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Honey Webbing

Part XIII

!!! WARNING !!!

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SENSITIVE CONTENT SUCH AS DETAILED DEPICTIONS OF SEVERE MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES AND SUICIDE ATTEMPT

I flagged those parts with a [warning] before, so you can skip them if you want.

When Minthara awakes, the remnants of her nightmare were still fading as her vision cleared. The lingering sensation of endless falling sent a shiver down her spine, and she winced as a dull ache pulsed through her battered body, specially through her leg and shoulder, where blood-stained bandages were meticulously placed. Again. She barely had gotten rid of the previous set.

Glancing around, Minthara took in her unfamiliar surroundings. The simple yet well-appointed furnishings were immediately recognizable as Halsin's, but this was no longer the attendance room. The enormous bed, the adjoining bathroom, and the oversized clothes hung in complete disarray on the wooden hooks along the wall - while a pile of them occupied a chair behind the door - made it clear she was now in the druid's own bedchamber.

Minthara's armor and weapons had been carefully cleaned up and placed on the floor beside the bed, though they were in dire need of repair. She allowed herself a moment to appreciate the thoughtfulness of whoever had tended to her equipment, a small gesture that stood in stark contrast to the pain that permeated her weary body.

The memories came rushing back - the fight against the Cloaker, the searing pain, and her desperate attempts to summon her paladin powers during the battle, all to no avail. She had come perilously close to being killed for nothing, and the realization that her sacred gifts were beyond her grasp in the moment she needed it the most left her shaken to the core. But Minthara was not one to wallow in despair; her eyes narrowed with determination as she resolved to confront this issue head-on, unwilling to accept this loss of power.

Minthara sat on the edge of the bed, her brow furrowed in concentration as she stared down at her hands, palms facing upward. Taking a deep breath, she began the familiar ritual, the words of the Oath of Vengeance spilling from her lips with unwavering conviction.

"I am the wrath of justice, the scourge of my enemies. Nothing shall stand in my way, no foe shall escape my righteous fury..."

She paused, closing her eyes, waiting for the familiar surge of holy power to course through her veins, to feel the weight of her sacred duty settle upon her shoulders once more. But nothing happened. The air remained still, the silence deafening.

Undeterred, Minthara tried again, her voice growing more fervent with each passing phrase. "I am the instrument of retribution, the harbinger of ruin unto those who betrayed me. My blows shall be swift, my vengeance sure-"

Once more, the words fell flat, the sacred magic that had once answered her call conspicuously absent. Minthara's eyes snapped open, a growing sense of dread coiling in the pit of her stomach.

Shaking her head, she steeled herself and tried a final time, her normally steady cadence wavering with a hint of desperation. “May my enemies make peace with whatever gods they give their pathetic prayers to. May they beg their mercy, for I will show them none. My oath is my bond, my resolve unbreakable. I am-"

But the words caught in her throat, the familiar rituals and prayers that had once flowed so effortlessly now escaping her. Minthara stared down at her open palms, her crimson gaze burning with a mixture of confusion and dawning horror as the realization struck her.

Minthara had never particularly cared much for being excommunicated by Lolth, the rigid adherence to dogma and divine servitude that had always chafed at her independent spirit. In fact, she thought she was better served as a godless paladin than as a puppet of the Spider Queen. But this… This was different. The powers of her sacred oath, the gifts that had once shaped her very identity, were gone. Minthara was a Paladin no more.

She stared at her trembling hands with growing dread, her mind being filled with horror as she desperately reached for the power that had once coursed through her veins, only to be met with a haunting, deafening silence. The golden light, the sacred magic, the inner fire that had once burned so brightly - all of it had vanished, replaced by a hollow, devastating emptiness that left her feeling utterly abandoned, stripped of the very essence that had once defined her.

Her chest tightened, a wave of anguish washing over her as she confronted the humiliating truth. She had failed, her powers severed, her oath rendered meaningless. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she cradled her head in her hands. Minthara's shoulders shook with silent sobs, the weight of her failure crushing her. She had always prided herself on her unwavering determination, her unshakable resolve. But now, as she lay alone in this unfamiliar bed, she felt utterly adrift, her purpose in life seemingly slipping through her fingers. The drow curled in on herself, her typically stoic demeanor shattered by the anguish of her loss. She had always believed in the power of her word, her unyielding willpower a cornerstone of her identity. But now, as she lay in the druid's home, wounded and broken, she found herself questioning everything she had ever known. In that moment, as the tears continued to flow, Minthara felt more lost and vulnerable than she had ever been.

[WARNING: THE NEXT TWO PARAGRAPHS DEPICT A SEVERE ANXIETY/PANIC ATTACK]

She wanted to scream, to lash out and destroy everything around her, anything to dull the ache that consumed her. But all she could do was weep, the tears streaming down her cheeks as the desperation began to swallow her whole. Her quickened heartbeat thundered in her ears, her ragged breaths shallow and insufficient, as if she were drowning in a sea of her own torment.

And there was the pain. A searing pain, like a thousand needles that spreaded through her body and concentrated on her chest, piercing and crushing her heart all at once. It was greater than any pain her body ever bore, spreading back to her limbs and her head, and she could not force it to the back of her mind like she usually did. The drow slid from the bed, her knees painfully connecting to the floor, clutching at her chest as the phantoms of her nightmares surrounded her. Their whispered voices echoed in her mind, each word a dagger to her already shattered heart.

"No one can save you, oathbreaker."

"No one wants you, not even the gods."

“You're a tool to be used and discarded.”

"You failed us, Minthara."

"You bring only death in your way."

[WARNING: SUICIDE ATTEMPT IN THE NEXT PARAGRAPH]

Minthara reached for her dagger, her trembling hands barely able to grasp the familiar hilt. She stared at the blade, the sharp edge glinting in the dim light, and for a moment, the promise of oblivion seemed like a siren's call. With trembling hands she lifts the blade, her weakened arms barely able to hold it steady. She slowly points the tip of the dagger towards her heart. Her eyes closed as the pain consumed her, her head felt heavy as if it was made of lead instead of flesh. Her heart was tight in her chest as if it would explode, crushing her beneath the burden. A single thrust, a twist of the blade, and it would all be over. She would be free from this endless torment, this aching void where her purpose once resided.

[SUICIDE ATTEMPT OVER]

"Pwetty ladyyyy!" The shrill voice of the young half-drow girl pierced the quiet of the room, her high-pitched tone jarring Minthara from her despondent reverie, stiffening as the piercing voice of the toddler shattered the heavy silence that had enveloped the room. Her limbs felt leaden, as if her very bones had turned to stone, trapping her there, on her knees, on the bedroom’s floor. She sucked in a shuddering breath, her heart still pounding in her ears, the frantic rhythm slowly steadying as her surroundings came back into focus.

Minthara's eyes snapped towards the source of the sound, watching as the small child flung open the bedroom door, her tiny body weight swinging from the handle. Instinctively, the drow shoved the dagger she had been clutching under the pillows, her movement quick yet hardly precise. Fren released her grip on the door, her tiny feet pattering against the wooden floor as she ran towards Minthara, small arms wrapping around the drow's neck in an affectionate embrace. Minthara's expression was one of thinly veiled discomfort, her brow furrowing as she looked down at the girl.

"What are you doing here, child?" she asked, her tone clipped, betraying the turmoil that still roiled within her.

Minthara's muscles were tense, her body heavy yet in high alert, as if bracing for some unseen threat. She was clearly shaken, her typically stoic demeanor cracking under the weight of the despair that had consumed her in the moments before Fren's intrusion.

“Why you cwying?” The girl asked, gazing up at her with those confused, yet innocent, adoring eyes. Minthara felt a flicker of... something. A sliver of that aching void within her seemed to ease, if only momentarily. But the drow quickly tamped down on the unfamiliar emotion, steeling herself against the vulnerability it threatened to expose.

“I, ah, the sun is too bright today.” Minthara said dismissively, waving a hand as she hurriedly wiped the remaining tears from her face. The drow didn't remember the last time she had succumbed to tears, the wetness on her cheeks feeling foreign and unsettling.

“It hurts my eyes too.” Fren gives her an acknowledging nod. “That's why daddy has curtains.”

“Yes, yes, very clever of him,” Minthara replied hastily. At the window, just like the little girl signaled, heavy curtains hang, not a single ray of sunlight coming through them. Her gaze swept the room, her senses on high alert. She painfully stood up, disentangling herself from the little child’s arms in a single, rigid motion as she tried to ensure that no one else had borne witness to her moment of weakness, her desperate contemplation of the unthinkable. The drow's grip on her composure was tenuous at best, and she could ill afford any further intrusions or prying eyes.

"You should not be here," Minthara stated firmly, her voice brooking no argument. She needed to regain her footing, to reclaim the mantle of the stoic, unyielding warrior she had always been. The alternative... The alternative was too frightening to contemplate. “Where is your father? Your siblings?”

Fren shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Daddy is busy," she replied, "and Talia can't find me! I'm the best at hide-and-seek!"

Minthara's brow rose slightly at the child's attitude, a flicker of grudging amusement passing across her features. Before she could respond, a human teenager with curly, long hair appeared at the door, her eyes wide and her breathing heavy - this was Talia, one of the oldest of Halsin’s urchin flock.

"Fren! There you are, I searched the entire house looking for you!" the girl exclaimed, her gaze darting warily towards Minthara. With a desperate reverence, the teenager bowed politely. "I-I'm so sorry, ma'am, I didn't know she would disturb your rest!" she apologized, her voice trembling slightly.

Minthara regarded the teenager, a hint of fake disdain in her expression. "See that it does not happen again," she replied, her words clipped and laced with a subtle warning.

The girl's expression was one of flustered panic. "Yes, yes, of course, ma'am. I'm so, so sorry..." she rushed to apologize, hurriedly scooping up the toddler in her arms. Talia shot Fren a chastising look, quietly scolding the child for supposedly disturbing Minthara's rest, taking her away despite the little girl’s protests.

Minthara let out a quiet sigh, her gaze drifting towards the window, where the heavy curtains still blocked out the offending sunlight. Despite her stern demeanor, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the young half-drow girl. Fren's carefree innocence was a stark contrast to the turmoil that had consumed her own thoughts, and a more than welcome disturbance in her intentions. Minthara found herself reluctantly drawn to the child's untainted spirit, even if she would never admit it aloud. < Part XII ||

#bg3 #emeraldweb #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 minthara x halsin #minthara x halsin #fanfic writing #current wip #bg3 minthara #oathbreaker

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