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haru-sen · 1 year ago

Note

halsin and zevlor, the first time/moment they are something more than diplomatic allies (maybe fluff, maybe their first sex time together, feel free!) before halsin has to go with aradin to the goblin camp (ada-melodies!)

I uh...short fiction LMAO. (It's only 3,250 words)

The Nature of Guardians

Set pre-Tav and the events of Through the Gates of Horn and Oak. SFW

“They’ve been following us for the past hour,” Tilses said quietly. “Some of the guards are getting nervous about the wolves.”

“Remind them to hold their fire,” Zevlor said, his voice carrying. Damays already warned him that this was druid territory. So when a group of large bears, wolves, and badgers started to follow from a distance, he understood that these were no ordinary animals. Maybe some were simple wild beasts, but there were likely familiars and several wild-shaped druids in the mix, and it would not do to court their anger.

Zevlor stayed in the front while Tilses and Asharak went down the line, reaffirming orders. Cerys was at the tail of it, making sure no one was left behind.

“We’re taking the Risen Road to Baldur’s Gate,” Zevlor called out to a dire wolf that lingered close to the road. “We are refugees from Elturel. We are just trying to follow the Risen Road to Baldur’s Gate. There are children here-”

The wolf locked eyes with him, a disconcertingly sentient intelligence on that lupine face, before it darted off. Zevlor exhaled, crossbow still slung across his back.

They made it another fifteen minutes before an enormous cave bear lumbered out of the grass. It trundled straight toward him, not charging, but its intent was clear.

Zevlor halted and resisted the urge to reach for his sword.

There was a shimmer of golden light and the bear stood upright and became the biggest, most solid-looking elf he had ever seen.

“Oak Father’s blessings on you and yours. My name is Halsin, the Archdruid of the Emerald Grove. You look like you’re in need of some assistance.”

Before today, Zevlor had never paid Silvanus much mind. And yet, that was the god he was thanking when he and his people bedded down in a real shelter for the first time in weeks.

“My apologies, Archdruid. The young man in question was trying to aid in kitchen duties, however-” Zevlor pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to think of the foul smoldering mess Danis created. “He is, at best, a novice.”

“You can just call me “Halsin,” Zevlor. We don’t stand on ceremony here,” Halsin said, sitting on the stone table Zevlor was using as a desk. “I came to apologize for Marcoryl’s outburst. It was an overreaction. Granted, the scent was foul, but accidents happen and druids should be made of sterner stuff. He’s just…” Halsin stared off to the side. “High-strung.”

“I think it would benefit everyone if we limit who’s on mess duty to a...trustworthy few,” Zevlor said, mustering a small smile.

“I have no complaints. I appreciate your people helping to clean up the Hollow.”

Halsin might not have complaints, but his second, Kagha, certainly wasn’t pleased by their extended stay and she was not alone in her feelings.

“I know our presence is a burden,” Zevlor said quietly. “I’ve sent scouts out to forage, but some haven’t returned. I’m...concerned.”

Halsin stroked his chin. “There are some troubling developments in the region. Some of our familiars are reporting goblin movements. You might want to limit your people’s range. I know ogres have been spotted in the area.”

Zevlor swore under his breath. “My scouts aren’t equipped to handle ogre marauding parties.”

“Most of my people are not either,” Halsin said, shaking his head. “We’ll have to monitor the situation closely and share information.” He smiled ruefully. “You might be sick of my face by the end of this.”

“No, I don't think that will be the case,” Zevlor said hesitantly, meeting the wood elf’s green eyes.

Halsin’s smile widened, a little too knowing.

Heat stirred in his blood, and Zevlor forced himself to look away.

“I think we’ve finally retrieved the last of Loic’s belongings,” Zevlor said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Cerys took point on that one. It was best if he minimized contact with Mol, for both their sakes.

Halsin leaned against a stone table, skimming some ancient tome while measuring out dried herbs.

“Loic’s a big whiner,” Nettie said cheerfully as she bandaged a squirrel. It was scowling at him, Zevlor was certain. “Can’t believe a couple of bairns pinched his pouches. He’s only making a fuss because he’s so ashamed.”

Zevlor managed a small smile and a grateful nod to the healer. “I...don’t disagree. But some of the children have had rough upbringings. All this time on the road hasn’t been good for their social graces.” Though thieving to survive was something Mol knew long before they left Elturel. He was keenly aware of the fact that his people had a reputation for being criminals, and he spent his entire life combating that viewpoint. But times changed. Now he would rather they break the law than die for it.

Halsin nodded absently. “The matter was hardly worth bringing to our attention,” He set the book down and finally looked up at Zevlor, and his smile widened into something more personable. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I-” Zevlor looked away. Supplies were dwindling too quickly now that the scouting expeditions were halved. The children and the other workers received priority rations.

Three scouts failed to return, and Zorru spotted ogres, as well as some other creatures he did not recognize patrolling the nearby roads.

“Of course not,” Halsin said, shaking his head. “Hold on.” He left the library.

“You know,” Nettie said, turning to him. “He really enjoys your conversations. Your knowledge of the history of the pantheon is impressive. I didn’t realize the relationship between Umberlee and the Oak Father was so...nuanced. I admit that I didn’t expect a soldier to be so well-read, no offense.”

“Ah, well, I suppose that’s fair. Many are not,” Zevlor said, looking down. “I received some...liturgical training in my youth.”

“Ah, a cleric of Helm then?” Nettie asked.

Zevlor shifted back and forth on his heels, tail winding tightly around his leg. “I was once a paladin.”

Nettie nodded amiably.

“Will you stay for lunch?” Halsin asked as he returned, carrying a large bundle wrapped in leaves. It smelled like smoke and meat, and Zevlor felt his stomach clench.

“I couldn-”

“No, I have to train Apikusis and Rath on advanced wound treatment techniques,” Nettie said briskly. “Enjoy yourselves.” She gave Zevlor a cheeky wink, before hurriedly exiting.

Halsin began to unwrap the leaves, the scent of herb-roasted venison filling the room. “Join me.”

“I should really g-” Zevlor began.

“I got up early and hunted it myself. I might have borrowed some herbs from Inwe, but she is getting a portion for her help,” Halsin said, his smile placid and inscrutable. “You are not taking anyone else’s share. You haven’t even been taking your own.”

Zevlor exhaled slowly. “Is it that obvious?”

“No, but I know the state of our storerooms and I know what kind of man you are.” He clicked his tongue. “Eat with me, please. Meals are better shared with friends.”

Nodding in resignation, and not a little enticed by the smell, Zevlor sat down with the Archdruid.

“Tilses has done wonders for organizing the stockrooms,” Halsin said, grinning up at him.

Perhaps because there wasn’t much left in the stores to organize. But Zevlor did not say that. He sat by the fire with Halsin, sipping the too sweet tea that the Archdruid preferred. The wood elf was stretched out on the grass, back resting against the split log that Zevlor sat atop.

“Tilses is excellent at logistics. If things had not gone the way they did, she would have made a fine quartermaster for our division.”

Halsin sighed sympathetically. “So why the Hellriders then? Why not the Order of the Companion? Seems more suitable for a paladin.”

Since leaving Elturel he had often asked himself the same thing. He did not regret joining the Hellriders, merely how he left them. But his path would have been much simpler if he had been a Companion.

“Some of it was reputation. I was an idealistic cadet with a young man’s pride,” Zevlor said hesitantly. “The Companions were a newer order and lacked the prestige of the Hellriders. And I suppose on some level, the Companion itself, while a wonder...never sat quite right with me.” The Companion, the heatless second sun over Elturel was called Amaunator’s Gift, and it was meant to prevent darklings and other corrupt creatures from assaulting the city. It was raised after the events fifty years ago, when the former High Rider was discovered to be a vampire and the Hellriders fought a losing battle against the undead. It was also the device Zariel used to drag Elturel down to Avernus.

“Prescient,” Halsin said softly.

“It was mostly a young man’s vanity,” Zevlor said. “And the desire to show them that an untrustworthy tiefling could be just as good as the rest of them.” He smiled thinly.

“You made Commander.”

“And lost it all anyway,” Zevlor said, waving his hand dismissively. “No matter, my priorities changed, as they needed to.” Zevlor stared at the fire, impressed by how easily the lie slipped off his tongue. Of course, his priorities changed. But the sting of his exile was not so easily dismissed. He worked for this his entire life, and what did he have to show for it? A broken oath and a dwindling population of civilians. “I shirked my duty once, and paid the price.” He stared at the fire. “But I will not make that mistake again. I am here for my people’s sake.”

“Admirable.”

“A necessity, Halsin. Not a virtue,” Zevlor said sharply.

“I did not want this role,” Halsin said quietly. “After my predecessor fell to Ketheric’s Dark Justiciars, someone had to bring our people home. The details differ, but the sentiment remains the same, don’t you agree?”

Zevlor nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Halsin procured a pipe from his pouch. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I used to enjoy a pipe on a rare occasion.” Halsin carefully lit it and took a puff, the fragrant smoke drifting up into the sky. He sighed heavily and then extended his arm, offering the pipe.

“No thank you. I gave it up.”

“Why?” Halsin asked mildly.

“It contributed to an image unbecoming of a Hellrider,” Zevlor said, recalling the High Rider’s words.

“Hellriders can’t smoke?” Halsin asked, a little incredulous.

“A tiefling one should not,” Zevlor said, bitterness twisting his smile.

Halsin snorted loudly. “Your commanding officers were bigots and fools.” He extended his arm, offering it up again. “It’s just us out here. Indulge yourself, Zevlor.”

Zevlor hesitantly accepted the pipe, relieved that Halsin very kindly did not say, “but you are no longer a Hellrider. Those rules do not apply to you.” They both knew it, but some things did not need to be spoken aloud.

He accepted it, taking a small draw. He held the smoke in his mouth, a pleasantly aromatic herbal taste, accentuated by the lingering sweetness of Halsin’s lips. It was almost a kiss. He glanced over at the wood elf and blew out a mouthful of smoke, wondering if the other man would taste just as good.

Halsin smiled at him in the firelight. “You look very regal ringed in smoke, Hellrider.”

“Thank you for sharing, Archdruid,” Zevlor said, returning the pipe to him.

Halsin just brought the pipe back to his lips and closed his eyes, taking his next breath with obvious pleasure.

The evening meetings were becoming a habit. If they did not see each other at dinner, well then Halsin would often seek him out later. When asked, Zevlor would merely tell Tilses that they were sharing intelligence and addressing the concerns that came from communal living.

Tilses and Kagha did not have a good working relationship, so it went mostly unquestioned.

“I...overindulged at one point. It is best that I do not partake now.” Halsin leaned back against the stone wall, and next to him, Zevlor was very aware of how much bigger the other man’s body was. He sipped his own glass of mediocre red. “I much prefer tea and honey anyway.”

“Don’t you mean honey diluted with tea?” Zevlor asked, the wine loosening his tongue. It was easy to get comfortable with Halsin.

Halsin’s answering laugh was a deep rumble that resonated in his core. The man had a dangerously disarming sort of charm. People underestimated him for his cheerful rustic attitude, something Zevlor was guilty of. But Halsin had all the cunning of his multiple centuries, he just hid it better than most.

Zevlor’s tail twitched and he took another sip of wine, determined not to overindulge in Halsin’s presence. The druid made him feel too relaxed, too comfortable, too sloppy. And that was something he could not afford to be right now. His responsibilities were to his people. He had already let them down so many times. Allowing himself to be distracted by Halsin’s considerable charms would be irresponsible.

“You look grim, my friend,” Halsin said, reaching over, that rough hand warm on his arm.

Zevlor stared at him, trying to muster a convincing smile, but he had never been good at feigning happiness. It was much easier to be a stern commander, but that approach would not work with Halsin.

“This is my face, Halsin,” Zevlor said, dropping the false smile. “My apologies if you find it disappointing.”

“Not at all,” Halsin said, leaning closer. “It’s a good face, handsome, distinguished even.” He slowly examined Zevlor with a painstaking thoroughness that held the tiefling frozen in place. “This face has character, much like its bearer.”

Zevlor stared wide-eyed at the other man. “I-” His breath caught. Who said things like that to a man like him? Halsin was...He didn’t know what Halsin was. Halsin was not one of his people that he needed to protect. Halsin was not his subordinate. Halsin was not easily defined. “That is quite the compliment,” Zevlor said, his throat suddenly dry. “You’ve rendered me speechless. I can’t remember the last time someone remarked on my visage in such a fashion.”

Halsin frowned. “Truly?”

“I-I was a military man, Halsin,” Zevlor mumbled.

“I’ve heard several of your own people comment on what a fine figure you cut,” Halsin said cheerfully. “You have quite a few admirers.”

“The folly of youth,” Zevlor said, waving him off. “They idealize a former Hellrider, and fail to see him for his many shortcomings. It is something they will grow out of soon. Likely on this very journey.”

“Live long enough, and you will realize that you have many shortcomings,” Halsin said, fingers lightly stroking Zevlor’s arm. “What matters is how you seek to compensate for them.”

“A commendable mindset,” Zevlor’s breath caught as his tail snaked along the back of the druid’s hand. His eyes widened at his own slip, and he hoped that Halsin would not notice-

Halsin chuckled, lightly flicking the tip.

Zevlor gasped, and turned his head, the heat of that touch traveling up his spine. When was the last time someone had played with his tail like this? When was the last time someone made his pulse race in frantic anticipation? Back in Elturel? Before the Descent?

It had to be a mistake. Halsin was just being friendly. Halsin didn’t mean to-

Zevlor looked back, to see Halsin watching him with those hooded eyes.

“Too much?” Halsin asked his voice husky.

Zevlor shuddered.

No, Halsin was too old not to know what he was doing.

“Perhaps I’ve had too much wine. I find myself unfocused,” Zevlor murmured, refusing to address the issue.

“Is it really the wine?” Halsin asked innocently. “I find myself distracted as well, but I haven’t had a drop.”

Zevlor’s breathing grew ragged.

“I’ve seen how you look at me, Zevlor. How your tail arches toward me when we’re alone. I’m not ignorant of tiefling body language.” Halsin’s fingers rubbed his tail and Zevlor gritted his teeth, realizing the treacherous appendage was brushing against the other man’s thigh. “I’m just letting you know that the interest is not one-sided, and if you wish to act on it, well, that is an option.”

Zevlor shut his eyes. “Halsin, that would be unwise.”

“As you say then,” Halsin said, his tone friendly and relaxed. “I have no desire to pressure you.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that,” Zevlor said. He opened his eyes to see Halsin staring wistfully at his mug of tea, still smiling, but the expression held a melancholy that he recognized intimately. Halsin led his circle much like Zevlor led his people. And it would be an imbalance of power to take a lover from those who depended on him. Halsin had similar views. Neither man was alone, but there was a certain kind of solitude that came from the position.

The poignancy of Halsin’s expression struck a chord and Zevlor’s chest tightened. He looked away for a moment, wondering when he had become so timid? Had he lost his spine alongside his oath?

Gritting his teeth, Zevlor, reached over, his hand resting on Halsin’s arm, savoring the feel of bare skin. “If we were going to pursue anything personal, we would have to be very careful,” Zevlor said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Halsin’s eyes widened. “I see.”

“Do you?” Zevlor asked dryly.

Halsin lifted Zevlor’s hand to his lips, his smile bright once more, like the sun shining through the trees. The druid kissed his palm gently, the warmth spreading along his shaken nerves and up through his chest. “I will be very careful with you, Zevlor.”

“It’s not me you have to be careful with,” Zevlor said. “It is those who rely on us.”

“Well, they are not here right now,” Halsin murmured, reaching out to run his fingers along Zevlor’s jaw. “And I think you deserve a great deal of care. I think it has been a long time since someone treated you with the thoughtfulness you deserve.”

Zevlor’s breath caught, the gentleness of Halsin’s touch taking him off guard. The damn man was too insightful, or perhaps he was too obvious in his infatuation. Still his arm moved on its own, trapping Halsin’s hand against his face.

Halsin smiled then and leaned closer.

There came a grinding sound as the chamber doors began to open. Zevlor hissed, dropping back as Halsin released him.

“Sir, the guards report mercenaries wandering around outside. They’re making so much noise, they’ll bring something down on us!” Tilses scowled as she stormed into the room. “We need to infor- Oh.”

Zevlor sipped his wine, eyes on the ground as he leaned away from Halsin.

The Archdruid sat a respectable distance away, also drinking his tea.

Tilses regarded them for a moment. “Oh good, you’re both here. I don’t know what you want to do, but there was no immediate threat, so we weren’t going to act without your permission.” “Thank you, Tilses,” Halsin said, sounding as unbothered as ever. Zevlor envied that skill. “I suppose we better go see what they want.” He climbed to his feet. “Would you come with me?”

Nodding in resignation, Zevlor rose.

“We can continue our discussion afterward,” Halsin said, his tone casual.

“That isn’t necessary,” Zevlor murmured.

“On the contrary,” Halsin said, smiling at him. “I find it a subject of great personal interest, one that requires my full attention.”

Still reeling from that declaration, Zevlor followed the Archdruid outside, to see what misfortune had come knocking at their gates.

#halsin x zevlor #bg3 #fanfiction #writing #zevlor #light spoilers for lore #light spoilers for character backgrounds

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blissfulstarsfics · 4 months ago

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Black and White Chapter 3

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Chapter rating: M

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Summary: At long last, Karlach's heart has been fixed. Now that she can survive outside of the hells, the trio make their way back to the Sword Coast. Free at long last, their destinies are once again their own. However, Tav's allies aren't to keen on what she plans to do with this newfound freedom.

A portal opened and through it they could feel the chilly night breeze of the Sword Coast. Karlach’s heart had finally been fixed after eight long months in the Hells and now they were going home. With tears of joy in their eyes, they crossed into Toril. The dream had at last been realized.

“Gods, it’s not oppressively hot!! The wind feels kind of cool. Holy shit! HOLY SHIT!” Karlach wiped the watery beads from her face, “I get to live!” Tav and Wyll couldn’t help but get caught up in the moment, their own cheeks now wet and salty.

“I’ve never been so grateful to feel cold,” Tav joked.

“Same! Look at that sky,” Wyll pointed to the evening sky. Different colored lights dotted the dark canopy, softly twinkling in peaceful stillness. It was a stark contrast to the eternally aflame sky of Avernus. Karlach sprawled on the grass and closed her eyes.

“This doesn’t seem real. After almost eleven years of fighting demons and cults and whatever the fuck else, it doesn’t seem real. I feel like I’m going to wake up and find out it was all a dream.” She closed her eyelids tighter and sighed. Wyll sat next to her, patting her shoulder.

“Open them and see, Karlach. If you look east, you’ll even see Baldur’s Gate. It seems we managed to escape close to the city,” Wyll stopped to think, “My estimation is that we could be there in two hours.”

“Shall we head out now, or in the morning? As much as I’d like to sleep in a proper bed, I’m utterly exhausted,” Tav admitted. She could see on Karlach and Wyll’s faces that they felt the same, so it was decided.

“One more night in the open. It’ll be just like old times, minus the owlbear cub. I wonder how old Beaky is doing?” Karlach was in incredibly high spirits, which made Tav happy. It made the whole ordeal worthwhile. They set up their bedrolls under the stars for the last time and for once looked forward to what the next day would bring. Tomorrow, they will begin their return to normalcy.

Morning came quickly, not that they minded. The three of them were eager to get to the city. Merchant carts were starting to pass by, followed by townspeople coming in and out. Walking down the street, they saw that Wyrm’s Rock was nearly reconstructed. Buildings both old and new adorned the streets leading to the city proper.

“Looks like the council had homes built for the refugees,” Wyll observed with pride, “I’ll have to ask Father about that. I wonder if it was his idea?”

Tav looked around, seeing some familiar faces. Cerys was looking over something that appeared to be a blueprint. Bex and Danis were in their own little world sitting side by side on a bench. The tiefling children that they escorted from the Emerald Grove ran around acting like normal children for once. Karlach noticed as well.

“Feels like yesterday that they were crossing the shadows to get to the Gate. Gods, look at them now. It makes the journey worth it. When we get settled, I want to see how they’re doing,” The tiefling turned her head forward with a heartened smile.

Entering the city was no problem thanks to traveling with Wyll Ravengard. The Lower City was fairing as well as Wyrm’s Rock. Rolan had finished restoring Sorcerous Sundries, the Elfsong still stood, yet there were still some buildings that sadly looked untouched.

“There’s Fytz! I’m going to go say hi. Aw, look! She had her baby!” Karlach was ridiculously giddy.

“While you’re doing that, I’m going to visit my father. Tav, will you join me? I’m sure he’d love to meet the hero of the Gate.” Wyll’s invitation was kind, but Tav had other plans.

“Thank you, but I’ll have to pass,” she straightened, “I have a harp to retrieve.” She could tell by how they looked at each other that they didn’t approve.

“Soldier, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Karlach’s voice was full of concern. Tav squeezed her hand.

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured them. Wyll placed his hands on her shoulders, staring her in the eye.

“All right, but if you need us, we’ll be there.” Now she was becoming frustrated. Tav was far from being the naive doe falling into a hunter’s trap that they thought she was. And if she was? So be it. She was a grown woman, capable of making her own choices.

“The Blade of Avernus worries too much. But, should I find myself a damsel in distress, I know where to turn.” Tav invited them in for one final, lingering hug before heading to her next destination.

Stepping into the Upper City was like treading into another world. The architecture was ornate, the gardens immaculate, lords and ladies carried on without a care in the world, even the cobblestones had a gleam to them.

The Crimson Palace was a short distance from the gate, but when she got there she felt self conscious. Tav hadn’t had a change of clothing in tendays, let alone access to basic grooming supplies. Here she was about to knock on a lord’s door in tattered clothes, covered in gods only knows what kind of fluids, and stinking to high heaven. Perhaps I should use a side entrance, she thought.

Her heart pounded while she sneaked around the side of the mansion to the servant’s entrance, suddenly feeling very foolish and unsure of herself. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door. A brawny human in a stained apron swung the door open, cleaver in hand, looking put off at the interruption.

“Whatever yer sellin’ we ain’t buyin’,” was his greeting. Tav raised her eyebrows, equally put off.

“My name is Tav and I believe your master may be expecting me.”

“Oh, uh,” he stammered for a bit, then beckoned Tav inside, shutting the door behind them. “Someone get Tibbi!” he called out. A few minutes later a frail, skittish woman with rust colored hair appeared. She kept her eyes downturn, but Tav was easily able to spot their red hue.

“Tibbi, this is the master’s guest. She’s all yours.” The man paid them no more attention and went back to butchering a slab of beef. Tav turned her attention to this woman, Tibbi, giving her a polite smile.

“The master is entertaining guests in the parlor this afternoon,” she began.

“Oh, should I return later?”

“No!” Tibbi raised her arms, afraid, “I only meant he will be unable to receive you. Please follow me, we have a room prepared for you. Would you like a bath?” The poor thing was shaking like a leaf. Tav glanced around, puzzled at the whole interaction.

“Tibbi, you don’t need to be so nervous. And, a bath sounds divine. Thank you.” Tav’s insouciant demeanor helped to slightly calm the maid’s mood. She curtsied to Tav, then motioned for her to follow. The short jaunt from the kitchens to her new room was slightly disappointing. Tav had been looking forward to seeing the mansion’s new design, but they had to stick to hidden corridors due to the daylight. Astarion had taken a liking to open windows and Tav had no desire to see the spawn burn.

“Here we are, my lady.” Tibbi opened the mahogany door. Inside was a gorgeous and spacious room filled with everything a person could need. There was a queen sized bed covered with delicately stitched satin bedding, in the corner sat a dark cherry vanity filled with all sorts of cosmetics, a matching wardrobe, a plush chair and an ottoman sat next to a cozy fireplace. Soon after they arrived, several others came in with a bathtub, water, and fragrant oils.

The attendants filled the tub and used a spell to warm the water to an appropriate temperature. Tibbi put in a few drops of the oils, making the room smell of rose, vanilla, and lavender.

“Let us know when you are finished, my lady, we will collect the bath.” With that, the servants gave a bow and left. Tibbi turned her eyes, allowing Tav to undress. She slipped into the water, feeling its warmth sink into her weary, travel worn muscles. The maid sat behind her with a brush, working the tangles and knots out of her raven locks. She then wetted Tav’s hair with a pleasant smelling hair wash. It felt glorious.

Tav soaked in the bath, scrubbing the stink of the hells away. Meanwhile, Tibbi had opened the wardrobe and presented a few of the dresses. When she did, Tav’s jaw dropped upon seeing it full of a variety of fine attire.

“Which would you prefer? If none of these are to your liking there are others.” All of them were lovely. She settled on a black crushed velvet dress with an intricately embroidered apricot taffeta center panel.

Tibbi sat her in front of the vanity and styled her hair into a chignon. As she did, Tav noticed the makeups, perfumes, skin tonics, and washes that had been prepared for her. All of them were high quality and expensive. She felt a pang of humility upon learning that Astarion had obviously gone to great lengths for her, yet she felt she had nothing to offer in return.

“Shall I do your makeup?” Tibbi asked.

“Please,” Tav nodded. The spawn opened a drawer and pulled out a beautiful set of ivory handled makeup brushes. The elf closed her eyes, letting her apply various creams, shadows, and rouges. When she opened her eyes, she loved what she saw. An hour ago she was a scruffy adventurer fresh from Avernus, now she was a noblewoman.

“You’re very talented, Tibbi.”

“You look radiant, my lady.” Tibbi seemed a bit more relaxed and quite proud of her work. With her work done, she gave another curtsy and left. Alone now, Tav continued surveying the room until she found her harp perched on top of a nearby table. She ran her hands down the wooden arms and body, happily. A warm feeling rushed down her, seeing it intact and waiting for her to pluck its strings.

~~~~~

Time was a luxury the vampire ascendant had in abundance. He was a newcomer in Baldur’s Gate’s high society, one intent on securing his position and power. Obtaining that power required him to perform regular, mundane tasks such as what he was doing now. He was unknown to the elites and currently lacked the networking he required to make the city his. That’s why today he had invited five of the city’s lords to the Crimson Palace for card games and drinks. It was awful.

Boorish as the afternoon was, Astarion was able to glean plenty of information on his guests. Lords Tennington, Copurise, and Northshire played an honest game. They were unsuspecting of the possibility that the others may cheat. This showed him that they were naive to a fault and could easily be manipulated. Lord Hexnigh thought he was far more clever than he was. He would pick what he considered a good hand, have it plastered all over his face, only to be soundly beaten. Astarion determined that he was of very little threat, but if that changed he could easily be crushed.

The only perceived challenge came from Lord Foxworth. He may have been able to conceal his card counting and swapping from the others, but Astarion was far too practiced in sleight of hand to be caught unaware. Yes, he was someone to keep an eye on. Foxworth would either learn his place or be crushed underfoot.

Of course, being a good host, Astarion allowed the man to win his share of rounds. It wouldn’t do to let his guests leave unsatisfied with the afternoon’s activities. Neither would Astarion let them see the full scope of his capabilities. He knew better than to think that he was the only one assessing the room for potential threats.

When the visit was over, Astarion sighed with relief. It was mind numbingly boring to make idle chit-chat with those dullards. He couldn’t believe that there wasn’t one scandal or rumor to be had from any of them. Not one! Not even anything as base as a pregnant maid. It was all business as usual, and Astarion swore that if Lord Tennington mentioned one more time about the proper soil conditions for growing coriander, and sage, and basil, and who the hells cared what else that he would make the halfling his supper. He understood the old man was in the spice trade, but gods below!

All in all, it had been a fruitful visit, albeit a tiresome one. Astarion wanted nothing more than to decompress when he was approached by his chamberlain. He was more than a little vexed by the thrall’s presence.

“This had better be important,” he growled.

“Master, your guest has arrived,” Matteo flatly said. In his addled state, Astarion tried to think of what guest he was expecting. All he wanted was a few hours of peace and now he had to figure out who the staff had let into his home.

Then a harp string quietly sang. Then another. And another.

Astarion pushed the chamberlain aside, rushing upstairs. The door to Tav’s room was wide open and he could see her delicately perched on the chair in front of the vanity, tuning the harp’s strings. She was a sight to behold. Tav was naturally beautiful, as most elves were, but to see her attired and styled so richly was breathtaking. It was a far cry from the threadbare clothing she wore at camp.

“Welcome back,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. Tav looked up, startled.

“Oh!” she put down the harp and got up to greet him, “Was I too loud? I didn’t want to disturb your guests. Tibbi told me you had company.”

“They have all left, thank the gods,” he sighed, “Aristocratic life isn’t all parties and intrigue, unfortunately.”

“My poor lord, you sound positively dejected,” she teased.

“Tonight’s entertainment will be much more exciting, at least,” he slyly grinned, “You see, not long after the city’s reconstruction began a mysterious figure, a dwarf who called himself the Ruby Blade, appeared and had an underground arena built. They host these wonderfully entertaining deathmatch tournaments.”

“Wait,” she chuckled, “You actually installed a murder pit?”

“Why not me!” Astarion crossed his arms with sarcastic offense, “The Ruby Blade did! Now…whether or not he is my spawn is a secret I shall never share,” he leaned in, “One thing I will share is how lucrative this little coliseum is. You would be surprised how eager some of the patriars are to throw their money away watching and betting on peasants, criminals, and the like bash each others brains out.”

“Oh, I have an idea,” Tav grinned knowingly, “May I accompany you?”

“Darling, I was hoping you’d ask.”

Shortly after dusk, Astarion and Tav made their way down a winding path that led to the arena’s hidden entrance. It was unremarkable and covered in overgrown ivy, which made it perfect for its function. He knocked three times and an eye slit opened. A tiefling with red skin and blackened eyes took one look at Astarion, then opened the door.

The passageways were poorly lit, damp, and musty smelling. Several people, mostly men, were making conversation as they went further. Much of it pertaining to the current roster of fighters and who was favored to win.

Just outside the venue was a gathering space of sorts. Astarion was obviously a regular at these events and was greeted by other patrons who commonly frequented the tournaments. However, tonight they were far less interested in him than they were his new lady. They were enchanted by her natural charisma and grace, the way she moved, the way she spoke.

The vampire was pleased with the attention. He enjoyed watching his peers stare in awe at this beautiful new couple. A fine debut , he thought. At least it was, until one of said peers took Tav’s hand and brought it to his lips. Astarion had to remind himself this was acceptable etiquette, something to be expected, however the man decided to prolong the encounter longer than deemed acceptable. Worse, Tav was making no effort to pull away.

“I do hope we see you again. Beauty such as yours should never be hidden.” At last he released her, but made sure to give her a lengthy stare as he walked on. Astarion’s eyes followed him as he disappeared from view, seething with jealousy. Tav, on the other hand, was watching the crowd, utterly oblivious.

“Lord Astarion!” a girlish voice shouted from a few meters away. They looked over and saw a young, black haired human in a jeweled dress striding their way to plant a firm kiss on his lips. She withdrew, side eyed Tav, then turned her attention back to Astarion.

“I missed you,” she traced a finger down his chest, “Will you sit with me?” He decided turnabout's fair play and that it was Tav’s turn to feel the sting of envy.

“Nurah, you look immaculate as always. I’m afraid I must decline, as you can see I have a guest with me this evening.” During Tav’s time in the hells, Astarion would occasionally take people to bed to satisfy his needs. Nurah was one of many who meant nothing but a good time to him.

“Aw,” she pouted, placing her hands on his chest, “Well, when you get bored you know where to find me.”

“Indeed, I do,” he smoothed a stray hair from her face, “Indeed, I do.” The excessive flirtations now finished, Nurah shot another side glance at Tav before going to her seat. Astarion slowly turned his devilishly smiling face, expecting to see Tav hurt or jealous or angry. He was wrong, she was completely indifferent.

She didn’t react.

She didn’t care.

And he didn’t like it.

His pride felt bruised. Clearing his throat, he suggested they go to their seats.

“Hm?” Tav responded as though she were off somewhere else, “Yes, let’s.”

Fighters entered single file into the pit, marching to the center where they stood side by side underneath a raised throne. They snapped salutes when a dwarf dressed in red came down a flight of stairs, his chest puffed and proud. As he began some speech about valor and bravery, Tav leaned toward Astarion.

“Does the Ruby Blade know who will win tonight?” she whispered.

“Who can say? All I know is I have a substantial wager on the dragonborn on the far left,” he winked. The banter reminded him of their days on the road, of how they’d sneak away or wait til the camp was asleep to talk trash. She always had a witty comment or reply on whatever was happening. Perhaps that’s why her unperturbed attitude unsettled him. She was continuing on as if nothing just happened. Nothing, not even an elevated heartbeat.

Familiar arms wrapped around his neck. Nurah had found them and made no attempt to hide her intentions.

“Lord Astarion, it’s so dreadful!” she moaned, burying her face in his shoulder, playing at a delicate flower act. Tav responded with quiet laughter.

“Poor dear, fights to the death must be too much for the young miss. Perhaps embroidery might be better entertainment for you,” she sneered. Nurah cozied closer to Astarion to soothe her bruised ego. He made no effort to shoo her away, in fact he looked at Tav as if to ask, “What are you going to do?”

Again, she did nothing.

It was well after midnight when the festivities ended and the two arrived home. The day was not the sort of reunion Astarion had planned. Far from it. Tav was as indecipherable as ever, a trait which he found equally fascinating and infuriating.

“I had fun today, thank you.” Her smile was sincere, “I’m exhausted. I can’t wait to be able to rest in an actual bed again. My camping days are done, at least for a century or two.”

“Rest well, Tav.” He didn’t know what else to say. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and went upstairs. Astarion watched as she seemed to glide across the room, mesmerized. Feeling restless, he walked the halls of the mansion to settle his thoughts. When he passed Tav’s room, he heard muffled sobbing. Interesting. He pressed his ear against the door and swore he heard a hushed, “bastard.”

Astarion lifted his head and resumed his walk with a renewed smugness. It seemed Tav was going to be a tough nut to crack, but one he would crack nonetheless. After all, the vampire ascendant had nothing but time.

#astarion fanfic #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x female tav #ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion ascended #soft astarion #asended astarion fic

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arxiel · 6 months ago

Text

CRIMSOM THUNDER

Rolan x F!Tav

BACK --- NEXT

Chapter 3: Shadelight

Rating: Explicit (CONTAINS STRONG CONTENT AND ANGST)

Summary: The group of refugees made their way through the mountain pass to reach Shadow curse land. Not knowing that it could be the end for many of the refugees and a horrible experience for the survivors.

Words Count: 4,843

Notes: Im so sorry if the english is BAD, originally i speak spanish, may have some errors.

I've always wondered what they've been through, so I've taken the dialogues that Alfira, Cerys and Rolan said in Last light inn to interpret it as faithfully as possible.

AO3 LINK

CHAPTER INDEX

Or... read Bellow

The breeze at dawn was blowing through the grove, all the refugees had collected their belongings to leave for their journey. Rolan carefully arranged all his personal belongings in his bag, not forgetting his important book with Lorroakan's letter.

The walk was peaceful, and there would be conversations among some refugees to lighten the mood as others kept their words to themselves to avoid wasting their energy as they walked.

Stories of ancient heroes would be told to entertain children and Rolan's brothers told about the heroics of other famous heroes to the little ones.

Rolan walked in step with the others, practising the new spells in his head.

They would arrive at the mountain pass in a few days time without any problems, the Githyankis that Zorru had sighted would have already left and the path would be a little safer. The beauty of the sunset on the mountain pass was be enormous, with the leaves barely dried by the autumn stage and the environment decorated with the sunlight in its last stages of the day; A sight that is not equalled anywhere, even in the cities.

Although Rolan doesn't like being surrounded by nature, he enjoys these views and would never say no to taking time to enjoy it until the next sunrise.

Halfway through the mountain pass, the refugees would began to set up the camp for one last night before moving into dark lands, the atmosphere would slightly transform into purple colours, delighting even more the last views of the sun.

At nightfall Mrs. Okta cooked the dinner for the refugees, displeased to water down the broth even more, and her son Ikaron, despite having been a guard in Elturel, helped his old mother pass the dishes to the children and adults, even though they were even fewer refugees than they had been when they left Elturel.

Lakrissa and Afira would talk with Dammon while letting the siblings Cal and Lia relate the story of how 'the heroine of the grove' saved the day and how she fared in battle.

Curious to Rolan's ears, the children had an admiration for Yvainne, the way the others would tell her story made her seem like someone stocky and tall, a stereotypical hero in a big way when she is a puny, slightly shorter than any other woman and dangerously skilled with magic, but has good dexterity, worthy of being a hunter.

"There was no need to twist reality to benefit her..." It passed through Rolan's head as he kept flipping through his book.

The hours passed before everyone started to eat dinner, Rolan leaning against the rocks noticed a slight glow among the rocks near the cliff, he left the bowl of thin soup and approached it.

An unusual object was buried in the dirt, but it glowed in the light of the campfire. He carefully picked it up from the dirt and cleaned it with his fingertips; it was a hairpin made of gold with a star-shaped decoration.

That unique golden glow in the darkest night close to the mountainous forest landscape would remind Yvainne's eyes as green as laurel leaves and the centre as golden as the sun. Something that his memory wouldn't forget as easily as her freckles, long and disorganised hair as black as a crow's wings.

Each time he looks at that hairpin he only thinks about seeing her again to pick up her hair and decorate it with that ornament to see that face with those beautiful eyes in particular...

Instantaneously he blinked his eyes strongly and put the hairpin in his pocket, he didn't like to think about those things, he felt weak and he hated it.

With what happened at the waterfalls, the fight with the goblins and the moment at the party it felt like the gods had made her to annoy him. He wasn't in her league at all, she was surrounded with interesting companions who seemed to have a special interest in her, and he's just a cocky apprentice wizard.

One of those days if he saw her again he'd go mad. But for his good fortune or not, maybe he wouldn't see her again.

"Rolan, Mrs. Okta is asking why you haven't finished your soup." Cal's voice would bring him out of his thoughts. "I'll be there in a moment." Rolan headed for his dinner plate in the company of his brothers.

They would talk more about their walking corns and sunburn until the conversations became interesting fot two of them.

"We didn't talk much about that night of the party." Rolan choked on his food as he heard Lia bring up that conversation.

"Oh yes. The night when my brother and sister humiliated me awfully by drunken dancing." Rolan blurted out with almost an aggressive edge to his words before politely consuming his soup.

"And we also interrupted your most intimate moment with her." Cal said, turning his lips to his cup of water. Rolan spat the food near Lia at which she laughed. Her cheeks would slowly flush as her brothers laughed mockingly.

"No, we didn't. - I was avoiding being associated with drunken idiots by staying away from the party. Nothing happened there, I just showed her how to do the lights. Absolutely nothing happened." Said Rolan who turned redder than he already was.

"Alone with Yvainne, and nothing happened; hells, you must have fucked it up." Said Lia with a malicious smile.

"No! No, just no." Rolan's words would begin to falter. "That tells us everything." Cal said with a chuckle. Rolan would look away in an attempt to ignore his brothers' taunts. It was difficult to explain that situation, he had let himself be carried away by the wine and the previous dangerous situation. But the realisation that his brothers were eager for an answer would lead him to be partially honest.

"If you two hadn't come drunk...." Rolan murmured, his brothers heard him, both exchanged glances with excitement.

"Next time, put your lights in the sky so that we don't disturb you." Lia excitedly shook Cal, Rolan brought his hands to his face to cover the obvious nervousness that his siblings would easily provoke. He didn't know if it would be a next time, he'd be too busy learning magic with his new master Lorroakan, but he'd let his siblings get carried away with the excitement.

His brothers didn't bring up that subject again, although very deep down Rolan wanted to tell his brothers how pretty she was under that hair, he wouldn't do it, they would tease him again and this time it would be for days. Even though it was evident that there was something growing between them, and it would grow even more if they met again, he wouldn't admit that he had genuine interest in a person.

At the time of everyone's rest, Rolan covered Cal and Lia with a blanket to keep them warm in the camp. As he leaned close to his siblings, he would open his book and practice again in absolute silence.

As he leaned back he would feel a twinge in his side, as he removed the discomfort he would notice that the discomfort was that hairpin. Looking again at that ornament he carefully placed it on the page on which it was located so as not to lose the page and passed the letter of Lorroakan to the end parts of the book. Now he could see the page more clearly without having to turn the letter to other pages.

His thoughts turned to how to present himself in the city and how the Baldureans would see him. He is a tiefling and people would judge him by what happened in Elturel, although with the letter it is certain that they will have a good place in the area. His concern for his siblings would come up again, he would not want his brother and sister suffer discrimination, but one thing is for sure, Lia would protect Cal from anyone who would try to hurt him, as well as him he'll protect her.

A hand brought him out of his thoughts, it was Asharak, he'd silently gesture for him to follow him, and Rolan returned the book to his bag with extreme care so that the hairpin wouldn't fall out.

Asharak escorted Rolan to an area where the cathedral could be seen in the distance. Zevlor observed the night scenery in awe.

"Ah, boy, I wondered if you might in the mood for a conversation." Zevlor said without looking away from the breathtaking scenery.

"It seemed you needed the wisdom of a wizard." Said Rolan, crossing his arms with a cheeky smile.

"You're not far wrong boy. -You see we're not so far from the entrance to Shadows cursed land and we need all the fire burning we can get in specific spots so that the refugees don't suffer the curse. If the shadows try to extinguish them, it would be helpful to chase them away with your magic." Rolan nodded at Zevlor's specific instructions.

"I will do what I can, for my brothers, don't be mistaken, Zevlor." the paladin nodded his understanding at Rolan's words.

"If anything happens to us, and I hope by the mercy of the gods it doesn't. You will take our place along with Cerys and lead these people to Baldur's gate." Rolan paled at Asharak's comment. Of all the possible leaders he would accept Cerys, one of the scouts of Elturel, becoming leader. But himself?

It is a burden he would not like to bear, but there would be no other way.

Zevlor would laugh at Rolan's expression.

"You should not frighten him my friend, it is a hypothetical case, as long as we remain enlightened nothing will happen to us, simply everyone will be frightened of the shadowy whispers, but if anyone comes near be assured that my sword will speak for itself, it is just a precaution." said Zevlor with a heroic look on his face. Surely his strength and leadership can take on the shadows of the cursed lands.

"That was all boy, you can go rest again, tomorrow we leave for the shadow cursed land." Rolan nodded as Zevlor gave him the signal to leave. The only thing running through his mind was that he would be a very bad leader if anything happened to the others, he doesn't have the patience to lead, he's not like... Yvainne.

He breathed the air before turning to his siblings again. For the night's movements they would be uncovering themselves by accident. Rolan returned to cover them up to their necks with the blanket and lay down near them to rest. He only knew that for Cal and Lia he would protect them with his life and if possible in death as well.

It wasn't hard to wake up, the sunrise would be as bright as the sunset and it was a glorious feeling and Rolan knew it by feeling the warmth of the sun.

By contrast, his brothers would have had a harder time waking up on their own, being heavy sleepers.

"I think I got a pebble stuck in me while I was sleeping." Lia grumbled as she rubbed her side, Rolan would grin at the situation. Once Cal and Lia were ready, they helped lift the belongings of the other refugees to leave the camp.

Although it was difficult to keep the children quiet and the oxen still tired, they continued on their way. As they continued on their way there were signs in the area that they were close as plants were swallowed up and some dead animals.

Some refugees began to talk to lighten the silence in the face of the difficult path, Rolan remained restlessly reading his book again and looked up at the hairpin that reminded him of those eyes, he couldn't avoid smiling and even more so as his brothers retold their story to entertain the people.

"I know that Look from anywhere, who is it?" Bex would approach him to look at the book, Rolan would slam it shut with a jolt.

"You confuse a peaceful smile with any stupidity, just go to your husband, I don't have to deal with you." said Rolan, giving her a little tap on the shoulder. Bex went jumping up and down with her husband to gossip about him.

Rolan rolled his eyes, he's already tired of it, first his heated mind thinking of someone he may never see again, then his brothers and now the tiefling couple, there was no place for those feelings anymore and even less especially when is near the cursed lands, it's time to focus.

Along the way he kept mentally practising with the magic to perfect it.

"Mmm perhaps i could make modifications to the spells to make them more powerful." He muttered to himself. Rolan wagged his tail with excitement, he could try, varying his inner magic he could make these modifications, it wasn't really forbidden. He would practice with his fingers to try, flexing them properly and feel the magic flow differently in his veins.

His eyes widened in surprise, it was really possible, his excitement rising even more as he unleashed a genuine smile on his own face. He couldn't wait until arriving at the camp to do it.

Inspired he closed the book and put it in the bag, it was more than enough and already there was no time to continue reviewing, the heavy atmosphere indicated that the time had come.

Twisted trees, blackened earth and dead animals all around. Alfira, Cal and Lia would try to calm the frightened children, Dammon would secure the goods to avoid accidents on the road, Zevlor would give the instructions to set up the protective formation in order not to get separated from the road in the shadows.

Those selected as the points of light lit their torches, some of them calmed the oxen so they would not break ranks out of fear.

Once done, Zevlor would take the first step into the darkness of the twisting trees, followed by a few refugees and hellriders. Lia would take Rolan and Cal by the hand before taking the steps to proceed into the darkness.

"It really was everything they said...".

There was no more sun, no more heat, just darkness incarnate.

Reithwin is nothing more and no less than a dead land reigned by shadows, adorned with twisted trees, spiky vines, blood-red grasses and dried plants. The smell was damp like graveyard dirt, but even heavier, even stinging on the nose.

Although around the refugees they have torches for light, the necrotic energy is even more powerful than what was mentioned and could instantly harm any living thing. As if something was feeding it even more.

"We must go on, do not fear, under the torchlight we will be safe." Zevlor said in a loud and confident voice. The group began to move forward in fear and silence.

The pace became more difficult as the shadows groaned as they tried to drown out the light of the torches, other shadows tried to seduce some of the weaker refugees out of the group and consume them, but none were deterred by fear.

"I could never imagine setting foot in these lands, the darkness is so heavy..." Cal squeezing his arms tightly around him.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine, the walk may be a little long, but with the torches we'll be all right." Lia said with a nervous smile, patting his brother's back.

Something felt wrong about the whole place, there were empty settlements and cages, the others didn't care, but Rolan would be nervous about them, campfires with embers, it's definitely not just shadowland anymore.

The sound of one of the wagons falling and the sound of falling metal would catch the group's attention, one of the oxen would begin to be blackened to death. Dammon's wares were already by the shadows, he would try to collect the most important things to take with him to get closer to the group as quickly as possible.

"One of the oxen succumbed to the shadows, there's not much I can do." Dammon said broken, some of the hard work was already with the shadows, but he kept the notes and some research he had.

"There's no problem, when we get to the city everything... everything will be fine." Alfira said patting Dammon on the back before continuing down the path.

The shadows would seem to quiet down in a few moments as they would reach a path that included several roads, movements could be heard amongst the grasses instead of the shadows. Something wrong and Rolan's nerves would become more evident.

"Everything all right?" Lia asked looking at her brother, she tried to place one of her hands on his shoulder, but he would turn his gaze abruptly with real terror in his eyes.

"It looks like an ambush...." whispered Rolan to which Lia and Cal tried to warn as many people as possible to stay calm and run as soon as they had the chance.

But up ahead the children began to cry and scream, they were being quickly and silently surrounded, not by shadows, but by Absolute cultists, the same ones who wanted to raid the grove.

The group started to move closer together as the cultists began to corner them like animals.

Rolan's heartbeat quickened to a terrifying pace, a cold sweat would break out as he saw them draw their weapons. His instinct led him to grab the hands of his brothers who would also look terrified.

When they threatened Zevlor by pointing a crossbow at him he dropped to his knees touching his head as if in severe pain, a reaction that had also been seen on Yvainne during the battle with the goblins.

Some of the refugees would draw their weapons to defend the others, but a voice familiar to Rolan would shock him.

"Put down your weapons. We are refugees heading for Baldur's gate, we are not enemies, please let us go." pleaded Zevlor, some absolutists would look closely at the tiefling.

"Oh yes The Absolute, it has an interest in you, it has an interest in some of you, hell spawn. The Absolute wants to see who is of use and who will be sacrificed." The children began to cry louder as they listened to the absolutist, Asharak would try his best to calm the children whispering to them that all will be fine.

Rolan's chest shrank as he listened to Zevlor, he became dizzy as he tried to look at the others.

One of the absolutists would grab Asharak by the horn to pull him away from the group and place them in front of the frightened tieflings.

"We'll examine you. Line up, now! Or this spawn dies." He pointed a sword at the tiefling's neck with sadism. The refugees obeyed with panic on their faces.

"Zevlor by the gods do something! You can't let them do this to us, this is why we fight in the grove!" - Lia cried out in desperation, turning her anguished gaze to the Paladin. Zevlor looked at the young woman in sadness with true surrender in his eyes, Rolan would look into those eyes , the only salvation was giving them over to death.

"Absolute is the only way..." Said Zevlor with pain in his words, looking away.

"Close your eyes, children, please..." Asharak said with difficulty, in his eyes could be seen the sadness of knowing that this was going to be his true end and he was trying to assimilate it. In a merciless act, the absolutist gouged out the tiefling's eyes. His screams of agony made the refugees shiver and weep, and they proceeded to cut out his tongue to drown out those screams. The choking sound left Rolan with a helplessness that turned to revulsion.

"Yes! Yes!! beg for your life! This is what will happen if you don't obey The Absolute's will" At that, Asharak's body would be thrown down to the ground and they would aggressively grab Ikaron's arm, his mother tried to pull his arm and one of the Absolutists kicked her out of the way.

"Don't touch my son! Leave him, please don't touch him! Take me, but not my son!" Okta shouted in desesperation. Rolan would turn his eyes away to avoid looking, he didn't know Ikaron but had engaged in a few conversations with him, her screams and sobs pleading for her son filled his throat with despair.

Hearing the blood spilling followed by Ikaron's screams, Mrs. Okta yelled out loud in fury, her only son had been slaughtered like a hog, in her act of impulsiveness she rushed to her son in tears, and another of the occultists shot her in the back causing her to fall beside her son. Tieflings' panic and terror would be hard to contain and the occultists threatened to slash the children's throats if they didn't calm down.

The lump in Rolan's throat rose in frustration, he couldn't let this happen, eventually it will be his brothers' turn. He hoped with all his heart that Yvainne and his strange party would come out of nowhere to save them again; that's what heroes do, saving people when they need it most, at any time.

But that would not happen.

Rolan started to tremble in helplessness, he shook his head and tried to blink hard to wake up from this real nightmare, but it was not like that, this is more than reality.

They were cornered and lined up like dogs.

What good are heroes if they are not present in the face of the danger of the innocent?

No one would come to save them and any attempt to escape would put everyone in danger....

Nobody... Not even Yvainne could save them...

"Tormento"

From Rolan's fingers shot out spheres of red light that would hurt several occultists.

"I'd rather rot in the shadows than give in to any of you, Bastards!" Rolan stood up preparing a lightning spell, his eyes glowed like flames.

Lia got up dryly to throw a rock at the archer cultist's head to make him drop his weapon to grab her bow and strike at the remaining archers that would threaten to hurt her brother, Cal would slash the back of their knees with his spear to bleed them out. It was like facing goblins, some will take the opportunity to escape from the cultists. The three brothers bravely fought against the cultists who would threaten them. They had hoped that Zevlor with a glimmer of hope would rise up and fight.

But he didn't, he has remained on his knees, surrendered, and the Cultists would take him away.

"Capture as many as you can and take them to the Moonrise towers, necromancer Balthazar will be pleased, with the ones who are fighting." Said one of the cultists with a delighted smirk.

Some of the refugees would fall to the cultists as more came taking other tieflings as prisoners, Cerys led the few adult tieflings to safety, other tieflings would turn away to run in the opposite direction.

The children stood in shock at the carnage, Rolan stepped in front of the children while casting another spell.

"Alfira take the children now!" Rolan shouted to give the bard a cue. She attempted to take the children, but they too would be cornered from behind.

Rolan would notice those cultists behind them.

If he tries to face the ones in front of him, the children would be lost, and if he tried to face the ones surrounding the children, he would die or worse.

His heart would race with anxiety, he was doing his best not to perish in the face of the cultists. He had limited time to think properly.

Suddenly Cal and Lia stood in front of him to save their brother. He would feel his blood chilling to see his siblings in front of him protecting in order for him to conjure the spell.

"Run, Rolan!" Cal shouted, preparing to strike with his spear.

"The children needs you, save them." Lia said hoarsely, but there was a look of determination in her eyes.

"No, I will not leave you behind, I will fix this, just step aside and..." Rolan panicked, the children needed him and his brothers were willing to cover him to save him as well, he could not choose either of them. - If he chose his siblings the children would die and he will never forgive himself, but on the other hand his brother and sister is the most important thing in his life, it is his whole world, his world that he had fought so hard to get to where they are.

He couldn't choose, he can't, his senses would be clouded by the stress of the situation, he couldn't react or speak, there was an internal conflict with himself to try to manage it.

"We love you, asshole." When Lia uttered her last words both brothers rushed towards the cultists.

"Detono"

Rolan without time threw thunderwave towards the cultists in the back who went for the children, he quickly grabbed the arm of a frightened girl to take her away along with Alfira and the other children.

Rolan's chest felt heavy, the lump in his throat would intensify each time he heard the shouts of the others who covered their backs for Rolan to protect the survivors from the cultists.

They would cross the bridge of the old inn that seemed to be protected by shadows.

Guards would shoot at the remaining cultists to clear the way, others would help the wounded children and tieflings. Several people would tend to them, clearly wearing the badge of a harp on their armour.

Harpers...

The loose organisation which tries to maintain balance and fight villainy throughout Faerun. A very familiar face would appear among the Harpists. Jaheira, the High Harpist, heroine of Baldur's Gate.

The refugees and the high harpist would approach Rolan to ask them questions at the same time.

He couldn't hear the questions, he couldn't see due to his blurred vision. He just wanted to go back for his brother and sister.

On impulse he turned to run back into the shadows, but some vines grabbed his feet, preventing him from taking another step. Rolan would turn to face the old half elf woman angrily.

"Let me go, damn you! I must save them!" Rolan would shout, as the vines stretched across his legs and arms, preventing him from using magic to free himself.

"For the nine hells I must save them! they're my brother and sister!" He was forced to his knees by the vines. Tears would well up in him, completely clouding his judgement. Sorrow and wrath flooded him, his brothers had sacrificed themselves for him to save the rest of them, or at least a part of them.

He endured the sorrowful tears that threatened to spill out as he tried to pull himself free from the vines. But each attempt to break free stung and burned on his skin. It was clear they didn't want to let him get out, he bowed his head in surrender.

It was useless to leave, they were gone anyway if he returned to that place and that would hurt him even more. The vines dissipated and a few harpists would block the entrance.

Alfira touched his shoulder in consolation, but he would turn away abruptly.

"Don't touch me, you worthless bard-" Rolan waved his hands; Dammon tried to converse with him, but he averted his gaze.

Without listening to anybody else he stood up and moved into the inn. His gaze stopped on Bex who had tears in her eyes and alone, without her husband.

"That's why it was stupid to stay in the grove, I stayed in the grove thanks to Yvainne because of her goddamned hero speech, I thought it'd have been worth it, but it looks like it was all a bloody disappointment." Rolan spoke in a furious tone, desperately trying to get everyone to stay away from him.

His chest even ached at the mention of her name. If he had kept his word, his brothers would still be with him. If he had not listened to his heart they would be with him. They would have already left for the city if not for her.

Flooded with rage he would whip his bag of scrolls and his precious book to the canteen floor. Ignoring everything he would walk alone outside on the terrace to scream out all the pain he felt, a pain that would tear him apart and burn him alive before he threw himself to the ground in tears.

Nothing mattered to him anymore, not the letter from Lorroakan, not the scrolls, not the book.

For him there was nothing than stinging pain and the eternal moments of each tear flowing down his cheek.

END OF ACT 1

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BACK --- NEXT

#bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan nation #rolan baldur's gate 3 #holy rolan empire #rolan x tav #baldur's gate 3 #rolan fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

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stories-from-the-sword-coast · 7 months ago

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Fanfic Recommendation!

Recommended by - @queen-of-cats

Title: Time and Again Author: @lolliputian Rating: T Length: 92,050 Complete or WIP?: WIP Pairings: Zevlor/Female OC, Halsin/OC, Tav/Wyll, Cerys/Rolan, Dammon & Karlach Warnings: none included

Excerpt:

'Perhaps he was being too cynical after everything, but he thought that cynicism well deserved, all things considered. He had fought all his life to prove his worth, and so much was undone simply for being born in his body. Elturel turned its back on its proud Tieflings. He watched as previously generous neighbors suddenly rejected and sneered devilkin at him. He saw firsthand how druids of Emerald Grove reacted to them, and they wouldn’t be the only ones. Though he had been fortunate enough to make it through the gates (thanks to the Flaming Fist in the pods with him), he knew that many of his people—did he even have the right to call them that anymore?—were stuck outside the walls. That refugees were not treated with kindness in general under Gortash’s rule. Aside from that, it wasn’t even the first time Baldur’s Gate was at the center of a dangerous plot. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe fell.'

Why you love it:

Really compelling characters (both OCs and canon characters), one of the most lovely Karlach resurrection scenes that makes me cry every time, excellent blend of humour and emotional moments

Link to Fic:

#bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #zevlor bg3 #halsin bg3 #zevlor fanfic #tiefling bg3 #stories from the sword coast #BG3 book club

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powdermelonkeg · 8 months ago

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Plotting and realizing what choices had to have been made for what I want, meaning it's not 100% completionist or everything-went-perfectly.

BG3 side:

All the companions got their "good" endings

Shadowheart's parents died

Shadowheart romanced Halsin

No Tav/Dark Urge to speak of

Orpheus went ghaik and died

Ethel was killed

Varrl was spared successfully

The egg was not taken

Balthazaar was killed in the Shadowfell specifically

Duke Ravengard and Counselor Florrick both lived

Raphael got Lae'zel to sign the contract, but the group broke into the hells later

Minthara is dead

Kagha was demoted without being confronted about the shadow druids

Rolan and his siblings all lived

TW3 Side

Gaunter O'Dimm didn't get Olgierd's soul

Syanna lives, Regis is an outcast

Emhyr is dead and Nilfgaard is falling

Radovid is gutting the North

Ciri is a witcher

Lambert lived (obviously)

Keira lived (and saved Lambert)

Cerys is queen of Skellige

Geralt chose Yennefer

Geralt helped kill Jad Karadin

Letho survived both TW2 and his bounty plan in TW3

Overall positive endings, but not perfect

#tmytia #bee's rambles #bg3 #tw3 #bg3 spoilers #tw3 spoilers #<- both of these specifically because they're ending outcomes

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viridescentelf · 1 month ago

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playing dress up with astarion lol

astarion: „see? at least you‘re useful for something now! a pretty little doll i can craft elegant dresses and other fashion for.“

cerys: „o-ok“

references:

and help for halsin 🩷🩷🩷🩷

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #halsin #halsin bg3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 headcanons #bg3 fanart #astarion our fashionista #astarion the talented seamstress that you are lol #in my head he makes fits for everyone #halsin x tav #bg3 fandom #tav cerys #bg3 tav #astarion ancunin #baldur‘s gate 3 tav

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xx-arisu · 10 months ago

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My tav Cery, a half drow, noble sorceress! Currently on act 3 with her!

#bg3 #bg3 tav #tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate fanart #oc

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rottenbrainstuff · 11 months ago

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BG3 playthrough - ending act 2

Ugh. I’m at the end of Act 2 now…. This game has kept me so wonderfully occupied for months, I’m kind of sad to be nearing the end, but also excited to see what else will happen. Of all the things I have already spoiled for myself, I’m mostly totally unfamiliar with the dark urge content for act 3, so I’m excited to see what new horrors I get to wring my tav through!

I thought I’d quickly wrap up after defeating Ketheric and move on, but dang there’s a lot of things to clean up here… everyone suddenly needs to talk to me all at once, even fricking Withers showed up. There’s books to grab now that no one is watching, corpses to loot. Aylin and Isobel are fucking hilarious, I love them, they’re adorable.

I’m really sad there’s so many ways to shit-talk Zevlor with Cerys. (oddly there’s also dialogue options to talk about him as if he’s dead when he definitely is not. The dialogue in act 2 definitely needs some polish, I’ve found a lot of little errors like this) Man I dunno. I mean he definitely failed. His own personal responsibility in regards to that failure is debatable. The tieflings are certainly in their right to be angry. But like. He fully accepts his culpability without excuse. He seems like he’s completely thrown himself away because of one moment of weakness against a foe whose entire MO is to manipulate people into obedience. In the end he wasn’t even suitable to be a true soul anyways, he says he was rejected, possibly because he was fighting, he can’t remember. I totally get the anger but I also feel bummed I don’t have more dialogue options to try to argue harder on his behalf, even if Cerys will never forgive him. Sigh. Does Alfira have anything to say? In a normal playthrough is she with the group at the tower? I’m just too protective of my sad old man hellrider I guess.

Before I left the shadow curse map, I stopped back at Last Light just to see if there was anything left. …there was. There were a handful of tieflings still there, and still giving me the “I saw a light in the sky!” dialogue. I hope nothing is permanently bugged for them and they’ll travel over to act 3 properly? Lakrissa was still there, Cal and Lia were still there, and Danis was there by himself in the yard (amusingly, after I brought him back from the Moonrise prison, sometimes he was walking around with Bex, and other times they somehow got separated and would just stay stuck in their separate spots, waiting for the other one to join them).

I’ve heard some people say that the scene with Raphael and Mol playing lanceboard has been removed, and replaced with a bit of an odd dialogue instead. I reloaded one of my own saves of me walking up to Last Light for the first time, and it was still the lanceboard scene for me, but maybe I just wasn’t loading back far enough? Some people speculate that the scene has been changed to get rid of an uncomfortable comment Raphael makes about Mol being “a blushing apple waiting to be plucked.” Other people are saying this is actually a glitch, and I am hoping that is the case. I accidentally got a strange dialogue path once when I was talking to Jaheira, and it seems this dialogue is from an alternate plot if you didn’t end up saving the grove. I’m hoping this alternate Raphael scene has to do with that.

Raphael’s line is definitely extremely uncomfortable but like. In my opinion… that’s… the point. Y’all really, really, desperately really need to learn that it’s ok to feel uncomfortable, there are going to be lots of things in life that make you feel uncomfortable, and you are actually going to have to find a way to process that feeling rather than demand that everything that makes you feel uncomfortable be removed. It’s an uncomfortable line. I don’t think Raphael has specific sexual intent in mind when he makes the statement, but I think it is very unfortunately worded, and it’s like that on purpose, and it’s supposed to make you go oh wow that is not cool. Raphael is a devil, he is literally evil, and I’m sorry if this comes as a surprise, but it makes sense that he would say things that are Not Good.

Anyways, I do really think it’s a glitch rather than a change, because if you wanted to get rid of that line, it would be much much easier to just edit that single line out of the conversation and salvage the rest of the scene, rather than completely rewriting a totally new conversation, a new conversation which now also doesn’t start the discussion about Mol’s contract with Raphael. That’s what I’m putting my money on, anyways, and I hope it’s true, because the lanceboard scene is nice and that would be a stupid reason to just cut the entire thing out.

In all the gifs I’ve seen of Gortash, I never understood his appeal, he always just gave me the overwhelming impression that he smells like a pile of damp towels that sat in a corner instead of being properly dried. Now that I’ve seen him, I am doubling down on that. I’m glad for the girlies who are crazy for him, and I definitely like him as an amusing antagonist, but I still imagine him as a stinky mildewed goblin man.

I am STILL crying about the little note from baby Isobel that Ketheric kept with him. I think my tav is going to start carrying that around as well. Fuck, man.

My tav has really been through the shit with all the creepy dark urge flavour in the colony, and all he wants is a fucking rest to process some of this, but he can’t because now we’ve got the Big Giant Emperor reveal coming up.

#bg3 raphael #zevlor #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 playthrough #bg3 spoilers

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