#so of course i had to play a tiefling bard

[galeorderbride]

Forgiving the Flame for a Burn - Zevlor x F!Tav Fic Request

An angst/comfort/smut piece for @evocationwriter. Thank you so much for asking me to do this piece, I adore you! Xx

This is SMUT (tags/details below)

18+ MDNI

Summary:

One year after the defeat of the Elder Brain, Tav is trying to settle into daily life. But being a hero means the making of enemies, and Tav ends up on the wrong side of the city, with the wrong kinds of people.

That is, until a charming, former Hellrider steps in, saving her from the worst and taking her into his home for the night.

Tags: angst, comfort, smut. Unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), light orgasm denial, tail play, tiefling anatomy (infernal ridges, forked tongue), religious language used; some detailed depictions of a violent attack (beating to be specific)

Word count: 5k

Zevlor x F!Tav

No one talks about the end of a hero’s journey. Tav found herself thinking of that often, ever since the Elder Brain fell by the hand of her and her companions. Subjects of bard’s songs and children’s puppet performances, all of them bending to the whim of ‘thank yous’ and questions about adventures. All of them fading over time into nothing. People moved on, they had to, of course. Rebuilding homes, restarting businesses, schools and cleaning up parks. Life went on, and the looks of admiration as she’d wander the streets dissolved.

Needless to say, that wasn’t all bad. Walking around the city gave her a sense of anonymity she’d missed in the year since the brain’s defeat. While she had fond memories of children asking for autographs and telling tales at the Elfsong to curious attendees, the harassment and threats from those who felt nostalgia for the cult of the Absolute soured the experience. Every time she’d think about it, memories of Stone Lord exiles and concealed Banites taunting her with torture fled to mind.

Now, she could relax. Bask in the beauty of city living with no one to bother her (other than letters from her companions and comrades, which always excited her). Evening slowly began to fall, a wondrous sunset disembarking for the night as shopkeepers lit sconces outside their doors and brought in their signs. Fishmongers and tradesmen met in the streets to coalesce at either the Blushing Mermaid or the Elfsong. Parents corralled their children to follow them home after a day at the markets. Tav walked among them, smiling at the peace of normality she’d never forget again.

On nights like this one, Tav would look up above the Elfsong and see Alfira strumming her lute on the balcony. By now, she’d been giving lessons to children at her very own music studio for the last three or four months. Even then, she’d still go up to that rooftop and sing her heart out. Tav felt remorse every time she gazed upon the dazzling tiefling, guilt in her heart that, rather than enjoy the music, her soul yearned for the presence of a different tiefling entirely.

A year since she saw Zevlor at the final battle. A year since she’d discovered he survived. A year—and not a single letter. Everyone else reached out to her but him. In the weeks following, she wracked her brain for anything she might’ve said wrong. Any word that could be taken as an insult. Only he knew, and that would be just so forever.

She ignored the chest aches now, and the tingling in her abdomen that sometimes made her knees shake. Hoping one day they’d fade away like her fame. One outlived the other.

Was he even in Baldur’s Gate anymore?

Clearing her throat, she kept walking. Straightening her shoulders. New bottles of dye clinked against each other in her basket, held close to her stomach. In her daydream, the clock tower struck nine, startling her as she realized she’d been standing there for too long.

“Shit,” she whispered under her breath, forced to face her newfound fear of walking alone outside ever since anonymous former cultists began to harass her. She chastised herself for going today, irritated that she didn’t just wait until tomorrow morning.

Sticking to the main road, Tav hurried her step through the emptying streets. The end of a tenday, people looking for a rowdy night out were trickling into every space they could get drunk. Irrationality kicked in, everyone became an enemy, and no one had even noticed her yet. She repeated in her mind: Tav, get yourself together, you fought an elder brain. You can take anything a mere civilian can hit you with. Just walk.

Halfway home, things were normal. Everyone ignored her, and she felt her shoulders begin to calm as she neared her destination. The sky grew dark, only the light of the crescent moon peering behind the overcast lit her way. Little droplets of rain began to dot her face, she lifted her cape hood for shelter. Right as heavy footsteps trailed behind. The jungle of buckled boots and a person at least twice her size, she could discern that without even looking.

“The hero of Baldur’s Gate! Walking about these parts alone at night. Guess you don’t need brains to be a saviour, huh?” The voice behind her said. A man with a gravelly voice, slurred with drunkenness and malice.

Tav tried to ignore him, swallowing her fear as she kept walking at a brisk stride. One or two minutes and she’d be home. Counting the seconds, in tandem with the footsteps continuing to pursue her. Now in a quiet street, no one was around to help or witness whatever the man behind her had planned.

“Don’t run off so quick, sweet one! Sing me one of those ballads made about you! Bet it’ll sound sweet gurgling out of your throat when I cut it!” He chided, a growl so feral within him she could mistake him for a wild animal.

Another voice poked through an alleyway she passed, another men bumping her with his shoulder, rough enough to send her steps back against a wall. He said, “Father will love this at his temple doorstep, brother.”

Bhaalists. She should’ve known the ones to keep pestering her after all this time would be them. Likely a worse nightmare than anyone else, given their propensity for insane, maniacal violence. Were they even drunk? Or was that a farce to blend in with the city?

“Leave me be! I’ve killed more than you for less,” she said, sucking in her frightened breath.

Both of them cornered her, trudging towards her and beginning to push her around between the two. Smaller than both of them, she struggled to fight back as her basket of dyes shattered to the ground. Catching them off guard just quick enough for her to throw a punch in the face of one. He fell back, grunting in pain as the other smacked Tav against the brick wall. A sharp ache ran across her spine, the wind knocked out of her to completion when the one she punched slammed his fist into her stomach.

Gasping for breath, they let her collapse to the ground. Holding her abdomen tight, the roof of her mouth dryer than sand. Catching impossible air as the two paced around her, predators toying with their prey. That hit to her stomach so hard that she couldn’t find the strength to get up let alone fight back. Gods, was she really done in so quickly? Had she softened so much in just a year?

Most of the time, they were four at least. Now, she was one. And defeated in a matter of minutes. Dye stained her clothing as she twitched around the ground, feeling a harsh sting of hands clawing at her hair, pulling her back.

“Not so heroic now, are you?” The one that held her hair teased, giggles oozing with evil.

“Enough dawdling,” said the other, sheathing out a sharp, shining knife. “Tie her up to take her to the temple.”

Right when they began to tie the rope around her, a swing of a longsword sliced across one’s throat. Tav didn’t see all of it, still reeling from the punch. But the second one began to fight against her rescuer. Behind her writhing body, the sound of punching, stabbing and armour sliding against leather permeated the air.

And then nothing. Quiet air mixing with laboured breath, a few growling sighs to follow. Ones she recognized after a few seconds. A calming but assertive tone that used to excite her beyond belief.

“Z—,” she tried to say his name, but coughed instead. Recovering from the punch to the gut, breathless all the same.

Warm arms wrapped around her, lifted into an embrace healing her in seconds. Heat coursing within each injured vein, the tender flesh of a tiefling’s hold. Her head hung back against his arm, aching stomach muscles jolting. But the rest of her soul eased with the shelter of safety, letting him take her wherever he deemed right.

It could’ve been minutes. Or hours. Awakening in a soft bed covered in thick furs and clean sheets. Glowing candlelight against stone walls and the blurry flame of a burning fireplace. Sparks flew across the mantle as a broad shouldered, tailed man threw another log in. Trickling liquid poured from a clay pot, steaming scents of green tea and lemon soothing her into full awareness. No more pain, other than a small ache in her abdomen. For a second, she wondered if she’d died.

Tav shifted on the mattress, wincing from her sore muscles. At the corner of her eye were her dye-soaked clothes, hanging to dry after being washed. Bare arms and legs slid around the linen fabric of her ivory slip. Hair swept back from her face in a loose, well done braid.

“Am I dead?” She whispered, groaning out remnants of her voice as if she’d forgotten she had one.

The man turned from the fireplace, rushing to the bedside. Seating himself on the stool directly next to her, she could clearly make out the weathered, handsome features of Zevlor. Pouring tea like an old friend, not someone who’d been silent for a year.

“Not dead, Tav. You can’t imagine how glad I am that you’re awake. After those mongrels attacked you…I feared the worst,” he said, handing her the small cup as she sat up. Zevlor outstretched his hand as she winced, but pulled back before he could touch her.

Her eyes closed with the peace of green tea on the tongue. Pushing away the thoughts of the attack, burdened by yet another memory of pain. She chose another route, “You saved me. I don’t know how you found me but thank you, I owe you for such a gesture.”

With a cordial nod of a soldier, he said, “Think nothing of it. I—well, it’s a long story but I’ve made a living through private security. I was coming home from a job when I saw you in the street. Found you just in time before you slipped into that alleyway.”

She cupped the mug in her hands, resting on her cross-legged lap. A skipped beat of her heart went aflutter when she caught Zevlor’s eyes linger over her bare legs, and back to her face in a split second.

“I didn’t even know you were in the city,” she said, “It’s been so long since we’ve talked.”

Zevlor shifted, eyes darting away from her to every other corner of the room. The place was small, fit for a single man who didn’t want for much. Exactly him, melding in with the space as he paced around with his arms crossed. Keeping his distance as he always did even when they had fought together, even after the celebration…

“Certainly, I owe you an apology for that. There is still much agony in going into it but—I was in a bad way after the final battle. An injury of the mind, if you will. Times were hard, too hard to reach out to you with any confidence,” he explained.

“I expected no less, after all that happened. Only that, well I thought we’d become close. That maybe you’d find some peace through my support. But,” she trailed off as her hands shook, shock of what happened to her still dominant over her, “seems you supported me.”

Her feet hit the cold floor, trying to stand up while wobbling about. Just as her hips moved off the mattress, she stumbled downward. Zevlor strode over, hooking his arms around her, lifting her back onto the bed. In her panic, she clutched him without mercy. Holding him so close to her that he fell forward, knees landing on the bed as she lay under him. Hovering over her, he saw the quick rise and fall of her chest, struggling to properly exhale. Bringing him back to their moment alone at the Grove celebration, when he comforted her, held her as she wrestled with the fear she had to hide for her companion’s sakes. Here he was again, taking one, brave move to slide the strap of her slip back onto her shoulder.

“Zevlor…please don’t leave,” she said as she felt him move away, feeling his heart shred at the discomfort of being so close. No matter how much he craved it. Craved her.

He sighed, “You’re terrified, shocked from what happened. I don’t want to get in your way and make things worse.”

As he pulled away, she stabilized her tremored hand by grasping his wrist, “You haven’t made things worse. Remember when you sat with me at the party? When I confessed to you how afraid I was of everything? You helped me so much back then, how could now be any different?”

Zevlor faced away, staring into the firelight as Tav waited. He could not retreat from the visions of their last meeting. How she cried to him, and told him she felt safe in the comfort of his arms. Sitting in a grassy, humid corner away from the rest of the guests. Sheltered by fern leaves and flowers, he let her talk and talk about all that troubled her. Felt so touched by her vulnerability that he shared his own worries too. Two of them, absorbed in isolating fear and finding each other in the dark. Hands wandering around with each kind word, and then the arousing jolt of remembering her naked flesh against his. Tail wrapped around her ankle while they made love under the plant covered moonlight. So beautiful under him, sensations he never thought he’d experience again.

He thought of making her his again so many times after. But in between then and now, he kept failing. Falling into disorder and defeat. People dying for his mistakes. Who would want someone like that? A man so past his prime he verged on cowardice, next to the hero of Baldur’s Gate. How could that ever make sense?

“Both of us were vulnerable at that time. You’re recovering from an attack, and…well, I know you appreciate honesty. My body is so excited from the fight, and from seeing you again, that if I get close enough I might take you here and now. Even though I’d come to regret being so forceful,” he explained.

Hot shame filled every corner of his face just for saying it. Avoiding her gaze even as she took deep breaths, standing from the bed again. This time, with success. Still slow, but steady in each step closer to Zevlor by the fireplace.

“You were always so hesitant about what you wanted,” Tav said, close behind him. The glow of the fire warmed one side of her exposed arms, fingers tickling against the fabric of his cotton shirt. Brushing the tip of her nose against his spine, taking in the scent of brimstone and pine. Her strength regained with each graze of her palm against him, light and teasing.

“I venture to deserve the things I want first,” he said, head down towards the flame. Closing his eyes to the feeling of Tav’s hand sliding from the back of his arm to the top of his hand. Rested on the mantle as she gave a gentle squeeze.

“Isn’t that up to me to decide?” She asked, taking the strap he once adjusted in place and pulling it down again. “You saved my life today. And I missed you terribly, Zevlor.”

Hand in hand, she turned him to face her. Tall and soldierly in front of her, head craning up to face him in all his glory. Fire crackled before them, leading her hand guiding his to her waist. His nails craved to dig into her skin, pull her close and never let go. She tiptoed into his embrace, other arm around her back, forming a gentle, passionate hug. Feeling her skin against his again, he was happy to die that moment.

“Are you sure this is what you want tonight? It was not my intention when I took you in to do this,” he said, wondering if she heard a word he said. She pushed their faces closer, lips hovering around each other. Temptation already too difficult bear as his mouth opened to bite into her supple flesh, but stopped short. “I won’t be able to control myself if you allow me this.”

Tav’s cool breath danced along his tongue, a full body desire to sob over how much she wanted him. To do what they did last time and pretend the world didn’t exist.

“You make me feel safe, Zevlor. I’ve been on my guard ever since we parted. Do you know how wonderful it feels to just…relax? Please, I want you near me. Inside me all night. Just like at the Grove. Hold me, Zevlor,” Tav said, her voice a crescendo of emotion from whisper to yelp.

Words weren’t enough, he had to be shown. Tav ruminated that very idea ever since they last parted. How a commander of a group like the Hellriders could end up so unsure of himself. Maybe he wasn’t always like that, but he was now. And she wasn’t inclined to change a thing. She laced her fingers under the straps of her slip, letting the fabric slowly waterfall off her body. In the wake of her naked form before him, she swore she could hear his beating heart. Rapid and fiery like the burning glimmer of the room.

“Can you promise me one thing?” He asked, hands pressed against her cheeks, lifting her eyes up to him. Round and ablaze with desire, warm and cool at the same time.

“Anything,” she whispered.

“Do not leave in the morning,” he said.

“I’ll never leave if that’s what you require.”

It was a kiss like never before. A whirlwind heart attack imploding between the two of them. Zevlor’s soul rose out of his body, taken over by the beckoning ache of her open mouth, welcoming his forked tongue. Tav melted into him, relishing in the hot pleasure of pressing her bare body against his clothed one. She clawed at his belt, longing for the image of his warrior frame above her. Scarred and toned by years of combat. Tail swivelling back and forth, a supplicant tying around her supple thigh.

Their voices hummed into each other, a hymn of blossoming want. Walking in tandem to the bed as Zevlor climbed over her, shuddering at the pleasure of pushing between her legs. He sat up on his knees, stretching his flexed back muscles as he pulled off his cotton shirt. A tingling sensation spread between Tav’s legs, cool air biting at her wet, sensitive core. She couldn’t resist the urge to run her hands across his torso, savouring every scar and mark, repeating her movements when he’d moan. His belt jingled below, unclasped as the imprint of a large erection outlined his pants. He was an impressive man…everywhere.

“Pull them down slowly, I want to see,” Tav ordered, voice dark and wistful with lust.

“At your command, my beautiful goddess,” he said, a low growl vibrating from the back of his throat. Taking slow, painful time in pulling down his trousers. Tav bit her lip, the excitement almost too much. A little tuft of pubic hair opened the door to a long, thick shaft, bouncing against Zevlor’s stomach when it finally broke free. Her mouth watered, licking up the collection of desperate saliva at the top corner of her lip.

Her heart fluttered, body hot and assured unlike before. That was the spell Zevlor had her under since they’d met. Empowering her just from being close, reminding her of the strength she still had. Not a thing of the past, but something to be embraced. And now, she had a chance to stay with him for more than a night. Protect each other, and revel in their primal need to be attached.

Discarding his pants with the rest of his clothes, Zevlor lowered, kissing between her bare breasts and down to her stomach. Heartfelt, exciting tickles made her giggle with a flirtatious ring. Shivering at the scratches his nails left in their stead. Relaxing every nerve within as she lay in his embrace, letting him take the lead. She hoped he’d always give her a chance to let go this way, think about nothing other than the pleasure he’d cover her in.

Between peppered kisses and flicks of his tongue along her stomach, he whispered, “You’re mine, I’ve wanted you to be since the moment I saw you. I’ll protect you, keep you safe. Come here.”

With untold force, Zevlor swung Tav’s legs onto his shoulders, capturing her cunt in his mouth. Jolts of ecstasy wet and savoured with each slide of his tongue across her clit. Sucking, licking, moaning into her without any attempt to catch his breath. Driven each time he tasted more of her essence. Unbridled to the point where she had to hold his horns to keep balance. The temperature of his hellfire skin stimulated her even more, muscles tightening with every weakened, whimpering moan that escaped her. Assertive, but slow, gentle even as he became primal against her. Letting the rhythm take her exactly where she needed to be.

Tav’s moans fluttered like butterflies, one hand clutching his horn and the other falling over her eyes, focusing on the chase of that wonderful high. Vampiric biting down of her lip, containing her innate need to be even louder. There would be time for that. Tonight, she wanted to sink into him, fall into a calming, warm pool of passionate affection. Enjoy the sensation of his body becoming a vessel for her pleasure, moving his tongue in just the way she liked.

Between tiny gasps, Tav said, “Zevlor…you’re going to make me cum. Please don’t stop…please.”

He didn’t reply, too focused on slurping up every trickle of sex that dripped out of her. He simply moaned, muffled by the soft grind of her pussy against his face. Building up to a climax that bloomed throughout her body, arching her back as she rode out an orgasm she had no idea she craved so deeply until it happened. He’d refuse to let her stop a second early, continuing to circle his tongue around her clit until she shook with sensitivity.

She melted into the bed, a thin veneer of sweat combining with the dripping warmth between her legs as Zevlor took his mouth off. Positively beautiful over her, muscular back bent in a perfect curve when he began to suckle and kiss around her neck and collarbone. Travelling downward in a desperate need to cover every inch. Landing with satisfaction on her nipples, laughing for the first time in years, lost in the joy of her.

Zevlor stopped for a moment, lifting his head to face her below him. Tranquil and drunk with sinful pleasure, cheeks filled with rosy blush and eyes glazed over. Arms splayed out like the wings of a celestial Aasimar. He loathed the past, for so many reasons, but mostly because she wasn’t there with him. In her infinite beauty, a plush and wanton solace before him. How did he ever stomach being away from her since they’d met?

“I’m sorry for leaving you after that night. Forgive me?” He asked.

Tav laughed, spellbound to the point of forgetting she was ever upset. As if he’d never left. She said, “You may need to convince me a little more, hellrider.”

Something switched off within him, a zealous need to have her succumb to him. Forgive him for his misgivings. Praying to a new goddess and asking for redemption. Offering himself to her by inching his cock deep inside her, feeling the pull of her soft walls lock him in. Driven to eternal admiration from the sound of her shocked, euphoric moan, submitting to the stretch of him. An addictive sting, exposed to every synapse erupting within her sensitive, yearning cunt. She bit her bottom lip with a smile, shivering at the comforting wrap of his tail around her waist to keep her in place. No escaping the loving, dominant thrust of his hips deep into her.

“Forgive me,” he said, “Forgive me. Forgive me!” A passionate, hard thrust into her pussy each time he said it.

The might of him rendered her eyes at the back of her head, nearly unable to reply as he begged for her forgiveness. Her slick smacking against his pubic bone, gushing onto his cock in a lustful mess of an orgasm begging to come back. Tav snaked her arms across Zevlor’s shoulders for dear life, brought to the edge with his heavy grunts in her ear. She tightened around him, rocking back and forth on the bed, closer and closer to release.

He felt the contracting of her around him, unfulfilled by her silence on forgiveness. Just as she was about to finish, he pulled out of her, smacking the tip of his cock against her clit repeatedly. Listening to her whine and whimper, threatening tears. Then, before she knew it, he thrusted back in, hard and unmerciful. Pulling out again, repeating that pattern.

“Have I earned your forgiveness? Or shall I deny you until you use your words all night? Tell me, am I absolved, goddess?” He growled, voice husky and feral, the militant part of him revealing just enough of itself to command her to his whim.

By the fourth thrust and pull, she wailed, “Yes, gods above, I forgive you! There’s nothing to forgive, just make love to me!”

He pushed inside her fully, smashing his lips against hers at the same time. Holding her hips in line to use his infernal ridges as friction against her swollen clit. Locking his hand into hers, supported above her head while he thrusted and thrusted with reckless abandon. Both of them grunting in tandem, overcome with delayed pleasure. Tav found her footing quickly, edged so deliciously that her orgasm ripped through her with little effort, squeezing onto his cock. Her nails dug into his knuckles, mouth hanging open in awe over the intensity of her second climax.

Pulling from the kiss, he struggled against his own release. Mourning for the eventual time when he’d have to leave her cunt. Comfortable, warm and wet, a shelter from all harm. He couldn’t stand it yet, and used his tail around her waist to flip her onto her side, like fresh sand in the palm of his hand.

“Let me lie next to you,” he said, moving his body in a spoon position, chest pressed against her back, “I want to cum with you in my arms.”

Tav mustered a whisper thin ‘please’ under her breath, running her hands through his hair as he snuggled in behind her. The curve of her spine angled just right for him to sheathe himself inside her once more. Pumping slowly this time, arms and tail curled across her body like ivy against an ancient wall. Kissing the side of her neck, an endless waterfall of tenderness mixed with the possessive thrust of his cock. She was completely enveloped, safe and sound in his embrace, floating in the paradise he gave her.

“You’re with me, now. Right here, safe. Does that feel good? Am I pleasing you, goddess? Might I cum inside you?” He whispered in her ear, low and gruff. Intense bravado oozing from every part.

She was awash with sensual energy, captivated by him just like the first time. Although that was much quieter, fearing someone might hear them. Now, she felt as if they were sharing a home. In the privacy of their own dwelling, even if that was a fantasy.

“Oh, yes, you are perfect. I want your everything, Zevlor. Please, give me everything,” she replied, taking care to run her tongue up and down his bottom lip before she pushed them into a wet, feverish kiss. Flicking her tongue against his teeth, relishing in the sharp edge.

Their mouths were open to each other when he felt the stirrings of his climax. Languishing movements lost rhythm as he climbed ever forward into that much desired sensation. Possessed by the supple flesh of her lips and everything else. Hips, breasts, stomach, ass, everything. Falling into her deep, insane at the ache of his cock inside her. He breathed out a hard, rapturous moan before he let himself spill, soaking her cunt with the cum that twitched out of him. Dribbling out of the side as she lay before him with a wide, calm smile. Their muscles relaxed together, fusing into the bed.

Tav shivered, the slide of his cock pulling out sending a shock in her spine. Imbued with comfort immediately as Zevlor pulled a thin sheet over her. Tucking her into the blankets and the warm hold of him. Snuggling tight into her, yearning to find a way to fuse his body with hers. Kissing the top of her head, lingering to take in her scent.

“You did not smell of rosemary when we last saw each other,” he said, “That’s always been a favourite of mine. Rosemary.”

Tav grinned, turning to face him. A much needed distraction to keep her heavy eyelids from shutting for the night. To see him once more, maybe twice. Absorb all she missed in the year past. His handsome, aged face glowing under firelight. Sandy hair, messy and dotted with sweat. Strong hands stuck tight to her hips. All she imagined came to life.

Zevlor held her hand, kissing each knuckle, down to the bottom of her palm. A touch so ethereal, he could have been giving healing magic. Rescuing her both outside and in, cleansing her soul of all evil and wrongdoing endured before.

“We’ll replenish your lost supplies tomorrow,” he said, her hand close to his face, “If you’ll allow me to accompany you?”

She smiled, containing its ever widening stretch. “Well, we do have a great deal to catch up on.”

[dreamingcricket]

Hi Cricket! I soaked up your Tav/Halsin snippet, about them being injured and shrugging off Halsin's advances, it's absolutely sweet! I kindly request another Tav/Halsin if you don't mind... My Tav is a naive little sunshine and as a tiefling bard loves to dance, sing along and play on her fiddle, I imagine her having skirts that flow around her feet whenever she danced and plays around camp or inn's for some coin. Halsin being in love with Tav and like totally unable to hide it and it's obvious to everyone but Tav themselves. I would love for him to join her dancing, maybe something slower, more intimate with meaningful touches. He loves seeing her so at ease in rare moments like this, even when he's a clumsy dancer. 🤭

I'm so happy people are enjoying these!

Halsin was unused to revelry. 

He couldn't speak for every druid, of course, their kind ranged far and wide in both calling and temperament, but the Emerald Grove was prone only to subdued rites. He certainly couldn't fault the refugees for wanting to release some tension, however, and he wanted to show his appreciation to the small band that had saved him and his grove alike. Her, especially. 

And of course she was at the center of it all.

She reminded him of a celestial center, the hub of a wheel around which everything else turned. She glowed in the firelight, all orange and gold and purple, skirts flying as she fiddled. Music seemed to follow her everywhere. She danced like water, one pattern to the next without pause. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

“You’re staring.” Shadowheart was difficult to read, as she appeared behind him, goblet in hand. He couldn't tell if her observation was meant to be an admonishment or not.

“I know.” He was usually reserved, if not stoic, and his developing feelings bubbling to quickly to the surface was alarming, but it would do no good to deny it.

"We all know. You're not subtle, Halsin." 

His attention was drawn back to Tav as she laughed. The sound was like the sun on his face.

Shadowheart followed his gaze. “Nobody blames you, Halsin. But she should know.”

“I don’t want to rush her.”

“Under any other circumstances, I’d agree. But we’re running out of time, and…” She shakes her head, clearing the morbid thought. “Just… everyone knows.

She finishes her number with a bow, and yields the stage to Alfira, who begins to pluck a lively tune. Her eyes lock onto Halsin’s and she bounds over, holding out her hands.

“Come, dance with me?”

He could feel the eyes of the camp upon him. Knowing. Halsin coughed. “I’m not much of a dancer. I may trample your feet.”

“That doesn't matter!” She giggled, and leaned in conspiratorially. “Everyone’s too drunk to notice anyway.”

Suddenly, she was pulling on his hand, tugging him to the wide patch of dirt that served as a dancing circle in the middle of camp. His heart hammered against his ribs, and it wasnt from embarrassment. 

He could vaguely recollect the steps, some hazy memories of his youth floated back to him as they began to whirl. A tavern dance, not refined in the slightest, but light and fast, more momentum than intent. While there was something to be said for his particular brand of ursine grace, it didn't lend well to dancing, and he let her lead. Her hands were so small in his, and she flitted around him, almost birdlike. 

“You’ll have to slow down, Tav, I’m not as young as I used to be.” 

She giggled, twirling under his arm. “I think you’re a fine dancer.” 

“The wine has apparently gone to your head, as well.”

“Perhaps. Or maybe it's just good company.”

The music slowed, and their pace changed. They circled each other, hand in hand. She held his gaze, not defiantly, but with tender trust. He hoped beyond hope he wasn't reading too far into her gaze. 

There was an ease to her here he hadn't seen before. The weight she carried throughout the battle at the goblin camp (and how fierce she had been, she had torn through their ranks like a diving hawk) had seemingly lifted. She wasn't a warrior, her hands were gentle as they gripped his, and so small. He loved her already, but even more so like this, when she was unburdened.

He wondered if this was what she was usually like, sans tadpole. There’s a terrible pang in his chest at the thought: that her days were numbered, that she might be doomed. It's quickly followed by a wash of righteous fury. It wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let it. 

She stepped in close. Their palms pressed together, chests nearly touching, and he nearly stopped breathing. She was so close, if he only leaned down, their lips would touch. He was halfway to her, his rational brain screaming to stop and his instincts screaming to kiss her until she couldn't breathe.

And then she pulled away, dropping into a curtsy. The song was over. 

There was already a  buzzing flock of people vying for her attention. Halsin released her hand and bowed out of the center of camp, excusing himself as she leaped onto a rock to begin a new number. 

It had been a long, long time since anyone had made him feel this way. 

He rolled into the grass, reveling in the coolness against his heated skin, and prepared to trance. 

Halsin smelled her before he saw her. Lilac and honeysuckle and musk, and the scent of the open road. She moved to lay beside him in the grass, and whispered, "Can I join you? Everyone is quite drunk, Karlach is sleeping in my tent for some reason, and I’m getting really tired."

"Of course."

He didn't expect her to nestle into his side, his heart began to hammer in his chest, his skin became hot. 

She gazed upwards, and pointed into the sky, at a smattering of stars. "That's the huntsman." Her hand drops back down. "At least I think it is. We didn't have much time for stargazing at home, and the city lights are so bright. But here? I feel I can see every single one."

Halsin pointed upward himself, “The… spine of the dragon? I realize… I don’t know exactly how to say it in common, that’s as close as I can get.”

She hummed. “I can see it. With the wings, there.” She gestured lazily, and he became aware of how close she was for the second time that night. He was less intimidated by his own feelings here, without the watchful eyes of the party, and only the music of night time insects, the grass rising around them like a shelter. She turned her face toward him, blinking slowly, and clearly holding back a yawn. “I think… I’ll just sleep here.”

“That’s fine by me.”

The rhythm of her breathing slows and evens out, and he brushes a stray lock of hair away from her cheek, running his thumb over the apple of her cheek. 

Tomorrow, she would take up her burdens again. She would brave her future with the noble ferocity he had come to admire, he was sure, but he would miss this carefree night. 

Whatever it took, he’d ensure she had many more to come.

[michanvalentine]

So, I played Baldur's Gate 3, and I played it later than many others. All thanks (or perhaps it would be better to say fault?) of a friend who told me "you absolutely have to play it"! And so I did, completely losing myself in the world of Faerûn. It was really difficult to reconcile my duties as a wife and mother with the desire to play and discover everything about the plot and the characters. In fact, it took me forever to finish! Also because I am the classic player who has to go and sift through every single jar, corner or place forgotten by the gods to make sure I don't leave anything out. I'll start by saying that I played it completely blind and that it was a heroic playthrough. So here I am with my thoughts after finishing my first run.

Morween: Hi! I am a Seldarine drow. I am a cleric of Selûne. I'm a heroine! I spit in my father Bhaal's face and I'm proud of it! Oops! I accidentally killed an innocent bard...

I don't want to talk about the game and how well made it is in its entirety. We all know this, I think. I only need to talk about my very personal relational experience with the character who won me over despite my resistance.

In a roundabout way, while I was trying to conquer the beautiful Shadowheart, I found myself in a relationship with Astarion. I had fun with him at the tiefling party more out of curiosity than anything else, plus I didn't even think he liked me and that it was just fun for him too. Up until that moment we had done nothing but argue and clash over our respective visions of the world. And the “disapprove” message was constantly over my head (along with that of Lae'zel)! Nonetheless, having him around was a delight for this reason too (in addition to the fact that I found his jokes funny). The contrast and our discussions made the interactions seem particularly real to me...

I wanted to talk with him. First of all because I found our hypothetical conversations about getting killed or which of our companions to drink extremely funny. But I wanted to understand. And I wanted him to understand too. And every time I saw "the glimmer" I felt even more motivated to bring out everything he had inside. A lot of stuff, I later discovered...

Obviously at the beginning, as a player, I was trying to understand how the game worked and my female Durge was trying to understand who the people around her were and where their misadventure would lead her. So I only understood many things later!

Morween: Wait, ehm… Whaaat?!?! Am I the weird one or... no, never mind.

In any case, when Astarion thanked me for not giving him up to the blood merchant, I wanted to make this clear to him, so I selected the "I care about you" dialogue option. But I honestly didn't realize that this would mark the beginning of my relationship with him. Afterwards I didn't feel like reloading. Even if I had to abandon the beautiful Shadoweart (with whom I had only shared a bottle of wine and a passionate kiss until then). I thought that things had happened that way for a reason and my game, my choices, had naturally led me that way. Honestly, I had to stop with Gale too, because even my favorite wizard didn't disdain the company of Bhaal's offspring too much. And it broke my heart, because every single one of them deserves to be loved, dammit!

Morween: We got problems, you and I. Big. Deadly. Serious problems. But we're also so dangerously cute together!

What followed was an intense journey full of very strong emotions, as I think it was for everyone who played Baldur's Gate 3. I became attached to my traveling companions as if they were friends in the flesh. And of course I ended up falling madly in love with my pixelated vampire boyfriend.

He's truly a well-rounded character. The thing that literally drives me crazy is that he's a fucking vampire, a real one. A vampire who acts like a vampire and has all the instincts of a vampire. He likes killing, the smell of blood intoxicates him, he has a hunger that devours him from the inside, and he can very well lose control. Finally! An accurate and truthful depiction of what it means to be a vampire. And not just a spicy detail to add to a story for horny teenagers. So the character of Astarion earned admiration points from me. Why? Because despite everything he is able to travel with different "blood bags" without necessarily attacking them and sucking them to the core. It takes great willpower to keep such appetites at bay. And yes, I know, there's that first night when the pale elf tries to attack you while you are sleeping... but hey, surprise of surprises, everyone makes mistakes. Few are those who learn from mistakes. And Astarion is more than willing to learn, another of his qualities, and he is willing to do so throughout the entire journey!

Morween: Yeah, sure, I could judge him... If I hadn't also tried to kill him while he slept...

Side note, when the urge calls and Astarion finds himself in the same situation, he is ready to forgive Durge's mistake in the blink of an eye. Because he knows, dammit. What's more, he is willing to stay there, next to them, to help them control themself. And there I thought: fuck, I want to be there for him too.

Of course Astarion has his own personality, his own flaws; and I love him for it. He's a chronic liar, yes, and he's quite selfish with a nice propensity for lust for power. All perfectly explainable and understandable, considering his past. I was shocked at the amount of abuse he had to endure. I didn't expect it, not so deep, not so real and so detailed, especially for the psychological aspects and the reaction to trauma, considering we're talking about a character from a video game. And my heart broke. 200 fucking years under Cazador. It's no wonder he's a broken man, but not finished. And it's wonderful to see his survival instinct gradually transform into a real desire to live. He is a dangerous man (elf?) but the moment you realize that he can change, he can be rehabilitated, he can heal and be better (up to a certain point, he is still a vampire, a predator with the instinct of kill and with a passion for blood), you know it was worth it. No matter if as a friend or a lover, you are the hero he has been waiting for 200 years. And, for heaven's sake, when he trusts you completely he is capable of unprecedented sweetness and sensitivity. Of course he's still the scoundrel with the sharp tongue and easy sarcasm, but after all that's why he's adorable!

Morween: I confess, Mother Superior, saving the innocent is right, but it is too obvious and easy. Redeeming the bad guys is sooooo much better, that's a real challenge! What heroine would I be otherwise? How do you say... you are not interested? Yes, right... let's talk about Shadowheart.

So when at the end of his quest he thanked me for saving him from himself (even though I only gave him a nudge), with that honest smile on his lips, my satisfaction was immense. He knows, he appreciates, he has grown. He knows exactly what loving him means and is grateful for it. It took patience and a lot of trust, even when it was an objectively stupid thing to do. It took the ability and the will to go further, to see something in him, that he could be better, and to believe in him. Believing that he was enough just the way he is. This is loving someone and making them feel loved. And it was a beautiful conclusion to his story arc.

It also took a lot of delicacy, I would add. I played the entire game and experienced my relationship with the character of Astarion with the concrete feeling that losing him would have been very easy. After all, running away, hiding, even attacking, are perfectly natural responses to fear. And as we know he is legitimately terrified of everyone.

About this: when I met Sebastian it was another shock for me. I wasn't prepared. The whole sequence is heartbreaking, but what blew my brain was the response I got from Astariom when I asked him if Sebastian had hurt him.

God. In my mind the picture suddenly became untenable. No god answered his prayers, no hero deigned to save him and the only worthy salvation for him would still have been a stake in the heart because he was considered a monster. Cazador forced him into prostitution and when he was lucky enough he only had to live with the horrible knowledge that he had delivered another innocent victim into the hands of his master. Otherwise even his own targets would do violence to him, as most were not good people. And maybe in case of a failed delivery, Cazador would also punish him later. It is no surprise that he has learned to completely dissociate himself from everything, to become numb to the events and people around him.

For him everything and everyone was suffering.

And another thing that I really appreciated was the possibility that the game gives you to allow Astarion to rediscover himself and his relationship with others, to experiment with his own limits within a finally safe space (the camp, the companions, Tav/Durge).

In any case, for me it was a truly satisfying experience. I regret nothing, not even releasing 7,000 vampiric spawn into the underdark. Perhaps this is also why I was surprised when by browsing through various social media I come across so many cruel comments and harsh opinions regarding the character of Astarion. Everyone has their own sensibilities and tastes, obviously. But damn... how much repressed anger and aggression...

Anyway, I could go on for hours writing, but a treatise on the phenomenology of the Astarion was not my project! I just wanted to vent my fangirl soul a little and share my experience with you.

I'm currently starting my second run as Astarion. My plan is to conquer the beautiful Shadowheart without a certain someone getting in the way. Maybe, if my daughter and husband don't abandon me on the highway first, I might even consider a third adventure to sink into Gale's arms (and library)! I still feel sooooo guilty for dumping him, he seemed really hurt.

But for now... and they all lived happily ever after...

[medra-gonbites]

BG3 Masterlist

Hereby find a list of my writing (revolving exclusively around Baldur's Gate 3 because I have brainrot).

If you feel like it I'd be more than happy to receive prompt to work with (however I am quite slow just so you know ^^)!

Disclaimer: Most NSFW pieces are not posted on this platform in their entirety and will relay a link to the full version on AO3. This allows the reader to consult the full list of tags and CW before interacting with any potential triggering scenario. NSFW does not necessarily means smut: it can also indicate violence or possible triggering themes.

Head Canon Blobs

Companions Filmmaker Edition - What roles would the BG3 characters be taking on a film set?

Companions Party Edition - Who brings what to Tav birthday party?

Companions Music Edition - Which instruments do the Tadfools Band (and others) play and why?

Companions Pokemon Edition - Which Pokemon would the companions choose

Companions Disney Animation Edition - Which Disney Animation are their favourite?

One Shot Fictions

The Contemplations and Conclusions of Minsc of Rashemen - SFW - A stream of consciousness following Minsc's (and Boo's) reading of their new (and old) comrades.

A Night to Remember - SFW - The drunken shenaningans of two tadfools out in Baldur's Gate. (Astarion/Shadowheart (platonic))

A Modicum of Decorum - SFW - An old friend attempts to visit Gale. Unfortunately Tav is at the door. (Gale/Tav)

Wounds of Love - SFW - Lae'zel is obsessed with the wizard and needs to do something about it. (Astralweave: Gale/Lae'zel)

Ashes to Ashes - SFW - During the first year in Szarr Palace, Astarion has grown very close to one of the other spawn. (Astarion/Male!OC)

The Treasure among the Scale - NSFW - Wyll encounters a distressed mermaid on the beach and decides to help her out. (Wyll/Unnamed Fem!OC)

A Cone of Cold you Made of Me - NSFW - Gale visits an old flame. She is not happy to see him. (Gale/Unnamed Fem!OC)

On My Lord's Lap - NSFW - Lord Astarion and his consort Gale receive an adventuring party reporting on their missi. (Bloodweave: Ascended Astarion/Consort Gale)

A Wild Magic You Cast - NSFW - She infuriates him; her talent for magic matches only the chaos she triggers. (Gale/Fem!Wild Sorcerer Durge)

Blooodweave week 2024 - SFW & NSFW This series consists of 6 one shot chapters and 1 multi-chapters fic centered around the Bloodweave ship (Astarion/Gale)

Multi-Chapters Fictions

The Wizard Who Read Everything - 3 chapters - Pairing: Gale/Named Fem!OC - SFW

The wizard had struggled to find an apprentice for quite some time. When he finally does, he find himself quite intrigued by his new hire. It is not appropriate but he can't help think about her. The racy literature that she writes as a hobby does not help. Neither does the fact that he reads in secret…

What is left of what once was - 5 chapters - Pairing: Gale/Fem!Tav - Ascended Astarion/Fem!Tav - NSFW

Astarion has ascended. He has all he has ever wanted. Except you, since you chose Gale over him. Now that he is a Vampire Lord he will not let you go so easily.

Roll Initiative - 4 chapters -Pairing: Gale/Astarion - Alternative Universe - NSFW

This is not Astarion's idea of fun but he begrudgingly agreed to join Wyll's current D&D tabletop campaign: the prospect of rolling dice and hallucinate a quest for 2 hours does not appeal to him at all. At least the game master is cute...

My Tavs & Durges

Most of them are silly geese. I like puns and inventing wacky backstories for them.

Tavs

Medra Gonbites - Drow Paladin

Denisious Delicious - Rock Gnome Bard (& co-op Tav Denise Delice - Wood Half-Elf Druid)

Mari Zoto - Human Monk

Durges

Dana R'Whaal - High Elf Sorcerer

Robert (Bob) Slay - Half-Orc Warlock

Zorthos Akognto Yerwitcher - Tiefling Cleric

I hope you enjoy my work! Comments and feedbacks are always appreciated of course !

[catgirlscout]

Johnshi Week 2024 | Day 3 | DnD Headcanons

Since the prompt for day 3 of #johnshiweek2024 by @johnshidaily was DnD Au, I thought I'd share some headcanons for Johnny and Kenshi.

You can also read them and chapter 2 on my Ao3!

Johnny would definitely go all out. He would make up a whole intricate backstory, act out his role, and put on a full cosplay for every session. His dice match his character, and he even bought and painted a miniature himself.

I can imagine that he would also love to be the DM and create his own little TTRPG campaigns. He loves improvising and gives each side character a distinct voice. Everyone always gets super intense during fights, and he feels very proud of himself for being able to pull his friends into the scene. If they would struggle making a character sheet, he would help them and throw in some prompts.

Back in school, he used to be a real nerd about DnD. He still has all of the books. This is really where his love for screenwriting comes from.

As for his character, he is really diverse. He loves to make new ones and figure out every little detail about them. In a game with the MK1 cast, I think he’d be either a Paladin or a Bard. I’d personally choose Paladin over Fighter in his case, because he wants to fight for the right cause and be a knight of the people. And if he’s playing as a Bard, he’s definitely gonna try to romance everything and anything!

He loves playing as any race that isn’t fully human for the fantasy experience. Non-human species have a special place in his heart. So, his choices would probably be Halfling, Orc, or Dragonborn. Perhaps even Elf, but he would probably stray away from your typical perfect, never-aging Elf, even though he’s fancy like that. But he prefers the whole underdog, having to train hard to become the hero storyline. Twist villains or morally gray characters are also totally his thing.

Kenshi, on the other hand, never had time for games in his youth due to growing up with the Yakuza breathing down his family’s neck. But of course he let his best friend Johnny talk him into it. He’s pretty new to DnD and doesn’t quite get the rules yet, but once he’s in the zone, he really gets sucked into the world-building, exploring everything there is and leaving no stone unturned and chest unopened. It’s become his escape from reality in a way, at least for a little while.

His character would probably be pretty true to himself, and he would make choices based on what he would do in real life. Of course he always fights with a sword, preferably an old family blade that wields some type of magic. He doesn’t roleplay so much, although he begins talking very epically when he’s making important decisions. From that point on, his character goes through a lot of development.

For class, Johnny advised him to go with Warlock, but Rogue would also be a good alternative. Race-wise, he would most definitely go with Tiefling, as that is closest to what he feels like, and the fiendish ancestral origins fit best with his actual background. When given the option, Kenshi also always chooses to lose his eyesight one way or another, if he doesn’t start out blind. Both Liu Kang and Johnny have continuously told him he doesn’t need to, but he does it anyway. The self-insert is real!

[bananasfosterparent]

Recent Playthrough Updates #3

🍃🦌Enyana the Dryad

She's slowly getting through. Still stuck in Act 1 but steadily moving forward. Currently rescuing Halsin! Her romance with Gale is also going well so far uwu

I changed some details about her visually. Gave her pale yellow eyes that are more "human" just because Dryads seem to have glowy yellow eyes and I'm too lazy to find a mod to do that SO pale yellow "human" eyes it is! Lol plus this makes her easier to cosplay for my local Ren faire and get accurate

Also changed her hair and adjusted the colors!

🌑☠️Nordicai the (resist) Durge

Smoochie time! 🖤💜

Nordicai has been charmed by a pretty lady and doing what he can to enjoy their time together. He kissed Shadowheart and whatever else that lead to lol he also lied to her about his past because he simply can't remember it of course...but I think SH knows how that feels.

He's still trudging through Act 1 as well and just got the Necromancy of Thay.

He was also finally bitten by Astarion lol Nordi doesn't have Astarion in his party so when he met the Gur, he told Astarion who of course denies being a vampire spawn. But Nordi being Nordi... He believed it. Imagine his surprise when he wakes up to Astarion's fangs. He didn't let him bite but is sympathetic towards his hunger. He can understand that all too well.

Also I changed his horns so now they're like cool, glowy horns uwu

🌊🎻Silkina the Waveservant Bard

More smoochies!!

Silkina is learning to trust and finding herself in her budding relationship with Wyll. They kissed at the Tiefling party and now she's truly smitten. Can't wait to keep going!

She's defeated the goblins and is working her way through to the Underdark.

⛈️🖤 Efenity the Storm Sorcerer

Baby girl out here living her best life. Lmao not really...at least not yet.

But she is having fun! I've played her like 6 times now and it's like it gets more fun every time 🤣 she took Lady Esther's money upfront (with no intention of bringing her the egg). Usually she has the owl bear egg and gives her that and takes her money from that. But I forgot to get the owl bear egg so I had to try something new! I also had Astarion loot her. I discovered Cacophony this way and he stole it for Efe. It's now her canon weapon 🤣

[saika077]

Random HC:

The first years (+Ortho) playing DnD in Ramshackle Dorm

Yuu/MC is DMing of course

Player characters (I won't go too deep into their character details tho)

I feel like Ace'd be a Human Rogue, it kinda fits his personality imo. I personally don't see him as someone who uses brute force or blast magic, so Rogue it is. Specifically, I feel like he'd be an arcane trickster.

Deuce's character would be a Monk 100%. As for the race I can sorta see him being a Tiefling. Now you might be asking, "why a Monk and not a Barbarian?", While I do acknowledge his tendency to go apeshit at times, he actively tries to grow and change from his past habits. Perhaps his character could be an ex-barbarian who is training hard to be a Monk (multiclass)?

Jack's character'd be a Goliath Fighter, the only justification I have for this is that I feel like the competitive nature of a Goliath and their desire to push beyond new limits fits him like a glove, also the fighter class suits him just fine imo.

Given his background, I feel like Epel would be a Druid (they're basically magic farmers/gardeners). However, he'd give his character cantrips like Poison Spray, various spells but no healing spells (yea this party is pretty much fucked). You can fight me on this but post-character arc Epel would be a Halfling, he'd use his size as an advantage in combat.

As for Sebek, I can't see him being anything other than a Paladin. He'd most likely be an Aasimar... or maybe a half-elf? No? Too on the nose? Anyways, he'd give his character enchantment spells, and maybe some healing spells like Cure Wounds.

Ortho is the party's main support, with him being a tiny fairy bard (now you see why I had to bring Ortho in this otherwise the party won't even survive the winter). He's just a little lad who loves berries and cream :). He also provides bgm and sfx for the campaign.

I'm sorry but I have very little to no faith for this party. But I'm sure they'll somehow survive.

Together, the fate of the world somehow lies in the hands of these murder hobos.

Random shenanigans

Ace attempting to steal a treasure/sacred item from a monster's lair, only to miserably fail a stealth roll. Everyone had to haul ass out of there.

Deuce getting emotionally attached to an Npc with tragic backstories and/or noble goal, and then stubbornly tried to save that npc and getting upset at the DM for killing them.

something tragic happens and someone just says "this is so sad, Ortho play the acoustic rendition of Piece of My World"

Ace, to every barmaid bc he's broke: "hey (with rizz)" *rolls a Nat 1 Charisma*

With how hotheaded the NRC kids are it's only a matter of time until an npc taunted or look at them the wrong way and they'd be like "oh that's it, now you're gonna get it! I ROLL FOR INITIATIVE!" completely unprompted (like in the second half of the Halloween event bc I still find it insane how everyone immediately resorts to violence, even some of the more levelheaded students).

The one time Ortho and/or Sebek can't make it to a session, Jack gets knocked out by an enemy and the gang tried to heal him. Ace: "ok but can we try slapping him awake?" Deuce:"oh that's a good idea! Can we, Yuu/MC?" Yuu/MC:"...roll me a strength check" (they forgot that they have a healing potion)

The DM sitting there horrified while watching the party using the "power of friendship" on an NPC

I feel like half of them would brute force puzzles in a dungeon and it works like one out of three times or something.

"why do I hear boss music?"

Yuu, the DM, puts their hands together in front of them, a strange smile plastered on their face as they calmly said; "everyone, I want you to roll for initiative 🙂"

[heartman]

I had to restart my game because my original save file got corrupted, so meet my new Tav! A bard tiefling with the soldier's background, and of course, I'm going to romance Astarion again because I want to play all the way through it. Please, game, I'm begging you not to crash again

[simpforjesus]

The Wizard’s beloved Bard

Rolan x my Tav

Please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes, the brain rot is demanding I get this out now! Lol

I really want Rolan to be romanceable eventually, he has so much potential for an awesome romance story!! It’s probably not going to happen, unfortunately, but I still want to share the character I’d use. Hopefully, I’ll motivate myself to write a full story about these two, I love them so much!

This is Ella, short for Eleanor, she is a Tiefling bard who is very kind and VERY dramatic and lover of fairy tales, like the classic knight saves the princess stories. She is always thinking of new ballads to write in the style of those fairy tales. There are times where she’ll get a bit too caught up in the story and do or things that in the moment would make for a good story, but later she sometimes regrets because, well real life doesn't work like fairy tales. She really is very kind and wants to help as many people as she can though, she's been working on saving that dramatic side of her for performances.

Her parents are human Nobles in Baldur’s Gate, two of the few humans who don't care at all that their daughter is a tiefling, she's their daughter and they love her very much. When she discovered her love for music and storytelling and expressed her desire to be a bard, her parents fully supported her! Yay! She went to the College of Lore.

Just before the events of the game, she had just finished her bard education and decided to start traveling the world looking for adventure. She was just saying goodbye to her parents when the Mindflayer ship attacked.

I'd imagine when she first meets Rolan she immediately wants to get to know him and his siblings. (She’s really good at reading people, so she can tell he’s a nice person underneath that grumpy face )

She’d greatly admire his intelligence, ambitions, and fierce love for his family.

When they meet at the Last Light Inn, she feels guilty for Cal and Lia getting taken to moonrise and promises to get them back but of course Rolan is ticked and having none of it, he does his angry rant on how it’s Ella’s fault for getting Cal and Lia to play hero. How she is a noble, who got everything handed to her on a golden plate so how could she possibly understand their suffering and how to help them and he will be the one saving his siblings! Ella of course is hurt by this but goes to save Cal and Lia anyway.

I imagine Rolan being a bit jealous of Ella’s childhood, not only does she have human parents that love her despite being a tiefling, but she was also born a noble. Meanwhile, him possibly abandoned by his human parents(my favorite headcanon). Then Him, Cal, and Lia have to deal with the struggles of being lower-class Tieflings in Elturel(personal headcanon) the descent and the aftermath. Ya, I can totally see him being jealous.

Anyway, after she saves Cal and Lia, he actually begins to think of her as a possible friend but he really starts liking her when she gives Him and his siblings a letter that will not only get them into the city super quickly(she knows how the city will treat refugees) but is also her asking her parents if they can stay at their manor for awhile if needed. Rolan is shocked by this! A noble using her power to help common folk and not for her own gain?!😦

Not only does it work when they get to Baldur’s Gate but Ella’s Parents work behind the scenes to get the rest of the refugees in the city and offer jobs to any that can't find any!

While he’s “studying” under Lorroakan, he finds he can't stop thinking about her, or what it would be like to kiss her. Wait what?!

When they meet again at Sorcerous Sundries, they are delighted to see each other (Rolan secretly so) but Ella’s smile falls as soon as she sees the bruises on his face. Screw political consequences! Grab Dame Aylin, Lorroakan is dying tonight!! After Rolan becomes the Master of the tower, Ella makes sure to stop by often just to spend time with Rolan(and Cal and Lia but mostly Rolan), Rolan looks forward to her visits and he finally starts to fall in love with her.

When the battle against the elder brain draws near, Rolan confesses his feelings for her, which she reciprocates, and begs her to promise to come back to him alive! Ella, promises to come back to him, but only if he promises to save their first kiss for after the battle, because the story always ends with true love's kiss. Rolan, both annoyed and amused, agrees.

So when she walks through the doors of Sorcerous Sundries, supporting poor Astarion, Rolan gives her a happily ever after by running toward her, picking her up, spinning her around and finally the two share their first kiss! They say soon after everyone in Baldur’s Gate heard the tale of how Lady Eleanor found her Prince Charming, her one true love, Rolan!

And Cal and Lia won a bet against her companions on how long it would take for them to get together!! XD

[ghost-proofbaby]

“By all means, sharpen your axe, dear,” his voice has dropped to a hush, and she feels a shiver run up her spine once she realizes just how close he is now. She hadn’t even noticed his hand creeping up between them until his fingertips were just barely brushing her throat. A hovering grasp, a mere breath away from wrapping around her, “And I’ll ready my hands.”

summary: aruna and astarion begin to have a few interesting conversations, but she can't seem to shake that part of her that craves to keep him close. the part of her desperate to convince her that she knows him.

wc: 5.1k+

warnings: continued memory loss, spoilers for the game (specifically for a conversation that you can have with astarion that isn't triggered by a cut scene or exclamation point lol), talk of hypothetical murder as flirting

a/n: possibly one of my favorite rewrites of a canon scene thus far. will always be mad we couldn't say 'strangulation' as how we want to go. but i digress. also to anyone who is unfamiliar with the game this might seem fast paced, but to anyone who has played the game, this is probably dragging. my bad. anyways, please enjoy <;3 and peep my nod of homage to the way i keep making bard tavs only to abandon them

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The tiefling, Zevlor, had proven to be an interesting conversation. 

He wants something in return for a favor. Of course he does. Aruna doesn’t even glance Astarion’s way, because she’s not in the mood to be told I told you so once it’s all said and done. She’d heard every huff and sigh from him as she’d talked to Zevlor, and she already knew he was less than impressed with how the conversation had gone. 

The grove is closing itself off. The refugees are at risk of being sent to their certain death. Zevlor wants them to speak to the druids. There’s a healer named Nettie who may be able to help them. 

There’s a healer named Nettie who may be able to help them.  

Aruna is an optimist, and chooses to focus on that bit rather than the performance she had put on back there. There’s hope yet – they just have to take the scenic route to get to their final destination. 

The group explores the grove a little bit, perusing several small booths that have been set up amongst the large caves. They all keep their distance, not yet deciding to approach any vendors, but Aruna still keeps a list in case they need resources: there’s a corner with a frail elderly lady who’s surrounded by tables littered with what Gale can identify as healing potions, beside her is a tiefling stirring some giant cauldron of what must be food as it smells delectable, and across from her is some sort of blacksmith who has a small shop set up with a depleted source of weapons and armor. All people who might be useful to speak to at some point.

But that’s for another day. The elderly lady piques Aruna’s interest for a moment, but Zevlor had said that Nettie could be found in the druid’s grove, and this was decidedly not the actual grove. 

Aruna watches Astarion like a hawk through all of it. And he knows that she’s watching him closely, because at some point he even teases her about it. 

“Say, shall I just creep over there and snatch one of those healing potions for myself, dear leader? I doubt the woman would notice it missing. I do have quite skilled hands.”

She’d nearly smacked him for the suggestion of theft, and he’d only cackled when she’d started to look around for any signs of guards that might have overheard his words. 

Just before they leave back to their camp for the day, for Aruna to mark this place on their map and begin to formulate some sort of plan for finding this Nettie come tomorrow, they find Wyll. Wyll, the human who had joined in the fight at the gate, tearing down goblins easily with eldritch blasts and the flourish of his rapier. 

He’s kind enough. Astarion is rolling his eyes when through that tadpole connection (which is once again, not as painful as it had been with the pale elf), a new quest is presented to them. Hunting a Devil with Wyll. Securing his companionship, increasing their numbers. It’s a small cost, Aruna decides, and she invites him back to camp without hesitation, fully agreeing they’d help him track down this Devil soon after speaking to this Nettie. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a bleeding heart?” 

Despite an additional body now joining them on their trek back to camp, Astarion still clings to Aruna’s side as she leads the group. 

“It’s not a bleeding heart,” she quips back, giving a quick glance to the map in her hands. Less for finding her way to camp, and more for engraving what she needs to draw out once they get back. “He has a tadpole. He needs us as much as we need him – the Devil will just be something to keep in mind.” 

“It’s a side quest, and side quests will sidetrack us,” Astarion points out as Aruna finally veers between trees, beginning to stumble into heavier bramble that they have to navigate in order to arrive at their clearing, “It’s going to take years for us rid ourselves of our little problems at this rate.”

Aruna rolls her eyes before stepping widely over a fallen log, “You’re being dramatic.” 

“Never denied having a love for the theater, darling,” Gods, his tongue is fast. Always equipped with a new comeback, always readied with a new nickname to make heat flash through her body. “My point is, we don’t have years. Time isn’t exactly on our side, if I’ve been listening to that wizard correctly.”

“Gale,” she corrects him absentmindedly, stopping for a second to gather their surroundings as well as allow the other three to catch up a little bit, “His name is Gale, and… and he’s right, I think. We should be weary of ceremorphosis.” 

Astarion waves off the reminder of Gale’s name as if he has no use of it. Which, at the rate in which he only seems keen on speaking to her, he might not. “We haven’t sprouted any tentacles yet. And our flesh has yet to melt off our faces, so to speak. However, I am curious as to what your plan is if any of that does start happening to one of us.” 

She starts to head west. Or at least, the direction she thinks is west.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that at the first sign of change, I’d have to stop that pretty little bleeding heart of yours.”

Aruna nearly trips over her own feet. 

Is he seriously threatening me right now? 

When she turns to look at him, though, he doesn’t look one bit as frightening as she had expected. His hands are far from his daggers, and she swears there’s a smile playing on the corners of his lips. 

“I am open to suggestions,” he presses on, meeting her gaze and leaning forward, the face of playfulness, “Knives, poison, strangulation – whatever you’d prefer.” 

He’s not going to kill her. There’s absolutely no way that there’s any weight to his words. If someone were going to choose to kill someone, they would not be indulging in this type of conversation with them, would they? 

She stares at him for a few moments, completely still and silent as she blinks slowly before finally saying, “You are odd.” 

It makes him laugh. A scoff that echoes through the trees around them as she starts to quicken her pace. Camp is near, the rest of their group isn’t far behind – he’s not going to kill her. She’s not worried about that, but she is worried for his sanity by thinking that this was small talk. 

“Humor me,” he calls after her. Even as her strides turn longer, he doesn’t struggle to keep up, “I deserve it after being on my best behavior at the grove.” 

She’d argue that he hadn’t been on his best behavior, but the more she gets to know him, the more she’s thinking that the way he had restrained himself today was him attempting to follow her rules. 

“I’m not sure,” she sighs, “How would you like to go?” 

Even in her peripherals, she can see him light up as he realizes she is actually humoring him. 

“I don’t think that poison is for me. Nor stabbing, come to think of it. I always felt decapitation was a fine choice. One good swing and then – nothing,” Gods, he’s thought about this quite sincerely, hasn’t he?  “But we were talking about you. What’ll it be?” 

Through the breaks in the trees ahead, she can see the camp. She could choose to ignore him, dart ahead and leave him behind without an answer. But for some reason, she found herself almost enjoying the conversation. There was something in his cadence, in the hand gestures she was only catching the tail end of. If she were going to question his sanity, she might as well also question her own, because she was actually entertaining what he was suggesting. 

“You said strangulation was an option?” she stops and turns to him, catching sight of just far ahead they’d gotten from the others. Probably for the best, given their current exchange. 

His grin widens. His eyes sparkle in the warmth of the setting sun. He’s beautiful enough to take her breath away if she’d let him. Literally, given what she’d just said to him. 

“Strangulation?” he parrots back. She’s taken him off guard, returning the favor of setting him off his kilter, “Can’t say that was the option I’d imagine you’d choose. It’s the least messy, of course, but you did strike me as someone who might prefer a classic knife.” 

“Or a goblin bow,” she says before she can even think of it. It rolls off the tongue easily, and the moment the words hang between them, they’re both smiling. She’s almost laughing, even.

Just hours before, she had almost met her very real and very timely death by the exact object of her joking. It hadn’t been a joke then – it had been a real fear, staring her right in the eyes as she had helplessly reached for daggers that she severely needed to grow more skilled with. 

And he had helped her. Saved her life, even. The exact opposite of the hypothetical they were posing to one another now. 

“Or… that,” he’s so close to being at a loss for words, she’s nearly proud of herself, “But this is all hypothetical, of course. I’m sure tomorrow we’ll find this Nettie and there will be no need for any gore.”

“Or we won’t,” she can hear the footsteps of the others now, not far off, but she’s in too deep to not finish Astarion at his own game, “And I’ll just have to sharpen my axe.” 

He takes a step closer to her, lips still curled. She’s glad she’s humored him – glad she can make him smile, make him laugh, even with such morbid conversations. They deserve a little bit of that joy, even if it comes by odd means. 

“By all means, sharpen your axe, dear,” his voice has dropped to a hush, and she feels a shiver run up her spine once she realizes just how close he is now. She hadn’t even noticed his hand creeping up between them until his fingertips were just barely brushing her throat. A hovering grasp, a mere breath away from wrapping around her, “And I’ll ready my hands.” 

Something inside of her sparks. Yearns, weeps, lashes out as his hand drops just before the other three join them. It wasn’t just his velvet voice or the brush of his breath against her cheek, it wasn’t just the alarming temperature of his hand and the way her body reacted to the mere thought of him putting it on her – it was a strange need for closeness. As if he had belonged there, pressed right against her, staring right into her eyes until she’d grown nervous that he could see straight to all the memories she couldn’t unlock quite yet. 

“Interrupting something?” Gale asks, oblivious, once the rest of the group has caught up to the pair. Astarion had moved away at just the right moment; just close enough for them to see they’d been talking about something, but not to catch that innocent movement of his hand that had sent Aruna into a tailspin. 

It had felt right. 

For a moment, his skin had been on hers, and everything fell into place. As if she didn’t have a brain riddled with holes. As if she hadn’t had to learn her name from some letter. As if she’d known Astarion for two hundred years, not a petty two days. The buzz of the frustration she has battled with since waking on that beach had simply quieted by her space being invaded by him.

She wants him close again. She wants to feel it again. 

Instead, she only lies to Gale, shakes her head and pretends like there had never been anything to interrupt. Acts as if her whole mind and soul are there with the rest of them, not lingering on that blip of a moment, stuck in a capsule of time in which Astarion had somehow made her feel whole again. She hadn’t even remembered a damn thing from her past – not a single vision, not a single thought of something as trivial as to what her favorite color might have been before the tadpole – but none of that mattered with the distraction of his presence. 

They carry on into camp. She knows she has an endless list of simple tasks to complete before she can fully rest for the night: she needs to speak with Lae’zel, she needs to help Gale ration out their supplies for dinner for the next few nights, she needs to update the map, she needs to curate a plan for the next day. 

She does none of the above. 

Some pathetic excuse is mumbled out between her lips in a voice she can’t even recognize as her own, claiming she’ll go gather some mushrooms or pick some berries for Gale to utilize for tonight’s feast. And no one stops her as she departs from camp, not even the pale elf who hovers by the fire Wyll begins to build, eyes locked on her in curiosity she doesn’t witness. 

He was right. Her heart is bleeding, a gaping wound in the center of it that gushes with every beating of her pulse. But for which it bleeds, she isn’t so sure.

Not quite the tieflings they met today and offered to help. Not quite the companions she’s offered to embark on personal journeys with. 

No, Aruna’s heart is bleeding, and she’s starting to suspect that it all begins and ends with the garnet eyes she feels on her long after she’s departed back into the trees.

—

“And I thought I was going to be the broody one of the camp.” 

Astarion’s voice should startle her, especially considering it comes from behind her in the woods rather than him approaching her from the rocks leading up to her perch, but it doesn’t. No surprise, no annoyance, no irritation – all she really feels is a deepening of a gaping hole inside of her that hasn’t subsided since her tadpole first connected with his. 

Upon her arrival back to camp, she’d handed over a pitiful handful of berries and a small bouquet of mushrooms to Gale, and had immediately retreated. She wasn’t in a talkative mood; she’d glanced around for somewhere to hideaway, and had landed on the small lookout atop a stone cliff not far from where Lae’zel had set up a tent. 

Most of her companions had set up tents. Where they’d gotten them from, she has no idea. But each one has found a corner to call their own in the camp, creating almost homey environments, except her. 

Her, and Astarion. 

She tilts her head ever so slightly as she shakes it, a small tsk falling from her lips, “Nope. I’m afraid that title has already been taken, my friend.” 

His footsteps are light as he approaches her side, hesitating before he awkwardly lowers himself onto the ground beside her. She’d offer up space on her rock, but her body was heavier than even the stone below her, and she couldn’t find it in herself to make any movement. 

They’re just out of sight from the rest of the camp. A thinner grouping of trees offers minimal coverage, a large boulder her current seat. She could easily walk out onto the stone ledge and expose herself, but she was already feeling a little too seen for the night. 

Has anyone ever told you that you have a bleeding heart?

She wonders if someone had, before all this mess, from a time she can’t recall. 

“Friend,”  he echoes her. His tone isn’t condescending, but rather curious, “I’m not sure I’ve ever-”

And then he cuts himself off, as though he’s caught himself in the act of opening up. He looks as if he hadn’t been in control for a few moments.

That draws in her curiosity well enough. She thought she had been burnt out for the day, beyond the capability to hold conversation, but he’s drawing her into it easily. Like a moth to his flame, like a moon stuck in his orbit. 

“Well? Don’t hold out on me now. I’m absolutely on the edge of my seat,” she only sinks into a more comfortable position to add humor to her words, “Let me guess. You never would have called someone such as myself a friend before all this. I understand if that’s the case-”

“I’ve never called someone a friend, period,” he interrupts. He says it all in one breath, and when she looks down at his face, nearly hidden by the shadows, it looks absolutely petrified. As if he can’t believe he’s just said that outloud. As if his mouth had moved without permission in order to spill the words out for her. 

The soft ‘oh’ that leaves her is completely involuntary. She isn’t sure how to respond to that – that level of vulnerability, the kind that is making him shrink under her gaze and curl his lips in disgust at himself. It’s not the kind of thing you’d reveal to a stranger. 

But Astarion feels like anything but a stranger, fight it as she might try. 

“If it would make you more comfortable,” she starts, and his head whips up to look at her in alarm, “I could always refer to you as an enemy instead.” 

When he laughs, it’s a symphony. She wishes she were lying, but the music of his joy fills her with an indescribable light, as though she might have just swallowed the sun whole. It warms every joint, every crevice, every shadow she has within her. For just a moment, all the monsters within her are quiet once again, content to sit and simply listen to him with a smile. 

It makes her want to run. It makes her breath catch, and a certain resentment begins to build against the way he can have this effect on her so effortlessly. It’s the same gut reaction as she’d had on the beach when Gale had also laughed for her, but more. 

It’s better than hearing Gale laugh. So, so much better.

Would it be better to not fight this wonderful blanket of deja vu? If she just loosened her fists, unclenched her jaw, she could let it anchor her easily in an almost comforting manner. Even after the echoes of his amusement had long faded, it whispers to her in the dark. 

She’s terrified of the way it feels; it feels as though she’s spent countless nights listening to that laugh. By a campfire, in dark tents, in shared beds. She’s heard it withheld with constraint, free without care, hushed for the sake of others – for a moment, she swears, she knows Astarion’s laugh like the back of her hand. And that, that indescribable feeling, is what stokes all her fear. 

“You know, perhaps you’re a bard,” he jokes once he’s calmed down, waving a hand through the air without purpose. 

“Ah,” her smile she hadn’t even noticed finally falters, remembering what had happened outside of the Grove. She needed to speak with Gale, as well. She’d just add it to the list. After another moment, she swears to herself that she’ll see to doing all that she must before retiring for the night, “So I see you’ve heard of my little identity crisis.” 

He tilts his head back to look at her fully, and she’s moments away from genuinely offering to share her boulder as a seat.

As if to stop herself, she makes another bad joke. Maybe he’ll laugh, and she’ll have no room to say something stupid, like offering him a seat next to her. Letting him close to her again. “Gale is a terrible keeper of secrets – noted.” 

There’s still ghosts of giggles on his lips as he sighs, pressing two hands into the dirt behind him and leaning his body into a reclined position. 

“Not entirely. Less that he’s terrible at keeping secrets, and more that I’m particularly skilled at learning them. Ask anyone the right questions, and their pretty tongues will always sing.” 

He rolls his ‘r’ when he says pretty, and that gaping hole nearly enlarges itself enough to swallow her up.  

This surely isn’t how their nights are supposed to go. They’re strangers. Surely, surely, they should be more guarded. Less jokes, more awkward silences. Less revealing of who they really are, and more false pretenses to cover up the truth.

The quiet is nice. It’s exactly what she had been seeking out when she’d sulked away from the others for a moment to herself, and Astarion neither adds nor takes away from the tranquility. He’s just there. If she tilts her head just right, leans back to an even more horizontal angle, he’d leave her line of sight entirely. 

She doesn’t. She keeps him there, safe in her peripherals, no longer trying to unknot all her emotions that draw her to him. She knows the letter still waits for her in her pack, and there are conversations to be had, responsibilities for her to shoulder. But for a brief moment, it’s just them – it’s just Aruna, and it’s just Astarion. Two unfortunate souls stuck with tadpoles in their brain, and now each other. No more, no less.

The moment passes eventually. 

“Do you truly believe I’m a bard?”

She isn’t sure why she asks that. But she’s handed over her trust to him freely thus far, a few more inches can’t hurt. 

“Hm?” he hums, rolling his head on his shoulders, a tension under the surface she only sees glimpses of in the moonlight, “Oh, who’s to say? I’m not all that well-versed in magic, being a-”

“Wait, don’t tell me,” she stops him quickly, scooting to the edge of her boulder, ankles now swinging dangerously close to him.

He peers up at her curiously, brow furrowed, “Don’t tell you… what? That I’m a-”

“Let me guess,” she nearly begs. 

The last three days have felt anything but normal. Tadpoles, mysterious letters, lost memories. Guessing someone’s class just felt normal. She needed normal, if only for a moment. 

“By all means,” he lifts a hand, flourishing it in invitation, “Be my guest.”

She presses her elbows into the tops of her thighs, studying him intensely as her fists squish her cheeks. And he lets her – he even tilts his head back to the sky, clearly putting on a show as her eyes scan him intensely. He’s used to it. He’s used to being the center of attention, of being something pretty to gawk at. He slips into the role far too easily to not be accustomed to such. 

The longer she looks at him, the more she notices. 

The surface level is what she drinks in first. Soft, white curls that nearly glow under streams from the moon. Lashes so long that they brush the porcelain skin of his under eyes. Perfectly pointed ears. And a perfectly sloped nose, albeit a little crooked if she were to scrutinize it too long from the side. Somewhere along the ridge, it’s almost as though he’s experienced a break that never quite healed right. Laugh lines that dig in deeply to his cheeks, but that almost fade from existence when his face goes as slack as it is currently. He’s not a young boy, not by any means, but there’s a certain youth to him in this state that could break her heart if she tried to contort it into a perfect metaphor. He’s a devastatingly beautiful stranger. His confidence is well earned.

But his confidence is only the surface of it all. Once she scratches past the way he doesn’t seem to falter under her careful observation, the layers practically reveal themselves. He appears relaxed, she’s been under the assumption that he’s been relaxed this entire conversation, but as she lets her eyes fall to his shoulders, she sees a tenseness that she hadn’t noticed before. One that can’t be brushed off by his current position or the weight his palms are balancing. His neck rolls with it, and she gets the smallest glimpse of his neck beneath the high-neck of his collared shirt – a scar. It flashes for only a second, giving her no time to know exactly the shape nor circumstance, but it’s there. An imperfection. A spanse of skin on him that holds a story she certainly won’t get out of him tonight, not when his shoulders still nearly tremble with that tenseness. 

He’s not a damsel in distress. She doesn’t know why the letter insists that she save him. 

“Well,” his voice finally startles her, breaking her from her trance, “Are you going to gawk all night at my ethereal beauty, or are you going to guess my class, young bard?” 

She’s decidedly not a bard. She knows it the moment he properly refers to her as such. Really, she has no idea what a bard is, but she almost wishes she was if only to let him be right. 

“I only know the few classes that Gale has mentioned in passing,” she admits into the night quietly, her voice a whisper. 

His eyes flutter open at that. Gorgeous, piercing red.

“And which ones are those?” 

She knows now that he’s wearing a mask. Maybe not a heavy one, maybe not a thick one, but he’s wearing one all the same. If she were more clever, she’d put on one herself. Simply for protection. A shield for whatever game the two of them were playing at. 

And yet, she can’t seem to find the mind to dig through her arsenal and mirror him in defenses. 

Instead, she prattles off the list Gale had rambled on about to her. Sorcerers, wizards, warlocks, druids, clerics. He’d mentioned paladins in passing, but never elaborated. Really, he hadn’t properly elaborated on any of them. He’d simply reassured her again that he had books for her to read back at camp. 

None of those books were in her hands, at the time being. All she had right now was Astarion. And surprisingly, he appeared to be feeling particularly helpful. 

“I see,” he nods, looking out over the camp. Gale begins cooking for all of them, Wyll rests by the fire, and the other two women of the camp are nowhere to be seen. In their tents, presumably, “Well, I can tell you that I am none of those. I don’t wield quite as much magic as those who are.”

“Quite as much?” she mimics back, a smile creeping up on her lips, “Are you insinuating that you do hold some?”

He chuckles in response, “Of course I do. You aren’t this beautiful and intriguing without having a little bit of magic, dear.” 

Something flashes in his eyes when he takes on that tone with her. A faint taunting, a gentle flirtation. But when she looks in his eyes, they’ve lost some of their glimmer. His words are playful enough, but the feeling doesn’t extend beyond his voice. 

She wants to poke and prod, pry till her fingers bleed and he’s cursing her name. Because she knows he would. If his little slip ups just in this conversation and his reactions to them are any indicator, Astarion hates nothing more than to offer up any vulnerability. And yet, for her, he already had. 

He’s admitted that he’s never had a friend before. It’s a small detail, petty in nature, but it is a stepping stone nonetheless. 

Tonight’s not the night. There will be other nights to spill the blood of honesty. 

“Oh, of course. My mistake,” she plays along, feeds into his act. The insatiable animal inside of her prefers his company, after all. His simple presence is a soothing balm she can’t quite place, and she’ll do anything to drag out their time, “I’ll keep that in mind during my studies with Gale.”

Speaking of the wizard, she catches the tail end of a cautionary glance from him, his head whipping away from the direction of herself and Astarion. Whatever he’s managed to scrounge for dinner is done, plated to the best of his abilities as Shadowheart crosses camp to join him.

They’ll have to join them soon enough. 

As soon as she realizes this, she has another realization, looking down to find Astarion watching a nearby tree with vexed interest, “We’re going to act like this conversation never happened come morning, aren’t we?” 

We’re going to pretend like you never opened up for a fraction of a second. Like I didn’t let my guard down as well. Like we didn’t sit in the forest like two well-acquainted souls, protected by the moonlight as we shared laughter and a kinship forgotten. 

We’re going to pretend like the thing ripping apart my chest doesn’t know you, somehow, someway. 

“I suppose so.” 

She hops down from the boulder, keeping her balance easily as she turns to offer him a hand. But he’s already standing back up, completely ignoring her offer as he brushes away the dirt on his legs and palms. 

She swallows hard, nods slowly. “That’s fair, I suppose.” 

It was nice while it lasted. 

Even after the dust has long since been discarded off his body, he makes no move to walk down the slope of the miniature cliff and rejoin the other companions. He’s waiting – waiting for her to take the lead. Just as the others had during their travels thus far. 

She’s selfish. So, so ardently selfish. But before they leave this space, before they abandon the serene moment they’d been granted, she has to learn one last thing about him. If nothing else, she’d like to say she knows the very basics of who he is. 

His name, the fact that he’s never been privy to friendship before, that he is a very guarded individual with a superior skill at hiding that mask, and whatever his class is. 

And that she has to ‘save him’. Apparently. Allegedly. 

“What is your class?” she asks, voice steady and head held high as she only looks at him. She doesn’t care if Gale spares them any more side glances. 

His head tilts curiously towards her, “What? Giving up so quickly?” 

“Well, if we’re to pretend this conversation never happened, then-”

“I’ll tell you what… bard,” he starts, but when she shakes her head, he’s quick to correct himself, “Or… not bard? Regardless. Once you’ve figured out your own class, see if you can then figure out my class, hm? Read those dreadful books our camp cook has assigned to you, and then get back to me.” 

She knows what that is.

It’s more than playful banter. More than him hiding away secrets.

They won’t be pretending that this night never happened – not even close.

taglist:

@emmaisgonnacry @writinginthetwilight @moonmunson

[princess-leaorgana]

What Tieflings Do Chpt. 11

Summary: After the takedown of The Absolute, Zelphie finds her city in need of more help and her home destroyed. She won't stop helping, but who can help her?

Rolan x Tav (Zelphie; ~30y.o AFAB, Sorcerer, Tiefling, not really described physically on purpose <3)

M/F

Author's Note: I fucking love tielfings. Along with this being a budding romance/smut/fluff/word vomit fanfiction, it's also my case study in DnD 5e tieflings, how they act, what sets them apart from humans and devils and elves. That being said, I have a few artistic liberties in here as well where I couldn't find a straight answer, if you'll amuse me.

Warnings - Spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3, For Rolan's outfit, inspiration was pulled from this piece by the fantastic @annanuna-arts

Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

Or Read all chapters on AO3

The Ironhand gnomes and tieflings were safe. At least the tieflings that could be saved were safe, Danis, Lakrissa, Cal and Lia. Walking through the Shadow-Cursed Lands of what was once Reithwin and seeing corpses of those fallen friends was hard. Although the cursed lands had so many horrors waiting in each shadow, Zelphie was terribly happy that at least a handful of good, innocent people were freed and now safe at Last Light Inn. Though, she was going to keep an eye on that Wulbren Bongle. Barcus was convinced he was a wonderful man, but something about him irked Zelphie. She’d get a claw on the issue one day, but rude gnomes weren’t a priority anymore. Her first priority after all that was a hot bath.

Downstairs to the tavern the two went and the little party was very jovial. Of course it was, tieflings were at the center of it. The tavern was crowded, as too much noise outside would easily attract unwanted pests.

‘Oy!! Soldier, come here and dance with me!’ Karlach could be heard from the floor. Alfira was playing her lute and singing an old battle song, the bard couldn’t be happier to have her friend back. Zelphie ran over to Karlach, who had not bathed or changed after the battle. She couldn’t be stopped. Dammon had given her infernal engine another tune up, and she could feel the pleasure of touch once more. Zelphie was a little confused on why Karlach didn’t have Dammon somewhere upstairs by now, but she looked like she was enjoying herself dancing. Zelphie walked over to her and Karlach grabbed her hands.

‘Karlach! You reek!’ Zelphie laughed, holding both of Karlach’s hands as the two hopped a jig. Karlach was not easy to keep up with. Karlach howled with laughter.

‘I sure do Zelph, reek like victory!’ She cried and Zelphie just laughed. What it would be like to be Karlach for one day. Zelphie knew there was so much pain in the woman’s soul, but all she did was exude joy and excitement. Zelphie couldn’t believe she was touching her friend. Zelphie had touched Karlach once on their first day together. It was an accident, she placed a hand on Karlach’s shoulder while talking, and she had gotten a little burnt. Luckily Zelphie was a tiefling, so the heat wouldn’t affect her like it would others, but here they were, holding hands. It was very, very nice. Now all Zelphie would need was a hug from Lae’zel and she’d have full marks.

After a little while of dancing with Karlach, Zelphie walked over to the bar to serve herself a drink. What else would she need at a party? If she was to keep up with Wyll and Karlach, she would need a little liquid luck in her system. She walked behind the bar to pour herself some…whatever could be found. She found a clean enough glass and began to fiddle about with the glasses of wine.

‘Nagging hero by day, bartender by evening?’ Someone called from the bar. Zelphie’s head rose and she smiled at Rolan. Her tail’s quick wag gave her away.

‘Ah, maybe, but you are going to have to prove to me that it’s even evening,’ she said and he laughed at her. ‘Maybe it’s the other way around,’ she continued and he sipped his drink, smiling. ‘Need a top off?’ She asked him and he placed his tankard on the bar. She smirked and looked at him. Yes, Rolan was in a much better mood than she’d ever seen him. She would do everything she could not to mess this up. ‘Ale? Is Master of the Weave, Rolan of Baldur’s Gate drinking ale?’ She asked and he grinned wide and laughed at her, his cheeks flushing. He looked good happy. She laughed with him.

‘It’s better than the food they have found here,’ he said which sent her into a fit of giggles.

‘Alright, let’s see how good my pour is,’ she said and walked to a tap with Rolan’s cup. ‘Hoppy?’ She asked, reading the label.

‘Whatever you suggest, my dear,’ he said and Zelphie almost fainted. All it took for Rolan to be nice to her was to save his life twice along with his brother and sister. Fair enough. Not as though she saved her fellow tieflings for Rolan’s affection. He’d never proven to be very nice, but when he was happy like this, he was a joy to be around. It just happened rarely. Or maybe Rolan was always a joy to be around and just couldn’t handle this very unusual stress. Cal and Lia seemed to love him enough.

‘Pale lager then, we’ll need to make sure you’re still standing for the fireworks show later,’ she told him and poured him a rather frothy pint. ‘Oh…’ she giggled and he laughed.

‘I suppose I’ll have to wait an hour for my drink to be ready,’ he said and she blushed a little.

‘Clearly, not a bartender in my spare time,’ she said and handed him his drink.

‘Do you find yourself having a lot of spare time?’ Rolan asked and Zelphie laughed. Before she could retort, Shadowheart showed back up, leaning over the counter.

‘Zelphie, Gale was asking for you,’ she said and Zelphie’s big grin faded as she looked at her friend. ‘Says he has something important to talk to you about,’ she said and patted her own chest. Zelphie frowned and sighed. Poor Gale. Gale had just been tasked to use his own life against the Absolute by his very own patron god Mystra. Mystra, the goddess of all magic, had condemned Gale to death, lest he condemn the rest of the world to enslavement and death themselves. He was putting on a brave face, but Zelphie knew better. Gale knew Zelphie knew better, and clearly felt compelled in that moment to talk to her. She nodded at Shadowheart.

‘I’ll go right up,’ she said and Shadowheart nodded and walked off. Zelphie turned to Rolan and the two had a little awkward smile. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go, but if you’re still down here, I’d love to try and top you off again,’ she said and Rolan smiled rigidly.

‘Ah, don’t fret about me. Go on, you’ve more important matters to attend to,’ he said and Zelphie gave him a guilty smile. She really would have loved chatting more with Rolan, but if Gale was asking for her help, she would be better served with her close friend. She turned to leave the bar and Rolan’s smile faded once she was gone.

‘Shit.’

————————

‘You absolute little SHIT.’

‘DADDY!!!!!!’

Ramazith’s Tower was never quiet for more than twenty minutes at a time. Two babies and a very rambunctious toddler ran the roost. Along with the tiny tieflings, there was usually quite a populace of young children being given magic lessons. Yes, Rolan was a teacher, believing very heavily in early intervention for budding wizards and young sorcerers. Never in a million years did anyone think Master Rolan, Mage of Baldur’s Gate, would spend most of his mornings with some special little ones, just learning how to control their powers or cast their first spells. Rolan loved it, as did Zelphie, and Cal was a wonderful assistant. Rolan and Cal bonded over the experience, Cal was ever eager to make his elder brother more gentle, and Rolan was just happy that Cal was.

Today had been rather quiet, until Meil pissed off his Uncle Astarion. Meil was shrieking with faux fright, running down the hallway as the vampire chased after him. Normally, the instinct would be to genuinely run in terror as a vampire chased you, but Meil knew this vampire was all bark, no bite. At least, he wouldn’t be bitten. Astarion had a taste of karma that afternoon. He might have been teaching the three year old how to lock pick. He had planned on doing it to annoy everyone else in the tower, though it blew up in his face. Meil, only three, picked up lock picking with his grubby tiny hands and gotten himself into his uncle’s sewing box. Thread and needles all over the carpet of Astarion and Cal’s bedroom. So, naturally, Astarion took to swearing at and chasing the toddler. He knew he could get away with his crime. Why?

‘Daddy!!’ He screamed, running with his little tail slashing behind him as he ran, his feet almost crossed as they thud across the hallway. Astarion’s light footsteps very close behind him. He took off to his father’s office where he would find his number one advocate, Rolan. Rolan was already upright in his chair, hearing his son screeching like a banshee. Cal was just behind Rolan, looking out a window and turned when the door opened. Meil ran quickly under his father’s desk, seeking safety in his lap.

‘Well well well, I didn’t know you were such a fan,’ Rolan teased, pulling the heavy toddler up into his lap with a grunt. Astarion appeared at the door with a tin lid in his hand, pointing it at Meil.

‘Rolan, I have to kill him this time,’ Astarion said, basically joking, but wishing he didn’t need to be. Rolan raised an eyebrow at Astarion and looked down at Meil, who was pouting up at his father. ‘You must let me throw him off the balcony, a quick death, I promise,’ he continued.

‘Now, why on Toril would I allow that?’ He asked and leaned down, kissing his son’s forehead.

‘Daddy, bubble!’ Meil ordered, raising his hands and Rolan smiled at him, lifting his hand, procuring a tiny burst of bubbles from his fingertips. Meil laughed loudly and reached up for a bubble.

‘What did he do?’ Rolan asked Astarion, who held out his sewing kit tin.

‘He got into my nightstand and threw my sewing kit around, and I’ll be stepping on needles for days,’ he said and Cal walked over to him, placing an arm on the elf’s shoulder.

‘And who taught him to sneak around and lock pick, my prince?’ Cal asked and Rolan smirked. Astarion grimaced at his beloved.

‘That’s absolutely not fair! He’s supposed to be on my side,’ he said and bobbed his head, as if that was the whole reason Astarion taught a toddler how to lockpick and sneak about. No it was because as far as Astarion had grown, he still enjoyed chaos and havoc. It was incredibly impressive how well he was able to teach the tot.

‘Well, maybe you should have had an open and honest conversation with the baby before assuming an alliance,’ Cal teased and Astarion frowned and looked at Meil, who was looking right back at the vampire, smiling.

‘You are supposed to be on my side, you imp,’ he said and Meil’s smile grew and he waved at Astarion.

‘Unka Star,’ he said and Astarion stared at the little one and frowned. Cal watched Astarion carefully. The little one barred his baby fangs at Astarion and hissed, their little greeting to each other. Astarion’s frown hardened.

‘Stop it, don’t make me like you,’ he pointed at the baby who just giggled at him and Astarion sighed, in defeat. Cal chuckled and kissed Astarion’s cheek.

‘Come to the market with me and Ayla, I’ll replace what Meil broke,’ Cal told Astarion, who was still locked eyes with the toddler.

‘Fine, but I swear Rolan if he does that again-‘

‘I’ll find him at the bottom of the Chionthar, yes yes, go go now,’ Rolan said and waved his hand for the couple to leave. Cal took Astarion’s hand and pulled him away, the whole thing being very silly. Rolan looked down at his son once they were alone and Meil looked up at him. ‘Shall we check in on your mother and sister then, hm?’ He asked and Meil nodded and his tail thumped.

‘Mumma Dayryn,’ he said happily. Meil was the oldest child of what was to be three little tiefling babies. Born when Meil was about a year and a half old was Dayryn, a sweet little girl named after a grandmother she would never know. Zelphie was with child once more and this pregnancy was proving to be quite taxing on her. She spent most of her days in the tower, just tending to her children and her little niece. One year old Ayla was adopted, a little eleven baby found by a matron of a hostel after the illithid war. Cal and Astarion had both been dancing around the topic of a commitment of having a child. Rolan visited the hostel once as there was a very gifted little one there, eager for lessons with the Mage of Baldur’s Gate. When he laid eyes on little Ayla, with curly white hair and hazel eyes, he had no choice but to inform Astarion and Cal who fell so hard for the little one. She was loved by the couple, and she might have been more spoiled than Meil, who was incredibly spoiled. Rolan stood up, Meil on his hip to walk to the children’s nursery. For now, all three children slept in the same room. Once Meil was more independent, he would take over his aunt’s room. For now, Rolan was being stubborn over the fact that Lia was gone. He kept telling Zelphie he would make a new room for Meil, for when Lia would come back and visit.

Lia had become interested in magic, though she was fierce with her swords and bow like Cal. Rolan was too busy to teach her so she had secretly written to Gale Dekarios, who had quickly accepted her as his apprentice. Rolan missed his sister and very rarely allowed for much conversation about her to happen around the tower. Zelphie hated that he was so upset, and he would agree that he also hated how upset it made him that she was gone. She was happy and ambitious and living in an affluent city with a rich, powerful and most importantly, kind man to charge her. Lia couldn’t have been luckier, but Rolan missed his family. Gale wouldn’t be moved to stay at Baldur’s Gate. Wizards didn’t share towers.

Rolan walked into the nursery, placing Meil down as he did and smiled to see Zelphie reading a storybook to Dayryn, who had one eye open, enraptured in the story, but sleep was taking over. Zelphie looked up at Rolan and Meil ran over to his mother and stood at her knees, his tail whipping happily.

‘Mumma!!’ He squealed and Zelphie reached over and placed her hand on his head to calm him down. She was trying to get the baby to sleep.

‘Shhhh….’ She said and eyed Rolan. He looked fantastic today, gold and blue skirts and a matching blue jacket made of chiffon over his bare skin, leaving that bare chest and torso open for the world to see. He had not become more egotistical, but he was so much more confident than when they first met. He looked gorgeous, accepting his skin, his infernal traits. His hair was long and swept back, a notable amount of white hairs sprouting from his crown. Each one could be blamed on Meil. She wished she had aged as beautifully as he had in four years. Meil whined at his mother. ‘Rolan, why did you bring him in here? Dayryn needs her nap,’ she told him and Rolan walked over to Meil and picked him up. The toddler whined again.

‘I am not uncle Cal, you can’t just whine and get what you’d like,’ he told the little one who knew better than that. Zelphie laughed at her husband.

‘He thinks that about me and you too, Day,’ she told the baby who stared lazily up at her mother. Dayryn had a light brown shade of hair, like her father. Rolan was very proud of that, both of his children had his eye color as well. So far, Meil was looking a little more like his mother, but his father’s nose was reflected on that little face. Rolan looked down at his wife and gave her a quick smirk. As much as she had been eyeing him, he was eyeing her. She had stopped being terribly self conscious of her pregnant body. Apparently, if practice could be considered intent, it appeared that Rolan liked his wife pregnant. He didn’t enjoy how hard this pregnancy was, but looking at her with a round face and a big belly stirred a special heat in his core. Even after birth, when her belly was still swollen and her body was recuperating, he still stared at her. The more comfortable she was with her body, the happier she was and it showed. She wore finer clothing, attempted to go out more when she physically could. Rolan would drop anything if she was inclined to go out to the city. To make her happy, of course, but also to show her off. He would still show her off, yes, Zelphie was his partner. She chose him. The tower, his store, his occupation were all wonderful, but the greatest thing in his life would always be his family. Zelphie was his family.

‘How are you feeling today?’ He asked Zelphie, who smiled.

‘Fantastic, mainly because I was allowed my favorite treat this morning,’ she said and Meil snickered in Rolan’s arms.

‘Mama gimmie honey,’ he told her father and Rolan smiled at his son.

‘I’m glad our merchants in The Wide finally found that very expensive, outsourced honey from Reithwin you have been wanting to try…’ he said and glanced at his wife. That was right, in three short years, what was once the Shadow Cursed lands was a thriving community under the care of the ex-Arch Druid, Halsin. So thriving, in fact, they were outsourcing food, leather and honey. Honey, being Halsin’s favorite treat in the world, Zelphie knew it would be perfect. And it had been. She had planned baking with it later that day. ‘Did it come with a love letter?’ He asked her and Zelphie’s mouth opened in shock.

‘Rolan!’ She squeaked and stood up. Rolan laughed and placed Meil down once more so he could take Dayryn from her. ‘It did come with a love letter, for you,’ she teased and Rolan laughed again walking over to the crib to place the now sleeping Dayryn down for her nap. Every person living in the tower had a little crush on the wood elf Halsin, Rolan included. Zelphie stretched her back out and sighed. ‘I’m jealous of Cal and Astarion,’ she said and walked over to the balcony, Meil on her heels. Lajy ran into the room from the balcony, meowing loudly. The gray kitty jumped into the crib to snuggle his new favorite person.

‘We can go out once Day wakes up, I have nothing else today,’ Rolan said, his eyes on the toddler who ran right out to the balcony.

‘Oh! That reminds me! You got a letter from the Palace,’ she said and pointed at a thick letter on a table in the nursery. ‘Lajy brought it in, I assume it’s important,’ she said and bent down to pick up Meil so he could look over the balcony with her. Rolan walked over to the letter and picked it up. Meil looked down at the city below him and he lifted his hands. He made a little lightning sound with his mouth and sparks flew from his fingers. They weren’t very much of anything, but at three years old and conjuring magic on purpose was impressive. ‘Oh, you scary mage,’ she said and Meil cackled.

‘Mage,’ he said and thrust his hand, moving a small burst of air down at the ground, a little wind.

‘You need to protect the people down there, Meil. Don’t give them rain clouds,’ she told him and gave his cheek a kiss. He looked at her.

‘People down there?’ He asked and Zelphie smiled and nodded at her son.

‘Yes, down in Baldur’s Gate. Mommy and daddy protect them, and you will too, one day,’ she said and Meil smiled.

‘Yeah, those people,’ he said and looked down at the city. He certainly couldn’t see any people from this height, but he would imagine all the people he would see if they went to the shop or went into the city.

‘Would you like to go down there today? When Dayryn wakes up, my love?’ She asked and Meil put his hand in his mouth, still inspecting the scenery beyond the balcony. It was a lot for a toddler to take in and understand. ‘You love seeing all the people, don’t you?’ She asked and Meil blew a little kiss out to the city and Zelphie laughed.

‘Darling!’

Zelphie spun around quickly, Meil gasping at the very sudden movement. Rolan sounded panicked. She walked back into the nursery. Rolan was staring at the letter from the Ducal Palace, his hand over his mouth.

‘Heavens, what could have happened?’ She asked. The way he had shouted, and the exasperation on his face, but his tail was whipping behind him. Zelphie placed Meil down. Rolan shook his head and looked up at her.

‘Archmage,’ he whispered and Zelphie stared at him, waiting for him to finish that thought.

‘Archmage who?’ She asked him, hoping Gale was alright. Did Elminster write to Rolan? What was happening?

‘Me,’ he said softly and Zelphie’s face slowly morphed. Her eyes grew and he handed her the letter. From the Council of Three, for his help against the powers of evil, for his help with the community since the war with the Netherbrain, for his help with the community after and his current help with the orphans of Baldur’s Gate, he was declared Archmage of Baldur’s Gate. Zelphie’s eyes read the letter over and over. This was an invitation for a coronation, along with a position with the Council of Three. Archmage Rolan of Baldur’s Gate. The legitimacy that came along with the prestige of this. Zelphie felt a stinging in her eyes. She looked at Rolan, who was staring at her. She couldn’t speak, but luckily her tail gave her away. It swooshed with a flourish behind her, whipping so happily. She sobbed and brought a hand to her mouth, reaching out for Rolan.

‘Oh Ro,’ she whispered as she pulled him in for a hug. He held her tight and she kissed his cheek and jaw.

‘Please tell me you are happy crying,’ he said softly and she laughed.

‘Idiot,’ she said and let him go just enough to kiss his lips. He tightened his hold on her. She could feel his excitement. He kissed her with strength, but also a timidness that he used to have when they were first seeing each other.

‘Daddy no!’ Meil cried and Zelphie laughed as she continued to kiss her husband. He was not letting her go. That made her laugh more. Rolan placed his hands on his wife’s cheeks to hold her. This also hid the nature of the kiss from the little one. He was deepening it, even though Zelphie was giggling. A little tongue biting never hurt him. Meil stomped his foot and tugged on his father’s skirt.

‘Meil!’ Zelphie cried, still laughing and crying. Meil pouted up at his mother. ‘Do you need a kiss, too?’ She asked and Rolan looked down at the little one and picked him up. ‘Daddy has a new job, give daddy a kiss,’ she said and Meil puckered up and kissed his father, his little hands on his father’s cheeks. Rolan chuckled, kissing his son and Meil smacked their lips dramatically and giggled. ‘Tell him you're proud of him,’ Zelphie continued as she wiped her eyes and Meil smiled.

‘Good job, daddy,’ he said and reached up to pat Rolan’s forehead. Rolan chuckled.

‘Thank you my little acorn,’ he said and Meil grinned, his tail whipping. Rolan looked at Zelphie, who shook her head at him.

‘I’m so proud of you Rolan, this is rightfully earned,’ she said and looked back down at the letter. She laughed a little and Rolan watched her closely. He was very happy. Beyond being chosen by Mystra herself, being anointed an Archmage by the leaders of a city was the highest honor. Rolan was still very young for an appointment such as this, but if Baldur’s Gate needed an archmage, no one else was fit for the position.

‘This should surely not be going to me,’ he told her and Zelphie immediately frowned and looked back up at Rolan. ‘No, this is not rightfully earned,’ he said, suddenly getting frustrated.

‘Who in the nine hells could possibly deserve this more than you?’ She asked him, completely taken aback by his sudden change in attitude.

‘You!’ He said, as if shocked she didn’t know that. Zelphie’s face scrunched into a scowl. It was a compliment, but how dare he try to compare the wizard he was to her? Archmages were very rarely sorcerers. She absolutely had no special talents to earn her such a title and since the ending of the Illithid Empire on Faerun, she had been home, tending to her family.

‘Me? Oh Rolan, don’t you dare,’ she scolded him and shook her head.

‘You are the reason any of us are alive, Zelphie. I cannot take that honor,’ he said and she huffed.

‘You are such an idiot,’ she said, waving her hands in the air and walking away from him to check if Dayryn. Rolan placed Meil down on the floor and walked over to her.

‘I mean it Zelphie, this an offense to you,’ he said, his voice irritated, but hushed around his sleeping daughter. Zelphie gave him another scowl and shooed him away so they could speak outside. He huffed at her and walked out of the nursery with her, Meil staying inside with Lajy and Dayryn. ‘I’m not going to accept this, if they can’t recognize all that you have done for this city-‘ he continued, and Zelphie interrupted him, pointing at him.

‘I absolutely will not hear you talking about the one thing I’ve ever done and I only did because of something I no longer have. Rolan! Every single thing you have and have done for this city has been done by you and you alone. The hospital, the constant funds going to those who need it from your account at the Counting House, the school. I mean, Rolan, you have already been visited by the Council hundreds of times for advice and help. All while being a very stand-up citizen and role-model for the city’s people. How could you possibly consider what I did to what you are still doing? Rolan…’ she rambled fiercely and she meant it. Yes, she was up on the top of the Netherbrain. Yes, she was one of the many to give the final blow to that monstrosity. But if Rolan had been tadpoled, he would have been right there with her. She knew he would have joined their camp, Cal was right, Rolan was much too stubborn to die. ‘Every single talent I have was given to me on the day I was born besides those few tricks you have miraculously managed to teach me,’ she said and placed her hand on his chest. Rolan was just staring at her. He wasn’t a humble specimen, but he was defensive of his family.

‘It’s still offensive to you, Zelphie,’ he insisted and she smirked.

‘Stop telling me what offends me, Rolan,’ she told him and he made a small sound, almost like a laugh. ‘If you don’t accept this,’ she said, handing him the letter again and he took it slowly. ‘I’m packing up the kids and I’m moving in with Gale and Lia,’ she said and Rolan instantly frowned.

‘That’s not even close to being funny,’ he said and sighed, but Zelphie was smirking.

‘I am so proud of you,’ she told him and leaned up to kiss him sweetly. He kissed her back, placing a hand on her lower back and looking at the letter. ‘This calls for a little celebration, I’m going to fetch you a bottle of rum,’ she said and his eyes opened wide and he looked down at her. She giggled up at him. Rolan didn’t drink when Zelphie was pregnant. He felt guilty that she couldn’t, or wouldn’t. ‘Yes, let us get you drunk in the early afternoon, out on the balcony, take a nap in the sun,’ she said and pulled on his hand.

‘A normal person would be very suspicious of this idea,’ he grinned, following her as she led him across the hall to their bedroom.

‘Well, good thing you trust your loving wife so very much,’ she said and pulled him inside. She walked over to a liquor cabinet on the eastern wall of the bedroom. She unlocked the hatch and glanced back at Rolan, who was in front of their bed, staring at the letter. She smiled and grabbed a glass, filling it with a dark rum. She held the glass tight in her hand, the glass frosting with a little ice spell. Maybe in another life she would have made a good bartender. She poured herself a little sparkling water and walked over to Rolan, handing him his drink. He smirked down at her, leaving the letter on the bed and kissed her temple.

‘Thank you,’ he said and she shook her head and lifted her glass of fizzing water.

‘To you, my love, the most powerful wizard Baldur’s Gate may yet ever see,’ she said and he chuckled a little and looked down at the ground.

‘Oh I do like the sound of that,’ he said and Zelphie sipped her drink. Rolan followed her and gave a satisfied sigh as the hit of alcohol burned the back of his throat a little. He looked at his glass and back to her. ‘I do still feel guilty.’

‘You will get over it, I promise. You are much more suited to the role, and I’m very happy supporting you. And one day, I’ll be able to teach Meil how to be as humble as you and maybe he will be the next master of the tower, hm?’ She said and Rolan chuckled. He had no plans to not bestow Ramazith’s Tower to one of his children, whoever proved to be the most responsible of the three. Maybe it was nepotism, but a child that grew up in a wizard’s tower would have every advantage to become a powerful mage. He might linger the possibility of giving his home to another person in years to come, but he doubted he would ever be that selfless. He loved his family too much. That was a dangerous thought.

‘I don’t know about teaching our little demon how to use those cannons,’ he said and Zelphie cackled. ‘Maybe Dayryn will be more eloquent,’ he said and Zelphie nudged him.

‘He’ll grow out of it, I promise.’ She took his hand and walked out to the balcony with him. She surely couldn’t promise that, but that was years to come. Now was time to celebrate. Rolan was happiest with the sun on his skin and nothing to do. He was a busy man and for the past four years, he had been nonstop. He loved his family, but every person needed a moment alone in silence to just relax. Rolan settled down on a large lounge chair and Zelphie settled down next to him. Rolan removed his jacket and laid back.

‘Oh now this is wonderful, thank you, my darling,’ he said and Zelphie scooted closer to him.

‘I love this outfit on you, the colors are so beautiful against your skin,’ she said softly, playing with the intricate stitching on his waistline. Rolan took another sip of his drink and sighed happily.

‘The skirt will look better over your head,’ he said playfully and Zelphie laughed.

‘Are you flirting with me or threatening me?’ She asked and kissed down his jaw. His arm snaked around her shoulders to hold her close.

‘When, precisely, was the last time I threatened you, my darling?’ He asked in a low voice and Zelphie smiled. She kissed the side of his face and met his lips. She tasted the rum on his lips and tongue and kissed him hungrily. Rolan sighed happily against her lips. Zelphie’s hand traveled from his waist down to rub his cock over the blue and yellow cotton. Rolan’s hand on her back lifted and he silently cast a locking spell on their balcony door. It might have been a little irresponsible, leaving Meil to his own devices. But it wasn’t as if Zelphie couldn’t make quick work of Rolan. She usually did. Rolan’s hand returned to her back. She could have just sat here all afternoon, kissing him. She would have if that’s what he had wanted, but clearly, he had something more specific in mind while he sipped his rum in the summer sun.

Zelphie sighed against his lips, rubbing his growing erection until she was happy with the hardness. She sat up and smiled at him, he was looking at her lips through hooded lids.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you more, I cannot live without you,’ Rolan whispered.

Only a week to prepare for the coronation. Not that it was very much, a meeting of grand patriars and honored guests in the hall of Wyrm’s Rock. Rolan was on edge. All he had to say was ‘I swear’ a few times to Duke Ulder Ravengard and there would be a celebration and he could head right back home. Rolan was still nervous about the whole thing. He was looking for any excuse to cancel, to reschedule, until an RSVP came back from his sister and Gale. They would be in attendance. Rolan would do it to see Lia again. Though, his nerves heightened when it was clear Zelphie wasn’t feeling very well that morning. The normal nausea and dizziness aside, she had a little fever, but was being ridiculously stubborn about it. The truth was, as nervous as Rolan was, Zelphie’s brain was buzzing with nerves and guilt as well. He could not cancel this event! Not because she had a little fever. She would be fine, she had survived so much more.

As Rolan was supposed to be getting ready, he was fussing over Zelphie. She was attempting to get ready, needing little breaks. Every ten minutes, he had a quill in his hand to cancel, and when he said it, Zelphie shrieked at him. She threatened to have Astarion come into the room to help her and that seemed to shut Rolan up. It didn’t stop his worrying, however. He just did not want Astarion in his bedroom. Astarion and Cal were in charge of the children. He knew she was just being playful, but he couldn’t have it.

The family made it to Wyrm’s Rock, Zelphie’s face in a handkerchief for most of the way up. It was only a cold, she would be fine, but Rolan kept her close. Once inside, Rolan ignored greetings and quick congratulations, insisting that Zelphie gets a seat, quickly and right in his view for the event. Wyll was receptive the the request, and insisted Zelphie sat in his chair for the ceremony, promising Rolan he was stay right by her. Zelphie huffed, but Rolan was satisfied with this solution, thanking Wyll happily.

‘Well, as long as Rolan now has everything he wants,’ Astarion snickered, positioning little Ayla on his hip better. Zelphie bent down with a grunt to kiss Meil’s forehead.

‘Behave,’ she told him, his cheeks in her hands, so he would make eye contact with her. He nodded his head and she smiled. She stood back up and kissed Dayryn’s cheek. Rolan took his wife’s hand to walk behind Wyll, Ulder and Florrick, but there was a little sound and Meil spoke.

‘Daddy.’ Rolan looked down at his son, who was pouting. He had stomped his foot in protest of being left without a kiss from his father. Rolan sighed and knelt down.

‘No one minute after your mother tells you to behave, you act up,’ he said and took his son’s chin in his hand. ‘Behave, Meil,’ he said and the little one’s golden eye squinted for a moment, he was outweighing his options.

‘Okay,’ he said simply and Rolan kissed his son’s cheek.

‘Be good for Uncle Cal, alright? You’ll see Auntie Lia later, but only if you are good,’ he said and Meil’s tail wagged happily. Rolan stood back up, following the Dukes of Baldur’s Gate. Wyll walked Zelphie to his chair, she was perched on a large throne chair to the left of Duke Ulder Ravengard, who sat in the middle. Wyll stood to the side of Zelphie, happy to help, always ready to protect. Zelphie sneezed and sighed.

‘Darling, cast silence on me,’ she said, sounding very tired. Rolan’s brow creased and shook his head. He kissed her forehead.

‘Absolutely not,’ he said and walked to the end of the small set of steps for the beginning of the ceremony with Ulder. Zelphie watched him and glanced around the large hall. Two sets of paired seating, full of distinguished patriars and guests of the ceremony sat, chatting a little. Astarion, Cal, Ayla, Meil and Dayryn were very close to the altar and Zelphie gave a little wave to her son. He waved back with a giggle and Zelphie placed a finger over her mouth. Meil clapped a hand over his and Cal placed a hand on the tot’s head. Zelphie heard a voice call for Meil in a whisper. Next to Astarion was Lia and Gale. They looked wonderful. Zelphie’s face softened, but her eyes widened.

‘Rolan,’ Zelphie whispered to Rolan, who was standing straight, looking up. He looked down at her and she pointed at Lia and Gale. Rolan looked over and his whole body changed. He froze, but he relaxed, seeing his sister. Lia had Meil in her arms and Rolan was so happy to see his sister, Zelphie was sure that he didn’t even notice Gale’s arm around her shoulders as the two distracted the toddler to keep him quiet and behaved. Meil seemed very happy to sit in his aunt’s lap, and Rolan’s tail swishing gently under his robes made Zelphie smile.

‘That is a big happy family,’ Wyll whispered to Zelphie and she looked up at him with a grin.

‘It is, and I’m so terribly lucky,’ she said and Wyll grinned at her. She was going to ask Wyll about himself, but Wyll’s father began the ceremony, and all chatter in the hall quickly dissipated.

Zelphie thought Rolan did fantastic, his deep voice confirming each vow he would swear, to claim loyalty to Baldur’s Gate and its people. Zelphie had a few sneezes to hold in, keeping her handkerchief over her nose. Rolan wasn’t looking at her. He looked incredibly focused, which meant he was deadly nervous. She wished she could stand by him and hold his hand, but that couldn’t be done. It would be a short, official swearing an oath, and Rolan would be free from the eyes of the city. Once all was said and done, Wyll helped Zelphie stand and Rolan was given an applause. The applause was interrupted by Meil, who was given the freedom to run up to his father. The witnesses laughed and aww’d at the little one and Rolan scooped the tot up with his new found adrenaline. Meil squealed with joy and hugged his father. Rolan held him close and the ceremony had ended. The event was so short, Zelphie felt ridiculous sitting down for it. She walked over to Rolan and kissed his cheek.

‘My lord,’ she whispered to him and Rolan’s eyes narrowed playfully.

‘Don’t you dare,’ he whispered back. Zelphie giggled and took Meil from him so he could greet his sister. Their family made their way forward, Lia in front and she unceremoniously hugged Rolan tight. He laughed and hugged her back. ‘Oh how I missed you,’ he muttered into her hair.

‘Shut up,’ she said and he laughed again. Zelphie felt her nose and eyes sting and she glanced up at Gale, who was holding back. He was watching Lia and Rolan with such warmth in his brown eyes. He was getting older. They all were, but it had been a long time since she had seen her friend. Vigilant as ever, Gale glanced down at Zelphie and his smile grew.

‘Hello you,’ he said fondly and Zelphie’s smile only grew. Meil made a little whine.

‘No face,’ he said and pointed up at Gale. Zelphie sighed and shook her head.

‘Mister Dekarios has a beard, my love,’ she told him and took his hand. ‘And pointing at people is very rude,’ she scolded him gently and Meil put his hand in his mouth, his eyes locked with Gale’s.

‘You look just like your mother, little one,’ Gale said and Meil giggled. Gale looked at Zelphie who was smiling at him. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, but it is a bit incanny,’ he said and Zelphie looked down at Meil, who was happy with the compliment.

‘Don’t tell his father, Rolan is very proud of the fact that Meil and Dayryn have his eyes,’ she said and Gale smiled. ‘How are you? You look wonderful, and I cannot thank you enough for coming,’ she told Gale who shook his head.

‘It is my honor, to witness a man so worthy as Rolan become Archmage of Baldur’s Gate, it’s a historical event,’ he said and smiled and straightened his back as Rolan caught his look. ‘Rolan, I don’t think I’ve ever been more envious,’ he said and held his hand out for a proper congratulations. Rolan smiled and took his hand, giving it a firm grip.

‘You have no idea what your words mean to me, Gale. And your presence,’ he said and Gale shook his head.

‘My presence to you is nothing compared to some,’ he said and looked at Lia, who smiled right back at Gale. ‘I’d wager,’ he said and Lia walked over to him.

‘He’s right, Lia, Rolan would have canceled today, but when he found out you would be able to come-‘ Zelphie was interrupted by her own sneeze, covering her mouth.

‘Bessu,’ Meil said and Rolan looked down at her.

‘Mmm but we are not staying for a celebration, Zelphie shouldn’t have come, she’s very unwell, so we will be going right back to the Tower, please, come back with us,’ Rolan said Lia looked up at Gale. The human smiled down at her as she placed her hand on his arm, silently asking if that was alright. Of course it was, Gale was very happy to spend time with Lia’s family. Rolan’s brows did stitch together a little at the touch. Zelphie noticed right away, as she was expecting him to react like that. Her tail coiled around Rolan’s. That only made Rolan more tense.

‘Of course, how could I resist?’ Gale asked happily and looked at Rolan.

Rolan attempted his best face during their little dinner back at the Tower, very tense about the very obvious matter of his sister’s relationship with Gale. He had more of an issue with Cal’s relationship with Astarion, but Cal put up with his intolerance and close mindedness. Cal was a patient saint. Lia was not. Lia was more fiery than Rolan himself, and the last thing he wanted was to drive his sister further from him. He had no issues with Gale, Gale was a good friend, a colleague, a peer. But this would mean Lia would be far from him. As an apprentice only, she might come back home in a few months, but it was clear that her tutoring had formed a stronger bond between the two. Zelphie went to bed very early, as she genuinely could no longer stay up, and without her next to Rolan, he was truly struggling enjoying his own party. He feigned his own sickness and followed Zelphie shortly after kissing his little ones goodnight as his brother and sister stayed up with Astarion and Gale.

Inside of his bedroom, Zelphie was still getting ready for sleep. She was washing her face as Rolan entered. She rubbed her face dry with a towel and made eye contact with him. What the hell was he doing in here?

‘Rolan, I told you I am fine,’ she told him and he shook his head and chewed on his bottom lip.

‘Damnation, and on top of all of this, my pregnant wife is sick,’ he said and sighed and Zelphie frowned. After a moment of looking at him standing there, tense, the tip of his tail wagging furiously. She opened her mouth in realization. This was more than upset about her being ill. Much more than that. She walked over to him. He looked like he was in pain and Zelphie knew what was about to happen. Before Rolan began to erupt into tears and sobs, Zelphie had her arms around him in a tight hug.

‘Oh Rolan,’ she said and hushed him softly as the poor man practically collapsed on her.

‘What did I do wrong?’ He sobbed into his wife’s hair. Zelphie closed her eyes, her hands rubbing his back. She knew what this was, it was about Lia.

‘You did nothing wrong at all, my darling, come now. You have to know that adult relationships between siblings isn’t normally like this. It’s perfectly healthy and normal that Lia is on her own. You did nothing wrong,’ she told him and he shook his head. His grip on her was tightening and she sighed. ‘Oh Rolan, I cannot believe you think you could have done something wrong,’ she continued to rub his back and he shook his head.

‘Cal is still here!’ He exclaimed and Zelphie laughed at him.

‘Because Astarion is a freeloader!’ She said playfully. Astarion wasn’t a freeloader, of course, but he wasn’t Gale. Gale was an established, independent man and had been for a long time. Astarion had been established, two hundred years ago, before he was kidnapped and forced to live in the basement of a palace he had no right to. He was lucky to have the tower doors open to him, a sacrifice Rolan made to keep Cal around. But Cal had almost been lost as Lia was. If Rolan didn’t accept Astarion three years ago, Cal wouldn’t be living in the tower. It was very different. ‘And Cal and Lia are complete opposites, Rolan. Whereas you and Lia are the same person,’ she told him and let him lose a little so she could look at him. ‘Both headstrong and ambitious and stubborn. Could I ask you a question and you need to answer it honestly, for yourself?’ She asked him and held his face in her hands. He was a sobbing mess.

‘Yes,’ he got out and tried to regulate his breathing.

‘If I asked you three years ago to leave Baldur’s Gate with me, would you have?’ She asked and he sniffed and stared at her. ‘Leave the tower to your siblings and run away with me, would you have?’ His brow furrowed and he stood up straight. He wiped his face of tears and shook his head.

‘What…what are you talking about?’ He asked her and she sighed.

‘Say I got…very ill, or some such thing, and only a cleric in...Neverwinter could cure me. Would you leave this tower with me to go to Neverwinter, leaving your siblings and the tower behind?’ She asked and his face twisted in confusion.

‘Of course I would,’ he said simply, almost offended.

‘And does that mean you love Cal and Lia less?’ She asked and he looked away from her for a moment. She smirked at him. ‘Lia’s a big girl now Rolan,’ she continued with her point and Rolan closed his eyes. ‘She loves you so much, she just also has other things she wishes to do. In addition to, not instead of, alright?’ She asked softly. ‘And please don’t tell me you aren’t happy that she might find a happy ending with Gale Dekarios,’ she told him and he sighed. ‘The very sweet, thoughtful, babbling, devoted…rich Gale Dekarios,’ she said and Rolan smirked a little. She leaned up and kissed his cheek and he gave a hard exhale from his nose. He seemed calm for now.

‘Your comparison earlier was unfair,’ he said and walked to his wardrobe to prepare himself for bed. Zelphie walked to the bed and pulled out oil for her horns.

‘Oh yes? How so?’ She asked as she climbed into the bed. Rolan removed his heavy robes, hanging them back up neatly.

‘You compared yourself to Gale Dekarios. Extraordinary magical talents, Chosen of Mystra, on track to regain his title as Arch-Mage, sure. But Zelphie,’ he said and turned to look at her. ‘You are worth ten of him,’ he said and began to shake his head. ‘Of course I would abandon anything for you, for Gale? I wouldn’t abandon a thought,’ he said and Zelphie grabbed his pillow from his side of the bed and whipped it at him. He laughed but raised his hand, forced the pillow to halt and fall to the ground. Zelphie laughed and coughed into her wrist.

‘That’s not kind, Master Rolan,’ she snorted and laid back on her pillow and fixed up her horns as Rolan laughed at her and finished dressing for bed. Zelphie had a little coughing fit and Rolan climbed into bed next to her and rubbed her back.

‘I wish you would take something,’ he said as Zelphie drank water.

‘Halsin packed some lovely herbs with the honey I got, and the honey itself has been helping,’ she said stubbornly. Zelphie was refusing more medical intervention than simple herbal remedies. She was very frightened of what would happen to the already fragile pregnancy if she took anything stronger. Rolan debated her being ill for so long would be the same risk. She hated this fight. ‘It’s just a cold,’ she told him and he huffed. She cuddled up to him and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. He kissed her forehead and sighed as he felt her fever, like hot coals.

‘Oh my girl,’ he whispered, holding her closer. He rubbed her back, his thumbs massaging around the vestiges of her back.

‘I love you Rolan, I’m so proud of you, you were fantastic today,’ she whispered and cuddled close to him. Even though Rolan felt her fever, she was cold and desperate for her husband’s warmth.

‘I love you too, Zelphie, now you sleep, my love.’

‘Read to me?’

‘Of course, how else will you possibly fall asleep than without my dulcet tones?’

[leighsartworks216]

Endings and Beginnings

Father-figure!Halsin & gn!OC

My first time writing Halsin and it's because I had this thought of him helping my dnd bard Rynd learn to accept death and moving on from the past. If you have any questions about Rynd, please do not hesitate to ask

@shenanigans-and-imagines You had to read this idea when I first had it, and now you get to read it come to fruition lol

Warnings: references to past abuse, depression, self-destructive behaviors, crying, animal death, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2,348

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The fire crackled late into the night, long past when it should have been reduced to embers. It chased away the darkness and radiated warmth, but its light hid the stars and illuminated decay.

Rynd turned their hands over in the firelight. How many times they'd done so was anybody's guess. They only stopped to throw more kindling in the flames when it began to die down. The irony of it wasn't lost on them; they destroyed themselves for months using necromancy to raise the dead, and now they refused to let the fire die, just so they could see the effect the dark magic had on their body.

They rubbed their fingertips together.

They remember visiting Astarion months back, desperate for the Necromancy of Thay. He'd smelled the rot then. He refused to hand over the book until they could explain why they needed it. They’d never been good at lying, so they told him: Now that they were free of the monastery, of the tadpoles - free to make their own choices, they wanted to find the parents that left them on that doorstep to begin with.

They asked everyone who could have an inkling of who their parents were. They even went back to the damned monastery to ask the monks that tortured and abused them what they knew, though they told Rynd nothing, merely cursed their existence as they always had. They searched everywhere for any hints of a Tiefling with blue skin like theirs, who had musical talents, who had white hair - any scrap of identity they could have shared with their parents.

When they could not find any hint they were alive, it seemed only natural to turn to darker magics.

The book had been a waste of time once Astarion reluctantly handed it over; nothing useful for their needs, just a lot of voices shouting in their head.

He must have told Gale. Or maybe Gale just knew. He was always better at magic than they were, always connected to the Weave. When they appeared on his doorstep, he lectured them for almost an hour about self-destruction. Once he calmed down, he finally let them inside.

He was right, of course. They were destroying themself and he knew how to spot it best after his own struggles.

Necromancy decayed the user. Weakened muscles and bone, left them ever fatigued and exhausted where no amount of sleep ever seems like enough, cut circulation from fingers and toes until they're left black and cold.

Gale had forced them to stay in his Tower until the long-term effects had lessened, until their fingers returned to a normal shade and they didn't look on the edge of death themself. Tara had been a great comfort, even if she would scold them just as much. When they were well enough, and anxious to get back on the road, Gale made them swear never to use necromancy spells ever again. Agreeing hurt more than letting the spells take their toll.

They turned their hands over again. Despite the blue tint of their skin now reaching to their fingertips, they remained cold and numb. It was harder to play their ocarina, but when had they last cared to play anyway? Music felt hollow. They felt hollow.

"You have been troubled from the moment you returned, little cub." A hulking figure, large but never intimidating to those who knew him, sat on the ground beside Rynd. Halsin held out a large handful of berries, contained in a handkerchief. All of their favorites. "I have not seen you eat or sleep. If you'll allow me, I would like to help you carry your burdens."

They stared at the berries for a long moment. When had they last cared to eat? When Gale cooked dinner for them, a few weeks ago? When did they forget the comfort of being able to eat when they wished; food that was not stale or moldy, but fresh and sweet?

They opened and closed their hands, stretching their fingers as though it would bring some feeling back to them. It didn't. They picked up each corner of the handkerchief, lifted the berries from his hand, and rested them in their lap where they grabbed a raspberry. They were fresh, of course. Halsin would only pick the best of the best for times like these. And that first bite - a shudder ran through their body, as though it was suddenly aware what it had been missing.

The tight knot around their heart, intricately woven and pulled taught, loosened ever so slightly. They leaned against Halsin, doing their best not to let their horns poke him. He didn't mind, he was used to dealing with Tieflings less considerate than them. Instead he wrapped an arm around them and pulled them closer. They closed their eyes, relaxed into the warmth he himself radiated in spirit as much as body, and slowly ate each berry one by one, until they were all gone and the sun was beginning to rise. They fell asleep with a sunbeam on their face.

-

Despite the comfort and food, when they awoke, tucked tenderly into their bedroll, it felt like nothing really changed. The sun shone brightly at its zenith high in the sky, but their mind was still so dark. The rampant thoughts that tore them down repeated over and over, cursing their very existence. They sat on the ground by a trail of ants and watched them march along, allowing the thoughts to consume them.

The children of the Grove no longer spoke to them. They begged Rynd to play every day, every hour of that first week. When there was never any response, they stopped asking. Now, they no longer came near.

Rynd had at first appreciated the isolation. Now they just wish they would ask again, even if the answer never changed.

They did not hear Halsin approach despite the scraping of his sandals over the dirt. They only noticed his presence when he lightly touched their shoulder. "Come. Let us go for a walk."

It wasn't a question, but their gut reaction told them to refuse. They clenched their hands into fists, fighting against the horrid weight dragging them down, the disparity of trying to do anything, and stood when they found a crack to break through. No matter how much they wanted to continue being alone, Halsin had always been a source of comfort and a force for good. Even if they couldn't help themself, he could find a way. They had to believe he could.

He smiled warmly. They did not feel it. He turned and led them into the woods.

They expected him to speak, to ask why they were so changed from the last time they visited. The fear that he would hung over their head like the axe of an executioner. How would they answer? Would they tell the truth or lie? What if he saw past the lie? What if Gale already told him? What if Astarion had told him? Would he ask them to leave? Their body was tainted with dark magic, surely he'd want them as far from the Grove as possible. Where would they even go? They just wanted to be alone. They just wanted to hide.

Some small part of them cringed at the thought. Isolation felt altogether safe and scary, their salvation and destruction. They didn't want to be alone. No, of course not. That's what had started this whole mess; being a lonely little orphan, trapped in their small room. Alone.

Halsin pointed out a patch of flowers growing in the shade of a sycamore tree. Rynd stared at them for a minute, thinking. They didn't know there were flowers who could grow so vivaciously in shade; the tree seemed to block the sun from every angle, preventing it from shining on most of it at any given time. For a flickering moment, their mind was not consumed with the journey to find their parents.

It reminded them of the monastery where they grew up. The big tree in the center of the courtyard that towered high above the walls, with brilliant white flowers that filled the air with the sweet fragrance of spring. When they were too small to lift themself up and see through the high window in their room, all they could do was look up at the tall branches. They’d yearned to sit under that tree, climb it, feel it and be at peace. The only times they’d ever gotten close, they’d snuck out of their room through secret passageways, but lingering meant getting caught, which meant being punished, so they never got to be around it for very long.

They loved that tree. But thinking of the monastery soured any positive thought they'd had. They could see now how terrible that place really was under the golden haze of naiveté. They grimaced as they continued to walk on.

Halsin led them along an invisible path through the trees and underbrush. If he had any thoughts about where he was taking them, Rynd couldn’t tell. For a while they’d stared straight ahead at his back. They were starting to regret coming along; they didn’t want to keep walking aimlessly through nature. All the life, the bustling world of bugs and birds… Maybe they should have gone to Baldur’s Gate instead, wallowed in Ramazith’s Tower with Rolan, Lia and Cal. Maybe there they would have found the strength to read or practice magic. (They wouldn’t have. Being so close to that much knowledge would have destroyed them.)

After quite some time, they gave in to their restlessness and looked around. Green leaves and dark bark - thrilling. They would have found it so, once upon a time. They’d loved finding books about flora during their time in the monastery. They would write countless notes on the shapes of the leaves, the types of sap and so on. Now it was just a cruel reminder of their failure.

They glanced at the ground as they passed a large oak tree and stopped in their tracks. There, curled up by the thick roots and hidden under a leafy plant, was a little mouse. They watched it for a moment, but they knew. They’d surrounded themself with death for months. They knew.

Rynd knelt down in the dirt and instinctively reached out a hand, hovering it over the tiny creature. But then they stopped. They did nothing. They promised Gale they’d not use necromancy spells ever again, but… Why did this mouse deserve to die? Why should this creature pass away into obscurity? It had lived a life, too; maybe it had a family nearby, waiting for it to come home. The thought made their heart ache, the knot in their chest tightening ever more.

But they couldn’t. They promised Gale.

Their hand hovered a moment longer still, beginning to shake before they finally dropped it to their lap. Just one spell and it would be able to scamper off. But even they knew it was one spell too many.

The mouse’s fur was white. Pure. No blood. The only dirt that could be found stained its little paws. They wondered when it died. If it was sudden or slow. It was curled up like a fetus, tail pulled toward its chest. Its pink ears seemed to stand to attention, like it was still listening to the world around it. They could almost imagine it was just sleeping.

The large druid knelt down beside Rynd, hands resting on his thighs as he took in the dead mouse and the Tiefling that mourned it. It was the first thing he’d noticed Rynd take an interest in this entire trip. And slowly the pieces started to fit together.

Despite the somber mood, he wore a soft grin as he quietly dug a small hole. He piled up all the dirt next to it, working to ensure it was deep enough for the little thing to fit inside. After all his years as a druid, it still amazed him how tiny nature could be.

Rynd watched wordlessly as he delicately scooped up the mouse in his large hands. It limply followed every slight jostle. He was careful as he laid it down on a leaf.

Rynd’s eyes burned. Their lungs felt tight in their chest.

Halsin picked up the leaf by its pointed tip and its stem, and he lowered it into the hole he made. “May the winds carry your legends forward, and the spring flowers blossom with the same richness and beauty as the life you’ve lived,” he prayed quietly. He heard Rynd sniffle beside him, but he gave them what privacy he could as he began pushing the dirt back into the hole. The mouse and leaf would decay and be returned to the soil, becoming nutrients for the large oak, so that it may continue to live on and provide homes and nourishment to thousands more creatures just like it. This was merely the next step in the never-ending cycle of life.

Before he could push the last pile of dirt onto the pile, smaller hands intervened. They tenderly guided the soil to its place, forming a small mound over the little body. A little grave. Gods, how many graves had they seen? How many had they walked over, desperately searching for any hint of familiarity? None of the headstones or mausoleums had stirred any reaction in them. Now, tears seemed to fall endlessly for a life so small.

They sniffled and gasped around their sobs, muffled by habit more than a conscious effort. Halsin touched their shoulder. In a heartbeat, they were clinging to him, trying to wrap their arms around his hulking frame as they pressed their face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around them, rubbing their back and gently massaging their scalp, combing his large fingers through their unruly curls. “Release your emotions, little cub. You do not have to hide them anymore. You can let go.”

The knot around their heart unraveled.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Evie (Ace!Tav) Playthrough Day 3(?)

Day 1... Day 2 - Day 4

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

For the uninitiated, I wrote a Tav well before I ever had a chance to play the game. Now, I finally can and thought it might be fun for my first play through to be as that Tav. Or, at least as much as the game play will allow me.

These are just some of my notes and scattered highlights that I thought would be fun to share.

Let me know if you think if I should continue this and any suggestions you might have.

This actually is more Day 3/4 since I did go back and redo some stuff I wasn't keen on; yes, I've discovered the power of quick saves!

Guys I'm going to romance Gale so fast and I don't think I can hurt this man

Got the "go to hell" dialogue with him; stood in front of the goblin so he's told me at least some of his deep dark secret; basically in the green on approval

I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to reject him guys

Obviously I'll keep playing and see how it goes, but I told myself this would be an Astarion play through

Of course, it does align with my thoughts about Gale having feelings for Evie at the start, so it might all work out

Giving me a lot more ideas about slow burn Astarion and Evie stuff in act 1

Going forward from that Wyll is now in the squad!

He's so perfect and soft with the kids

Definitely more distant at the start in terms of putting on the Blade of Frontiers mask, which I actually really like for future development

Switched out some stuff and guys "Speak with Animals" for the extra animal dialogue is so worth it; I love being a bard

Volo has also been underplayed in how funny he is: I'm now picturing Evie being unsure whether to be annoyed or amused by him every time they meet

She's definitely met his type before; they have very different approaches to the role of the bard in society

Got a lot of quests and God I never wanted to slap a bitch as hard as with Kagha

The fact I can't punch her in the nose without sparking all the druids to turn on the tieflings really does hurt my soul

Evie's nails are digging into her palms the whole time

On that note, the fact you can kill Netti without consequences is objectively funny to me

I rejected even taking the poison because Evie wants to live, she's not just going to take her life

Was not expecting Netti to fight, but needless to say four against one isn't much of a fight

We walked out of there and nobody has said a thing

Also shocked that choice doesn't get Astarion's approval; I thought for sure it would

Actually that's a question I have to the internet: can you do non-leathal damage? There are some things I'd like Evie to try to steal and don't necessarily want to do lethal damage

Found the back underground passage, but turned around because I knew I would get distracted and I wanted to find Karlach

Went out of the grove, found some of the Absolute followers

Astarion not happy with Evie saying we can't trust the power the tadpoles give us

They're really not starting off on the right foot

Now debating going forward with the guy squad or going back to camp, picking up the ladies and either go back to the underground cavern or continue to search for Karlach

Suggestions at this time are welcome

[mumms-the-word]

For your 100 followers, would you want to an epilogue scene for one of your OCs where all the little side characters you saved along the way have their own happy endings and they thank your OC and their romanced companion for making their lives better?

Oh gosh I’ve only had epilogues with Dani and Ardynn and they were both good beans who saved everyone they could. They’d have to set up a line and stand there shaking hands for 2 hours 😂

I do have headcanons about where a lot of people ended up, particularly in Dani’s game. Especially the tieflings. She helps the tieflings establish their own little neighborhood in Baldur’s Gate and makes sure all their businesses/schools get off the ground, like Bex’s bakery/tea shop and Alfira’s music school and so on.

Gale and Dani visit Rolan and his siblings regularly in Ramazith for magic discussions and tea and to mess with Rolan a little (well, Gale is there to be helpful, Dani is there to tease, she loves Rolan like a brother).

Dani is the number one most frequent customer of Bex’s tea house because she’s obsessed with her cookies and Gale loves Danis’s tea. Gale and Dani are among the very first people that Bex and Danis break the news about their pregnancy to, and Dani is elated for them.

Dani also regularly visits Alfira’s music school. She helps tutor the violin players on their music but she’s not suited to teaching all that much, since her advice is basically “you got it! Keep trying!” while trying not to wince. Gale offers to teach them spells until he realizes that bards have a fundamentally different understanding of casting magic than wizards do (I headcanon that bards don’t even use the same melodies for spells, like there isn’t a system like “Play A C F A to cast healing word” bards just sort of guess at magic and use their own music to convey the spell and whatever works for them is whatever they repeat; but this was absolutely frustrates Gale as a wizard because it makes replication and study wibbly wobbly)

Dani is a bit better at teaching them spells and Gale is interested in watching, at the very least, and trying to make sense of it all

I could keep going tbh. They find Zevlor a quiet place to retire, close to where the thieflings operate with Mol as their leader (Dani respects Mol’s ambition to take over the Guild but she’s also like “I need you to be in a house not a tent in the Guild headquarters” and the other Thieflings appreciate having a home to go back to after they’re done selling papers and stuff). I’m sure Cerys and Zorru join the flaming fist or something. Or get merc work. Idk as much about them.

I do think they Cerys, Zorru, Cal, Lia, and Zevlor form an unofficial militia on behalf of their neighborhood to deal with internal conflicts that they don’t want the flaming fist poking their noses in. Most of these conflicts end up roping in Dani too. Thankfully, conflicts are rare in the first couple of years, aside from some racist bozos Dani is only too happy to yeet from the neighborhood

And Dammon, of course, still has his forge. Dani and Gale regularly check up on him and they’re working constantly with him to find a way to upgrade or repair or even replace Karlach’s heart. The progress is slow but Dani refuses to give up. She sends Karlach little notes from Dammon all the time, usually as sending spells.

Meanwhile in Ardynn’s world she kind of loses touch with anyone not in the Reclaimed Lands with her and Halsin lol that’s a whole separate post tho, I have tons of headcanons for how Ardynn and Halsin shape the reclaimed lands as Aldermen of the commune

[falcatas]

For the "Baldur's Gate 3 Tav Ask List" for both Gustav & Vardana

10, 11, 31, 42, 65, 92, 105 (there are so many bloody good questions)

Hi, I am going to answer about my both Tavs, since they are always together. Thank you! This was fun!

10. What was your Tav like as a child?

Gustav and Vardana have always been happy and kind fellows (even Vardana who seems to be very serious, she is quiet, but at the same time she is honorable and polite). When they were children they were raised by their grandmother, Tabitha of Winterwood. They were well disciplined since they were little ones: they copied their grandmother's behavior and respect for Kelemvor. They helped her with rituals and assisted people. In their free time they were playful and went around happily, bothering or helping the citizens of the two little villages the Kelemvorites of Winterwood were in charge of. Gustav has always been the leader, a noisy and extroverted chatterbox; Vardana was shy and introverted. She was quiet, following her elder brother and doing everything he did. Tav used to learn music from a halfling, so it was very common that the children, in their discipule uniforms, were calling their neighbors playing music, dancing and singing. Tav was a good musician (he is a bard after all), but Vardana was a disaster. The halfling suggested she try the drum instead, and everything was better for the ears of them all. 

11. What goes through your Tav's head when they wake up on the Nautiloid? Are they scared or do they push those feelings aside to focus on escaping?

They were scared indeed, but at some point they had lived in such terrible situations that they could recover quickly and act. They were caught by the Nautiloid on their journey to the coast, following a hint about Bhaal’s cult. Some years ago their little villages were destroyed by war between wood elves and orcs, and by the betrayal of the Myrkul cult, who pretended to use the corpses and blood in a big ritual. Vardana and Tav were so naive, they couldn't help their people then, but they were led by wrath and started a campaign against the Three Dead cults. They have killed a lot of cultists and thwart several movements and plans, even infiltrating in some dangerous bases. So they are accustomed to that kind of situation and they usually have strong nerves, as long as they are together.

31. What does your Tav think of the Underdark and the Myconids?

Being half-drows and considering their mother killed their human father when they were toddler, Tav and Vardana were raised as humans and instructed to avoid every aspect of drow culture and nature: from violent pulses to the Underdark itself, Tabitha taught them to remain as far as possible from them. But they really liked the Underdark once they went there. They had a feeling their bodies were built for that place. 

About the myconids, it was easy for Tav to communicate with Sovereign Spaw and to trust them using his bard skills. Since Gustav had decided to help them, Vardana just followed him without any opinion. 

42. How does your Tav react to the shadow curse? Are they scared of the dark?

This was the most difficult moment for both of them, not because they were scared of the dark (they are clerics after all), but because they perceived  the unnatural essence of the curse. Their natural enemies are Myrkul cultists, so they were worried, they were sad (about the tieflings, especially Vardana who was very sensitive about Doni being lost) and they wanted to do whatever was necessary in order to end the curse. 

65. Does your Tav go to the circus? Do they like the activities?

They went to the circus because Tav insisted. He adores silly things, music, jokes… About Vardana, she didn't really care ("following Tav we go”). Of course he ended up visiting every tent and shop and commissioned a statue of himself (Why? Who knows…They had several economical problems after that). 

92. Where does your Tav end up after defeating/siding with the Nether Brain?

Gustav couldn’t help but accompany Karlach and Wyll to Avernus. Vardana, of course, followed him without hesitation. How expeditious and practical sister! They were in Avernus the equivalent to circa 600 days, until they solved Karlach’s problem. 

105. Anything you want to say about your Tav! Give a random headcanon, answer a random question, say whatever you want!

Gustav: He loves to go around naked. Yes, NAKED. Damn slutty boy. Probably that’s why his civilian clothes are so tight…

But he is not as slutty as he seems (XD). He had a wood elf lover for several years. The relationship was, of course, an open relationship, but Tav couldn’t deal with the sight of his boyfriend in a poly, he was a romantic vanilla fellow deep in his heart, even wanted a spouse in an exclusive relationship and that. So it couldn't be. 

Vardana: she dated an orc gentleman back in her young days. Since she trained her fighter skills with an orc Dame , she met her master’s nephew and there were stars, hearts and several bright little things in the air. Time passed and they cut their relationship when he wanted to focus on the civil war with the wood elven. The two little villages under Kelemvorite protection pretended to remain neutral in the conflict, so they had a political argument and it was over. Since those days Vardana prefers her partners as inhuman as possible: horns, several skin tones, fangs… you get it ;)

(not an English speaker - sorry for mistakes and misspellings)

[moonchild-in-blue]

Sleep Token X D&D

An expansion of this post because je suis trés unhinged and I miss playing DnD. I'm not including homebrew content for simplicity sake, guiding myself through this website. Feel free to add or change as you will. I'll leave some links for each class specs in case you wanna read more, or aren't super familiar with it.

At first it would make sense for all of them to be different types of Warlocks or Sorcerers, with Sleep as their common patron. BUT I think that would be an easy cop-out, and I want to make things interesting. This is just my headcanon so yeah, don't mean, don't be weird. Let me know how you'd do it!!

(and if there are any DnD players who happen to come across this post and want to take inspiration on it, you're more than welcome to do so!)

Let's get to it, nerds 🎲2️⃣0️⃣

[cut because this is LONG]

Vessel

Race: Tiefling. A lot of room for inventiveness here, and you can change his appearance as you'd prefer. Maybe that's why he's always cloaked and masked. Maybe he gets even more disfigured every time he connects with Sleep. Class/Sub-Class: Warlock, The Great Old One (mysterious entity whose nature is utterly foreign to the fabric of reality). Obviously Sleep would be his patron. I like to think Vessel had an encounter with Sleep whilst not knowing who or what They were, and eventually became their servant. For the pacts, I had thought of Pact of the Tome, where the Book of Shadows would be his lyrics, but Pact of the Talisman is also great, because of the mask. @a-s-levynn had suggested The Fathomless for his sub-class, which is also AMAZING, especially if you want to lean into the whole tentacle/water horror aesthetic. Alternatively, Sorcerer, Divine Soul is an EXCELENT class for Vessel (actually, now that I'm editing this, I kinda prefer this one lmao). Read this and tell me this isn't exactly what Vessel is: Sometimes the spark of magic that fuels a sorcerer comes from a divine source that glimmers within the soul. Having such a blessed soul is a sign that your innate magic might come from a distant but powerful familial connection to a divine being. Perhaps your ancestor was an angel, transformed into a mortal and sent to fight in a god’s name. Or your birth might align with an ancient prophecy, marking you as a servant of the gods or a chosen vessel of divine magic. Yeah.

ii

Race: Lightfoot Halfling (yes I'm making him a hobbit, what about it?) Fire Genasi is also very apt. Class/Sub-Class: Druid, Circle of Wildfire (these druids bond with a primal spirit that harbors both destructive and creative power, allowing the druids to create controlled flames that burn away one thing but give life to another). This primal spirit, of course, would be Sleep. They are a bit of a mysterious entity. ii was the hardest to come up with. I knew I wanted him to be somehow connected to the land/elements, because I think that would be the best translation for his rhythmic prowess (drums wouldn't make much sense as a Bard). And that photo of him with the painted red fingertips reminds me of fire, so it seemed like a perfect fit. Some other alternatives: Druid, Circle of Dreams or Monk, Way of the Four Elements (monk would be SO good because of his silence, like LoZ Link, and the ability to harness his energy).

iii

Race: Obviously a Dark Elf. Obsidian-black polished skin, pale blond hair, pale blue eyes, slim figure. Need I say more? Earth Genasi could also be a good option, due to his golden vein-like paint. Class/Sub-Class: Ranger, Fey Wanderer (a ranger who represents both the mortal and the fey realms. As you wander the multiverse, your joyful laughter brightens the hearts of the downtrodden, and your martial prowess strikes terror in your foes, for great is the mirth of the fey and dreadful is their fury.) I quite like this because the options of how you acquire the magic are endless, and can be traced to Sleep or even Vessel (maybe he granted them?). iii is our favourite chaotic boy, but he can be so intimidating at times, this one plays off his duality quite well. Plus you get Otherworldly Glamour similar to iv which makes sense. A cool alternative could be Sorcerer, Wild Magic, as it has a similar base to Vessel and it draws magic out of chaos.

iv

Race: I thought about making him a Genasi or Half-Elf, but honestly I love him as a Human. I just love the idea that this human is sooo charming and talented, that even all these supernatural creatures can't help but be enthralled by him. Changeling or even Eladrin could also work. Class/Sub-Class: Bard, College of Glamour (these bards are so eloquent that a speech or song that one of them performs can cause captors to release the bard unharmed and can lull a furious dragon into complacency). I like that iv appears to be super low-key, but is actually insanely seductive (I see you mask pulling) and talented. So out of all of them, he was my obvious choice for a bard.

The Vesselettes

I think they could either be sort of like a greek chorus or muses but for Sleep, that appeared at key moments to help the party, or actual campaign members. Race: Aetherborn Class/Sub-Class: Clerics, Twilight Domain (The twilit transition from light into darkness often brings calm and even joy, as the day's labors end and the hours of rest begin. The darkness can also bring terrors, but the gods of twilight guard against the horrors of the night). It would be awesome to have them as healers and protectors of the party, who serve Sleep directly (if Sleep is evil, they could also be secret spies? To make sure the party does as Sleep intents). Or maybe they are protecting the party from Sleep (they can never sever their connection to them, but they will do everything they can to make sure the vessels won't go too far).

I'm not sure how they would all get together, but my [abridged] story would place them all as servants of this magical deity, called Sleep. Vessel was the first to encounter Them and lives as an actual, living vessel for them. They believe that Sleep, albeit mysterious, is a benevolent creature, who was wrongfully cast away from Their plane/stripped of their powers or divinity.

As the one closest to Sleep, Vessel can sense that something isn't quite right, but he's already so entangled and manipulated by them, that he doesn't even care.

So they fight all these people and creatures, believing they're doing something Good, but then it turns out that Sleep was evil all along? The people they have conquered and killed were actually good, trying to stop them from giving this awful, terrible being their power.

Sleep basically uses them to defeat their enemies and get back to whatever place or power they no longer have access to. Maybe the vessels turn their back on them? Maybe Vessel doesn't want to and they fight with each other? Or maybe they just keep serving Sleep?

Or, you know, Sleep could also be an actual helpful deity, and they are genuinely doing good by fighting in Their name. But maybe in the end Vessel can't let go of Them and drama ensues and everybody cries.

I don't know, this is just an idea. I spent WAY too much time researching for this, but it was fuuun. I love talking DnD.