'zel: She's dead. He killed her night 3 or something. Before that he thought her annoyingly demanding and over the top. I don't think DU drow even remembers her by the end of the game.

Gale: Just to add to your original observation, Gale and DU drow have a little bit of history. Gale tries, for about half of the campaign, to pursue him romantically. DU drow keeps turning him down and is either misinterpreted or ignored, and by the time Gale does give up on him their relationship has completely soured to the point where they are constantly shooting daggers at each other. (this reflects a romance bug I got in my first run, except I didn't realize it was a bug. Either way I think its more interesting storytelling than the intended experience.)

Wyll: DU drow was profoundly frustrated by Wyll every step of the way. He found him to be incredibly naive and a bit delusional in his pursuit for heroism, and could never relate to Wyll's perspective or choices - the few he made for himself, at least. They definitely had the least in common and DU drow avoided interacting with him most of the time.

Halsin: He didn't care for Halsin much. He was vaguely helpful but by the time they got to the shadow-cursed lands DU drow had the impression he'd only been dragged here to help him clear his conscience, which he didn't appreciate. Also, he couldn't bear to have someone in camp be taller than himself. Halsin was left behind in Act 2.

Jaheira: DU drow fucking loves Jaheira. They bickered and borderline insulted each other and had a great time doing it. He can respect anyone who will call him a monster, threaten to murder him in his sleep, and make light fun at him the next day. It helps that she's hot, also.

Minsc: Weird hamster man. Ocasionally rendered him speechless. Puzzling human being.

Karlach: He didn't get Karlach, but he was often amused by her and curious enough to want to hear what she had to say. There was a similar issue here as Wyll's where he just couldn't relate to her enough to have much to discuss, but Karlach at least had an edge to her that made her far better company. They got along pretty well when the topic wasn't serious, but when it came to the problems she actually faced their perspectives shifted significantly. DU drow thought everything could be fixed, that accepting her own demise was a cowardly thing to do - and as they approached the end, and she asked him if he would stay with her when she died, he thought she was weak. I don't know if he ever discusses it with anyone, but he feels guilty about her death to this day and sees it as personal failure.

[cuttleimagines]

𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚏𝚏 𝚊 𝙳𝚞𝚌𝚔'𝚜 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔 || Halsin

Summary: 𝚃𝚊𝚟 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗 ��𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚗 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚞r𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Characters: Halsin, Shadowheart, Astarion, Tav

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, contains sexual content, swearing, mentions of alcohol and body gore, porn with plot, smut with fluff, unprotected water sex, tav has lady parts but no mention of feminine or masculine pronouns, no use of y/n bc yucky, voice kink if you squint, elven Halsin/no wild shape during it

word count: 6.54k 🐻

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"Be honest... What do you think of the new look?"

Your eyes widened at the display. Shadowheart stood before you, her hair platinum white. You noticed how her braid cascaded down her back with an elegance that reminded you of the woman you've grown to befriend. You smiled. This was who she was.

 "I love it. It's gorgeous." Your voice came out gentle but sincere, loving the way it complimented the faint color of her cheeks and eyes. She gave a shy smile in return, averting her gaze. “Listen, I need to ask you about something, whenever you have the time. I know you've had an... eventful evening. But it's important to me. You're also the only person I can really ask this kind of thing to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. You know from experience that one wrong word can send Shadowheart the wrong message, the wrong idea. You take a long pause as you debate on what direction to take this, but much to your surprise, Shadowheart doesn't seem off-put by your hesitation, rather, she welcomes it.

You gesture to the fireside where the bedrolls lay, a determined twinkle in your eye. She follows.

The night air chilled the skin on your arms, crickets singing in the grass. It was as though you and Shadowheart were isolated in this moment, the moonlight shining down on her pale features. Although the night was cold, the warmth from the flame took away your goosebumps. You threw a nearby branch into the flame, watching it engulf and build the fire to increase Shadowheart's warmth.

"Thank you." She sighed, her muscles relaxing under the heat of the fire. "I'd... like to know what the next steps are. In regards to when we reach Baldur's Gate.” “Your parents, for one. Cazador, for two, saving the Duke, fucking up Gortash, taking down the Absolute, and getting rid of our tadpoles.” You spoke, almost without wasting a breath; as if you were reading off a list.

“Exactly my point.” Shadowheart shifted, her back straightened as she sat up. “All of those are hopes. I applaud your optimism but we don’t have a plan; a fully, laid out plan that we would follow and that scares me.” 

That made you grin, a little amused at her worries. “When have we ever had a plan? We went from looking for a healer to going against an Elder Brain. All we knew was we didn’t want these in our heads.” Your tadpole squirmed in your head, in recognition of Shadowheart’s, making her grimace. 

“I don’t need to be reminded.” She shivered, letting her chin fall onto her hand with an exasperated sigh. “It just felt like we had one when we trekked the Shadow-cursed lands, or when we went to the Tiefling grove. We knew where to go next, and who to talk to. I felt safe and like I was headed in a guaranteed path with Lady Shar, but now…” She trailed off, averting her gaze once more.

Your eyes softened. You couldn’t imagine what Shadowheart was going through, and that was the worst part of this conversation. Shadowheart lost everything she thought she knew. The most important part of herself was ripped from her. Of course she’d feel lost, blinded to what was in store for her. 

Your tongue felt tied. For once in your role as the camp leader, you didn’t know what to say, or what advice to give. 

Come on, say something. Your friend needs comfort, it’s your job to keep morale. Why can’t you think of something helpful?

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” Shadowheart let out an exasperated, lightly sardonic laugh, standing to her feet. Despite her plight, she still held onto her sense of humor. You admired that. 

“Convincing me to become independent of myself, going against everything I was taught. Everything I thought I wanted. I wouldn’t be here if not for you.” 

She meant to tease you, judging by the playful smirk on her lips, but all you felt was the pit in your stomach. You didn’t doubt that you made the right decision, but it sucked that you didn’t know how to help Shadowheart in the aftermath. Before you had another chance to offer her a kind word, she chuckled and shook her head, offering you a small smile. 

“Let’s sleep on this. If you’re convinced we’ve been this lost the whole time, I trust you. That’s not an easy feat, by the way.” She winked, walking back to her tent, leaving you sitting by the fire. Despite the warmth, you still felt the chill on your spine. 

Before you had the chance to catch your breath, you heard a familiar smooth voice call your name, beckoning you to his tent. Without missing a beat, you stood to your feet, walking towards him.

Astarion’s fangs shined under the pale moonlight as he grinned at you, a goblet of red wine in his hand. 

“There’s my favorite traveling companion.” He greeted with a purr, his slightly slurred, honeyed words catching your attention. He wanted something. “Won’t you have a drink with me? Our humble leader must be tired, tending to the other lost souls in our little band of misfits.”

“I don’t think I can drink after what happened, if I’m honest.” You dismissed, your brain still conjuring the image of Ketheric Thorm’s beaten-up corpse in the Illithid colony, his mouth hanging open as the soul left his body. You shivered. “I’m surprised you’re drinking tonight. We’re heading closer to Cazador tomorrow.” 

Astarion frowned, disappointed when you didn’t humor him. “Darling, that’s precisely the reason why I’m drinking. I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I’m just worried, is all. If you’re– gonna be in the right mental state for that kind of thing.”

He rolled his eyes, swishing the red liquid around in his goblet, staying silent. Truth is, he wasn’t in the right mental state. He didn’t think he ever would be. He was terrified, hoping that the adventure would be easier with some alcohol in his system. Instead, it just made him sadder, and more emotional. More irate. His lip twitched when you mentioned you were worried about him. 

“You’re a sweetheart for worrying your pretty head over me. But I didn’t call you over here to coddle me.” He started, taking another smooth sip of his wine, letting it run down his throat with its comforting warmth. The kind of warmth a night of indulgence could never give to him. 

“I want to know your opinion about my stance on the ritual. You know I’ve considered taking his place, right?” His eyebrows narrowed, leaning forward a little to try and get a read on your expressions. 

You felt the same as you did with Shadowheart. That sinking feeling that you could say something wrong here, and ruin his perception of you. 

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been… thinking on it.” You admitted with a long breath, really wishing you could run away right now. You weren’t in the right headspace, not focused or wise as you usually were. 

“And?” He pressed further. 

…

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“...What? Why not?” Astarion’s eyebrow raised, his tone slow and careful. And suddenly, your heart began to pound, your mind felt… clearer. You knew exactly what to say. So, you didn’t hesitate.

“You’re throwing away lives. I know they’re dead, I know they’re vampires and the public probably won’t waste too much time grieving. But you’ve forgotten who you are.” 

His gaze darkened. Not at your dismissal of his idea, but at the gall you have. The gall you have to act like you’re smarter, wiser than he is. You must think you’re so much more put-together than him, huh?

“You’ll have lost everything you’ve worked for. You’ll get to lay in the sun again but at what cost? Your dignity will be gone, and your relationships with the people who love you will be gone. You’ll lose sight of yourself.” You chuckled, almost in disbelief at the fact that you need to even say this. “You’ll be exactly like the man you’re trying so hard to get away from.” 

“I will never be like Cazador.” 

“Really? Because if you go through with this… I… I don’t even think I’ll be able to tell you apart.”

He’s glaring at you, not saying a word, fighting the urge to spill his drink on you for even going that far. 

Amid this silence, you begin thinking back. Remembering your words, and your mind lurched with regret. You shouldn’t have said that, gone that far. Especially when he was already so vulnerable. So fragile. 

“Astarion-”

“Just leave. Let me drink in peace.”

His calm, firm tone terrified you. He could’ve stabbed you right there. Could’ve sucked every drop of blood out of your neck until you were an empty husk of a person on the floor, maybe screamed in your face. Instead, he sipped more wine in his goblet, too disgusted to even look at you anymore. 

You felt blinding hot tears form in your eyes, your throat beginning to close as you tried to hide your face from him. Act like you didn’t want the earth to swallow you whole. 

“Sleep well.” You rasped out, your voice cracking under the heavy weight you felt in your chest. 

The camp was even quieter than before as you stepped towards your tent. You could hear the fish swimming in the nearby lakeside, peaceful and unaware of the horrors on the surface. Sitting on your bedroll, you prepared for a sleepless night. 

…

The morning air was biting, clinging to the hairs on your arms as you let the sounds of the water against the rocks fill your senses. You decided to leave with the rest of the party around highsun, leaving you just the right amount of time to think on the events of last night. 

Why was leadership so difficult last night? You were usually so alert, and dominant, commanding the attention of all who surrounded you, but Shadowheart was right. 

You were lost; aimlessly wandering for someone, something to guide you in the right direction. You weren't a leader. It was foolish to think of yourself in that way. To think you could be a leader. How silly of you. 

Maybe you could run away. Perhaps they'd be better off without you. Halsin or Wyll could take the reigns. Maybe Karlach. She has the soul for it, the passion. 

You hugged your knees to your chest, closing your eyes. Focusing on the water. Trying desperately to focus on the water instead of the thoughts that threatened to consume you from the inside out. 

From the trees behind your figure, you heard a low grunt, along with a scratch against tree bark, and a faint smell of honeycomb. You looked towards the noise, standing to your feet. As you stepped closer, watching your step, you noticed a flicker of brown fur in the depths of the bushes and leaves. 

"Halsin?" You guessed in a quick whisper, hoping it wasn't a typical cave bear or a druid you didn't know. Your hand moved to the clasp on your hip where your dagger lay, holding your breath. 

The bear looked at you when you called its name, its eyes twinkling with recognition. A bright light surrounded it, blinding it for a quick second before slowly fading as Halsin returned to his normal form. 

“You startled me. What are you doing up so early?” His eyes were wide, a light pink across his cheeks at the sight of you in the glow of the morning sun. When your expression grew hesitant, he stepped closer. 

“I had a rough night. It’s nothing to fuss over.” Your words came out unsure as if you didn’t know if it was wise to downplay your status to one of the wisest members of your troop or not. By the way his eyebrows narrowed down at you in disapproval, you figured the answer was clear. 

“I’m honored to fuss over you, my friend.” His sentences were sweet, laced with warm, smooth honey that coated your worries and anxieties whenever he spoke. He had that effect on you. Perhaps it was his level-headed nature of being an arch-druid; being firm but caring. Or perhaps, you just got lucky. “Nothing that you could say would hinder my respect for you.”

He paused, as if considering his words, before shaking his head in dismissal. “Okay, there are some instances, but the probability of that is extremely low. You have nothing to fear.”

You laughed a little, relaxed in the proximity between the both of you. Halsin gestured to the lakeside where you previously were with a smile. “Come, sit with me.” 

The morning air felt chilling once more. You wanted to tell him what you were feeling, but you couldn’t find the words for it. So, instead, you just decided to tell him what happened.

“I just… froze up last night. Shadowheart was feeling some anxiety over what the next step is, or if we’re just going in blindly.” You began, staring off into the soft ripples of the lake water. “I mean, I just feel so terrible for her. Devoting your entire self to someone, a goddess who didn’t deserve it. She must feel so empty.” Halsin frowned at your words, giving a silent agreement as he continued listening.

 “I wanted to comfort her, wanted to…” You paused as you stumbled, finding the right words to say. You still felt like you were walking on eggshells. Even though Halsin’s comforting presence was right next to you. “Let her know that I’d be here for her, no matter what.”

“And you… didn’t say that?”

“No. All I could say was how sorry I was. Made her feel like she had to comfort me instead.” 

You were mentally punching yourself while recalling the events of last night, and suddenly, your words began to flow out like a tidal wave being held back by a cracking dam.

“And immediately after, I don’t know why, maybe the divine fucking hates me, but I got in a fight with Astarion. I just got on his case when he didn’t ask for it. He didn’t need me lecturing him on my superior high horse. I could’ve handled it so much better, could’ve… done anything, but I didn’t,” you gave up on coming up with the words for how you were feeling, your head in your hands as you tried to ease the ache in your heart. 

Halsin stayed quiet, despite having so much he wanted to say to you. He knew you had more brewing. 

“I just don’t think I’m as cut out for this as everyone thinks I am.” Your tone was weak, hurt as if one more blow to your confidence would put you straight into Avernus.

 “Hey, hey–” Halsin began, but before he could get a word out, you let out a dry chuckle, rolling your eyes. “You’d be so much better at this fucking leader thing. Karlach, Wyll. Even Scratch could do a better job–” “Hey, that’s enough.” Halsin spoke firmly, his stare piercing. 

You shrunk, embarrassed as Halsin rebuked your self-deprecating language. Despite it, you didn’t feel like you lied.

“Listen, I can handle a lot. I’m a patient man, but when you spread lies about the people I respect and love, that’s where I draw the line.” Halsin began, scooting closer to you so you had to look him in the eye. “Have you forgotten everything you’ve accomplished, how far you’ve come, the sheer number of people who owe you their lives?” 

A dark heat spreads across your cheeks. You didn’t mean to fish for compliments like this.

“The truth is” He pointed behind the both of you, towards camp. “None of those people would be where they are today without you. I’ll be the first to admit I also happen to fit in that category. Without a shadow of a doubt.”

He spoke earnestly, taking a quick breath before gently taking your hand in his. His skin felt rough, likely from calluses and scratches that being an outdoorsy man gave him. Despite how it felt, you felt safe in his gentle hold. “It feels like I owe every inch of myself to you. I don’t exaggerate when I say that.” His voice lowered in volume and pitch as he spoke to you, his eyes gazing into yours. He wanted you to let him in, let him love you.

You clung onto every word that left his lips in a speechless awe, your focus glued to the firm, but desperate look that he gave you. He was begging you to hear his words, but you still couldn’t shake the insecurity that burdened you so. 

“I just don’t know what you all see in me.” Your voice was small, mirroring how you felt under Halsin’s hard gaze. Suddenly, his look softened, letting out a small laugh. 

“You think every good leader is secure in themselves?”

“Well, yeah. You can’t be a good leader, commanding the confidence of your peers without being in tune with your abilities.”

Halsin listened, before laying on his stomach on the sand. “Let me tell you a secret. Something I’ve never told a soul.” He started, a smile on his face. Your eyes widened in curiosity, unconsciously leaning closer to Halsin’s figure.

He smiled wider. “Despite popular belief, I’ve made a mistake before.”

You blushed, embarrassed at how simple his words were. He laughed, leaning back up at you. 

“You, my dear, need to cut yourself some slack. I know I’m horrible at that, but trust me when I say it will make you feel better. Focusing on what you could’ve done, what you could’ve said won’t make the recovery of your mistakes easier.”

He sat up again, nodding his head towards the lake. “Life flows, just like the water in front of us. Filled with waves moving up and down with the tide. You can’t be perfect. There will be days when your words will have empty meanings, or you won’t say the right thing. But that’s the best part of learning. When you fall…” 

Halsin stands, offering you a hand. You take it. 

“You get up again. And do better the next time you try.” 

There you go, speechless again. Except this time, you were admiring him. The creases in his eyes when he smiled at you, the way his hand felt, protectively encasing yours. Being this close to him, you saw the waves in his brunette hair, the beautiful wrinkles in his skin, the strong biceps that you wished would hold you close.

For a few seconds, he drinks in the awkward silence of this moment, staring into your hypnotic eyes that threaten to consume his soul. The moment is gone when a small chuckle escapes him, and he looks towards the calm waters of the lake once more.

“Do you know what helps me when my mind wanders to dark places?” Halsin hummed. Your eyebrow raised. 

“Swimming” He answered in a slow exhale, recalling treasured memories of his youth, swimming beside waterfalls and rushing river rapids. “Nothing compares to the natural cold waters against aching skin to clear the mind. I’d be happy to join you, if you’ll humor me.” 

You thought about it for a moment. How long has it been since you’ve properly gone swimming, or even bathed for that matter? How long has it been since you’ve taken time for yourself to relax and let your mind rest? The memory of soft, warm cloth towels against your damp skin, that refreshing feeling of being squeaky clean and laying in the warmth of the sun as it dried your skin felt like a blur. 

“Gods, I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve done something of that caliber.” You breathed out, realizing what a toll this adventure had taken on you, the overwhelming weight lying on your shoulders. 

“Maybe I could use a moment of respite.”

Halsin smiled, a warm satisfied smile. He felt honored to be able to give this to you. Every passing moment, he could swear he saw you working, rarely relaxed and laughing for the hell of it. He’d admit that he was a workaholic, but he knew when breaks were necessary. He wanted to pass that knowledge to you. He wanted to introduce you to the warm feeling of being nestled in Silvanus’s hand, with only the tranquil scent of rain and lavender filling your senses. 

“I’ll look away as you undress. Let me know whenever you’re ready and we’ll jump in.” Halsin winked, turning his broad back towards you to give you a moment of privacy. 

As you began to strip down, you considered what you were about to do. Swimming with Halsin was something you didn’t know you wanted this badly. Getting a moment where nobody needed or wanted anything of you, it made your heartbeat spike.

Clothes fell down the skin of your body onto the grass before you were even able to process the loud ‘splash!’ from the water beneath you. As you turned your head quickly to the source, a happy laugh escaped Halsin as he rose to the top of the water, shaking the water out of his long hair like a dog. As he noticed your startled expression, his excited eyes softened, a big apologetic smile on his face for scaring you. “I couldn’t resist!” He laughed, raising his arms out of the lake and gesturing for you to join him. “Come on in! The water’s heavenly!”

You couldn’t help but feel giddy at the sight, cool, glistening waters, having fun, letting loose. Something you haven’t even thought about doing for weeks, months, perhaps. You’ve stopped keeping track of how long it’s been since you’ve felt the comfort of good food, a warm bed, the comfort of laying in the arms of another.

As you jump in, the sharp coldness of the waters sting your skin, forcing a sharp gasp out of your throat once you rise to the surface of the waters. “You call this heavenly–?” You gasp out as Halsin barks out a laugh. “Of course! Cold waters cleanse the skin, hot waters soothe it. If you want to be truly relaxed after a long day, cold waters are the remedy.”

Gods, you knew he was right. But damn, if your lungs didn’t clench at the frigid lake waters around you.

“I could warm you a little, if you’re comfortable with that. It may be faster than swimming around like a madman trying to get the shivers out,” although a blush reddened the tips of his ears, dusting the surface of his cheeks, he had an earnest smile on his face, wanting you to have a good time with him.

You nod. Quickly. Anything sounds better than being alone, shivering while kicking your legs to keep yourself afloat.

His warm body pressed against yours as you ached for closeness. His stomach’s rise and fall with his breathing lost its calm rhythm when you inched even closer to him. Your skin felt like velvet against his, and his hands shook for a split second as he held you in the waters.

“There, plenty of warmth,” He chuckled. However, this wasn’t a typical Halsin chuckle. It was shaky, quieter. The way he held you in his strong hands was tighter than his usual hugs, and his breaths were faint, both in volume and length.

“Are you okay?” Your voice was quiet, a small trace of worry, and before he could speak, he averted his gaze, a hesitant look on his face. He paused for a few seconds, then spoke, out of necessity.

“I–have a confession to make,” Halsin let go of you, but maintained his closeness. “I wasn’t completely honest regarding my motive for bringing you out into these waters with me,”

“What’s wrong? Have you been struggling too? Halsin, you know you can tell me anything.”

He let out a humored laugh, but you could still sense the apprehension laced in it.

“You could say that. I’ve been fighting demons, my friend, and they’re stubborn with me,” He began, aching to touch you again, but holding himself back so as to not make you uncomfortable. “Ever since you saved Thaniel, saved nature, I’ve–I’ve longed to have you, whether that be physical or not. I don’t wish to merely fight at your side, laughing beside the campfire only to retire to our separate tents after. I want to find rest beside you; retire after a long day underneath the calmness of night with you.”

Your heart began to pound, your cheeks flushed. Halsin seemed passionate, talking about the many lovers he’d taken before you both had met and the long life of desire and freedom he had. You never thought he’d want you to share in it. Halsin took your stunned silence as an invitation to express himself a little more, confess everything he’d been holding back.

“I’m in your debt, you inspire me more than words can do justice, and for that reason, I don’t want to ruin the bond we share as equals. If you do not feel the same way, we can let this matter rest, return to camp, and never speak of this again,” He gently took your hand in his, letting his calloused thumb trace the peaks of your knuckles with his thumb. His eyes fell to where his hand met yours, cradling you like the beautiful flower he saw you as.

“But I must know if one day, I’d have the privilege of sharing in your love, experiencing what it’s like to be bonded with you. If I deny the inevitable any longer, I’ll burst.”

At his words, your heart soared, your mind clouded with passion. The way his hungry hazel eyes bore into yours, fingers twitching at his sides with the carnal urge to hold you close, claim your lips to his.

He shivered as he felt the softness of your hand gently stroke the definition of his arm, watching as it flexed involuntarily to the foreign sensation.

“As long as I get to share in yours.” You whispered, and Halsin couldn’t control the smile that spread across his lips, admiring you again.

“May I?” He asked breathlessly, still wanting to remain respectful of your boundaries, but you could tell, he’d be a kicked puppy if you dared say no to him. You nodded and leaned close to him once more, and he met you right in the middle, his hands finding purchase on your waist.

His lips were softer than imagined, tasting faintly sweet as he pushed a little his weight into the kiss. Although you really only imagined this being a quick, short and sweet exchange, you couldn’t help but lean more into him as his rough hand squeezed at your waist, moving to the small of your back. He let out a deep breath through his nostrils, his lips beginning to move slowly, methodically against yours.

When your fingers met his damp hair, he shivered, gently taking your waist back in his hands as he directed your body back into the waters with him. As you felt the temperature balance once more, comfortable in his protective hold, you began to nip at his lower lip.

You hear a deep groan in the back of his throat as he tightens his grip on you, his self-control beginning to slip away from him with every breathy sigh against his lips. Your legs slowly wrap around his. The warmth from his skin, even under the cool waters, makes your blood run hot.

His chest touches yours, the peaks of breast against chest, and he revels in it. With a start, his lips pull away from yours, and without a word, begin to eagerly press firm kisses down the side of your neck. You move your head to the side to give him more room.

A direct contrast from how they started, his kisses grew vigorous, desperate. His hands ache to touch every inch of your skin. Every curve, every imperfection. He wanted it all in the palms of his hands.

Halsin’s breathing is short as his kisses move further down to your collarbone, quickly growing addicted to the taste of your skin on his lips, his hands dancing across your skin under the waters. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t hold back any further. I—I need you to tell me to stop if that’s what you desire,” he breathed out, his heartbeat pounding with the stress of holding everything back.

The truth is, Halsin’s been craving this. Needing this. Needing you, for far too long by his standards. He’d gladly wait a lifetime for you, but with your warm skin pressed to his, your body being cradled so perfectly in his biceps—it was all making his mind melt.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you admitted with a sigh, fingertips tightening around his shoulders.

Yes, yes. This is what I need. Distract me, prove my self-deprecations wrong.

Halsin hardly needs any egging on in the first place, honestly, as he already has your wet body laying back down on the grass. You whine in the absence of warmth as the cool morning air hits your damp skin once more, but the image of Halsin between your thighs is enough to distract you from the cold.

His hair is damp, his eyes focused as he kisses your navel, the plushness of your thighs. A satisfied grunt leaves him as he runs his tongue along them, the beauty of you mixed with the earth filling his senses.

It doesn’t surprise you that the Druid gets off on the mixed scent and taste of sex and nature, especially not with the proof of being connected mouth-to-clit. His tongue is experienced, due to the many lovers he’s brought to ecstasy in the past, but he’s scarcely had this much desire towards someone. He gives a long, wet swipe of his tongue against your slick, wrapping his lips around the puffy bud up top and sucking against it, flicking his tongue with a rapid eagerness that has you spiraling.

He holds you to his mouth like you’re a means for survival, like he can’t see the colors of the Earth if not for your essence. As the taste of you settles on his tongue, he delves deeper, slurping up the arousal fluid that you’d been seeping out into the cool waters.

Your body begins to shake and stir, not wanting anything to do with an orgasm yet, merely wanting to bask in the moment. Halsin’s face is buried betwixt your thighs, his brown eyes locked on his work, focused and deliberate. His eyebrows splay in contentment. He’d spend an eternity down there if you’d let him.

However, your desperation for praise, his flowery words, caused you to tug your hips towards you, popping them away from the suction of Halsin’s lips. A small chuckle leaves him as he pushes himself out of the water, looming over your body on the cool grass.

He lets out a shaky, excited breath, connecting his lips to yours to show you how you tasted, to convey to you how happy he was to be here with you, after all the stress, turmoil, and victory.

As you disconnect from the kiss, his breath wavered even still, possibly more.

“You’re unbelievable, truly,” he huffs with a small laugh, biting his lip as he pulls you back into the waters with him, giving you small loving pecks on your lips.

“I haven’t done this in so long. It may hurt me.” The warning goes through him, but he simply chuckles, gently positioning himself between your thighs under the water.

“I’m here for you. To support you, to adore you,” He begins, snaking an arm around the curve of your waist to support your body in the comforting waters. “You need not worry, any pain you have, I will mend, with my touch and words.”

Once he sees you nod, his face moves to the crook of your neck, breathing you in.

That’s when it slides in, albeit, not very smoothly. Lake water has never been the best lubricant, but Halsin eases you through. His hands cascade through your hair, giving slow rubs to the back of your neck to distract you with a more pleasant sensation.

“Shh, you feel amazing… Hold on as tight as you need,” Halsin’s grip tightens for a split second or two around the skin of your nape before returning to a comforting looseness just seconds later. “I’m as content as can be at the moment, being like this with you.” His breathy, low voice goes straight to the pit of your stomach, exploding into tiny butterflies that have you reeling, pleading for more.

With soft kisses and flowery praises, your walls begin to finally relax, a siren song to lure Halsin into your depths.

He stays like that for a moment, drinking you in as his hips become flush with yours, under the water. He couldn’t ask to be anywhere else, a wide smile beginning to spread across his lips as his hips begin their slow, languid thrusts.

“You have no idea–” he starts with a smile, his hips beginning to find a consistent rhythm. “--how agonizing this wait has been, looking upon you from afar without even the slightest idea of how beautiful you could be.”

“You didn’t find me beautiful before?” You grin in a small, breathless laugh, eyes locked without waver on his.

“I found you breathtaking. That hasn’t changed…”

His arm, which was wrapped tightly around your midsection, begins to loosen, allowing himself to focus his strength on his movements and keeping you perfectly above water.

“What has changed is the way you feel. Your bare skin, pressed against mine. Just like this.”

As you both move like this, he continues to whisper loving words, breathless “thank you”s, like you’d given him the stars for allowing him to take you so intimately. A symphony of his moans and groans fill your ears as his movements begin to pick up pace.

An overwhelming gust of warmth flows in your abdomen, a blossoming flower of fire that makes your body violently quake and shiver, yet Halsin holds you protectively still, relishing in the fact that he’s the one making you this vulnerable underneath him, and every inch of his focus is on you.

Halsin’s breaths grow vocal now, his arms supporting his weight with every deep and carnal thrust into you. Every movement is calculated, learning every sweet spot and which angles made you feel the most. He savors the sight of your mind-boggling orgasm, the feeling of your fingers grasping at his hair, pulling down at the wet strands for support.

“My heart— my beloved,” He rasps out in the crevice of your neck, feeling himself fall deeper and deeper in love with you with every sloppy, quick thrust against your cervix. His dick practically swims in the glory of your orgasm, your fluid dripping out into the waters from him with every withdrawal. Meanwhile, your mind grew fogged, pussy practically milking him as it clenches with every overstimulation he delivers through his eager movements.

“Gods, do you hear that?” Halsin grunts in your ear, a satisfied smile spread across his lips. He begins to buck his hips with promise to prove his point. The sloshes of the lake water mixed with your labored breathing, raspy moans from the overexertion sound like music to his ears. He turns you over, lifting your lower body out of the water just barely to watch the water splash with every thrust into your sloppy cunt that swallowed him oh-so-perfectly.

One thing about Halsin was that he adored the sound of sex. Not just the moans, although those were a great bonus. No, no. He loved the environmental reaction to love-making. Skin against skin as you indulged him, laying back on the grass as he begins to fuck you just barely over the water, enough to make small splashes with every connection of his hips to the curve of your ass.

“Hahh—Halsin!” You breathe out, biting down onto the meat of your finger to ease the sensitive stimulation. Oh, how he loved hearing his name fall from your lips so carelessly. “Say my name again… Your voice is heavenly…” he speaks with a low mumble, too lost in this rapture to make a proper sentence. His calves tighten as he adjusts the angle to loom over your back, and suddenly flips you over again to look into your eyes as you lay on the grassy ledge. He takes your thigh in hand, right below the curve of your knee, and lifts it up to your chest to get better access to you. The water drips off his stomach, and you now see his body in its full glory as he stares down at you.

The remnants of your slick glimmer against his chin and lips, the curve of his belly brush deliciously against your navel, his damp, long hair dripping down onto your bare body as he fucks into you like a man desperate for salvation, and his deep grunts that leave his throat and straight to your core. Every movement seems to flow in slow motion, and the sounds of his needy, desperate groans in the crook of your neck gave your body enough of an excuse to cum again, but this time, you weren’t alone.

Halsin’s breathing grows louder as his legs begin to spasm from under him, fingers grasping at the Earth for leverage. “You’re close again… Don’t worry. I’m… ngh—right there with you,” His words come out shaky, wavered as his thrusts begin to pick up with a grunt. He moves a little, hoisting your leg up further while turning at an angle to thrust deeper than he already was, making you see stars. You can’t help the floodgates from crashing open as you coat his dick with your cum for a second time.

“Yes–yes… There you are…” He breathes out, a small smile spreading across his lips at the feeling of your release around him, your walls spasming from it all as he gives a harsh, lasting thrust into your core, painting your insides with his seed. You feel a warm shiver run up your spine at the sensation of him filling you up to the brim, bottoming out inside you as his legs shiver a little against yours.

A relieved, satisfied groan sounds at the back of his throat, attempting not to collapse on top of you. “Come to me… My heart.” He whispers, laying on the cool grass, soothing his hot skin. You find solace in his warmth, placing small pecks on his lips to try to make up for how exhausted you are.

“Are you alright? I wasn’t too rough, was I?” His breath comes out wavered, his hands roaming over your body to make sure he didn’t bruise you too much or scratch you. “You were perfect. I’ll be sore for a bit, but I’m alright,” you manage to chuckle out, your chest heaving up and down with the lack of air. “I feel incredible.”

“You deserve to feel that way, love.” Halsin moves up, caressing your body with feathery touches and loving rubs, your ear now pressed to his bicep while he holds your back to his chest. You stay there for a few minutes, basking in the glory of his warmth and embrace.

He lifts his head from the grass to admire your face. “Once we return to camp, I think it would be wise to release your tensions with Shadowheart and Astarion. If we’re to make this trek to the city, we must be connected and in understanding of one another.”

You sigh and nod, but not out of exasperation.

“I will. I’ll make it right. I want to.”

He smiles and sits up, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss.

“Fate has spun itself beautifully to have me end up with an individual like you in my arms.”

You smile, genuinely. In love, and happy. This adventure has taken you down winding, treacherous roads. But the warmth of your companions and peers have brought you and leveled you into who you are. A friend, a lover, a confidante, and a leader.

[kawareo]

Thank you lovely people for giving me a chance to ramble more about something (this is genuine, i mean no shade)

I find it really cool how every character has a parallel with Durge! In general every single romance pairing has reasons for why i think "yeah i could see them being good together", but I love those for Durge especially since I think about Durges way too much

Gale. Prodigy, Chosen of a God(ess) with a relationship that went far past god/Chosen, with him and Mystra being 'lovers' and Durge and Bhaal being 'family'. They were also both groomed to a degree to fulfill a role and have since fallen from grace of their gods.

Lae'zel. Raised in what is essentially a cult, having her entire world fall apart when she learns the truth about Vlaakith and Orpheus (while Durge's world falls apart when they learn about who they are in act 3). Cult has harsh and merciless punishments for those that disappoint, with death and beatings for githyanki and... Well. You know what, for Durge (looking at you, deleted bad ending).

Shadowheart. Having an equivalent of an electric collar on you that her God(ess) can punish her with (for Durge, that punishment isnt so immediate but Bhaal can literally stop their heart if he wants to). Amnesia. Having to choose between leading your cult or leaving everything you thought you knew and being an outcast. Depending on what you do with Shart, they also both kill their parents.

Karlach. Having your body changed without your consent, in drastic ways that you have no control over; the engine for Karlach, lobotomy + Slayer form for Durge (slayer in a more minor way but i will say that even in evil route you dont get a say whether or not you transform the first time). They both hurt people that get close to then without meaning to. They both have someone more powerful who sees them as property. Also, ties to Gortash.

Wyll. Daddy issues! And being rejected and outcast by your Father, wanting to prove yourself that you're still worthy. They were also both given shitty fucking names by their dads. They both at some point chose between power at the cost of freedom and freedom at the cost of literally everything; Wyll when he made a deal with Mizora, Durge at multiple points through the game when it comes to Bhaal. They both struggle with being tied to an evil, manipulative being that wants them isolated and weak and alone. Similar with Karlach, unwilling body modification, but specifically one that turns you into a 'monster'.

Astarion. 'Father'. 'Siblings' that you are in constant and brutal competition with, for momentary approval of your Creator who will never have enough of anything short but the world. Creator who's end goal very much includes you dying for him. Having no bodily autonomy as your Creator can literally violate your mind whenever. Sexual abuse. Struggling with bloodthirst! Your existence itself is violent, you can't live without hurting someone! (Bloodthirst for Ass, Urges for Durge)

Halsin. (Potential) guilt for something you have done, being pushed in a leadership position (Halsin at the grove, Durge with companions) that you may or may not be unsuited for. Being so, so alone, without anyone to care for your feelings. They both also have sides of them that they sometimes can't control, with the Bear and Urges, or more literally, the Slayer.

Minthara. A proud and efficent warrior that got one upped by a person they underestimated. Ties to Orin. Living as someone with the highest social status in a brutal, cruel society. Fanatic worship of an objectively evil god(ess) and then the betrayal that follows, waking up from quite literal brainwashing, seeing how your God(ess) turns against you.

And I could go on! Theyre all so good and interesting and depending on what path you decide to take, there is always something that Durge can relate to on with any companion! I tried to avoid repeating points or talking about my Durge specifically by just talking about what is set in canon for them, and there is still! So! Much!

[alpaca-clouds]

So, which Drow House kidnapped Halsin?

Fuck it. This morning @adelar-plays posted this excerpt of the dialogue you can have with Halsin about his time as, well, a sex slave to the drow. tl;dr: If you play as a drow with a noble background in the game, you get some extra dialogue options and through it learn that the House Halsin had been captured by was not just destroyed, but is looked upon very poorly by other drow. Badly enough that working for any surviving members might get you into trouble.

And my very first thought about it was: Wait, was he captured by House Oblodra? (Aka: Araj's House?) Sure, Araj does not react to him or he to Araj (Or does he? Has anyone tried?), but Araj's dialogue does imply that she was fairly young when House Oblodra fell.

However, there are other options of course. Let me go through them all.

Now, what we know: Halsin is about 350 years old. This happened when he was a "young druid" (though your guess is as good as mine what he might consider "young"). And it definitely happened before the Shadowcurse was cast. So at the very least he escaped the Underdark more than a hundred years ago.

So, the drow house in question must have fallen between about 300 and 100 years ago. That much is fairly certain. So, between ca. 1190 and 1390DR.

Before I go into the list of possible Houses, let me quickly go into what the houses are:

The drow are a matriarchal people, and usually group themselves into Houses. The most apt comparison for those Houses - at least among the drow of Menzoberrazan - is basically mafia families, that are usually organized around one matriarch. Most of the Houses have their own little army, and just tons, and tons of slaves. (Look, in Menzo there is about 5 slaves for every drow living there. Most slaves are goblins or minotaurs, but there are also other races.) The Houses are in constant rivalry with each other to become the most influencial House of the city. And if you as a drow do not belong to a House, you are basically worthless.

So, which Houses were disbanded in the timeframe?

House Celofraie got destroyed in a conflict with House Agrach Dyrr in 1367 DR. We do not know the reason, but it was probably simply a rivalry between the Houses. The same goes for House Mlin'thobbyn and House Syr'thaerl.

House Do'Urden is one that we know a lot about, duh, because Drizzt is such an important character for the lore. The House was originally very important, but lost the favor of Lolth after Drizzt saved a normal elven kid on the surface. This led to the destruction of the House in 1338 DR.

House Elec'thil got destroyed at some point between 1327 and 1367 DR. The exact reason was never given.

House Bron'tej got destroyed in 1227 after a conflict with House Barrison Del'Armgo.

House Kenafin and House Horlbar were disbanded in 1383 DR, though the members of both Houses together formed the new House of Melarn.

House Srune'Lett nearly started a drow civil war and got subsequently destroyed in 1372 DR.

House Tuin'Tarl got destroyed in 1383 DR, after trying to attack House Kenafin and House Horlbar. In a revenge attack, obviously.

House Teken'duis had a rivalry with House Freth. When trying to assassinate their leaders, they failed - and in return the family fell into shame and was susequently executed by the ruling council of the city. This was in 1319DR.

House DeVir formed an alliance with some gnomes in an attempt to overthrow one of the other houses. Because Lolth hates everything not-drow, they lost the favor of Lolth. House Do'Urden took advantage of this and destroyed the House in 1297.

House Oblodra, as we all knew, allied with some illithids. Now mind you, this was seen as somewhat okay for about 2000 years, allowing some members of the house to develop psionic magic. Until some members of the members of the house got about the same idea that Gortash and Durge had: "Hey, if we use magic on the tadpoles and put them into people's brains, we can mind control them and take over the city." Which went about as well as it went for Gort and Durge, ending with the destruction of the House and Exile of all members in 1358DR. It should be noted that this is the one house, where Lolth took an active role in their distruction, sending demons to destroy them.

So, based on this information and the dialogue that was shared...

Again, I will disregard the entire "when I was young", because your guess is as good as mine to what Halsin considers "young". But the other information given there is more interesting: The fact that if you associated with the House, you might lose the favor of other drow/might actually get into trouble.

Because to me that tells me that the House in question was not destroyed in a rivalry. So we can disregard pretty much all of the Houses that were destroyed in a simple conflict with another House of the city without any further information given. It makes me assume that the House in question has lost the favor of Lolth, making them outcasts among the other Lolth-alligned drow.

That leaves the potential candidates of:

House Do'Urden

House DeVir

House Oblodra

With the vague possibility that it could also be Teken'duis. With them it is not quite clear whether they still have the favor of Lolth or not.

So, yeah. It could obviously also have been a not before named House in the city. But if it is among one of the Houses in question, it should be one of those three (or four).

Make of that what you want. One way or another, there is a chance that either Drizzt, Viconia, or Araj might have met him - even if they do not remember him necessarily. Given that to them he might have just been "another slave".

Bonus:

Since we know that he was with the House for 3 years, before he escaped in the chaos of the House being destroyed, we can also calculate Halsin's age at the time.

If he had been a prisoner of House Do'Urden, he would have been around 190 to 200 years at the time. Had he been a prisoner of House DeVir, he would have been between 150 and 160 years. And had he been a prisoner of House Oblodra, he would have been 210 to 220 years old. (Just rough estimates, as I do not assume he is exactly 350 years old.)

[underdark-dreams]

I would like to request something soft and sweet. Years after saving the Gate and having moved in with Rolan, Cal, and Lia, Tav is enjoying the day reading/admiring Rolan as he works, and then either a) Tav asks Rolan to marry them or b) Rolan asks Tav to marry him.

Thank you 💕💕

Rolan x fem!Tav

More

Was it wrong to feel selfish about the person you loved? Rolan and Tav finally get a night alone at the Tower to talk about what each of them wants.

Tags: Romantic Fluff, Mild Angst, Marriage Proposals | SFW

Word Count: 4,316 [Read on AO3]

“All right, all right. Three harpies at once, no weapons. How do you win?”

“Do they have the high ground?”

From the settee by the fire, Lia pointed down at her little brother as though he’d brought up a key point. “You’re on even terrain.”

“Right, this one’s easy.” Cal settled back comfortably against the rug with hands clasped behind his head. “I start yelling loud enough that I can’t hear the harpy song. Then, I charge at whichever one’s singing loudest and knock the wind out of them with my horns, and then, you know." He waved a hand around vaguely. "Rough 'em up."

“So fucking stupid—” Lia fell sideways in her seat, clutching her side with laughter.

“I keep telling you, you’re always forgetting about the horns.” Cal jabbed a finger at his forehead. “Natural advantage, Lia, you should know this by now.”

The absurd conversation was impossible to block out, but Rolan made an attempt as he bent over his desk. Behind him, he felt Tav's chest reverberating with laughter at his siblings. 

She was in one of her affectionate moods tonight. She'd drawn up a chair behind his in order to rest her cheek against his back, one wrist draped loosely over his shoulder. 

Rolan didn't mind the closeness—he never did from her. But between her warmth and his siblings' ridiculous game of what-if, he'd barely written one paragraph in the past ten minutes. He finally gave up and set aside his quill.

Tav shifted slightly on his shoulder. "How's Gale?" She asked, perhaps feeling guilty about interrupting his concentration. 

“He’s well. His new class has a few with real promise, according to Tara.”

"I can't believe Tara likes you more than me," she mumbled suddenly against his back. "I met her first."

Her petulant tone made his mouth twitch into a smile. He would’ve turned to kiss her if they were alone. Instead, Rolan only pressed his lips to the hand draped over his shoulder. "Tressyms know a good wizard when they see one, dearest."

“Makes two of us,” she replied. The soft words ghosted across the skin on his neck, raising goosebumps under his collar.

It suddenly seemed like a very good idea to tell his siblings to get lost. Rolan was saved the necessity by a stroke of good timing. Near the fireplace, there was the soft clinking of plate armor as Lia got to her feet.

“Right, I’m off—” Lia buckled her scabbard around her waist as she rose, her shortsword tip clanking against the greaves over her shins. “Can’t be late to lead my first evening patrol.”

It had never occurred to Rolan before that Lia might end up in the Flaming Fist. He had to remind himself that the company’s reputation had improved considerably in the year since Florrick had succeeded Ulder Ravengard. Corruption and bad behavior had flourished under Gortash, but Florrick had done much to clean the Fists’ ranks of the worst—at least within the city walls. 

As he looked at her now, standing tall in her emblazoned surcoat, Rolan realized that his young sister was quite grown up. She’d earned a promotion to Gauntlet faster than any of them expected, a fact she loved to remind them of—especially Rolan. Lia took care of others the way she always had, and now she could take care of herself. The thought was somehow bittersweet in Rolan’s chest.

"Me as well," Cal chimed in from the floor. Though he only stretched arms and legs out long with a massive yawn.

“Don’t rush off,” Rolan drawled, but there was affection in it.

“Highberry’s are across the street, I got a few minutes.” Cal scrubbed his face with both hands as if to wake himself. “We got new ones at the orphanage last week, twin boys. They’re good kids, but gods, do they play hard…feel like my back’s aged about ten years…”

Lia stepped over to give him a hand up with a chuckle. “Read the room, Cal. The lovers need their alone time.”

Cal glanced around at the two in question. Tav still rested her cheek on Rolan’s shoulder with an expression of dreamy happiness, while Rolan was failing to hide a scowl. Lia knew how he hated when either of them used that word.

“Ah, right—” Cal slipped to his feet, sounding eager to be off all of a sudden. “I’ll be back after sunrise. Keep the place together while I’m gone?” He added, a fine joke considering Cal was always the one breaking things.

Rolan’s only response was to wave his quill behind him in a shooing motion. Tav called a friendly goodbye to brother and sister as they made their way down the main staircase, chatting as they went.

Once their footsteps had retreated completely, her restraint evaporated. “Thank the Gods, come here—”

Rolan barely managed to save his inkwell from overturning as she twisted to launch her torso across his lap, capturing his face in both hands for an enthusiastic kiss. His near arm gripped around her middle, no doubt leaving ink stains from his fingers against her linen shirt—he found himself unable to care about anything but the sweet taste of her lips.

They each pulled away for breath at the same moment. Tav’s grip lingered, her fingers combing back through his hair gently to clasp together at his nape.  

“Hello,” she grinned. Her eyes roamed over his face like he was everything.

Rolan’s palm brushed down her back, utterly content. “Hello.”

They took each other in like that for a long moment, just enjoying the quiet closeness. Her fingers smoothed and combed the hair back from beside Rolan’s horns needlessly—a fussy gesture that nevertheless brought a hum of contentment to his chest.

Apparently satisfied that she had him put back to sorts, Tav’s hands moved to rest on Rolan’s shoulders. “Got more work to do?”

Though she phrased it as a question, Rolan sensed she already knew the answer. He let out a reluctant sigh.

“Go on,” said Tav, not waiting for his reply. Rolan’s shoulders received a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll wait for you.”

With one last soft kiss, she slid off his lap and away. Rolan said nothing, but he instantly missed the warm weight of her against him. 

Tav retrieved her current reading from the shelves behind and curled up on the now-vacant settee near the fireplace. Though his spirit rebelled, Rolan picked up his quill again to continue writing his last few replies. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could join her. 

For a while the vaulted room settled into a quiet, echoing lull. There was the crackle of magical flame in the great stone hearth; the rhythmic scratch of ink against parchment; the faint whistle of an evening breeze out on the open balcony beyond. Periodically, he heard Tav turn another page of her book.

Before long he’d reached the final sealed envelope on the day’s pile. As Rolan stretched his hand for it, he caught sight of Tav watching him over the back of her seat.

“What?”

“Just admiring,” she sighed, eyes sparkling. “You look so handsome when you’re concentrating like that.”

Rolan’s brow wrinkled playfully at her. “Am I not usually handsome?”

“Always.”

“Hmm. You just think that because you’re in love with me,” Rolan replied curtly. He turned back to his work in an attempt to hide the way she made him smile and flush like an idiot.

“Both can be true,” she called back, not denying anything. But Rolan heard the shuffle of pages as she returned to her reading.

It took him a moment to regain concentration on his work. Rolan’s eyes reread several lines of the letter before him multiple times. But this one was truly quite important—a missive from the archwizards’ council at Blackstaff Tower. They were inquiring about his arcane research, apparently intrigued for the first time in years by his own Tower’s new ownership. He dove back in to focus on answering their questions in detail.

Half an hour and five sheets of parchment later, Rolan finally surfaced back to reality. He straightened up and promptly felt a pop in his neck from his stiff writing posture. The last light of sunset had slipped from the sky, leaving inky blackness behind each vaulted window of the cathedral-like interior.

As he rolled his aching shoulders, Rolan glanced toward Tav—only to find that the seat by the fire was empty. Rolan glanced back around the room, finding the rest of it empty as well. 

Had she given up waiting and gone up to bed? The thought disappointed him, though it opened up other possibilities. 

But Tav had told him she'd wait, and she wouldn't lie. As he rose from his desk to search for her, Rolan caught a faint metallic tap from the balcony.

Her silhouette was cast in relief against the dark sky. It was a moonless night; the pale orange glow of lamplight from the streets far below was the only light lining the edge of her figure, that and what little firelight streamed out through the highly vaulted doorway. Tav leaned on her elbows, the pewter wine glass under her fingers tapping an absent little rhythm against the stone railing. It was one of her habits when deep in thought.

Rolan allowed himself a moment to admire her. Seeing her in a quiet pose like this was one of his favorite things in all the Realms. Tav had become so many things to so many people in the short year he’d known her: hero, savior, diplomat, even rather a politician. 

But tonight, for now…she was just Tav. His Tav.

Rolan felt a pang of something like guilt in his stomach. It was by no means the first time he’d had such a feeling about her. His; possessive, controlling. It reminded him of the way he used to think before she came into his life.

For a long time, Rolan had felt a need to control the people he loved. If he didn’t, who would? Control just went hand in hand with protection. Caring for others was a luxury, and if the events of his life had taught him anything up to that point, it was that fate and misfortune were always looking for ways to separate you from what you cared about most.

And Tav had slipped so easily into the deepest depths of his heart. At first begrudgingly, resentfully…Rolan hadn’t exactly seen her as a welcome addition to their lives when they’d first met long ago on the road to Baldur’s Gate. 

Right now, it was impossible to imagine anything but love for her. 

As Rolan watched a soft breeze ruffle the ends of her hair, something uncertain bloomed inside of him. Was it wrong to feel selfish like this about the person you loved? The question hung unanswered in his chest. Rolan felt its weight there tonight, like a heavy stone dragging on his heart. 

His hand absently brushed against the small leather pouch he kept tied on his belt—there was a small clink of metal against metal from inside.

“Just going to stand there?”

Tav’s voice brought him back to reality in the most pleasant way. Rolan blinked to find that his legs had carried him forward to the arched doorway of their own volition. 

Tav stood a few strides away, watching him over her shoulder with a bemused smile. The firelight streaming out from behind him softly illuminated her features. 

In the next moment, Rolan had closed the distance to tilt her face into a kiss. Her empty cup clattered forgotten to the stone tiles at their feet. Would he ever tire of the way her arms circled around his shoulders like that? 

Rolan didn’t think it was likely—he nuzzled against her cheek as their lips parted, inhaling her familiar and comforting scent.

“What’s with you tonight?” Tav laughed, the sound breathy and soft against his collar.

“What?” Rolan protested, drawing her away slightly to examine her face. “Can’t I appreciate the woman I love?”

A happy flush rose to her cheeks, unnoticeable in the dim to someone without Rolan’s precise vision. But notice he did, just as she caught the way his golden eyes traveled over her expression. Tav pressed her face back into his shoulder as her arms squeezed tighter around him. 

“I wish we had more time,” she said against the crook of his neck.

Rolan tried to quell the instinctive panic that rose in his chest at her words. Instead, he stroked a hand over her hair. “What do you mean?”

The way she paused before answering allowed Rolan’s heart just enough time to wind up to a brisk rhythm against his ribcage. Eventually, Tav leaned back to look at him. Her expression had grown quite serious.

“I know that you—” She cut herself off, then wet her lips and began again. “Rolan, this place is your life. I’m not under any misconceptions that all this—” She tipped her head and looked sideways as if to indicate the Tower itself. “—That any of it’s going away any time soon. You know that, right?”

Her face tilted toward him with utter sincerity. Rolan found that his thoughts were forming with an odd slowness, as if swimming around his brain through something gelatinous.

“And you’ve been very understanding,” he managed to tell her. The guilt from earlier returned its grip over his chest. “More than I deserve.”

She sighed as her hand rose to his cheek. “Thank you for saying that…but you wouldn’t if you knew how often I daydream about kidnapping you away all for myself.”

Before Rolan could find a response to that, Tav had stepped back out of his grip with a soft curse.

“Damn—” She swore again, then wrung her hands with a shaky, anxious laugh. “This shouldn’t be this hard.”

Rolan still didn’t understand quite what she was saying, a sensation that he found deeply uncomfortable. It made him feel like a vessel adrift. He clasped hands behind his back to anchor himself, collecting his features into a guarded expression.

“Please,” Rolan invited her, tipping his horns to her in a way that felt awkwardly formal. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.” She chewed the inside of her lip as she watched him. There was a tense pause, and then she launched in abruptly. 

“I’ve been thinking our life here in your Tower. You and me—us. And,” she added, “I’ve been thinking about your work. How much it means to you…how far you’ve come in just a year.”

Tav gave him a small smile, as if casting back to those tense and awkward times when they’d first known each other. Then her face fell again. “Sometimes it just feels like there’s something missing.”

Rolan found he had to glance away from her for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Are you unhappy?” He asked her slowly.

“What? Not at all—” Tav shook her head with vehemence. “You make me so happy, Rolan, you have no idea. It’s just that I—I’m not always satisfied,” she finished weakly. 

“I see.” Rolan kept his face very still, but his pulse beat painfully in his throat. 

She was unsatisfied with the life of an archmage’s partner. It was perfectly understandable—before she’d come to live with him, Tav traveled far and wide, sometimes leaving the city for a week to visit her far-flung companions across Faerûn and the very hells themselves. 

A life spent cooped up in a tower, no matter how grand—how could he have ever thought it would be enough for her?

Rolan’s guilty conscience was deserved. He had been too selfish with her. He wanted her safe; he wanted her here. Most of all, he wanted Tav to want to be with him.

And Rolan had been so sure that she did. Perhaps he’d let the strength of his own feelings mislead him.

Rolan was painfully aware of the silence stretching on between them. Another evening breeze stirred the air, and as it rustled through their clothing, Tav’s eyes searched his face.

“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.

Behind his back, Rolan’s hands clenched where she couldn’t see them. Right now he was thinking of the small leather pouch that had hung from his belt for months, and the two small metal objects it contained, and the many ways he had imagined offering one of them to her. But none of those were things he should tell her now.

“Nothing,” Rolan answered aloud. “Only that I’ve been rather foolish.”

In response to that, a strange, puzzled expression passed over her face. Then her lips parted. 

“Ohhhh—” The sound rose from deep in her chest, a pained exhale. “No, Rolan, no no—”

Tav stepped to grasp his face between her hands with such speed that Rolan nearly flinched in surprise at the contact.

“I’m such an idiot,” she confessed to him. Her voice was very small all of a sudden. “I know I might not have the right to ask you, Rolan—but I don’t want less. I want more.”

Rolan’s eyes traveled back and forth between hers as if there was some hidden message he was missing there. “More?” He repeated, questioning. 

Tav nodded her head very slowly at him. “More of you. More of us.”

In the next instant it felt like the weight tangled around Rolan’s heart had snapped its line and plummeted straight down into his stomach. As he watched the firelight reflected earnestly in Tav’s eyes, realization shot up his spine like a shockwave. 

The force of his relief made his head spin. Rolan wanted to say a dozen different things to her all at once. Unfortunately, he found that his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth at the moment.

Instead—in a rare moment of clarity that was all reflex and no logic—Rolan felt himself sinking to one knee in front of her.

“Why are you—” 

Tav’s eyes went wide as she followed his face down to where he landed. Her hands fell from where they’d held him to hang down limp at her sides; her chest rose and fell as if she’d run a flight of stairs.

“How can you not know by now?” 

What a terrible way to begin, he thought—yet those were the words Rolan found leaving his mouth. Trying to right his thoughts, he reached for one of her hands and took it between both his own.

“Forgive me,” Rolan blurted out. “I swear I’ve practiced this before, but—I can’t remember all the best bits just now.”

Tav shook her head at him as if punch-drunk. “Don’t sell yourself short,” she whispered hoarsely.

A nervous bark of laughter escaped him. “Have you ever known me to be burdened with an excess of humility?”

Despite the electricity now swirling between them, the corners of Tav’s mouth twitched upward. “Point taken.”

Rolan used the moment to gather himself. His tongue suddenly felt two sizes too large, and he swallowed with effort against his dry mouth.

“You’ve always done so much for me. From the first moment…every moment. You’re the reason why I have Cal and Lia, why I have everything—” Rolan’s eyes left her only for a moment to pass up over the great spire of the Tower above them. 

From his periphery, Tav opened her mouth to protest.

“Please listen,” Rolan begged her before she could speak. He wished he’d thought this through even a little; his knee was already starting to ache against the stone, but he pushed through the discomfort.

Tav’s figure froze still in response as she watched him. Only her hand shook slightly between his palms.

“You must know what you mean to me,” Rolan murmured. “You’ve given me so much more than I deserve. You’ve loved me more than anyone…better than anyone. But—” He drew her hand a bit closer to his chest. “But I’m afraid there’s one more thing I have to ask you for.”

Tav’s lips were parted in anticipation as she hung on his words. She stood so motionless it was like kneeling at the foot of a beautiful statue. Only her wide eyes moved continuously over his face, and Rolan felt he could lose himself in them completely if he gazed too long.

“Let me give you more,” he asked simply. “Let me give you everything.”

“You—you damn wizard—” 

As she broke her silence, Tav’s expression was flickering somewhere between amusement and tears. She was shaking her head at him, moisture pricking at the corners of her eyes. “If you don’t say it plain in the next—”

“Marry me.”

Though they stood under open sky, the two words seemed to echo with deafening force against his own ears. The question hung like a tangible physical thing, reverberating painfully in the narrow space between their bodies. Rolan could only grip her hand like a lifeline and wait for her to say something—anything.

Finally, Tav burst out into a laugh. 

Or was it was a sob? 

It was some strange combination of both, a choked sound of relief rising in her throat even as Rolan watched liquid suddenly spill and roll down each of her cheeks. Before he knew what was happening, Tav had also dropped to her knees in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Whatever responses Rolan had anticipated, this was one he didn’t plan for. He could only freeze and watch her cry and wait for things to make sense again.

“I don’t know,” Tav hiccoughed through the rapid tears that were streaming down her face now. Her lips trembled as her hands found his shoulders, clutching two handfuls of his robes. “I d-don’t know,” she repeated. “But I want you, Rolan.”

He had just enough hope to take that as a yes. 

Rolan folded Tav’s body into his own with near crushing force. He was now overwhelmingly grateful for their absurd position kneeling together on the cold stone of the balcony. It was unthinkable to have her anywhere but in his arms right now.

“Yes, by the way—” Tav’s voice was muffled against his shoulder, but her chest shook against him with unmistakable laughter now.

“I had plans,” Rolan answered against her hair, half to himself. “None of this is right, hells, I swear I had so many plans—”

“Hold on,” Tav replied in a trembling laugh. She pulled away gently, just enough to notch one hand under Rolan’s ear. Her face radiated joy despite the damp skin on her cheeks. “Rolan, what on earth could be wrong right now?”

Everything, he wanted to groan out. But he bit the word back. 

Instead, Rolan ducked his head to fumble with the drawstrings of the leather bag fastened to his belt. Tav’s fingers dropped from his jaw as she watched on in silent curiosity. 

He shook the open bag over his hand. With a tiny clink, two rings poured from it and out onto Rolan’s outstretched palm. Even on a moonless night, the metal seemed to glow from within with a silver-blue fire.

“Mithril,” Tav breathed in pure delight.

The observation was so unexpected, yet so thoroughly Tav, that Rolan let out a choked laugh.

She touched fingers to her lips. “How long have—when did you—?”

“The week you moved in,” Rolan answered. The way her eyes flicked up to his in pure adoration made Rolan’s heart swell in his chest, but he continued. “That’s when I gave Dammon the commission. Of course it took months to find a vein of it down in the Underdark, I nearly went mad, you have no i—”

The words were stopped up as Tav’s lips collided against his. Rolan’s fist closed over the twin metal bands just as his hand was trapped between their chests.

She kissed him so long and so hard that Rolan gasped for air a bit when she broke away.

“Do you like it?” Rolan asked, needing her answer more than his lungs needed air.

“You’re kidding me.” Tav blinked at him. “Rolan, if you don’t put that thing on my finger this fucking minute, I swear I might have to reconsider.”

He wasn’t about to chance it. Rolan slipped the band onto the finger of her outstretched hand without hesitation; it fit her perfectly. She followed suit, her hand shaking slightly with excitement as the ring slid down to his knuckle.

For a moment they just held opposite hands out beside each other in quiet admiration. Then Rolan linked his fingers with hers, pulling their palms together. 

He supposed the rings were supposed to come after the vows, not before—but the sight of them on their interlocked fingers was too perfect to be wrong.

A moment later they helped each other back to their feet, both laughing at their stiff knees and the pins-and-needles in their legs. 

Rolan felt giddy as a youth. He couldn't stop kissing her; his arms circled her firmly into him, his tail looping around and over her hips in a caress. As Rolan watched the pure happiness radiating from Tav’s face, his heart was the lightest it had ever been.

“Now what?” He asked eventually.

Tav sighed with contentment in his arms. “Whatever you want.”

“I want to take you to bed,” Rolan answered without hesitation. Words had grown tiresome; he could think of no better way to demonstrate exactly the strength of his feelings for her right now.

In response, she separated to tug his hand with both of hers back under the doorway. 

“Then we’d better go,” she said, walking backwards so she could flash him a coy smile. “Because I want my fiancé to tell me about all those ways he didn't just propose.”

[avernusreject]

Warning ya'll this is gonna be a long post. But please join my descent into insanity, as I deep dive into the vague wormhole that is the durge betrayal pre bg3 timeline.

Before we start, it’ll help if you have context around the faerun calendar. There are twelve months in total, each having exactly 30 days. Additionally, weeks don’t exist in faerun. Rather months get broken down into chunks of time called tendays, which you guessed is literally just ten days. If that was too straight forward for you, don’t worry, they add in five extra days to the calendar that fall outside of the months (ngl I still have no idea where these are located) to make the full year 365 days. 

At the beginning of the game, the nautiloid crash occurs at 20 Eleasis. Which means, the game starts in the middle of summer. Obviously, the way you play the game is going to influence the speed of events, but for my playthrough I reached moonrise towers around 12 elient (total time being 22 days). When you get to moonrise, in Bathazar’s chamber you can find his journal that explains that Kressa (the crazy necromancer chick) managed to keep durge alive. This entry is dated “two tenday ago”. But in game, that makes no sense because we know that the nautiloid should have crashed around that point. So either Balthazar doesn’t understand how the Faerun calendar works (I mean same, my guy) or we have to change our frame of reference. I think its more likely that the implied frame of reference is the start of the game, 20 Eleasis (since the developers can’t control how fast the player goes). 

If true, durge was saved by Kressa around 1 Eleasis. Her vivisections took place after this in the following days. However, durge is taken away before the end of the following tendays (at least before 10 Eleasis).

Now when you talk to Kressa in the basement of moonrise, she states that she found durge only hours after they had been given the tadpole.

In the fight with Orin, she states that when she attacked durge she carved out a hole for the worm (ignore the Half-Elf part, that's just from the moment Orin turns into durge during the pre-fight convo).

The part that we're missing is when specifically the tadpole was inserted into durge. But given how the game describes just how utterly fucked durge was, there's a high likelyhood that the tadpole was given to durge moments after their fight. Which if true, places Orin's betrayal at 1 Eleasis. Giving us twenty days till the start of the game.

The piece that threw me for a bit was this piece of the narrator's dialogue when durge examines the pod, stating that durge had no idea how much time had passed.

But the blood in the pod is still fresh enough that Astarion is able to ID it as durge & in another dialogue choice if you examine the blood further the narrator states the blood hasn't been there long enough to rot.

I think this dialogue is more explaining that durge is actively being tortured by Kressa so time feels unending (kressa being the one who put them in the pod to begin with).

I've seen in other posts that Gortash's draft memoir explains that Orin's betrayal occurred during or just around the crowning of the brain (I don't have a screenshot of that unfortunately). But we have to take that with a grain of salt because Gortash is the definition of an unreliable narrator.

Personally, I don't think he's lying though. Orin's betrayal occurred in moonrise and there's really no other reason that Orin and durge would be in moonrise that the game has provided. Not to mention, the warden explains the last time that durge was in moonrise, they never left.

I don't think durge came to moonrise more then once given the fact that the warden, who had clearly been there a while, had no clue who they were. I find it hard to believe their identity would be kept under wraps had they been at moonrise multiple times. Employees have to gossip about something.

I think its likely that Ketheric, Gortash, and Durge tamed the brain in the days leading up to 1 Eleasis (like ~20 to 30 Flamerule).

In summary, the dead three had a Phineas and Ferb summer vacation by deciding to create the cult of the absolute.

And yes if you are wondering this is how I look now.

[genovianxprince]

OK I think I understand some of why some people in the fandom choose to make Mystra some kind of a terrible, grooming abuser to Gale. It's because every one of the companions has like a specific person you can point to and say, that is the abuser. That right there is the person who has caused the companion grievous harm. Gale and Mystra are a little more complex than that.

Shadowheart and Lae'zel technically have a whole cult/culture backing up the abuse, but you can still pretty directly point to Viconia and Shar for Shadowheart, and ultimately Vlaakith for Lae'zel as well as just... every Githyanki she ever met, except for Kith'rak Voss.

Wyll has Mizora, Karlach had Zariel and Gortash, Astarion has Cazador, all very obvious and self explanatory in the game. They were innocent, kidnapped, coerced, sold, played like a damn fiddle. But Gale?

Gale has Mystra, a goddess he loves, who also loves him, and the things they did to each other were both fucked up, and a lot of the fault totally lies with Gale! The other companions all had external forces affecting them. Gale's was mostly internal. He refused to believe he was good enough. "As inconceivable as it seems to me now, I shared a bed with a goddess and I still wasn't satisfied." A literal goddess, the one he favored, the one he was in love with, who favored and loved him back, consistently told him he was perfect as he was and he straight up did not believe her. He placed himself on a higher and higher pedestal he could never reach the top of because if he wasn't constantly climbing to some nebulous goal of perfection, then could he be good enough for Mystra?

Y'know, instead of just believing the woman he was in love with. And I get it! Insecurities suck! Especially when you've been the gifted child your entire life, perfectly talented at something that all the adults in your life go nuts over. But also, it is extremely arrogant to assume you know better than your literal goddess and be like "yo, there's a missing piece of the Weave and I can go get it" like... Mystra is the Weave, she would have known and probably sent someone on a quest if it were actually Her Weave and not Karsus' Weave.

Gale is INCREDIBLY hubristic and he keeps falling for that trap. He's overconfident. Hell, even after his year in isolation where he comes out humbled, a small group of people believing in him for a short amount of time gets him to go "omg, crown of karsus = godhood, I can totally do that and tell the gods they SUCK and overthrow Ao's rules!"

Like, babyboy, no.

Of course, Mystra is not without some fault. After Gale's initial... Folly-up, she just ignores him for a year. Damn, girl, what the hell! Well. You see. The Netherese orb is a fragment of the magic that Karsus used to try to ascend and steal her throne with. The magic that she realized was going to kill everything if she didn't sacrifice herself. For a moment, all magic ceased to exist, including Mystryl herself, and Karsus died. Then Mystra came into being. Gale tells you a short version of this story himself! So it kind of makes sense that Mystra would see this shard of magic and just... kinda have a trauma reaction! And to gods, time flows differently. It wouldn't shock me to learn she didn't realize it had been a year by the time Gale left his Tower due to mind flayer shenanigans. Naturally, she does not want to discuss the thing she's so terrified of, and just tries to have it destroyed without her having to touch it—the plan to have Gale blow himself up on the Absolute itself, and she would save his soul. And even after he disobeys her instruction, she still allows the orb to feed on the true Weave! She still lets him live without fear of blowing up randomly, even though it greatly distresses her to let this magic that killed her once feed on her own life force.

Then he reaches the city, and reads The Annals of Karsus, and realizes she's going to have to explain, despite not wanting to. And she summons him. Tells him exactly what's in his chest. Asks him to turn over the Crown and she will destroy the orb and face her own trauma, because Gale... doesn't want to die. She understands that. And she still loves him and his big beautiful brain despite how stupid he's been, and she wants to have him as her Chosen again.

Things will never be the same, of course. They both fucked up. Gave each other a bad time. But in the end, they forgive each other and move past it. Not as a couple, because things broke too much for that. But they can have a healthy relationship as Goddess and Chosen once more.

And that is what sets Gale and his trauma apart from the companions. He doesn't have a direct abuser or live in a horrific abusive society. He almost killed the goddess of all magic a second time and she had an understandably harsh reaction to that, even if it was still too harsh. I just don't believe it's only Mystra who fucked up here. Not by a long shot. Much of it lies squarely with Gale.

And, as for the grooming allegations [as far as people trying to say it is canon], literally just no. She's a True Neutral goddess. Gale literally tells you that you are not his first mortal lover, he had a few before he ever fell into Mystra's bed, and you're just the first since the breakup about a year ago. The game doesn't shy away from sex and sexual abuse in the least. Why on Earth would this be something hidden behind several layers of nonexistent subtext? It's definitely fun for AU's, but by Ahghairon's lost nose, no, it's not canon!

[tellmeallaboutit]

Raphael prompts : Choose One

thank you very much for sending your prompts! I have picked 5 Raphael prompts, it's up to you to choose which one you like most. A separate Non-Raphael Prompt Poll to follow. Pic.... related.

TW: SOME ARE DARK AND CONTAIN NON-CON.

The names come from me, the descriptions are copy-pasted from prompts.

Have You Read The Contract? Have You? Raphael thinks he has Tav right where he wants her. One hammer for one crown. All she has to do is sign the parchment. But with some slight of hand, incubus magic, and a little bit of contract law, Tav adds a bulletproof exit clause: “Unless and until the two parties herein engage in coitus to mutual satisfaction, this agreement becomes null and void.” Thankfully, Raphael signed without noticing. Regrettably, Tav forgot to add the word ‘consensual’.

I Accept All Kinds Of Payment: raphael doesn't only trade in souls but also in goods and services. knowing that tav and her crew were about as poor as a population of church mice, he kindly offered her his patronage in exchange for a... peculiar kind of service. however, every time he demands more and more of his favorite business partner...

Daddy Issues: My prompt would be Raphael fucking Gortash to show him that he still holds power over him even though he's the Chosen of Bane and Archduke of Baldur's Gate now. Bonus points for Gortash wanting Raphael's praise, but refusing to acknowledge that he enjoys what Raphael does to him. Even more bonus points for Raphael calling himself Enver's father / daddy, something to that effect.

Fool Me Once: you gave your body to Haarlep. Tired of the phantom sensations you make a deal with Haarlep to take his place and confront the master of the house where he's most vulnerable. Raphael catches up to you being you at first glance, but chooses to indulge in your little game (let Raph do his worst/up to you)

Break The Frat Boy: Durge plans a little revenge on Raphael for Gortash's sake. They come to HoH and the cast reveals Raphael's true appearance, yes, he is a twenty year old brat. Durge and Gortash then do things to him (Raphael doesn't like it).

[flymmsy]

Nasty Durgetash request that I can’t get out of my head: Gortash ass fucking Durge and wants them to admit they love getting fucked by the cock of Bane.

Filling this one with a f!Durge because I had a specific idea for it - (Typically try to do gender-neutral for requests, but anon if you had something else in mind feel free to resubmit!) You know how I said I think Durgetash fucks both sweetly and nasty? Yea this is one of the nasty times.

All of the requests will not be this long but uhhhh this one got out of hand WOOPS (~1.6 k Word Count)

Warnings/tags: anal, dub-con (ish? Borders on more classic toxic durgetash practices but tagging just in case – durge wants it though), rough sex, choking, slapping, spitting, dom!gortash, sub!durge, dirty talk, name calling, spanking, fingers in mouth, hair pulling. 18+

“Harder,” she demanded, writhing beneath him. Enver felt her nails drag down his back again, retracing earlier welts and drawing fresh blood.

They had been at this for hours. Durge had burst into his study mid-meeting, scaring the patriar he had been negotiating with half to death with her visage. She was drenched in blood. It had taken quick thinking on his part to rush towards her, pushing her out of the door of the study with all of the urgency of someone tending to their severely wounded friend. He had called for ‘help’, but when the nearest servant arrived, he instructed them to see the patriar out while he dealt with an ‘emergency.’ He hadn’t been able to tell whether he was dragging Durge to his bedchamber, or if she was dragging him, but he wanted to get her out of sight as quickly as possible. When the door shut closed behind them, he had begun to ask What were you thinking?, which was quickly interrupted with Durge’s mouth crashing onto his own.

He never did get the answer to his question – Durge had been relentless all night, frantic even. It was unlike her, even at the height of her Urge. She clearly did not want to talk – she wanted to fuck. The sting left by her nails tore a groan from his throat, and he hastened his thrusts. They were both sticky with sweat at this point, the air in the room heavy and filled with musk.

Durge growled beneath him before digging her nails deeper into his back. “Harder,” she demanded again, and the lewd slapping sound of their joining grew louder with his effort. Enver closed his hand around her throat, pressing down hard and using her own body as leverage to fuck deeper into her. Despite this, she growled in displeasure again only moments later.

“Wha - ” Enver began, only to be cut off by a hard slap across his face. He scoffed, halting his thrusts and turning back to Durge with a scowl. She was clearly furious that he had stopped, rolling her hips in defiance. He went to grab her wrists, but she was a flurry beneath him, fighting his grip.

“Enough!” he commanded, finally pinning her wrists to his bed. She met his ferocity, venom and disgust in her voice.  

“I said fuck me harder, Banite.”

And then she spit in his face.

He instantly stilled. A wave of rage flashed through him, but in a moment, it had been replaced by a powerful, assured calm. He met her gaze – seeing a spark in her eyes light as she realized she had successfully melted away her Enver and replaced him with Lord Gortash, Chosen of Bane.

“Well, now you’ve done it,” his voice was rough and low, but even-toned. He pulled out of her and grabbed her hips, flipping her onto her stomach. She instinctively moved to get on her knees, but a firm hand pushed her down to meet the bed again. When she pushed up against the hand, he doubled down on the pressure and connected his other hand to her ass in a harsh slap.

“You interrupt my negotiations,” he punctuated each of her transgressions with another slap to her ass, “demand my attention like some petulant child, use my cock like a bitch in heat for some immature avoidance –”

At that one, she snarled and attempted to lift herself up again. He tsked, shifting his full body weight to bear down on her.

“ – and act like an ungrateful whore all evening. Now behave.”  He dipped two fingers into her wet cunt, pulling a satisfied hum from her mouth. He eased his pressure on her slightly to lean back, bringing his other hand to rest on her ass. He spread her, watching for a few moments as her cunt greedily swallowed his fingers, waiting. As soon as she whined for more, he had the excuse he wanted.

“I warned you. Now, here’s a lesson for you.” Before she even had time to react, he slipped a slick finger into her asshole. She gasped in surprise, jolting beneath him for a moment before another smack to her ass reminded her of her required obedience. He spread her further, adding another finger into her asshole.

He had thought of taking her in the ass many times before, had spilled into his own hand at the idea of her body delighting in the painful stretch around him, but they had never really discussed the concept. But now, she had pissed him off, and he was inclined to take what he wanted while bringing her to heel.

When he added a third finger, a guttural noise escaped her throat, and his cock twitched as he watched her fists tightly grasp the bedsheets. She received a few more pulses of his fingers before he pulled them out. Fully leaning over her body now, he brought his other hand to grasp her by the hair while he shoved the three fingers into her mouth, forcing her to taste her ass.

“Suck,” he demanded, and she complied, much to his delight. He worked her mouth with his fingers, shoving them deeper and deeper until she was an appropriately slobbering mess. He released her then, leaning back up to return his attention to her ass.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he taunted, slapping the head of his cock against her asshole a few times before finally pushing in. She choked back a cry, and he moaned in response. He was slow to enter her the first time, but not for her benefit – he enjoyed the languid stretch of her ass around his cock as he sank deeper. When he had finally managed to bottom out, he grabbed her hips hard enough to bruise and began to thrust punishingly.

It was heinously blissful. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, using it as leverage to furiously pound into her ass. Head pulled back, her cries grew even louder, which spurred him on even more. The drag of her ass against his cock was intoxicating, and it was not long before he felt his climax begin to build.

He dragged her back up against his body by her hair, bringing her back flush against his chest as he continued his thrusts. His arms snaked around her to keep her upright, one hand closing around her neck while the other began to circle her clit. She tried to cry out, but the pressure of his hand captured the sound in her throat.

“Who do you belong to?” his face was practically pressed against her ear. She moaned, and he loosened his grasp on her throat to allow her to speak.

“Bhaal,” she spit out, and his grip immediately retightened.

“Try again,” he growled into her ear, “Whose cock is in your ass?”

She attempted to speak several times before he loosened his grip again. “Yours,” she choked out, gasping for breath.

“True enough, you are a whore for my cock,” he smirked, allowing himself to press a kiss against her neck, “But its more than just that, Bhaalspawn.”

He threw her back down on the bed and renewed his brutal pace.

“You love getting fucked by the cock of the Black Lord,” he mocked, and when he was met only with heavy silence, he laughed cruelly.

“Say it,” he commanded, smacking her ass again.  

“No,” she managed between her gasps.

“Say it!” Another smack.

“I-“

“Louder.”

“I love ge-“

“Louder!”

“I love getting fucked by the cock of Bane,” she choked out in a loud sob.

“Yes,” he hissed, his entire body lighting up in response.

“I love getting fucked by your filthy Banite cock,” she continued, unprompted, and at that he could feel his balls begin to tighten. He hummed in appreciation, the insult only emphasizing her subjugation.

“You see,” he began speaking between harsh thrusts, “it is - to our mutual benefit - when you behave -  Bhaalspawn.”

His hips began to stutter as his pace became frantic and uneven.

“Beg me for it,” he moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he gave her ass a final slap. She whined beneath him, and just when he thought he would have to be firm with her again, she mewled in compliance.

“Please spill into my ass.”

It sent him over the edge instantly. He came inside her ass with violent shudders, and he felt her own orgasm hit her ferociously. He thrust shallowly as he rode out his high, gasping for breath.

When he opened his eyes, his grip on her hips immediately softened. She was shaking, her own breathing only just beginning to regulate. Worry flashed through him for a moment but quickly subsided – he learned long ago that his Bhaalspawn could handle most anything thrown her way. She was his favorite toy he could never break.  

He allowed her a moment, rubbing circles into her hips. Sure enough, she rose before long to curl back against his chest as before, but this time his embrace was far more tender. She snaked a hand behind his head to give herself leverage to look at him – her body was finally loose, and she smiled with wicked abandon. Still, he couldn’t help but feel something was off, a sense of desperation that had not quite evaporated.

“You’re going to get me disowned,” she laughed shallowly while shrugging.

“What Father doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he smirked, expecting one of her usual retorts.

Instead, she furrowed her brow and closed her eyes, for fear of spilling their truth.

[littleplasticrat]

Provocation and Planning (Gortash x Tav)

Tav thinks she's charging into Gortash's palace to seduce him, but he's been waiting for her. She still manages to surprise him.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: PIV sex, sex toys, anal fingering, come eating

Thanks to @bearhugsandshrugs for beta reading. You're cool ❤️

-

The first time Tav and Gortash had kissed, she'd bitten his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He'd instantly retaliated, setting the precedent for things to come.

After the ragtag group had clawed their way onto the docks from the Chionthar, Tav had looked at the archduke and really seen him for the first time. He was bloody and victorious, encased in his golden mechanical armour that did nothing to obscure the length of his limbs. He slicked his wet hair back out of his face and began unbuckling his breastplate when he noticed her looking, and gave her a slow, suggestive smile. His shirt hung open to reveal his hairy chest; he was steaming like a racehorse in the morning sun. Tav knew that she was going to have to fuck him as soon as possible . He must have seen it in her face, and pulled her into a kiss, first sucking her lower lip and then pressing his tongue into her mouth. That was when she'd bitten him.

Whatever it was - the adrenaline, the relief, or the strangely warm memory of the shin kick he'd delivered after she'd punched him in the morphic pool - the effect had been immediate. Gortash had inhaled sharply, then pulled back to dropping butterfly kisses on her mouth. Tav felt the curve of his smile, and then suddenly his quick hands had found a tear in her leather armour and he'd pinched her nipple through her undershirt, hard enough that she let out a strangled moan. Gale, who'd been standing next to them on the dock with a polite if strained smile, had gone bright red and practically sprinted off to Wyll and Karlach.

Read more below the cut or on Ao3. Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear from you.

Under normal circumstances, if a man kissed Tav like that, she knew she was likely about to get dragged away and fucked shortly thereafter. However, as the heroes slowly made their way back to the city centre, Gortash had withdrawn to his palace to launch the cleanup campaign. It became clear to Tav over the course of the day that the emergency measures for Baldur's Gate had been made in meticulous detail and were set up to be ready to implement at a moment's notice. Case in point: as she made her way to the Elfsong Tavern that evening for the celebrations, she saw Steel Watchers with rescue tools instead of their usual heavy weaponry digging through rubble alongside the Fists. Gortash must have been manufacturing the extra parts in secret. She wondered what else he'd prepared.

In anticipation of seeing him, she'd left her underwear in her pack and applied a few dabs of rosemary oil where her blood ran close to the skin. At the tavern, it didn't escape her that gazes lingered upon her, the light touches of her companions' hands guiding her through the smoke and the crowds. When Halsin lent past her to pick up a round of drinks from the bar, she felt him inhale a deep breath of her as his muscles flexed against her back. One huge hand had covered her hip briefly. She thought it might have been the case that the druid, a little drunk and made giddy by all the people, was just trying to steady himself against a reliable friend. But then his hand squeezed and Tav nearly pushed her ass back against him, stopping herself just in time. Later, she went out onto a balcony with Rugan to smoke and laugh with him. The Zhentarim stole glances at her nipples peaking against her blouse when he thought she wasn't paying attention, which made goosebumps ripple across her skin. When she looked back to his face, he would rest his lip against the rim of his tankard and give her a look that was half-innocent, half-debauched. I wonder if being a hero is going to be like this all the time? she thought to herself. It seemed exhausting.

Adding to the slow decline of her mood was the fact that the one smug, handsome bastard she wanted, that she spent the evening scanning the crowds for, did not appear. Hadn’t he felt the sparks of that kiss shoot through his body the way they shot through hers? Or, perhaps, was his duty to the city keeping him in the office? That seemed strangely absurd. As it neared midnight, it became obvious that Lord Gortash definitely wasn't coming. Tav slipped away from the party and made her way to the Palace with efficiency, weaving through the crowds of revellers. At the gates, she'd been expecting to have to explain who she was, or perhaps even break in, but every set of guards let her pass without comment. The ones outside Gortash's chambers even saluted her.

When she entered, she saw a lavish bedroom through double doors which lay ajar at the end of the corridor. The bed was very neat. On either side of the hallway leading to it were a small library, a bathroom, and a combined workshop and office. Gortash was sunk in a battered armchair at a small circular table in the latter room. Looking around the room, Tav saw that his desk, placed so that he could sit with his back to a corner, was piled high with paperwork. Occupying the centre of the freshly-swept floor was a thick, expensive-looking rug. There was a whole wall of drawers and shelves of various sizes, with each labelled in his precise handwriting. On that side of the office were two large workbenches; one was a tidy wooden trestle and one had seemingly been improvised from a sheet of metal and stacks of old documentation. Half-hidden beneath a pile of clothes and rubbish in the corner was a low camp bed, the kind that military recruits would start their careers in. The whole place smelled like pine, with an undertone of male musk, milled steel and oil. Through a nearby window, she could see the city stretching into the distance, half-ruined but surviving another day. Sounds of revelry were carried into the room on the wind. 

When Tav came to the door they made eye contact immediately and he showed no surprise; she knew then that he'd been waiting for her. With a lazy hand, Gortash plucked a grape from the dish in front of him and slowly slipped it into his mouth. Tav's eyes followed the movement of his fingers and she had to try hard to keep her face blank as a tingle flitted down her neck. As he leaned back, she noticed he was wearing a raw silk shirt and tight leather trousers, but the lacing on both was slovenly, as usual.

They stared at each other, and Tav felt herself start to blush under the archduke's open gaze. To hide her reaction, she stepped over to his table and picked up the bunch of grapes. She saw Gortash's strong fingers twitch as she swiped the fruit, but he did nothing.

"You missed the party at the Elfsong," Tav said, moving across the room to lean against the windowsill. "Didn't fancy being celebrated with the other heroes of Baldur's Gate? I'm surprised you'd pass on a chance to be fawned over."

Gortash scoffed and crossed his long legs.

"Yes, I had reports you were carousing in that rat hole with your little friends - and I can smell it on you now,” he said, inhaling. “I'll be holding my own celebration here in my palace . You should join me. See how it feels to wield power against the nobility of this city rather than its enemies." He looked her up and down, his eyes half-lidded. "I've been thinking about jewellery designs for you. Something to show off how magnificent you are."

It was Tav's turn to snort. "What about me has given you the impression I want to become some bejewelled whore on your arm?"

"Bejewelled whore… Ha. My dear, no one is immune to the pleasure of being draped in gold and gemstones," Gortash told her as he stood. "Especially not those of us who started life clad in rags." He approached Tav with slow steps and she reclined further against the window frame, holding the grapes out of his reach. "As for the second part... That wasn't a one-sided kiss this morning. Maybe I just want you by my side to keep an eye on you now the city is safe. A woman of your talents - What's the saying?" he asked, maintaining eye contact as he moved into her space, pressing his broad chest against her breasts to reach for the fruit. "Ah, yes. Devils make work for idle hands." She felt his fingers slip the grapes out of her loose grasp. "And-" Gortash's steady, sonorous voice suddenly wobbled off into a groan, and he snaked his other arm around her waist to crush her body against his. "Sweltering hells, Tav, have you come into my office without undergarments?"

She gasped and he rested his forehead against hers, their gazes meeting. She nodded, a blush creeping into her cheeks. The raw lust that pooled in his dark eyes in response made her back prickle with sweat as her nipples hardened against his chest.

"What are you doing to me, Tav? Gods, I need to see you. Take off your clothes. Let me see your body."

Gortash was almost snarling with arousal as he commanded her. Tav sighed at the slow melt of wetness in her cunt and pushed him gently backwards to give herself more space. Expression hungry, he watched her as she slowly undressed. She thought he might seize her when she bared her breasts to the moonlight, but he just swayed, eyes roving over her eagerly. His breathing stopped when she unlaced her trousers and let them slide down; something about his boyish thirst gave her a sudden vision of herself as a noblewoman being seduced by a young Gortash, grateful lordling and ardent worshipper of the powerful. But - there was nothing for him to gain from this, was there? All she had to give him was her body, which was now nearly bare under his glittering eyes. Kicking off her boots completed her strip, and then she was nude, standing there expectantly as she took in his reaction. She could see that there was a bulge in his leathers. Gortash was trying hard to modulate his breathing.

"I'm glad you came here tonight," he said. His voice was gravelly and low. "Tell me, Tav. What do you want?"

Tav felt another knot of insecurity inside her as she recognised her desire for him. What if he just saw this as a minor distraction? She decided to fall back and hide behind her old tricks. "I think you know," she replied in her best sultry tone, trailing a hand down between her breasts. “I want you to have sex with me.”

He moved into her space again, leaning one hand against the window frame above her. “If you wanted to fuck, you could have stayed in Elfsong Tavern. I saw the way some of them were looking at you this morning. And I’ve had several grateful and eager members of the aristocracy calling on me throughout the day, but I’ll be damned: all I could think about was you.” With the other hand, he lifted the bunch of grapes to his face and nuzzled his nose amongst the sweet, purple beads of the fruit. "So, I’ll ask again. What do you want?" Eyes boring into hers, he plucked a grape from its stalk with his teeth.

It was ridiculous, but also the horniest thing Tav had ever seen. Something about his confession and the boldness of his flirting opened something within her heart: In a breathy voice, almost a moan and nothing like the falsely seductive tone she’d just used, she said, "I want to have you and I want you to know me. I want to teach you what it sounds like when I come wrapped around your cock." Gortash pressed his eyes shut at this, and she heard a squelch as he crushed the entire bunch of grapes in his broad fist, their juices weeping to the floor. And then his lips were on hers.

They were both soon gasping into each other's mouths, their kisses wet and lavish. Gortash was clasping her face in his hands, pulling her hair, digging his fingers into her hips and squeezing her ass, almost in a frenzy. Under his onslaught, she was barely able to pull his shirt laces open. He broke their kiss to bite her neck and take fistfuls of her tits and inhale deeply from her cleavage, groaning as he did so.

"I thought - ah! I thought I stunk of carousing and revelry?" Tav said, trying to strike a mocking tone in her voice as her head fell back; Gortash had just begun to swirl her nipple in his mouth, his tongue firm and hot.

In response, he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Carrying her over to his wooden workbench, he perched her on the pitted but clean surface. "While you do smell like a tavern whore, I never said I didn't like it," he groaned, then slowly licked a stripe up her neck and to the side of her face. He finished the trail with a kiss that was almost affectionate, punctuating this with a thrust of his hips so the bulge in his trousers pressed against her clit.

They looked at each other in open admiration. But the moment was cut short when he reached past her and picked up a small metal cylinder, about the width of his thumb, from the bench. Holding it up, she could see a small piece of leather attached to it – a strap. Gortash used it to slip the strange device onto her index finger.

"I made this for you today," he said softly.

She tried to hide her confusion then. Was he - was he proposing to her? With a weird leather ring?

She was soon proven wrong when, with one hand, Gortash pushed one of her thighs to the side to expose her folds. With the other, he took her hand and guided it downwards, placing her finger so it rested on her clit. His hand flowered briefly with magic and he muttered something. Tav yelped as the item began vibrating against her, a noise which morphed into a moan.

Gortash dropped kisses to her lips and whispered encouragement as he pushed against her hand, pressing the vibrator further into her folds. The sensations were unusual at first, but it began to feel incredible. She felt her cunt throb, get more slick.

Tav whimpered when he stepped out of her arms, giving her one more kiss before pulling out a chair so he was sitting in front of her. His eyes lingered on her face, although he observed the movements of her hand against her clit with a mixture of hunger and cold calculation.

In between gasps, Tav said, "I think it's... It's only fair that you show - me how you find your own pleasure."

Gortash smirked at her and began unlacing his trousers. His cock jumped free quickly - it seemed she hadn't been the only one to skip putting on underwear that evening - and he began stroking himself, leaning back in the chair. His cock curved enough to arch against his stomach and Tav couldn't help but admire the girth of it. She propped one foot up on the workbench to expose herself further. The sensation of dipping the vibrator into her slickness and bringing it back to her clit drew a new sound of pleasure from her that had Gortash moaning in response and speeding his hand up. She felt her juices begin to dribble down to her asshole. The archduke noticed too.

"I knew you were going to act like a slut for me," he told her, his voice hoarse. "But you've got the wettest cunt I've ever seen. Are you going to come on my desk? If you do, I'll make you lick it clean."

The filth of Gortash's idle threat made Tav flutter against her fingers. She was nearing the edge. Instead of pursuing her climax, she stretched her leg out to push Gortash's cock out of his hand with her foot. He gave her a grin as she pressed his shaft against his stomach.

"C'mere," she said. "I want to come on your mouth."

He closed his eyes delightedly and slid off the chair to kneel in front of her. She started moving her finger again as he parted her folds and thrust his tongue into her body. One of Gortash's hands was busy out of sight; he was touching himself as he ate her out. Tav felt the heat creep up then, her body tensing, quivering, vision going white or- or-

Her orgasm rippled through her and she cried out. Gortash dug his fingers into her thighs and pushed his face against her center. She felt him shuddering and he groaned into her cunt as his climax followed hers.

They stayed like that for a peaceful moment as their heart rates returned to normal. Tav had lifted the vibrator away from herself and Gortash uttered the word that made it stop running. She removed it from her hand and then stroked his hair as he nuzzled at her folds slowly, still enjoying the wetness her body had made for him. After some time, Tav pulled the man off her and stood up on shaky legs.

On the floor beneath where the archduke had been kneeling, she saw a wet gleam. Had she done that? Bending over to look closer, she saw that it was Gortash's spend. She turned to him and saw the heat still roiling behind his eyes as he looked back at her.

"My Lord," she said sweetly. "It appears one of us did make a mess. It wasn't me, though, was it?"

He shook his head.

"And what did you say should happen if I came on your desk?"

Gortash remained silent. Tav slid her fingers into his hair and gripped gently. "Say it."

"I said I would make you lick it clean."

Tav smiled then, and leaned closer. "When we first met, you said we would be equals, my Lord. My understanding was that if I joined you in an alliance, we would have parity in all things... Including what we're expected to follow through on. L ick ."

With that, she pushed his head towards the floor. He gave her a furtive look of adoration as he went down, filling her with a new flush of nameless excitement. His face neared the paving stone beneath the bench and she watched, her heart flickering with shock, as he used the tip of his tongue to daintily taste his mess. Her fingers remained in his thick hair as he bent lower to take a bolder lick, leaving a trail of spit on the stone. His eyes slid to hers, and he cleaned another stripe of cum off the floor. Something about his expression told her that she was in trouble, but it was too late; he'd already surged up and driven her to her knees. Squeezing her chin in one hand, he gave her a brief, searching look. He must have seen the excitement fizzling within her, because he nodded briefly, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, and straightened. His cock, soft but slowly hardening, was at her eye level. 

"Here's a lesson I'd like to share about co-leadership then. It's all about coming to an agreement. I put it to you that you've been trying to provoke me to fuck you like a whore." As he spoke, Gortash was wrapping Tav's hair around his fist. "Tonight, I would have made love to you so tenderly - until you swooned. But I think we can both agree that that's not what you want, is it? Is it, you slut?" With his last question, he gave her a little shake.

"It's not what I want, my Lord."

"Do you want the privilege of coming on my cock?"

The thrill, the sheer smuttiness of him, left Tav gasping. She had to swallow hard and get control of herself before she could reply, "Yes, my Lord."

With that, he pulled her by her hair to the centre of the room and threw her down on the extravagant rug. She moaned as she hit the floor. His cock bobbed hard as he stripped off his clothes, revealing a lean, muscular body, dark hair foresting his chest and his taut stomach.

"On your hands and knees," he ordered, and Tav scrambled to comply. She felt him kneel behind her, then slowly begin to rub the head of his cock between her folds. She wiggled her hips in frustration, trying to tempt him into taking her.

"You're still so wet," Gortash muttered, pressing the end of the tip in, then pulling it back out before it brought Tav any stimulation.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "I'm so turned on for you. Please - "

His smirk caught her gaze before he pushed her down roughly, her face turned flat against the rug.

"Touch yourself, but don't come until I tell you to."

She sighed as he began to bully his thick cock inside her, the press of it against her walls driving her to moan and then howl as he pushed himself in to the hilt. It was so deep . In this position, with his size - 

Any marvelling thought she had was cut off by the electric snap of her nerves as he pulled out and thrust in again. She heard her name on his lips as he reached down and gathered a fistful of her hair. It was amazing how he groaned for her. He began fucking into her in a steady rhythm, her hips rolling back to meet him as they both made unabandoned noises of pleasure, losing themselves in it. Tav's nipples grazed the rug every time his thrusts pushed her forwards, making the nerve endings in her upper body sing. Her fingers rubbed her clit in a frantic motion that made her whole cunt quiver.

"Your ass - It's perfect," she heard Gortash gasp. "In fact-"

Tav was in no state to understand. She felt Gortash's thumb against the seam between his cock and her cunt as he ran it through her folds, gathering up the juices of their sex. Then, the pad of his thumb was rubbing against her asshole and then slipping in. The blunt pleasurepain of her ring being breached made her moan loudly, her core beginning to tense. With one hand on her hip and the other splayed across her flank, he pumped his thumb in and out of her. The steady roll of his cock drove her to hoarse cries; feeling her cunt tighten as she neared her climax, Gortash gave a triumphant laugh that turned into a moan of his own ecstasy.

"Come for me," he commanded. Tav bucked beneath him, pressing her face into the carpet to muffle her scream as she rode the waves of wet pleasure that seared through her, white-hot lightning wrapped in the velvet of her veins, turning her inside out from the soles of her feet to her scalp. She felt Gortash's cock throbbing inside her as he followed.

As she tried to slow down her breathing, Tav felt a strong arm wrap around her waist. Gortash pulled her upwards so her back was against his chest, then rolled them both onto their sides on the rug - which Tav distantly realised was spotless and smelled freshly cleaned. In her blissed out state, she decided not to worry about it. The archduke tucked his other arm under her head. His cock lingered inside her, and lying on her side squeezed it within her, making her twitch slowly. Her fires were calm for now, but the sensation of this intimacy would surely start to heat her up again. The evening wasn't finished, of course - and who said she had to go back to the Elfsong the moment the sun rose?

They lay still for a while. Tav enjoyed the sound of Gortash breathing steadily against her neck. Eventually, her leg twitched and she realised she'd been falling asleep. Nuzzling her, he brought his lips to her ear.

"Shall we move to the bedroom, my dear?"

She nodded and they helped each other stand up. Taking her by the hand, he led her into the lavish bedroom she'd seen when she'd entered. He pulled the bedsheets back for her and tucked her in; a gesture that was surprisingly sweet - or was it really that surprising? Beginning to drift, she counted the ways he’d prepared for her arrival that evening. The guards had even saluted her...

"What do you want to eat for breakfast?" he asked, stroking her sweaty hair off her forehead.

"Your cock," she mumbled. Gortash chuckled and Tav smiled sleepily.

"That's a deal."

Tav was already drifting off again as Gortash climbed into bed next to her and pulled her to his chest.

[animentality]

Not to send you an essay but do you ever think about how Gortash was the only person in the whole game who didn’t want anything from Durge but Durge. Just them, as a person. Like yes he wanted the netherstone, and wanted the alliance. But what I mean is there were no prereqs for Durge as a person. Every other companion, every other NPC even, wanted Durge to either resist and refuse Bhaal or pursue power and claim their birthright. Everyone had their two cents for what Durge should or shouldn’t do irrespective of how Durge actually felt about it. It made any friendship or love offered to them conditional, even in the case of their companions. It was always “I’ll stand by you, IF”. To be fair, not necessarily unreasonable for the normal person to set boundaries on murder and such lol. But my point is that they all wanted something from Durge first.

But Gortash. OF ALL PEOPLE. Gortash didn’t want anything from them but them. Even for Durge’s biggest supporters in either moral direction - Jaheira, Sceleritas, etc - it was not that simple. Yet Gortash’s friendship with Durge (and to be clear I think they were so in love but I say friendship here to emphasise that even on top of or irrespective of any romance, they were genuinely friends too!) was unconditional. “This changes nothing” is a line I know we all talk about to death but god. That is genuinely unconditional. It is!

(If we want to push the delusion a bit further, that’s a declaration of the unconditional nature of their alliance, which can be chalked up to nothing less than real and honest love as far as I’m concerned. He has no other reason to not care that Durge just said yeah the entire divine commandment part of this mission is in the pot. But Gortash was like I Do Not Care! And he meant it! “Oh yes incomprehensibly powerful beings came to us in our dreams and asked us to do all of this in their names in the first place, and you just pissed on that, but no biggie!” Same short-tempered petty bastard who kicks you hard in the shin with his metal-toe boot if you accidentally hit him. Who straight up attacks you if you show up to his office without any of the netherstones and say you forgot them or whatever. Guy who just kills you if you GIVE HIM THE STONES LOL. But he doesn’t care even slightly that Durge said fuck off to the lord of murder who ordered this whole plot to start? Doesn’t yell, doesn’t ask Durge what were they thinking, just goes oh ok. He makes me insane btw)

I’m also painfully aware that Durge will never find that kind of unconditional support with anyone else, ever. I just feel like this would haunt my resistance Durge for the rest of his days tbh.

(And like. My resistance Durge loves Jaheira, she’s the parent he never had and she means the world to him post-canon, he follows her around like a lost puppy because ultimately he is one but I have to wonder if he would lie awake at night with the niggling thought that maybe what he has with Jaheira would not survive if he acted any other way. Plus the thought that Gortash knew him at his absolute worst, and loved him anyway. And maybe that wasn’t a GOOD thing, morally - a GOOD person shouldn’t have loved him like that, right? - but he loved him anyway. I don’t think my Durge would ever ever get over it. Especially with the fact that he can’t even remember 99% of their relationship. Gortash can’t ACTUALLY haunt Durge cause Bane is busy using his soul as a stress ball but in every metaphorical way. Durge is haunted.)

Tldr Gortash is the guy who says “just be yourself <3” and I think that’s beautiful

You know, you hit the nail on the head.

Of course it's not unreasonable to expect your friends and lovers to stipulate, that they will only love you as long as you don't go on a murderous rampage.

That's totally reasonable, that's normal, I agree with it on principle.

But. But.

As you said.

Gortash loved you even when you went on a murderous rampage.

I am obsessed with him, because he loved the dark urge without reservation, believing in their ability to control their urge, but also admiring their intelligence and their talents.

He knew what they were from the start, and he accepted it!

And he could still love them!

I just don't think anyone else in the entire goddamn game could say that!

And that's why I'm obsessed with Durgetash.

You get me.

It's about loving someone for who they are, and not what they are to you.

They were never just the Chosen of Bhaal, whom he must work with, not to him.

Never.

They were never the Bhaalspawn, the savage dark urge, the scourge of Faerun.

They were themselves. And he liked that.

Guys, he LIKED them.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Eyes on Fire

Gortash x F! Dark Urge

18+ complicated feelings, combat, adrenaline, power play, sadomasochism, dry humping, breast worship (m!), choking, marking, humiliation kink, p-in-v, just a smidge of tenderness

The visage of the Archduke won't leave her, and itching for blood, his favorite assassin is about to pay the Lord a very welcome visit...

Masterlist

-

This could not continue.

The way he looked at her was haunting her. It was a mistake in hindsight to confront him alone, but as they drew closer to the city small flickers of memory sparked. She had traveled these roads of that she was certain, smells, sounds drawing back.

The name was familiar in a hazy, frustrated way. Karlach's mouth forming it with appropriate spite. But it stirred something half formed inside her. Muffled and far away, but undeniable.

It wasn't until they entered the town proper, and she caught sight of a peeling poster that she got some clarity.

Her eyes were glued to the portrait. Karlach's venomous bark of a laugh shocking her out of her trance.

"Wow, that's generous alteration." Ripping the poster down, only leaving a white layer of fuzzy torn paper. "He fucking wishes."

She blinked. Even with the inaccuracies of the portrait, quick flipping pages of memory of that face played over the backs of her eyelids.

"You okay, soldier?" Karlach offered, hand strong on her shoulder.

"Yeah," She shuddered. "Just thinking about all we have to do."

Not entirely a lie. She had made up her mind to go alone right there. Karlach would get her revenge, trust. But she needed to do this on her own.

When his eyes had met hers at the coronation, they lit up with unmistakable adoration. The way he spoke to her, low and nearly gentle, but still with that air of malice. He was one of the first people to actually take the time to explain her past to her. And his information, much to her dismay, was priceless for unraveling the knotted tapestry of her past.

She paced in her tent. A dog in a kennel circling. Dagger hand spinning a blade in irritation.

No, this wouldn't do.

Sneaking out was commonplace for her at this point, often preferring to be out of camp at night. After Alfira, she had lost confidence in her self-control, and sleep just became another enemy. Honestly, she wondered if her companions felt the same. If they were comforted to have her away during sleeping hours.

It didn't take her long to find a Steel Watch centurion patrolling through a low Rivington street.

"Hey!"

The centurion turned, towering over her.

"Citizen. What do you need assista-"

"Yeah, yeah, cute..." She waved her hand dismissively. "Hey, tell your boss I want to talk. Alone."

The centurion shifted, sputtering and releasing to new control. That vexing baritone voice emitting from its chest.

"Where and when?" He crooned.

"Here and now. If you can catch me, Enver." She hissed, not able to restrict the smile smearing her face.

Before it could react, she darted under the centurion's legs and took off like a shot towards the fortress.

She heard his laugh faintly as she ducked through the street in a whip of hair. Releasing her body to adrenaline felt so right, unbuckling the blades at her hips.

She was itching for blood, but as she approached, the Fist only stepped aside. Leaving her path clear, straight to him.

His voice, still inside the Watch calling out. "This one is mine. Let her through."

Sprinting through the grand hall, she pulled her twin blades from their prisons. Flipping them eagerly as she darted up the stairs, the beginnings of the coronation hall filling her vision.

As soon as she crossed the threshold, a hand grabbed her by her long braid from behind, wrenching her to a stop. A knee kicked into the base of her spine.

The force caused her to drop her blades, only winded for a second before she clasped her hands and drove her elbow back with all of her force into his ribcage.

His hand released her braid with a loud gulp of air. She swept his leg and circled to kick his knee forward for good measure.

Gortash fell on one knee, laughing with what little air he had. Arms suddenly rocketing back and gripping the back of her shirt as she leaned forward to wrestle him to the ground.

In impressive strength, he flipped her over his body. Slamming her down into the marble floor in front of him.

She saw stars, back landing hard into the fall. Could feel a rib or two crack, groaning in pleasure.

"Thank the Gods, you haven't changed." He panted. Catching her mouth in a flipped ravenous kiss.

She moaned into him, gripping dark hair in her fist.

His taste, brandy and chewed peppermint, something she had longed for without realizing.

His clawed hands holding her head in place as he feasted, the bite of metal welcome against her flushed skin. The soft sounds he pushed into her mouth so desperately making her hips roll.

He kicked away her blades, forcing her dagger hand under her back as he flipped and straddled over her. So he did know her well.

She fought against his hold, a wicked smile splitting his face. Forcing between her legs and grinding his hard cock viciously into her center.

Her head fell back, his intended outcome. Mouth diving onto her neck, sucking and biting into the soft flesh.

"You always did need some taming before we fucked." He chuckled against her saliva slicked throat. A tapestry of bruises already spreading.

"What makes you think I won't kill you?" She panted, traitorous hips rolling into his.

"Oh, I hope you haven't given up on that." He encouraged. "It's so much more fun when you draw blood."

She smiled and wrapped her strong thighs around his knees, using her core to rise up and crack her forehead into his.

"Fuck!" He shouted, falling back. A trickle of blood dripping down his face.

She moaned in the back of her throat, licking it up in a flat pull of her tongue.

His blood tasted just as good as she remembered, the copper and salt savoring on her tongue.

Her hand snapped down on his throat, grinding hard into him with unrestrained rolls of her hips. Eyes fluttering up into her eyelids as she lost herself in the sensation.

He gripped onto her hips, watching her through lidded eyes. One clawed hand ripping her shirt down the middle in harsh yanks.

His hips stuttered against hers when her breasts sprung free, pupils blown wide with lust.

"Fuck..." He hissed, reaching up to palm the round flesh into his hand.

She knocked his hand away, pinning it down under her knee. Rising onto them, just to crush his hand under her weight.

He twisted in pain, gasping. Back arching instinctually as his body tried to pull him free.

"Arching your back already for me?" She smiled, leaning forward and applying more pressure on his throat as her dagger hand undid the ties of his trousers. "How embarrassing."

He fisted her dress in his free hand, a smile visible on his upturned face.

As soon as his cock sprung free she leaned back, her bare cunt sliding viciously against it.

He gasped out, the slightest whimper in the back of his throat.

Oh she wanted to hear that again.

She pushed his shirt up to his clavicle, pinching and rolling a nipple between her fingers. His fist slammed down onto the floor when she took the other into her hot mouth. Slurping the hard bud with a pulsing tongue.

She got her reward, choppy pleading whimpers. His hips writhed, silently begging her to let him inside.

Content to torment him more, she nibbled down on the peak. "Funny, you always have your chest out." She hummed, dragging her fingernails in hard lines down his chest. "Like your begging to have your tits sucked."

He groaned in response, cock twitching against the languid grind of her cunt. Precum spilling onto the tone of his belly.

She smiled, gripping his pecs in both hands. "Oh you like that, don't you?"

She laved flat stripes up and down his engorged peaks, saliva dripping down his ribcage.

"Ah-!" He moaned, trying to still his hips.

"Ohhh," She cheshire smiled. "Are you about to cum, Enver?" Her hips not stopping one bit.

"Before I've even taken you inside? Are you going to cum all over yourself like a bitch in heat? How humiliating."

She stopped her hips entirely, rising back on knees. Leaving his leaking cock cold and bothered.

He whined, eyes clenched shut.

"Look at me, dog." She commanded.

His eyes shot open, finding hers. Lips falling apart. Face dumb with lust.

"Good boy." She smiled, pushing her fingers into his mouth.

He sucked down eagerly, tongue swirling around the pads of her fingers.

"Very good boy." She moaned, finally teasing the head of his cock into her entrance.

His hips bucked and she forced her fingers down his throat roughly in response. He barely gagged and she couldn't help but be impressed.

"You'll behave or you'll get nothing." She promised, rising back up.

His hands clasped under his lower back as a peace offering.

"Better." She hummed, and without warning, slammed him inside of her to the hilt.

His eyes shot to the back of his head, back arching and twisting to the side. Mouth opening around her fingers to cry out.

Her hand slid back down to his throat, other pushing on his lower belly, holding him in place. Her hips rising and falling in slow malicious waves.

She moved entirely at the pace she felt like, his hips straining up against her hand. Using his body as her own personal fucktoy.

He was a delicious sight under her, chest marked and slick, face crumpled in pleasure, held in place by his brusing throat. Clearly holding back his orgasm with all of his might.

She bounced hard a few times just to torment him then slowed back down to her own pace. His body tremoring in restraint.

"I could go for sooo much longer, how about you Enver?" She mocked, fingers flexing in an arc along his throat.

His eyes met hers in desperation. Face flushed with his effort.

"Say please, and I'll let you cum inside me." She hummed.

He bit his lip, a spiteful smile crossing his lips.

"Please..." He purred, voice only gravel and heat.

She smiled and pushed hard on his lower belly, anchoring herself, and began slamming up and down onto him.

His head fell back, and she gripped into his hair and brought it back up. Staring hard into him.

He leaned up, bending his knees. Wrapping his arms strong around her back. Eyes held in hers. That softness returning.

She slowed her hips to a roll, lost in him for a moment. The clear awe in his face spellbinding her.

No, she had to remember herself.

Pulling the dagger strapped to her thigh, she plunged it in his shoulder.

He froze, eyes meeting the hilt, then rolling back hard into his head.

He gripped into her undone braid as he came. Shuddering hard as he flooded her, voice stolen except for hitching whining gasps. Hips pushing up in stuttering pulses.

She pulled her blade out slowly, moaning low in her chest. Catching the silk pull of blood in her mouth. Lapping greedily at the wound.

He cupped her head to him, trying to catch his breath. Still seated deep inside her. Resting his head against hers. "You came back to me." He murmured, mostly to himself.

The tears that prickled at her eyes broke her indulgence. Rising off of him, hating the longing that her heart held without her input.

His hand trailed down her long hair as she pulled away, bringing it to his nose before she stood.

She shook the blood off of her dagger with an instinctive flick of her wrist. "I'm not who you think I am."

He smiled, eyes challenging that statement with a pointed glance at the unconscious movement she just made.

"Doubtful, but thank you for the new scar. It will go well with the others." A flash of knowing moving over his eyes as her eyes traveled, searching for more of her claims.

"I detest you." She tried for venomous, but it only widened his smile.

"Oh, I did miss this."

~

[monsterlimbs]

Orin actually drives me insane. She's been on my mind so much recently, I ADORE her. She makes me so heartbroken.

She's so sad. She's literally just the annoying little sister always outshined by her older brother because their Father wants his precious boy to be his successor. She just wants to be acknowledged. She wants to be creative. She wants to be SEEN for her creativity. She gets mad when other people aren't creative and whimsy, and she gets mad when they don't see her for her own whimsy. She doesn't understand she'd never be good enough for Bhaal, and she doesn't understand why- after all, she's KILLING! She's killing so much, and she's doing it BEAUTIFULLY and SAVORING it! Who cares if Durge is killing faster, he doesn't even care for the kill! He's not turning it into an art form, why would HE be adored when SHE'S the one who cares for the craft?

She's also been indoctrinated and groomed since birth. She was born into the murder cult, told to look up to Sarevok and Bhaal and Durge, told that murder is divine- just not the way she does it for some reason. And the implications of the Ecstacy of Murder? By design, she was always meant to be seen

I think once, her and Durge were close, too. Especially when she talks about Durge's little lobotomy. When talking to her disguises, she often mentions the "betrayal". "Then you've already tasted sweet betrayal". She talks about how "Father will see us together again". When disguised as the matchmaker, she basically says "But one stands out amongst the others. You see her in your dreams." talking about herself. If you threaten her, she says "YES! Give me agony!", etc etc. Which all makes me think that they were at least close at one point. Maybe they even killed people together like how families go hunting together (and also, I love the idea of her ALWAYS trying to kill Durge as a way of bonding). There's the, uh, way of thinking that Sarevok was trying to groom them into being... together, based on a few things he says I think (and also the "Father will see us together again".....), but there's also the way of thinking about it as them being close in the siblingly way. Fucked up, indoctrinated siblings, but siblings nonetheless. Even though Durge is more so her uncle, she even refers to him as her sibling and everyone calls Orin Durge's sister. And at one point, at the least, Orin was betrayed by Durge, forgotten by him and replaced by the idea of doing better, being better. And not only that, but he was trying to LEAVE the cult. To do BETTER. I like the idea of Durge trying to be better because of Gortash, but I'm trying to be unbiased here so disregarding Durgetash stuff, he was still trying to leave the cult and stop the endless murder. Which meant, he was trying to leave HER in her mind. It's basically like being the least favorite child in a multi-child family and your big brother, who you're told to look up to, who shines so bright that you're permanently shrouded in your "guardians'" eyes, is UPSET that he's in the spotlight. Upset that HE'S loved. All while you're doing everything in your power to be in the spotlight, to be acknowledged, just ONCE. He's abandoning your family, the life you lead, and YOU, all because he's pissy he's being loved. And gods, he doesn't even deserve it, does he? But you do. You're being so good, he's too quick with his kills- does he even remember any of them? You're doing everything right, YOU'RE the one who should be adored. He's ungrateful. But you can MAKE him good again, and even better, you can put yourself in the spotlight. So she does and lobotomizes Durge and what not, and honestly? I think when Durge is shipped away, it's because she got bored of essentially having her brother's mindless living corpse around. It lacks the personality of Durge, it's so... boring.

Then he returns, and he's already in the spotlight again if he's taken on the Slayer form. And if he hasn't, you have and you're in the spotlight, yippee!!! WRONG. If he hasn't, you have, and it hurts to transform- it hurts so badly- and you're STILL not in the spotlight. Your brother is still being asked to step up again. His little icky Butler won't leave your home, keeps telling you it's your brother's home as if you didn't get rid of him.

Oh well. You'll duel in front of Bhaal and get his favor yet.

If Durge immediately goes into the duel, she dies knowing she was never enough. Or, she wins, and she's STILL. NOT. ENOUGH. But, she has the satisfaction of knowing she's bested Durge. But she doesn't really win, right? Because she's still in the cult. Still groomed. No one cares for her. Her brother is dead.

If Durge tries to keep from attacking and tells her "hey we're in a cult. you're literally a product of incest and you deserve better than that actually. You actually did me a favor by getting rid of my memories, and I'm a changed man. Also Sarevok has lied to you man" she's like "NO NO NO! ....fuck what if he has? what if they ALL have? you are different..... what if we can be better? what if-" and then Bhaal ruins it and possesses her again (after possessing her when she was SEVEN!!!!!!!!!! FUCKING HELL), and FORCES her to fight Durge. And she dies, not in her faculties. Or, she wins, but still not really, because why would Bhaal let her return to her mind, knowing she was so quick to leave? No, she's going to be his perfect little puppet now. No more Orin, right? Even if she wins.

Orin is just a sad little girl constantly bidding for attention, constantly being abandoned. No matter what, she doesn't get her happy ending. She never does.

I think she deserves a happy ending though. Like yes she's the abuser as much as the victim, just like Astarion, Gortash, etc etc. But honestly? If she was without the cult and allowed to just be poetic and creative as fuck? She would've THRIVED!!!!! She'd be the happiest, most creative girl ever.

[alpaca-clouds]

Trying to figure out Gortash's backstory

As I said before, I am right now very much inspired to write a redemption story for Gortash. Like post-canon, Gortash lives AU (because I still hate that he dies), and he actually gets a chance to redeem himself. Not only like: He turns good, but he actually does something good enough to be considered a redemption. And he does so without dying.

But... Yeah, that story is going to be from Gortash's POV, which means that I very much need to come up with some fillings for the big ass holes that the game leaves in terms of his backstory.

We don't know how old he is, but I would estimate him to be around his late 30s or early 40s. Which means we kinda have like 20 years to fill up.

While the entire timeline of Raphael "buying" him from his parents and him escaping the hell is very vague, he was probably somewhere between 18 and 20 when he got out of the hells. And the exact stuff what happened in between is vague. Even how he escaped the hells is not quite clear. I mean, was Helsink responsible for that? Or how did he get out?

And then he starts to do illegal weapons trading once he is back in Baldur's Gate. Which is fair. I am going to assume that he is actually going to throw some stuff in there that is of his own making, given that he clearly is a tinkerer.

Given Karlach is 30, I do not think he hired her before she was 15, so at max she has worked for him just a couple of years.

I mean, technically those details don't matter. What does matter however is: How does he become a Chosen of Bane, and how does he get into contact with the Dark Urge?

As quite a few people have pointed out: Technically the Dark Urge existing is very confusing given that they have been created by Bhaal and Bhaal was dead for about a hundred years until ten years ago. So unless Durge is ten years old, this does not fully make sense. Sure, technically speaking Durge could be immortal, I guess, but... Well.

See, the issue I see with Gortash is, that I just do not pick him as the religious type. I do not see him going to the Banite church and actually give enough fucks to make himself a name in the church and after some great show of faith getting the status of chosen. I mean, if you talk to him, he just... Ketheric is devoted to Myrkul, sure. And Orin was indoctrinated into the Bhaalist cult from her birth onward. But Gortash? He would follow nearly every god if that god gave him powers. At least that is my reading of him. Sure, the entire tyrant thing plays well with his pompous and kinda narcissistic personality (and I mean this in a neutral way - given how he grew up narcissism in a medical sense is to be expected), but... Like, had Oghma thrown him a boon, he would have served Oghma, right?

So, why is he a chosen?

Usually chosen are either one of two: Either, they are very dedicated to the god and have proofen themselves to them over and over again, or they have something (power, knowledge, influence) that the god is interested in. As I don't see Gortash falling underneath the first umbrella, the second one could be it. Was Bane interested in Gortash maybe, because Gortash had a lot of knowledge about the hells maybe? Was Bane originally interested in the crown or something else that Gortash knew about? That would be one possibility.

Though, there is another one. Because it just so happens that in the lore of Faerûn something happened just 8 years ago, that could have given him chosen status without him doing shit for it. Even though it would also mean, that him being a chosen is almost random. Because 8 years ago the second sundering happened. And during the second sundering for a variety of reasons the gods picked quite a lot of chosen. And yes, that included the Dead Three as well. And a lot of those chosen were in fact not people super dedicated to the gods or anything, but just people who generally aligned with the domain and alignment of the god in question. And I cannot help but wonder: Was Gortash just one of the chosen Bane got from that event?

It would work out fine. Because there is one thing that keeps bothering me: Sure, Gortash kept secrets from Karlach. But she still was his personal bodyguard. And she had no idea that he was aligned with Bane. Which makes me think that indeed he was not a Banite when he sold her off to Zariel.

And yeah, I cannot help myself. The timeline would work out rather well: Gortash becomes a chosen closely prior the events of the second sundering, but after he sold of Karlach. After a bit the Dark Urge (who somehow very much is an adult, because I guess he time travelled or something) finds him. The two hit it off (whether romantically or platonically) and come up with their grand evil scheme. At some point Ketheric joins.

Of course, there is one big hole in that explaination, though: Who are the other people working for Gortash while he just is a black market weapons trader? If he was a Banite it would be easily explainable (other Banites), but like this it leaves open the question: Who are they and what happened to them?

I don't know. I am rambling. But yeah. I like this asshole. And his story is fun to think about.

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - chapter 44

After a worrisome journey, we finally arrive in the area that was once the Shadow lands, and I’m relieved to see that the shadow curse is still lifted despite Ketheric being resurrected from the dead. Moonrise is such a short distance away, yet I’m less anxious than I was previously. Is it possible I’m coming to terms with Gortash’s fatal fate? Whatever the reason, I’m feeling a surge of confidence and an urge to obliterate the evil that remains standing.

“Ah, memories. It’s so beautiful here. I love seeing the life flowing through the flowers and trees, the blossoms brightening the surrounding areas, and the sun reflecting through the waters of the pond,” Halsin comments, admiring the serene nature that was once a disastrous area consumed by shadows and death. I’m still in shock that this beautiful place was once so deadly and filled with lost souls searching for peace. Too many lost way too soon.

I stare down the path ahead that leads directly to Moonrise, feeling the broken pavement crumble beneath my feet. I eyeball Jenevelle as she lies with contentment in her stroller, trying to convince myself she’ll be alright and our worries are once again about to fade away.

“The tower is up ahead. Is everyone ready? I have the vials of invisibility potions,” Gale assures with a quiet tone. He pulls the potions out from the pockets of his shirt and hands one to each of us to use.

“Let’s do this! Emmy, you stand back–” As Karlach begins to speak, she’s interrupted by a slow clap behind us, and of course my worst fears come to life. I feel my heart sink and accelerate as I turn around to notice Gortash, Fanden, and Ketheric standing just a few feet away.

“Ah, Emmy. It’s been awhile, my dear. Too long. I knew you’d come, you’ve always been true to your word…well, other than killing me, of course.” Gortash’s voice is ominous and deep as he tries to get beneath my skin.

“Shit… You were supposed to be in the tower,” I mumble under my breath as I stand here in shock, swallowing the confidence that’s no longer there. “Where’s Rolan? Our friend?” Gale immediately grabs Jenevelle from her stroller and holds her tightly against his chest. Ketheric and Fanden approach Gortash’s side.

“Ha! I never abducted your friend. Though, weird how eager you were to blow up the tower knowing he was abducted. However, I did send my only son to keep tabs on you. Every second of every day, my dearest daughter.” Thank the Gods Rolan is alright. To be fair on all accounts, we know for a fact he wasn’t in Moonrise. Gortash glares at Karlach, yet appears to be completely thrown off by her presence. “Ah, Karlach. It shocks me you’re still here.”

“Yeah, you bucket of bolts. I found a way to fix my engine, thanks to Wyll and, ha, even Avernus. You thought you had the last of me. Well newsflash, traitor, I’m still here you pathetic fuck.”

“Tsk tsk. You still have such a way with words.”

“Get to the damn POINT,” I mutter impatiently as I clench my fists. He takes another couple steps toward me while his hands are behind his back, smirking as he stares at me with piercing eyes. His very presence sickens me.

“I tracked you down to make amends with you. To apologize to you for not being in your life as you were growing up. All those years, I had no idea I even had a daughter, let alone any children at all. To have you and your brother here means a lot.”

“Give me a BREAK!” Karlach shouts, her face expressing rage, her body ready to charge at him any second.

“I was talking to my daughter. Please, Karlach, don’t be rude.” I close my eyes, trying to contain my cool as I anticipate his next words to me.

“Tell me the real reason you want me here. Revenge for when I killed you? Or, let me guess - you want something from me.” I detect curiosity on his face as he raises an eyebrow, wondering how I would have gotten the idea he wants to use me. He studies my face, realizing the truth of my anger and hatred toward him.

“Nonsense. I wanted to formally apologize to you and meet my granddaughter. She looks like you, you know.”

“You don’t deserve to breathe near our baby. We know exactly want you want, Gortash,” Gale comments sternly, his brows furrowed as he makes intense eye contact.

“What are you on about? I want nothing more than simply a discussion with my one and only daughter. It’s time we address this chaotic situation.” My eyes look past Gortash and I notice an evil smirk on Fanden’s face as if he’s up to no good, and he appears to be exchanging looks with Ketheric. They’re planning something diabolical. While my eyes are focused on Fanden, it appears Ketheric has vanished. Gortash used us as a fucking distraction! I turn to face Gale, and before a word could escape my lips, Jenevelle gets snatched by Ketheric, who then becomes visible that very second. He must have taken a potion… Gale and I widen our eyes in terror as we catch our daughter being taken by this cruel, evil man in front of us. I feel my chest burn with anger as I feel an empty void fill my heart as I watch my child be taken from us. I can’t explain this horrible feeling within me, but it’s sickening, like nothing I’ve ever felt. I grit my teeth as tears form in my eyes.

“NO!!” Him and I both scream, trying to bolt toward Ketheric but Fanden jumps in front of him to stop us.

“YOU BASTARD!” I shout, my hands shaking as I try to bolt toward my baby. “Give her back!” Karlach and Wyll then charge at Gortash, pouncing on top of him. While Wyll has him in a headlock, she beats him with the intensity of her warhammer. My blood boils and tears escape my eyes as I try to once again reach out to Ketheric, but he pushes me away with his right hand with extreme force, holding Jenevelle in his other arm. He proceeds to cast ‘sanctuary’ so he is unable to be harmed.

“GIVE US OUR BABY BACK!” Gale’s voice is like thunder, causing me to tremble, simply because I’ve never heard him yell or raise his voice before. I can see veins pulsating through his forehead as anger courses within his body. “No one takes my daughter from me!”

Fanden proceeds to charge at me so I can’t unleash the holy power within me, but Halsin casts ‘hold person’ on him, causing him to be in a state of immobility. Wyll proceeds to use Eldritch Blast on him, which drains a significant amount of life from his body. As this is happening, I hear our baby cry, and she’s completely terrified as she notices us fighting to get her back.

“Say goodbye to your daughter before the soul chains suck her dry of her immortality,” Ketheric grumbles, followed by a chuckle that instantly pisses me off. Gortash kicks Karlach off his body, revealing bruises and blood across his entire body, soaking his white shirt.

“Now, Ketheric, even I’m not that cruel. We’ll get what we’ve been after, just hand me the baby,” Gortash demands, his eyes intimidating Ketheric into submission. “I won’t allow harm to be done to her under any circumstance.”

“Please, hand her to us. I’m begging you,” I whimper, gritting my teeth as I watch her helpless body being held by my tyrant father. Tears drip off my chin, and I notice Gale is crying as well. It pains us horrible to watch her out of any protection. At this moment, I finally feel it: the unstoppable and vicious power within me, ready to unleash. I notice it within Gale too.

As Fanden becomes unfrozen from the spell, Karlach and Wyll both stomp on his back so he’s unable to get up. Gortash stares at our daughter, smiling at her as her bottom lip quivers. She’s trying to stop crying.

“Ah, my lovely little granddaughter. There’s so much potential within you. I could take that immortality from you and grant you the experience to grow up. Then, once you’re old enough, you can have it back again.”

“NO. If she dies at any point before you grant it back, her soul is debted to the Hells and she will be tortured. We had no choice,” I say calmly, trying to contain my power while my daughter is still in his hands.

“What a shame. It can never be simple, can it?” Right then and there, Gale charges directly at Gortash, but Ketheric stops him by gripping his shirt, causing it to rip. “My dear daughter, I know how badly you want your baby back. I’ll give her to you if you can make a deal with me. Let me make up all those years that have been lost. Allow me into your life. Let’s…catch up, per se. Forgive and forget the haunting past.”

While it’s true he may want to be a part of my life, I sense deceit in his words. I have a feeling he wants me to trust him so he can find a way to use me for his selfish gains and immortality.

“You may have been a decent man at one point, but you’re a manipulator. You will never gain my trust. Power is too important for you to care about anything else.”

“I hear the hurt in your voice, darling. You want to love me, you want to respect me. You can.” Gaslighting is what he’s good at, and he’s either telling the truth, or masking his intentions very well.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.” Gale places his hand on my right shoulder, his eyes saddened as he realizes I’m being sucked into his trap.

“Love, he’s willing to keep our baby locked in soul chains if you don’t obey him. Do not believe a single word he says.” Gortash glares at him, then sighs, but a hint of sadness is lingering in his breath. It’s so hard to decipher his intentions.