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pursuitseternal · 3 months

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“Stripping,” a nsfw, hurt/comfort, and vengeance update to “Our Blood is Thicker:”

Astarion x Cordehlia (named Tav) | E | 6.3K

Summary: The fight for vengeance for her father comes at last to Ketheric, so long as Astarion is there to keep on hand on her, to keep her from getting lost in the bloodlust of the Bone Picker. Cordehlia needs healing… her burdens of her past too great to bear alone. That’s why her love is there, to strip away her old griefs, and all that covers her.

CW: Bloodlust, angst, revenge, hurt/comfort, allusions to battle-canon gore, Act 2 Spoilers, real sex, tadpole stripping (symbolic), very soft Dom!Astarion

Previous ch | Ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 13: Stripping…

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Moonrise Towers. A curse nearly broken. The Moonmaiden Aylin freed, and the source of that monster's immortality unchained. Only one thing remained to their moving forward.

Ketheric had to die.

They had come close, so close. The rest of his bone-chilled undead fighters were dust at their feet. But then… there was that oozing orifice now in the top of the Moonrise Towers, the illithid stink rising from its bowels. A hole where Ketheric had vanished like the coward he was, threat on top of threat, into the putrid heart of the Absolute.

Cordehlia ran right for it, blade at the ready, pursuing after Ketheric alone. A battle cry tore through the air as she sprinted. Blood spattered. Breathless.

Hellsbent on revenge.

Two sets of feet ran for her… one shifting into a bear just to make sure he got there before she did anything rash. The Druid panted as he raised up on his massive hind feet. Cordehlia slammed into a wall of fur, two lean vampiric arms not far behind to catch her against Halsin’s big bear belly.

“Stop, stop, darling,” Astarion repeated over and over. But the She-elf thrashed even as her weapons were pinned to her sides. Even as she snapped her teeth and hissed in rage at them both.

Her eyes were pure black, dilated so wide with bloodlust. Her need to kill, to avenge.

To repay the debt she had carried for a century, the weight of her Father’s lost soul.

“Let me go, damn you both,” she snarled. Her voice was deep, scratched with all her battle screams.

“Not until you see sense, my love,” Astarion tried to cajole, tried to hold her armored body against his own even as she shook, the rush of her need to kill shooting down every muscle of her body. The bear grunted, a warning, and Astarion held her fast to turn them, to keep the splatter of mud from covering their already filthy bodies as the Druid shifted back.

“Your father wouldn’t want you to fall headlong into danger,” Halsin instantly interjected the moment he could. And for once, Astarion was a tinge glad the ancient elf could help. Especially as he felt her body slowly begin to still at the sound of reason. “You need to regroup, think of your strategy before you dive into the belly of the enemy. That place reeks of Illithids and pulses with the power of the Absolute,” Halsin’s deep voice rumbled, slow and soothing tones that rippled with persuasion and wisdom.

“Ketheric must die,” Cordelia thrashed again, back to her lover’s chest, elbows trying to free herself and making her vampire grunt and hiss in the process. “To break the curse, to end the Absolute, to avenge all that has been taken from me… all that made me this… weapon. I need…” her voice grew feral, threatening in a way that made every one of her companions quake in their boot, “to crush him… I need his blood.”

“Gods,” Astarion tried to gently stroke her face, “now which one of us sounds vampiric, darling?” He whispered, catching the edge of her long and pointed ear in his fingers. Something behind her eyes softened, something that turned that black back to singing silver, slowly, stroke by stroke of his fingers.

Until she stilled completely, limp in his arms, smiling gently as she looked into his face at last.

“There now, little Raven,” he whispered only for her ear as he caressed it.

“You’ll have your justice, little one,” Halsin drew closer. And Astarion fought hard not to bristle at the way his green eyes smiled at his love. “But we need to regroup, gather our forces before we dive into that Mindflayer colony to end Ketheric once and for all.”

“Fine,” Cordehlia stood on her own two feet, finally steady, calm enough that Astarion was pretty sure she wouldn’t launch down that stinking hole alone. “I hear wisdom in your words, my Father’s own sort.” She squared her shoulders, hands quickly resheathing her weapons with a metallic hiss. “We rest a few moments, then we cut him off… cut him down.”

The whole party gave a sigh of relief, finding places here and there to sit, to wipe the blood from their eyes and sharpen their weapons a moment.

Halsin left them to do the same, beginning his work of healing whatever little wounds they had sustained. And Astairon finally felt the peace of being with her alone, for that moment. Even with her back towards him, her eyes fixed on their next move of attack, he couldn’t leave her. “My love,” he bid her softly. “Come and sit a moment with me, won’t you?”

“No,” she replied, fixed forward still. “I won’t rest until his blood is shed and my Father is avenged.”

“Don’t be stupid, Cordehlia,” he tutted his tongue, moving to put himself in her line of sight. Those eyes at first scowled at him… the same way she once did when they first… stumbled upon one another again. There was loathing, hatred. Bloodlust even. It sliced through him, pain cutting right to his slow-beating, undead heart. “What’s wrong, my love?” he frowned, folding his arms across his own armored chest.

“What’s wrong?” she scoffed, vitriol in her voice and hate in her eyes. “I am so close to avenging my Father… so close to fighting my way back to who I once was before I lost my only family to Ketheric, so close to reclaiming what I was when you first loved me…. I am so close to cleaning my hands from all the blood I shed as the Bone Picker, so close to clearing my body of the damned mantle of my former self. My dark self.”

A warm voice cleared its throat at a distance beside them. “Well, that is most encouraging, I must interject…”

Astarion had to force his lips to stay shut, to keep himself from snarling and letting his fangs do the talking. “I don't think Cordehlia invited you to join our very private conversation… Gale… and I know I didn’t extend an invitation…”

“Well,” the Wizard shifted as Cordehlia turned to look into his own face. Her eyes still hardened, her mouth still turned in a scowl, “a fresh start… a new beginning, once this is all through, it’s what you deserve, Cordehlia.”

Astarion bristled. “Forgive me, but maybe what she deserves is to know that what she was has made her what she is… perfect and stronger and fiercer. Capable of bringing down the Absolute, capable of so much more than that.” He could hear it in his own voice, that edge of a hiss, that rasp of threat he hoped made Gale quake and shut his mouth. “Unlike those of us who tried to win the love of a goddess of magic to be cursed with some magical blight… Some of us have a sordid past that has made us embrace the monster we are and use it to our… advantage.”

Cordehlia turned, her love, her fierce defender… she felt something inside her ease as he braced his whole frame, ready to attack at her side. He never saw her as a monster, never condemned her for the blood that stained her past and dripped from her hands. He couldn’t chastise her without naming the same fault in himself. Not that he saw it as fault. Only suffering and torture and loss.

For what fault was there in him? Made to be tortured, made to seduce and use his body for his master’s delight…

And she… she had been formed like adamantine… stronger than a blade, more deadly than any spell. She would end this enemy… Ketheric, the Absolute…

Crodehila took a steadying breath, drawing closer to place one gauntleted hand on Astarion’s arm. “It is the darkest forces, the most devastating pressure that forms the sharpest weapons. And you can’t escape that darkness, that pressure or else… you become brittle ....”

She watched her words take hold, sinking into his chest, his heart, the source of his blight. Gale’s eyes fluttered closed to hear her speak. “None of us need to shatter, not even you, no matter what self-sacrifice has been demanded of you by your former lover. Embrace who you are, what you have learned in the dark, and we will make it out of this.”

Astarion smiled so softly down at her—his unshakable warrior. Every head nodding in approval.

Cordehlia took a trembling inhale, almost watching her reflection in her mind, covered in that fearsome armor of Lady Corvus, smiling back at her. Brighter. Part of her. But not in control. “We can walk from this side by side, once this is all through. And we will all be made that much sharper for it.”

Even that made Gale smile, spurned as he was, jealous or determined… it didn’t seem to burn so bright inside him anymore. “You’re right,” he shook his head, “damned wisdom of the elves… I can’t argue with that.”

The vampire sucked his teeth, a little cock of his head rife with sarcasm. “If only you’d listen with that same rapt attention to me, sometime,” Astarion sneered even as he laughed.

“Not sure you count as an elf…” Gale tossed back, “or wise…”

Karlach snorted with laughter, breaking what could have been tense silence. Chuckles, giggles filled the air, until even Cordehlia’s bubbly, medical laugh peeled beside him. And that made his own lips smile.

Besides, there would be plenty of time to shame Gale as the butt of many a joke soon. Once Ketheric was dead.

That event came with such relief. Came with lots of blood and vengeance and gore. But in the end, Cordehlia stood over Ketheric’s headless corpse, the blood of his undead body caking her boots.

Her blade hung at her side, having struck the death blow at last. Its tip dragged noisily on the ground behind her as she stepped away. The scraping echoing in the massive cavern. Her voice was hoarse as she tried to speak, sore from screaming at him as she had hacked his body, howling the name of her Father, unburdening all the things she had carried on her shoulders from her grief.

Her eyes were wet, wide, and sad as she looked at her bedraggled friends. Her love. “Let's move from here,” she scratched out. “We have more things to do.”

Cordehlia straggled, barely sliding one foot in front of the other. Her eyes looked hazy… distant.

Faint. Her vision swam… a weight off her heart, she could almost feel the Shadow Curse lifting from the lands, almost see her Father’s smooth, smiling face one more time. But there was so much more to do… more enemies to defeat, the chosen of Bhaal and Bane… an army of the Absolute to vanquish, not to mention a Netherbrain to somehow destroy.

It was too much for even her adamantine-hardened soul.

Her knees buckled, but before her body smacked into blood-covered stone, Astarion caught her. Somehow, that lean, vampiric, roguish body lifted her in his arms and over his shoulder, armor and all. Somehow, she could smell his scent of citrus and hers through the tang of blood and gore. Somehow, she could hear his soothing hush inside her mind as she drifted unconscious for a moment.

She had barely moved, still breathing, as she laid in his mess of blankets inside his tent. Halsin bent his hulking body over Cordehlia, and Astarion could only watch as the healing magic glowed around her unarmored body. He kept his lithe fingers in his love’s hair, brushing out snarls, stroking up and down her ears tenderly and slowly. Just to let her know he was there.

“There now,” Halsin grunted as he sat back on his haunches. “She should awaken herself. A bit lighter in the heart I wouldn’t be surprised, after finally finishing what she thought her Father started.”

Astarion couldn’t fight the instinct to have his hackles raised when the Druid spoke about her and her past. But all the same, he forced that well-practiced friendly smile. “Thank you, Druid,” he said. “I’ll take it from here, get her cleaned.”

“Using your tongue or do you prefer the dish and rag?��

“That’s rather impertinent,” Astarion let his fangs show this time.

“I’m only joking,” Halsin chortled, deep and low in his chest as he reached for the basin of water and a rag to bring within reach. “No one is trying to take her from you, you know. You’ve rekindled a bond so strong, so thick, I doubt it will sever even in death.”

The vampire felt his nostrils flare.

“Well, a second one in your case,” Halsin quickly added, that warm smile turning his scarred face.

“There is not much that can outlast even death itself,” he took the bowl from the Druid’s massive hands, busying himself with washing her face clean first. “Not unless you are undead… immortal.”

“I’m… forgive me, I believe I touched a delicate nerve.”

Astarion kept his hands busy; it always helped him think, rest, and concentrate. “Attachments are of little consequence to those who are not in them, Druid.”

“Attachment? You mean love, surely?”

Raising his head with a snap, he leveled his gaze at the massive, crouching Elf. “I do,” he snipped. “There is nothing I would not do to keep her now. After all the mistakes I have made, all the suffering I was forced to put others through.” He paused to wipe some more of the dried blood from her beautiful face. “She might be the one thing I have done right in my life, undead or before… as long as I don’t fuck it up again.”

“If you do… love her… then it is only natural to trust your instincts. You will protect her better than anyone or anything.”

For once, Astarion looked up at the Druid and didn’t feel jealousy or hatred or even annoyance. He was… grateful. “Thank you… Halsin,” he replied, wringing out the rag to get fresh water once more.

“I’d say ‘shout if you need anything,’ but I suspect once she wakes you will be shouting for other reasons, ones you won’t want… disturbed,” he chuckled in that deep bellied way of his before he left the tent.

Astarion couldn’t help the smile on his face, wiping the last steaks of grime from her chin before he placed a soft kiss on those lips. And as her eyes did flutter open, her breath deepening the moment their lips met, he did feel that thickening in his groin. “Welcome back, my love,” he whispered, savoring the way her lips gave a small smile.

Just for him.

She stirred, her shift and leathers shuffling as she moved stiffly. Looking at her hands cleaned, her armor removed, she even touched a hand to her slightly damp cheek. Washed skin under her touch. Cordehlia slowly sat, eyes that were so dilated with bloodlust not hours ago now shined with unshed tears, her pink lips trembling as she pulled her arms around Astarion’s neck. Hanging there for a moment, he breathed her in, listening to the symphony of her heartbeat in her veins as it increased in speed. That thickening and heat in his body only surged the more to have her so close, relieved at last once she pulled his body hard to cover her own.

She was more than reward… she was the one thing he had done right in all his tormented existence.

Tonight, like every night, was bliss now, his own personal reward each day and night to be at her side. Sometimes Astarion felt the bitterest of pangs when he started to think about being denied such pleasure and love and acceptance century after century. But those grumblings in his heart were always soon swept away by Cordehlia. The one who took him just as he was. Resentment was warmed by her adoration, distracted by her warmth and wet, wherever it was. Memories of torment and torture and knives and whips and flaying punishment grew dimmer, her beauty obscuring the flashes he would get of his blood pooling at his feet, her scent covering the phantom stink of the kennels.

It was her warmth that brought him back from the dead, and he was sure there was no grave now that could keep him away from her.

What was lost was found, and for gods sake, nothing would take it away. Now that he found something he finally deserved. Not that he believed it…

Not as he gazed up into her blushing face as she rode him furiously, her hands clenching into his. Not as he had to tighten every tendon in his arms to steady her since she wasn’t watching anymore. He laughed at her carelessness, too lost to the feeling of him inside her and the waves of pleasure he called to race down her spine.

“Fuck,” she let the uncouth curse slip from her rosy lips. Something inside his mind stirred, that old tickle inside him from before, from how freely she would let the word fly as a youth, as frowned upon as it was for her status.

“Such noble lips letting out such vulgar words, darling,” he growled, his breath thin as she pushed him closer with every slap of her body on his cock and thighs.

“Oh, you like… all the vulgar things my lips do with you…” Her words turned to cries, stilted and low, only half-stifled to keep their voices from giving too much away. Cordehlia shuddered, squeezing him as her orgasm swelled. He eased her softly as she collapsed against his chest, her forehead in that sweet dip between his muscles, the top of her red head tucking neatly under his nose.

His hand strayed to the back of her neck, softly and slowly rolling her over on the ground. Cradling her beneath him instead. His body cried out for more. Always more of her. But not before he inhaled that scent, the perfume of her sweat and life itself, verdant grass and blooming flowers. That scent triggered an instant sharp return of what they once had been.

What he wanted to find again more than life itself.

It wasn’t much longer, not as he chased that past feeling of being with her in their youth. Not as he pummeled into her channel, her legs splayed in the air over his shoulders, until there was no sound but the wet slap of flesh and their groans as they burst into their climaxes as one.

Astarion stilled, pulling from her wet to lay on their sides and wrap his arms so tightly around her. “My sweet…” his voice rumbled into the damp and errant strands of her hair where it clung to her sweating forehead.

Her warm and blushing face nestled perfectly into the dip beneath his chin. The bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed and caught his breath was so loud against her ear. “Almost ready for more?” she hummed, tracing her fingers slowly over his skin, brushing over the drying damp on his stomach.

“You… insatiable… minx…” he laughed as he kissed her head again. “I know I am an eternally young, handsome, well-fed, impossibly strong vampire… but even I have limits to my near-infinite well of endurance, my love.”

She flashed him those silver pools of her eyes, glinting with mischief. And then her lips pouted. “After all we endured today… you would make me take care of myself?”

His brows shot to his hairline, mouth twisting in a devilish smirk at her game. “And which one of us is acting the spoiled little elfling now?” he taunted, hand straying to ass to give that supple cheek a little slap. “Tch, naughty.”

“Going to chastise me… punish me for being so spoiled and demanding?” she purred, a slight tilt to her head in defiance, a wriggle of her rear as a silent plea for more.

Astarion lifted his head to slink one of his arms behind it. “Perhaps later… once I’ve regained some of my vigor after you’ve made every one of my limbs ache and since you’ve already taken… so much of my seed between your thighs, pet.” He pretended to close his eyes, watching through the lowered curtain of his long lashes as she pouted and crawled over his body until she pressed herself flush against his side.

“I’ll give you five minutes…” she whispered right into his ear. “Enough time for me to tend to my own needs, I suppose…”

Wet… slick little sounds laid under her voice. Her fingers touched herself, stroking in the thick mix of their cum so loudly, so obscenely squelching.

He turned his head with a dramatic sigh, opening that hungry crimson gaze only halfway so he could watch. “You really are a demanding commander aren’t you? So bossy… so dominating… I would have undoubtedly been constantly aroused by you if I had been one of your men.”

Her perfect white teeth bit at her bottom lip, fingers still teasing slowly between her legs. “If you were under my command, you would know better than to defy your commander,” she smirked, eyes shut tight as her hips began to ride her touch.

“If I was under your command, I’m pretty sure we would both be dismissed for fucking each other every night, darling…”

Her belly swirled at that, at the mere mention of how much they indulged now, how she chase her blood lust away with more lust for him, at how very much she craved their connection, rekindling what once was and discovering what would come next. Side by side. “You wouldn’t have made it one day without coming in your leathers at the sight of me in my armor, and you know it,” she taunted, a dark desirous smirk in his lips.

“Likewise, my sweet…” exhausted, he did let his hand stray a single finger down her side, stroking up and down over her curves with barely the tickle of a feather in his dexterous touch. “There is little you do that doesn’t make me unspeakably aroused, my love, my darling, my betrothed,” he grinned as her eyes fluttered open at that last loving title.

“Gods, I’ve waited ages to hear you say that again. Lived different lifetimes, dulled blades and threw my armor into the sea just to hear it again,” she whispered. Her voice tinged with that mix of sadness and longing. Her hand stilling as she slowed touching herself.

“What was it like, your fearsome mantle of the Lady Corvus, Bone Picker?” He watched her body tense, withdrawing into memories, and for a moment he wished he had just bit his tongue. Perhaps it was too soon after the blinding bloodlust today. Perhaps it was the exact right time. He waited, nervously.

Until she gave a wistful smile. “Black and hard and sharp. Little feathers etched into the metal of my breastplate and gauntlets. Pointed spikes darted from the shoulders, like talons ready to tear the flesh of my foes. My blood-red cape would billow in the winds that carried the ash of my decimated enemies. My helm was small, enough to let my hair hang wild and free, a crown of spikes encircling my head… spikes of iron I once replaced with whitened bone, plucked from the battlefield myself.”

Astarion exhaled deeply, sensing her mix of longing and grief. “Sounds fearsome,” he whispered. His fingers traced lazy circles up her back. “Show me,” he ordered. A curious tilt to her head, and he just sucked his teeth. “Use the tadpole, darling. And don’t you stop touching your sweet little body. In fact…” His mouth brushed against her lips, her eyes fluttering shut, “those fingers can only touch where I tell you… where I will show you…”

“I thought you were too tired…” she pouted, whining right into his mouth. And he silenced her with a bite of his teeth on her lower lip.

“You’ll be doing all the hard work, darling. Come on,” he purred, “it’ll be fun.”

Oh, there it was, that taunting, “I dare you” tone that hadn’t left his voice since his youth.

She could feel his mind sticking a finger into her own, just that little wiggle for her to open wide.

Air smelled of smoke, trees burned to stumps, rocks slick with blood. Astarion looked down from this high point at the field that sprawled below his feet… bones and blood already the feast of carrion birds. But behind him on this rise, she waited nearer to the trees, the ones that still stood, that still carried some blood spattered living leaves yet.

Warm wind swept her scarlet cape, fluttering it to the side, and her arm cradled that spiked helmet in its crook.

Her face, gaunt and pale and blood spattered. More than he had even seen at her side now. A wraith of vengeance, a weapon herself, sharp and deadly.

But it was her eyes that locked into his. Even in this hellish dreamscape. They sparkled like the starlight, growing wetter and brighter as he crossed beside her. “This was me, my love, the monster… the terror… the fighter.”

From the distance, he heard that same chilling deep voice they had all silenced for good today. Ketheric’s taunt, his final words, still embedded deeply in his lover’s mind it seemed: “You think to scare me… the fabled Bone Picker… the warrior of her people. She is but a puny, pale vestige of what her own father wanted her to be. Why do you think you can finish what the great General Aquilae could not?”

Cordehlia’s voice had rung back harder than steel: “Because I’m so much more than what any Father could ever dream up for their child. As if you know anything about that… traitor… deceiver….” She raised her blade for a final swing. “Failure!”

The voices were swallowed by the sickening sound of blade and bone.

And Cordehlia could only stand there before Astarion, arms just beginning to reach for her lover. To beg him to come closer.

“Darling…” he whispered, brushing the knotted strands of her hair from her cheek and shoulder. “You don’t have to fight anymore, your father is avenged at last. Nor do you need to fight to forget me. I’m right here.”

Her breath caught in her throat, cheek rubbing tenderly into the cup of his palm. “It was more than fighting to avenge my father. It was also about you… not to merely forget you… I fought to… punish you… to make you pay for leaving me, to destroy the memory of what we were. What we could never be again.”

Her voice was a hammer that struck his chest woven with her heavy guilt. Astarion winced, facing down that void of their separation, his sins staring back in that darkness. And he sighed, “It was probably far less than I deserved, my love.”

“No,” she shook her head, armor rattling from the quick little shakes as she trembled. “No, you didn’t know, you couldn’t remember. Enslaved and compelled. Forced to obey and forget. Who you were to me was stripped from you… but I… stripped myself from my soul on purpose.”

Her hand flung that bone-horned helmet far away, its clattering the only sound around them. She watched it tumble over the rock and blood.

“Well,” Astarion’s voice was pressed, careful, “we may have both suffered, drowning in our own versions of darkness…” He paused, turning her face up towards his, waiting until those sad, silver eyes finally looked at him. “But now, neither of us is alone. And our darkness will not determine our fate, darling.”

Warm and wet, he could feel her tears on her skin, sliding down her cheek.

He could feel it on his real palm, all visions aside.

“Kiss me,” she sighed, angling closer to his mouth, eyes shut tight against the sights of battle around her.

“Yes, my lady…” he gave his sweet submission, a little tender breath from her lips as they brushed softly. “But let me take you somewhere else… let me… strip away the pain that comes from this time... this armor.”

“Please, Astarion,” she groaned. Her hands suddenly clung into the back of his shirt. The metallic scent of blood dissipated into fresh grass, the sounds of fire crackling becoming the trickle of a forest stream. She knew where she was before even glancing through her lashes.

One more lingering, slow working of her mouth on his, and she pulled away with a contented sigh. Elven trees and moss and moonlight.

The perfect remembrance of their home. Of their little spot of nowhere. Far away, and long ago.

“No more battlefield to torment you from your past. No more fighting alone. Now,” he held her by her jaw, raising her face into his, “now, we fight together.”

Her throat bobbed under his hold, another tear forming and flowing from the corner of her eye. Her hand raised to brush the tear away. “You don’t know what it means to me for you to…”

“Shhh,” he quieted her with a kiss, trapping her hand in his. A spike of mischief in his voice and a hint of command in his touch. “I thought we agreed, darling, you would only touch yourself where I say…”

Oh… she shivered. That grief suddenly ignited inside her core to something hotter and fiercer. No more longing or anger… only them. And their needs.

“I stripped away your battlefield…” he eased his grip, sliding back a single pace. “Now… allow me to relieve you of such armor, my lady, my love.” His hands skated down the exposed skin of her neck, lighter than breath. “Whatever this armor meant to you then, remember, everything is new again. You… me… we aren’t what we were.” His fingers slipped the buckles from her armor at her shoulders, barely touching her body. “We are better.”

Black metal fell harshly behind her, deadened by the moss at their feet.

Slow little strokes across that crook at the base of her throat, and he could feel her body melting under his touch in her mind. Her hands held fast against his back, edging him closer, longing to press her body firmly against him.

But he tutted his tongue. “Don’t touch me,” he taunted, shaking her hands away. “And remember, you’re the one meant to do the hard work, darling.”

He gripped her true hand from her belly, sliding it over her warm flesh to where his fingers danced over her skin in her mind.

“Let my hands be yours… and only do as I do, not one little pat or stroke more.” He growled as he caught her lips. “I’ll know if you disobey, pet.”

She arched under his fingers that traced under her neckline. Her neck craned into his touch. “You want some reward for being obedient, my love, won’t you? Still touching yourself like I asked?”

Her body shivered against him in his arms, just enough for him to feel it. But from his words or her own touch, he didn’t know.

Preferably both.

“Yes,” she moaned, drawing closer for more of his touch on his skin.

“Good girl,” he praised, feeling her shiver as another one... two pieces of jagged metal fell at their feet. “So fierce, so daunting…” he purred into her ear, tugging harder and faster through the latches of her breastplate.

“I became a lot of things to lose myself in my pain and anger…”

“Tch, you were always those things, my lovely Cordehlia. You still are, even stripped of this mantle…” He flung the metal from her upper body to the ground, letting it clatter obscenely loudly. And then, his fingers locked firmly around both her breasts, a low deep breath from his nose as he smirked down at her. “And don’t I just love you all the more for it.”

She raised on her toes for a kiss, but his hands were faster, holding her down by her shoulder, a chiding tut on his tongue. “Naughty,” he hissed and taunted. “You only touch where I show you. My hands are your hands, my pet. Nothing more, nothing less…”

She looked at him with those big, wet, silver pleading eyes. “But…”

“An excellent suggestion,” he smirked, giving his head a little nod, so pleased with himself. His hands ran down her back, caressing through the soft linen of her shirt, finally coming to rest along her rear. “Your perfect, rounded butt is still too covered.”

His hands traced around the crests of her hips, gripping into the buckle at her belly and yanking it open. There was so much to her, metal and layers, but he also couldn’t help but notice how with each little piece of her armor, her hardened shell of Lady Corvus that he pulled from her flesh, she looked younger. Happier.

Freer. Healed.

Her skin glowed, her lips smiled as she bit them sensually and slowly under his touch… her touch on her real body.

Whatever it was he was stripping her of, it was more than memory and metal. He searched her eyes for more, tried wriggling deeper into her mind for more, but she didn’t let him. She was too overwhelmed with the feeling of shedding that weight, of his hands on her skin, cold and dexterous.

Familiar.

He could feel her craving, how she was lost to the past, desiring nothing more than the future that once was. He knelt at her feet, pulling off the last metal braces from her shins. He pressed against the smooth leather that enshrouded her skin. He wanted nothing more than to tear it with his teeth. So he did. He nipped into her thigh, the salt of her breeches coated in sweat made him salivate. The little buck of her body to push closer into his mouth shook him out of his mind. He needed her. Need to have her see him, here and now, alive and loved in his arms.

Real flesh, he slid his real fingers where she caressed up her thighs. Where he had just been nipping in his dreams. A quick shuffle down her body, and he pierced the flesh of her bent leg, the tender skin of her thigh giving so easily. His mouth filled with pools of her blood. She cried, arching under him, unsure if she was dreaming or awake. Those silver eyes flew open, the tingle of their tadpoles releasing its hold.

Astarion only gave her a quick bloodied smirk before returning to have more of his fill. Her hand wove into his curls, as she always did. As she always had done.

But the way her pulse throbbed from that lower artery between his lips, she thrummed with life.

One last broad brush of his tongue over those wounds, as he crawled that chiseled body over hers again. “You are mine, Cordehlia, my raven, my love. And no armor will ever protect you better than I will.”

“Yours,” she sighed. “I feel lighter, empty of that weight.”

“Wouldn’t want you empty for long, darling. Need me to fill you with something instead of grief and anger?”

She buried her face beneath her arm for a moment, hiding that radiant smile, a moment just for her. A moment where she finally savored that weightlessness, that floating feeling he had given her as he stripped her from those memories. From the bile that had poisoned her all those many years ago. Of what she thought she knew from that time… from what she thought she… had known of him. And for a man who had starved, survived torture and assault and whoring himself out, now this man sucked the venom from her heart.

With a rogue’s dexterous touch, he had peeled off the painful layers that had built because of him, stripping her with his own two, living hands. He drew his fingers up her panting belly, his exhale deep as he stayed his hand to grip and knead her breast. Those eyes, fierce, possessive, drank in her every reaction. “Need something, Cordehlia?”

It was a simple question, but that purr in his voice, that heavy-lidded gaze that flitted over her neck, her lips, her breasts, it all spoke more than the simple words that he whispered.

“I need…” she whined, sliding her body to buck against him. Wanting nothing more than to be crushed and confined and caged by his body. “I need…” she panted. No words came to her tongue. So she thrust it into his mouth as it barely hovered over her own.

You. The rest of her words filled his thoughts. Even without the tadpole.

His hand cradling her neck, Astarion gave her everything, trying to fill that void he had seen, that agony he had witnessed with his own two eyes. The pain he wanted to carry for her, instead of her. He knew what it was to struggle under the weight of darkness and loss. He carried so many of his own burdens, but he would gladly take hers on too, if it meant she was lighter.

If it meant she was happy.

If it meant she was loved as she should have always been.

Gods, he groaned as he filled her again. It didn’t matter how many times they had done just that tonight… this week… it was never enough. He had centuries to make up for. His arms held on to her for dear life, wrapping around her shoulders, bracing his legs to keep her thighs wide. His to keep. His to protect.

Her body bent and pressed to mold to his throbbed with the feeling of him, of how he covered her every inch. With every thrust inside her, that chilling gnaw of her bloodied past receded, a flood that ebbed away. And all that was left was fertile ground for new things to grow.

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phoebus-cluster · 7 months

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I'm Oathbreaker Tav I'm Fighter Lae'zel And we're the BONK SISTERS Featuring some of the most satisfying bonks: balthazar, cazador, and lorroakan

had this idea in my head and had to get it out. once these two learned extra attacks, tav got the 'aura of hate' buff, and i picked up corpsegrinder and ketheric's warhammer, it was OVER for these bitches. bonking all our opps into sloppy joe meat. and that's when astarion wasn't OHKO sneak attacking/gale doling out fireballs like es NADA. (made myself the tiniest bit sad drawing my little astarion. poor baby) on a more serious note, playing this game has revived a long dead desire to make art. it sucks because i've backslid so hard, and feel like i'm learning how to draw a ton of stuff all over again. but, overall i'm so happy i'm drawing at all, and with great fervor. thanks to bg3/larian for putting a fire in my heart, as well as one under my ass. and y'know what? one in my loins too for all these hot, lovable, pan/bi characters.

#procreate #bg3 #oc #bg3 tav #astarion #lae'zel #balthazar #cazador #lorroakan #rolan #dame aylin #bg3 fanart #baldurs gate fanart #baldur's gate 3 #my art

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ilikedetectives · 7 months

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*Baldur's Gate 3 Act 2 spoilers*

Me when I heard Ketheric needed to build an army, but turned the best fighters and assassins that House Baenre had to offer into thralls and food, instead of converting them all using the tadpoles and letting Minthara lead.

#bg3 spoilers #Ketheric Thorm #minthara baenre #ketheric you are smart to lure them out and for wot #colin plays

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galderthefuzzy · 4 months

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The Tale of Myrkalfa Earthshaker

(BG3 Major Spoilers Ahead)

The Tale of Myrkalfa Earthshaker (BG3 Major Spoilers Ahead) begins in a way unlike most any other drow; in the light of the sun. Having abandoned the Underdark before even learning to speak, this child was shielded from Lolth's cruel embrace by her war-dancer parents for most of her younger years. At a tender age no older than twelve, she and her childhood friends were caught unawares by a drider in the forest, whose vile poison cost her nearly all those she held dear. Seeing the danger posed by her under-dwelling kin and their dark spider-goddess, the young drow made a vow to herself, to help nature reclaim balance in the world, and expunge all those who would seek to harm rather than help. Upon coming of age, Myrkalfa would grow into the Circle of the Moon, mastering the art of shapeshifting in accordance with the teachings of Elistraee as she spoke to the drow people: “A rightful place awaits you in the Realms Above, in the Land of the Great Light. Come in peace, and live beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow.”After escaping the crashed nautiloid, Myrkalfa would join forces with the charming evoker Gale Dekarios, as well as the fierce gith'yanki fighter Lae'zel and mercurial Sharran cleric Shadowheart.

By fighting shoulder to shoulder, and recruiting a host of allies with their valiance, they would travel from the hilt of the sword cost to famed city Baldur's Gate, slaying every evil in their path without heeding the call of the foul Emperor. With blade and sorcery, not a single epic opponent was spared their onslaught, from the immortal Ketheric Thorm to the undying Heart of the Gate. The Master of the House, the Murderer of Mothers, the Black Hand of Bane and his foul Titan Creation. In a single swoop of their combined might, four heroes did free this age of so many evils that they are honored still among the likes of High Harper Jaheira, Nerys Kathon of Kelemvor, and Minsc of Rashemen. And in so doing, found also the light within themselves, whether it be from the Prince of the Comet, Our Lady of Silver, the Mistress of Magic, or the bright wilds of the Dark Dancer.

Not a single tiefling life was lost for the actions of these heroes, and but an ally did fall in their fight against the Absolute. Friend Yurgir, in his zeal for battle, found himself poorly placed among the party's plans for Raphael. In so doing, he gave his life, the single friend lost to none other than fate itself. At their sides in the final fight though were Zevlor and his hellriders, Dammon and the owlbear cub, Rolan and the Arcane Tower, Dame Aylin and the cleric Isobel, Jaheira and her Harpers, Nine-Fingers and the Guild, Valeria and the City Watch, Duke Ravengard's personal guard, Florrick and the Flaming Fist, Halsin and Thaniel, the free Gondians, Arabella, Mol, the Gur monster hunters, Kith'rak Voss and his red dragon, Orpheus the Prince of the Comet, and Volo the Chronicler.In the end, Shadowheart freed her parents from the shadowy grip of Shar, instead embracing the Life Domain and the teachings of the goddess Selûne. Lae'zel saw the flawed ways of the lich-queen, choosing rather to follow the teachings of the fallen Prince Orpheus, and in their name, journeying to the lands of the gith'zerai.

Gale Dekarios, formerly Gale of Waterdeep, the Chosen of Mystra, became a professor of magic at Blackstaff Academy. Archdruid of the Moon Myrkalfa Earthshaker lived up to her namesake despite adopting a new surname, cleansing the shadowlands of Ketheric's taint and Shar's corruption and allowing nature's peace to flourish once more in Baldur's Gate. The parties were chosen to safeguard a Netherstone each. One with Shadowheart, always on the move. One with Lae'zel, beyond the cusp of the stars. And one with the Dekarios household. Those locations would seem obvious to some, but in truth, it is a dare. An invitation for the Dead Three, or any other force of evil to rear its foul maw again.

I had the pleasure to work on this piece for jæja. The project was quite exciting and very complex, but I have enjoyed every step and really like how it shaped up. As a fan of Bg3, it was quite a treat to be able to combine my stained glass style with some of our beloved companions. I hope you like how it turned out!

Thank you for commissioning me!

#fantasy #gaming #digital #digital art #digital painting #oc #bg3 fanart #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #shadowheart #gale of waterdeep #lae'zel #commission #stained glass #stylized #digital illustration

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sorryseraphim · 2 days

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needed release

I'm just a girl, I need Enver Gortash to eat up my dark Urge, Helene after they asked everybody out of the office.

Read below:

(Also in AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55459897)

"If you just had, the slightest idea how to listen, and not just hear, we wouldn't be dealing with this concern right now!"

No one moved. No one even dared look at Helene's gaze as she looked over plans derailed by an inconvenience made by both her and Enver's people. It was one simple task: deliver a letter to Moonrise for Ketheric Thorm regarding their plan to snatch the Grand Duke, Ulder Ravengard.

Their plans were almost compromised, the stupidity of the persons tasked to deliver manifested during the journey to the gloomy fields of the Shadow Cursed Lands. They almost revealed themselves to a few passing fighters in green and brown. If it weren't for Helene's intuition that misfortune would strike and order a few more people to trail those who are tasked to go ahead, they'd experience unimaginable setbacks.

"You will not lay a finger on them," Enver grumbled, sitting opposite her by the table. He was trying to keep his composure in check, but he was also stressed. Rubbing his left temple as he listened to her outburst, her words getting louder and shrilly as she went on.

"I am a sorcerer, Gortash. I don't need to use my bare hands!"

"Everybody, out!" He finally shouted, his patience wavered, standing up from his seat.

Several nervous glances occurred around the room as Enver's order sank in. When nobody moved, Helene let out another roar.

"Whoever is still in this room after a minute would lose their head!"

In a flash, everyone shuffled out of the small dwelling they were gathered in. Enver walked up to her with long strides, his voice hushed with a hint of anger.

"Are you out of your mind?! Displaying your outburst like some kind of an ungrateful child?"

"Would you rather just have me kill them immediately, without question, without a word?" She fired back, fingers flexing on her side, a clear indication that her anger was at full throttle.

He hissed softly to his side before looking back at her with dark eyes. He rested his hands on her shoulders as he tried to push her down the table, towering over her. "Sit down on the table and relax. Let's talk."

"Let me think, Enver," Helene said, her hand on her right cheek, pinching herself hard enough to leave a reddish mark.

"I said sit down," he insisted, pushing her by the edge of the long table on which various reports and letters were sprawled out. His tone was striking, commanding in a sense that he would not take no for an answer.

She swatted his hand away, shushing him. "What the fuck are you doing? I said let me think!"

"Relax, Helene. I'll take care of it. Let me take care of you," Enver's tone suddenly switched into a whisper. He held her chin in one hand while the other traveled to her size, squeezing her curves gently. It immediately escalated to harsh grabs as it traveled down the dip between her legs, making Helene gasp in response, which Enver had immediately captured using his mouth.

Their lips meet violently, hungry for each other's warmth despite the pressing challenge they have yet to deal with. Just as Helene was deep in the kiss, his hand found its way in from the slits of her skirt, snaking its way between her legs. Enver let out a groan, voice hitching and amused at how wet she already was.

"Let me taste you, Helene... Gods, I want every bit of you for myself," Enver murmured in her mouth before he broke away, pulling a chair in front of her and sitting down. Without missing a beat, he slowly lifted the hem of her dress from her ankles, caressing her legs and kissing her bare knees up to her thighs. His lips touched her skin slowly and full of tenderness as he kept an eye on any signs of aggression she might pose in return for the gesture.

Her body began to melt in his touch, succumbing to the gentleness of his lips. Her nostrils stop flaring, yet her face is still red from anger. Slowly, her breathing shallowed, face softening as she looked down on him as he leisurely trailed his tongue up her thighs towards her tenderness.

She could feel his breath, heavy and feverish, against her skin as he neared her entrance. As if on cue, Helene lifted her entire skirt up to her waist as he started to part her legs, wide enough to push his face in and pleasure her.

He raised her leg up his shoulders to reveal her cunt, which was starting to get soaked as Enver rubbed her legs, his palms rough against her own soft body, the feeling of his hands making her shiver.

"Make it quick..." She breathed heavily, biting her lip as his lips brushed against her folds, her body tingling for the pleasure to come.

"I'll take care of everything; let me just take care of you right now,"

When his tongue made contact with her cunt, it was as if her burden was washed away. The weight of the world lifted from her shoulders as Enver devoured her, savoring every bit she gave him, her soft moans and sighs of bliss.

He pushed the tip of his tongue deeper between her folds, greedily tasting her wetness, as he grabbed her tightly by the waist. He could feel her softly squirming, legs trembling as he increased his pace. Enver could hear the slight hitching on her voice and her attempts to repress her moans as it started to get louder, enough for the whole room to hear.

Helene watched as he lifted his head for a bit, resting a hand on top of her womb as his thumb rubbed her clit, looking up at her as he lapped her entrance. It took everything in her not to whine desperately as another gush of her need rushed out. Helene let out a soft groan as she watched him look up, grinning from between her legs, half of his face drenched in her wetness.

She gripped the edge of the table hard when he went down again, this time desperate and with urgency. "Gods above... Enver, you're driving me mad..."

"Are you close?" He whispered between the act, sucking and lapping her juices as he picked up the pace.

She looked down at him, nodding quickly as she suddenly gripped his hair, tugging it desperately as she neared orgasm.

"Anything for you, my dearest," Enver whispered finally as he began rubbing her clit with haste as his tongue traveled the entire length of her folds.

She could feel it coming, about to burst and wash her body with ecstasy when they heard a knock on the door, followed by a soft rustling of the door knob.

In an instant, Enver stood up, hands off her body as Helene followed and straightened her stance, making sure her skirt was not bundled up her waist.

He took a few steps away from her, turning around momentarily to wipe his face off Helene's wetness as she shouted towards the door. "I did not ask anyone to come back yet!"

"But Priestess, we received word just now. Lady Orin has delivered urgent news."

"For fuck's sake..." She whispered, sighing, "Come in, and let us hear it,"

As their subordinates started to pour in, Enver noticed how her hands twitched on her side, making him smirk. She was subtlety displaying her frustration, an itch to murder someone who dared interrupt them just before she was about to reach orgasm.

He moved around the room, back to where she stood, and whispered, pointing out her fidgety hands to murder, to keep her cool and let patience take over as they discussed news brought by her blood kin.

"I am well," She hushed in return, "But whoever that is that interrupted us would lose their tongue in the morning. I'll take care of it."

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flameohotpotatooo · 6 months

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For those who play DnD and Baldur's Gate 3

If you could give companions (and npcs) different classes/subclasses from other sources, what would you give them?

Read bellow

Lae'zel: Battle Master fighter fits her fine but I'd multiclass her with Drakewarden Ranger. Favored enemy? Also a magical dragon pet?

Karlach: Barbarian also fits her, but Juggernaut? Hello? Best for a Barbarian on front lines of a war on higher levels

Shadowheart: First of all, I wouldn't keep her as a cleric, but a paladin. She doesn't have the wise energy that comes with cleric. She's a devotion paladin. BUT if I want to pick a cleric subclass for her, twilight is a cool thing. Not dark as Shar and not light as Selune. She's the middle line. The only trickery cleric I can get behind to work is Jester by Laura Bailey.

Jaheira: Druid is cool, ranger is better (for her) I see her as a resourceful and more dynamic flexible like a ranger is both in utility of a fight and nature. Either Beast master or Primeval Guardian.

Halsin: He's fine where he is. Moon druid is good for him. I thought of giving him Blood hunter order of lycan and have him turn into a were-bear but I think blood hunters are a bit too harsh and aggressive for him.

Gale: Evocation wizard is cool, but for Gale I go for Chronurgy (thanks critical role) Gale wants to fight his goddess one way or another, give him the power to manipulate time. It's something that out of books and he'll fullfil the prodigy type.

Astarion: I thought Blood hunter? But he's not a fit for subclasses. Have a vampire dealing radiant damage is a funny image tho, ngl. But keeping him a rogue, and make him swashbuckler. They're charisma build rogues and he's a charismatic asshole.

Wyll: he's a warlock, his story is a warlock, so fiend pact of blade he stays for me... But! Hear me out. Palock. Paladin warlock. Paladin of redemption. Unless you have him kill karlach then he's Paladin of conquest.

Minsc: ... Gee fuck! He's a challenge for me bc I love rangers and he has the sweet baby barbarian vibe for some reason but he's not a barbarian either. I keep him as he is bc he confuses me.

Dame Aylin: mommy is paladin coded, she's best for Paladin of glory. Or ancient. Have it your way.

Isobel: Cleric of light, sure... Multiclass her with druid of stars

Ketheric Thorm: Paladin of either devotion (bc obv devoted to Myrkul for his debt) or conquest bc of the fear and intimidation he rules with.

Enver Gortash: Yes yes I'm gonna say it... Artificer. Either Mechanism or armorer, but I go far to say he can be a bard too. Bards harness the power of their words, they are jack of all traits, and can have expertise in many tools. It's not a written rule to have all bards as musicians. Lawyers can be bards, artists can be bards.

Orin the red: She's tough for me tbh. To pull tricking and passing as someone else you need high charisma. She doesn't have sorcerer or bard vibe, not rogue or warlock either. Blood hunter (heh) profane soul needs pact with higher entity (Bhaal) and I think this class can suit her. I'm open to criticism on this take.

Durge: I won't choose sorcerer for them. I find gloom stalker Ranger better fit for a serial killer. But sorcery, sure... Evil devine soul and when redeemed durge (spoilers) dies and Withers brings them back, it's up for debate to loose the sorcery or be other subtypes.

Share your takes.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash #laezel #shadowheart #karlach #astarion #halsin #wyll bg3 #durge #jaheira #gale bg3 #ketheric thorm #isobel thorm #dame aylin #orin the red #minsc

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hartsvale · 3 days

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okay, i'm not actually done. both ketheric and lithana are frontline fighters, which means that they're both constantly covered in blood and gore. bathing separately is just a waste of water and dumping out the tub between washes just leads to getting clean taking an eternity. so... even before they're intimate, they bathe together. they strip their armor off and wipe the blood from each others' faces and ears, behind their necks, under their jaws. there's such an intimacy to how they treat each other in those moments. for lithana, it's his acceptance of her seeing the sharp relief of his ribs and the old wound that never healed and the dark places on his skin that are cold to the touch. for ketheric, it's the trust lithana bestows on him who was so recently an enemy, allowing him access to her heart, to her guts, to every soft and vulnerable part of her body. they give themselves over to the other without realizing it, and before long, when she cleanses a swatch of blood from the cold tip of his ear, she leaves her lips behind, and the skin feels warmer there than it has in so long. i'm normal.

#type: headcanons #ch: ketheric thorm #oc: lithana #ship: ketheric x lithana #hm !! much to think about !!

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sorcerous-caress · 5 months

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What are your thoughts that we can now recruit Minthara in a play through where you defend the grove?

I like it honestly, because at the end of the day whether you slaughter the grove or not, she still ends up at the same situation in moonrise tower.

I have a lot to say about this.

She is still deemed not good enough for failing at her mission, no matter how far she went, no matter if she actually found the grove and killed the innocent and the guilty. At the end of the day, she is still scorned by Thorm and sent to prison.

Failure is essential to her story, failure proves how conditional the love of the absolute for her is. That's what gets Minthara to leave.

Also it gives her more opportunity to interact with good aligned characters. I read this post before about someone's experience with Minthara during their first game and how they skipped the whole goblin camp thing, so from their point of view, Minthara was just an innocent person as any other being sentenced to death by Ketheric Thorm, the man you learn early on is the obvious bad guy who you need to kill. So their lawful good paladin saw absolutely nothing wrong with freeing her and letting her join them.

What I'm saying is, it takes a certain kind of person to kill the grove, and if your Tav just didn't happen to be that person then it's a massive OOC which will bother you a lot. I'm glad the developers took initiative and allow for alternative Minthara recruitment because of how much the people loved her.

Then you might say what's the point of slaughtering the grove? Well what's the point of anything really, it's a role-playing game. What's the point of helping Alfira with her song or the point of exposing kagha to the grove you'll end up leaving alongside the tieflings? It's a role-playing game, the point is to roleplay.

And there are some benfits still, her only sex scene is locked behind the grove route. And she tells you that she prayed for you to come and save her while being in prison if you've met her before, she tells you that spending the night with you was something she did out of her own free will.

You can still slaughter the grove even if the consequences outweigh the benfits. Because well, let's be real, those consequences aren't loot that you're losing but your companions, future friends and innocent children. You don't lose anything of actual value besides the people, those consequences are just reasonable consequences, not a reward, not a punishment.

Of course when people die their questline stops, of course the good aligned companions will leave when they see this mascara. The devs aren't punishing you, they're being true to the characters.

Evil isn't always rewarding, good isn't always the easy route.

It's still an option, still a choice offered to you. Even in terms of loot, the tieflings were poor they had nothing worthy to steal, only the druids did.

Evil is the easier fight between the two, you're killing a handful of civilians and inexperienced fighters instead of a whole camp of goblins with their leaders. Not to mention you even get backup when killing the grove, you're at a clear advantage, you can let your turn skip and still win the fight.

Evil is the fastest one too, all the goblins leave afterwards and you're granted the spider lyre. Which you would've had to go to the underdark and do the much harder Nere fight to obtain.

Evil is convenient, easy, fast and straightforward. You lose your friends but you gain loot, respect, and a clear way to your destination.

Minthara had little to do with taking the evil route, she says it herself that she is just a typical drow that happened to be at goblin camp at the time. That you could've just as easily killed her like you did to the others, but you didn't. Your small act of mercy barely changed anything in your world, but it changed the whole world for her.

I really don't get it when people say the evil route locks you out of so many good stuff, characters are not stuff or loot in the game world, they're people and they have free will. In terms of loot I think it evens out at the end, you do get that amazing Warlock robe for killing Karlach and the slayer form for killing isobel don't you?

It's all about choices, evil isn't fun for everyone and that's fair. Good isn't always fun too, Ascended Astarion and God Gale are more interesting concepts but it's not the right path is it.

Minthara deserves redemption, if she wants it. She deserves a small mercy out of the universe, a chance to escape the clutches of death that no one else in the goblin camp was granted.

It's not about you, the player, it's about Minthara and her story. The writers granted her this small miracle, why take it away just to make her exclusive? To make her do something that she calls horrific later in the game, that she admits to not wanting to be held responsible for the lifes she has taken.

She is evil aligned yes but she is never needlessly evil, she doesn't have a lust for blood she kills because she has to so she can survive. She tells you to control yourself when you express how excited you are to slaughter the grove, she doesn't seem to care for the chance to kill people, her main motivation is the absolute that she believes she is doing the right thing.

Minthara does not kill for the sake of killing.

When you prob her futher as Durge, she tells you that it's a good thing that murder excites you because it will make it easier for you to do, she subtly confesses that she does struggle with murdering people but she still does it no matter how hard.

Because that's how she was raised, that's the cruelty of drow culture and the Baerne family, that's why she is so fast to condem Lolth and her ways.

She wouldn't bother to kill the grove on her own is what I'm saying, she wouldn't see them as worthy opponents, she wouldn't care for them. Wasn't it for the absolute absolute orders, she would've been somewhere else.

Also keep in mind that they purposely isolated and seperated all the drows they kidnapped. Each absolute stronghold so far only has one or three drows per order. Underdark has Nere, Goblin camp has Minthara, Fireworks shop has the drow guy, Moonrise tower has Oblodra.

They purposefully spread them out so they can't have a resemblance of their home back in the underdark. Drows are very exclusive societies, most of them only interact with other drows for the rest of their lives, everyone else is a murder on sight kinda of deal.

She tells Thorm that, only if he has given her drow warriors, someone she can understand.

Yet she is supposed to work with these goblins. Why do you think her station is kept in the dark and most isolated part of the camp? Ragzling has an entire throne room with followers, the priestess has a throne too in the entrance and a private chamber.

Minthara has the crumpled edge near a cliff that's an abandoned library or something? Evening getting to her is very inconvenient and deliberately misleading. The two drow soldiers were following ragzling too and didn't even mention Minthara. Her own people were ignoring her while only 3 goblins stayed around her station.

Minthara wasn't loyal to these people even in a leader sort of way, yet she craved loyality so unlike a typical drows who are known for stabbing people in the back. She wanted to be loyal and she did give her genuine best to Ketheric.

But he didn't care for what crimes you and her have commited or not, he has done worse and killed many more people. He discards her just as easily and that's why it stings so much more when he does it after you slaughtered the grove.

Because you were there, your remember their screams, their helpless attempts at fighting back. The guilt is still fresh sitting at the pit of your stomach like poison refusing to resurface, preventing you from throwing it up.

At the end, it didn't matter, it nevered mattered to Ketheric. All her efforts, all that you sacrificed, everyone who died by his orders. The end results is always the same.

And so this small act of mercy of sparing her is like a gift to her honestly. After all she has been through, she deserves a chance at redemption, an easy way out, the one time the scale of fate actually leaned her way.

#♡Minthara #♡character study

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wyllzel · 2 months

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A Brief Honor Mode Reflection 🎆

Hello!! Now that I've beaten BG3's HM (on Patch 6, Hotfix 19), I am here to share my builds (and a mini retrospective). 🥳👋

My team relied on stealth, a few instances of barrelmancy, and some amoral choices... 😔 But we did not use any illithid powers!

I did not have a main party and instead swapped characters out depending on the situation. I did my best to remember how combat encounters played out, and prepared accordingly! If I was really worried about an encounter, I tried to follow these awesome guide videos from YouTuber neek. 😁

(Possible spoilers ahead!)

Party Builds

The party that I brought to the final battle against the Netherbrain! A lot of white hair, lol.

Unfortunately, I don't remember my party's exact stats and I can't go into an old save to find them (haha) so I'll do my best to remember their key traits/items here.

All of my party members took the Alert Feat at Level 8! I consider this feat key, if not necessary, to winning Honor Mode.

Tav (Asa): 12 Monk, Way of the Open Hand (Drow)

20 STR / 14 DEX / 23 CON / 8 INT / 16 WIS / 10 CHA

Tavern Brawler Feat

Helldusk Armor

Gloves of Soul Catching

Amulet of Greater Health

Haste Helm

Boots of Uninhibited Kushigo

I got Asa to 20 STR by starting her off with 17 STR, using her Level 4 feat to take Tavern Brawler (+1), then pressuring Astarion for Araj Oblodra's potion (+2). (😭)

A Way of the Open Hand Monk is a superb DPR hitter that can also apply handy conditions to bosses, such as Stunned or Prone. It's a popular class with powergamers, and for good reason!! Personally, I really like it because I can pretend to be a wuxia heroine, haha.

Gale: 12 Wizard, Abjuration School

I don't remember his exact stats unfortunately, but I prioritized INT (20), DEX, and CON.

Robe of the Weave

Markoheshkir

Viconia's Walking Fortress

Gloves of Belligerent Skies

Boots of Stormy Clamor

Psychic Spark

Abjuration Wizard can hugely increase your chances at survival with Arcane Ward. My party was basically invincible by the time we reached Level 10, thanks to Gale's Arcane Ward and Shadowheart's Warding Flare!

I had Gale carry the Spellsparkler staff for basically all of Acts 1 and 2. I'm a huge fan, especially when combo-ing it with Magic Missile. 😁

Astarion (Vampire Ascendant): 4 Rogue (Thief) / 6 Ranger (Gloom Stalker) / 2 Fighter

See my build guide for Ascended Astarion! I followed that, but took his last two levels in Fighter rather than sticking with Ranger. Fighter's Action Surge came in handy a few times.

I forewent the Alert Feat on Astarion in favor of an ASI (+2 to DEX). His Initiative was already very high due to Gloom Stalker Ranger's Dread Ambusher.

Alongside my Tav (Asa), Astarion was easily doing the most DPR.

Shadowheart: 12 Cleric, Light Domain

I have a proper build guide in the works 😁 but I highly recommend prioritizing WIS, CON, and DEX if you can!

Amulet of the Devout

Luminous Armor

Luminous Gloves

Boots of Striding

Selûne's Spear of Night

Ketheric's Shield

Callous Glow Ring

Coruscation Ring

This build does highly rely on Radiant Damage, and there are a few enemies who punish you for using Radiant Damage (ie. the Undead Justiciars, Raphael, Viconia) - so be careful about where you're using her and how!

In most cases (especially with Invisible enemies), I had Shadowheart start by dropping a Radiance of the Dawn among clustered enemies. Thanks to her gear, this delivered a mass output of Radiant Damage and Radiating Orbs.

EDIT: Guide completed and posted on March 2, 2024!

Wyll: 12 Warlock, The Fiend, Pact of the Blade

See my build guide for Fiend Bladelock Wyll!

Unfortunately, the gear in the above guide ended up overlapping with other characters :') So instead of being a frontliner in this run, he was largely Eldritch Blasting and acting as the Party Face. As such, I had him in the following:

Potent Robe

Hat of the Sharp Caster

Daredevil Gloves

Envoy's Amulet

Band of the Mystic Scoundrel

Ring of Arcane Synergy

Lae'zel: 12 Paladin, Oath of Vengeance

Lae'zel was sadly kidnapped and killed by Orin. 😞 So her build isn't as complete, but I had her in the following for most of Acts 1 and 2:

Adamantine Splint Armor

Sussur Greatsword ➡️ Soulbreaker Greatsword

Crusher's Ring

Gloves of the Growling Underdog

Like my Tav (Asa) and Astarion, I would bring in Lae'zel when I needed an extra heavy DPR hitter! Paladins are a very powerful class if you don't mind Long Resting often, especially in the early game before you get Extra Attack on martials at Level 5.

Retrospective

To be honest, I'd already beaten the game five times (oops! 🥲) before completing my Honor Run. 😆 So I had a huge leg up just by virtue of remembering which encounters were where, and what was the best way to beat them! IMO, Foreknowledge, Initiative, and Stealth/Surprise are king in Honor Mode.

I also followed some tips that I normally find overly tedious:

Donate gold to traders to get better prices when buying + more gold when selling.

Meticulously collect camp supplies and barrels, especially smokepowder barrels.

Stock up on Invisibility Potions in case you need to Flee a combat.

Stock up on Strength Potions (Hill Giant, Cloud Giant) for your Strength-based builds, so you can prioritize other Ability Scores - particularly in the early game.

Always try to initiate combat with Surprise if you can.

Make good use of Shadowheart's buff spells!! I don't know why I never used Enhance Ability and Calm Emotions before this, haha!

Get two Hirelings through Withers: one Transmutation Wizard and one Cleric. The wizard was our camp alchemist, and the cleric was our camp buffer (Heroes' Feast, Freedom of Movement, upcasted Aid).

I even cut a deal with Philomeen for her Runepowder Vial then entered turn-based mode to kill her before she could flee the scene, thus securing the Runepowder Barrel as well. 😭

Sadly, I very much set aside my moral code for this run. :') Astarion got the extremely, extremely short end of the stick 😞 - and unfortunately, so did Wyll. 😭 I broke his pact with Mizora, but instead of rescuing his father and properly closing out Wyll's companion quest, I skipped the Iron Throne and Wyrmway quests... (I did not like my chances against the Steelwatch and Ansur...)

So, after fully building my party, we ended up briefly allying with Gortash (IYKYK haha) and heading straight for the Brain. Orpheus was our team's Mind Flayer.

The items I brought with me to the final Brain fight include:

4 Elixirs of Psychic Resistance

8 Potions of Flying (though I only ended up using 4)

10 Potions of Invisibility (though I only ended up using 5)

5 scrolls of Globe of Invulnerability (I only used 1, LOL)

10 Potions of Speed (I only used 2)

8 scrolls of Disintegrate ⭐

I will let you figure out what I did with those. 😁 (Unless you'd like to see my full strat, in which case I may post that later!)

Hope this helped anyone who's planning to attempt Honor Mode!! YOU'VE GOT THIS! 👏 Panic is the mindkiller in this version of the game, so just keep a level head, check your inventory before ending your turn, and read the BG3 Wiki (especially when facing bosses), haha - and you'll be a-okay 🥳🎆 !

Best of luck! 🍀✨

#chelle.txt #ch.build #oops this ended up longer than i expected HAHA #but if this helps someone - very much worth it!!!#good luck to anyone trying HM!!!!!

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fanartfic · 3 months

Text

Faith and Fireflies

Tavya reflects on the events of the past as she renews her faith in Sylvanus, while Halsin realizes the desires of his own heart.

TW: none, all fluff.

Tavya stood upon Wyrm's Lookout gazing at the sprawling city before her.

Baldur's Gate: after everything she and her companions had been through, they were finally here. Where all the threads of fate had been leading them.

She stood there a long time, reflecting on everything that had passed. The Grove, the goblin camp, the shadow curse, and more recently, the revelation that their dream visitor was actually a mindflayer. Not unlike the one they had met in the Underdark, free of the control of the elder brain.

She heard the scrape of a shovel as Halsin and Lae’Zel buried the bodies of the githyanki fighters that had attacked them. The honor guard of the long-imprisoned Orpheus, the Prince of the Comet, as Lae’Zel had put it. She seemed to have mixed emotions on the matter. Tav knew she was still upset with her about not obeying her queen when they had explored the creche. But upon the realization that the illithid was the only reason they were still in their original forms, she seemed a bit more forgiving. She had something else to be mad about now.

The thought made Tav chuckle a little bit. Oak Father help her, things just seemed to keep getting complicated.

She reached down into her pocket and pulled out a talisman. Sylvanus’ holy symbol was carved into the small piece of oak, then covered in copper leaf. It seemed to be an old amulet, as the copper had begun to patina, leaving teal green splotches, like moss on a rock, around the rim of the symbol. Thaniel had come to her and given it to her before she had left for the Gate with the others.

“I was asked to give you this.” he had said, gently pressing the trinket into her hand. “It is a blessing from the Oak Father himself.”

She looked at the talisman, then looped the leather chord over her neck, hiding the pendant under her tunic where it sat next to her locket on her chest. It was the first time she had put it on, and she felt oddly safe and more secure. Tav felt herself being drawn to the forest that surrounded them, and decided that a moonlit stroll in the woods was in order.

It had been nearly a century since she had actively prayed to the Oak Father. The prior experience with the Shadow Curse had shaken her faith, and so she closed herself off. But after meeting Halsin, and the vision she had while fighting Ketheric below Moonrise, she realized that even tho she had forsaken Sylvanus, he had never forsaken her.

Tav found herself seeking the biggest oak tree she could find, and settled herself amongst its roots. She drew the Talisman out again, then held it in one hand as her other rested on the tree behind her.

“What do you want of me?” She asked, her breath shaking.

The tree seemed to whisper in the breeze. Swaying one way, then the other, before returning to its original state.

“Balance. . . You wish for me to restore the balance.” Tav said thoughtfully. “The Absolute has caused much imbalance. Defeating it would return everything the way that it was?”

This time, the amulet in her hand seemed to warm. Not harshly, but a pleasant warmth that spread through her hand.

Tav nodded her head, understanding what was required of her. She lay back against the bark of the tree, staring up through the boughs.

“I'll try my best. . . At least I have help.” She sighed, gazing up at the stars she hadn't seen in several ten-days. “You sent me Halsin, didn't you?”

She had the distinct feeling that it was a mutual arrangement. Sylvanus had sent them to each other. He knew of the bond growing between the two of them, even if Tavya was hesitant to act on it.

Tav sighed heavily, realizing the weight that was now placed on her shoulders. With her faith in Sylvanus restored, she now understood the calling that she had suppressed in her heart for so long. She was no cleric, or druid, but a warrior?

That she could do.

“Does this make me a paladin?” She wondered out loud. She looked at the talisman again and huffed. “I'll ask Aylin. . . She would know, maybe?”

The amulet seemed to thrum in her hand as she realized the answer was right there with her. Sylvanus had claimed her as a paladin, a rare occurrence for a nature god.

“Why me? Why not Halsin?” She asked, staring up at the sky.

The answer came to her as she heard the druid's laughter floating towards her from camp.

Halsin was a healer. And even though he was more than capable in battle, he needed someone more versed in the ways of war than he was.

Someone who had done a lot of fighting over the last hundred years.

Tavya knew she had to remain at his side. Both for Sylvanus and for herself. She pulled her knees up to her chest, still staring up at the sky as the moon slowly came into view through the leaves of the trees.

Tav took a deep breath and let herself fully relax for the first time since before the crash. Surrounded by the quiet sounds of the forest once again, she felt safe. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sounds of the peepers from the nearby river.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}{~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Halsin had just finished washing the last dish from dinner when Gale looked around the camp in concern. “Where’s Tav? Has anyone seen her? Her bowl is still clean.”

Halsin looked up from closing the lid of the small dish crate and took a glance towards Tav’s tent. The bedroll hadn't even been unpacked, resting in the straps on Tav’s pack.

“She wouldn't have wandered off without saying something,” said Wyll. “She can't be far.”

“Chk! You all worry too much. Tav is a fine warrior and more than capable of handling herself.” Lae’Zel grumbled from near the fire.

“I, for one, agree with our green friend,” Astarion chipped in. “Tav’s fine. She probably just went for a walk.”

Halsin let out a dissatisfied huff. “You are probably right.” He said, looking out towards the forest.

Still, the urge to go under those eaves was strong. Something, or someone, wanted him to go there.

After making sure everything was sorted at camp, Halsin made his way to a deer path he saw snaking into the woods. As he neared the head of the trail, he spotted the tracks left by Tavya’s booted feet heading in the same direction.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips. There was no sign of a struggle, and the easy gait of the tracks led him to believe that it was more of a pleasure stroll. As he followed the trail deeper into the forest, the sounds from the camp faded away. The chirping of crickets and the song of peepers filled his ears as fireflies began to light up around him.

The trail led him to the base of a large oak tree, and nestled in its roots, was Tavya. She seemed to be meditating, and fireflies had alighted on her arms and shoulders, showering her in their light as they blinked in the dark.

Halsin felt his breath catch in his chest as his heart began to beat faster. He had always been drawn to Tav, from day one even. He had felt terrible after turning down her offer to dance at the tiefling’s party and had been secretly overjoyed when she let him help her with combing her hair that same night.

He admired her strength and leadership, determination, compassion, and kindness. He absolutely adored how she treated her companions like her own family. Because of those traits, and more, he wanted to be near her; to always be at her side.

But here, peacefully resting under the glow of the fireflies; her armor set aside for the day and her long hair let loose, Halsin came to realize:

Tav was breathtakingly beautiful.

He realized that for the first time in almost a century, his heart wasn't his anymore.

It belonged to her.

He wasn't even sure when it had happened: was it after comforting her their first night in the Shadowlands? When she and the others had protected the portal as he went searching for Thaniel? Or was it when she spoke to Oliver, like a mother to their reluctant child, to convince him to return to his other half? Perhaps it was when she grew protective of Shadowheart when she spurned her goddess in the Shadowfell; or her selflessness in aiding her companions during the fight with Ketheric Thorm?

He wasn't sure.

Perhaps, he had loved her all along.

He took a step forward and winced as a snap of a twig under his foot seemed to echo through the clearing. Tav’s eyes flew open as she sat up, scattering the fireflies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°}{°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tav roused from meditation with a start. She looked around in wonder at the fireflies that floated around her before she saw Halsin at the edge of clearing, an apologetic look on his face.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to disturb you.” he said, coming closer. “When you were missed at camp I thought I would at least make sure you were alright.”

Tav got to her feet and brushed off her breeches. “It's alright. I should have told someone before wandering off.”

“What are you doing out here?” Halsin asked, now closing the distance between them until he stood directly in front of her.

“I was—” she paused, looking around at the fireflies that lit the clearing with an almost ethereal glow. “I was re-establishing an old connection,” she finished, absentmindedly touching the talisman around her neck.

Halsin tilted his head as he looked around him. The clearing was peaceful, the fireflies didn't fly away from their presence, and the song of the peepers from the nearby river thrummed in a consistent beat. It was like a miniature grove, a haven on the edges of society. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, and allowing himself to feel the connection to the earth below his feet.

This place, this clearing beneath the oak tree, it was a sacred place. He could feel the Oak Father’s power flowing through the roots beneath him, giving him peace he hadn’t felt in a long time. He could feel Sylvanus’ presence as if he was standing next to him. The sensation was so real he opened his eyes to look, just to be sure.

Only Tavya was there, still standing in front of him. Her eyes searched his face, looking for insight into his thoughts.

“This place. . . Its–”

“I feel it too.” Tavya said, her voice a quiet murmur. “It's ancient, and full of the Oak Father’s presence.”

Halsin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You can sense it too?” he asked.

Tav nodded. “It's been a long time since I felt it. Not since, well. . . The shadow curse.”

Halsin saw her shoulders slump a little with the admission. “I forsook a lot of things back then,” she said.

“You told me you knew Jaheira, raised her even. But you were there in Reithwin as well?” Halsin asked.

He realized there was actually very little he knew about Tav, outside of what she had told him about her daughter and husband.

Tav nodded, then motioned for him to sit on one of the roots of the trees with her.

As he took his seat, he searched his memories. Had they met before? Perhaps in the confines of a camp recovering from a skirmish? If she accompanied Jaheira, there were only one or two instances where they were in the same place, and they had never spoken to each other.

Perhaps they had and he just couldn't remember. He looked over at Tav, who held her hands in her lap, looking up at the fireflies.

“I remembered, dreamt, while I was unconscious after Thorm. . . Well-” she rubbed her shoulder where her blade had been forced into her flesh from Myrkul’s blow. Despite being healed by Shadowheart, a scar remained. It stretched from over her collarbone to just above her heart. “After Myrkul flung me across the cavern.” She finished. “A memory long suppressed.”

She looked up at him. “You've saved me before.” She continued, taking one of his hands in her own. “A hundred years ago, you found a Harper bleeding to death on the floor of the Last Light Inn, after returning from a Sharran ambush.”

Halsin thought for a moment. Then it fell into place. He remembered that night. It was shortly before the final push against Ketheric to seal him into his tomb. He had been told, no, ordered, by his Archdruid to rest. As he had started down the hallway towards an empty cot, he had stepped into a pool of blood that had flowed into the walkway.

And she had been sitting there, weak, nearly bled out, overlooked by the other healers. Even then her first concern was the men under her command.

“Sweet Sylvanus. That was you?” he marveled. “Of course it was, one of the few times I saw Jaheira was when she ran in to make sure you were alright.”

“I wanted to thank you, but you disappeared before I could. I thought I'd find you later, but then. . .”

“But then the curse fell.” Halsin finished.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Tav took in a shuddering breath. “I lost many a good friend that day. I had suppressed the memories. I had no wish to relive them. But then our path led me straight back to where it happened, and the knowledge I had became invaluable to our survival.”

“Outside those of us who made it back to the grove, I never thought I would meet any other survivors of the curse. That was until we met Jaheira at Last Light,” Halsin moved a little closer to Tav. She tried to smile, but it was clear the memories of that day were painful to her.

He knew that pain all too well.

“We do not have to speak more about this.” he said, slowly reaching an arm around Tav’s shoulders. “We can just sit here, in the Oak Father’s creations.”

Tav leaned into him, her eyes returning to the fireflies.

“No. . . I feel I need to tell you.” she said, taking comfort in the big elf’s warmth. She continued her story.

“I was in the company that sealed Ketheric in his tomb,” she said, her eyes growing distant as she recalled the events of that day. “I fought him, face to face, back then. I was desperate to keep Jaheira safe, and Ketheric almost killed her.” she looked down at her own hand, nestled in Halsin's fingers. “He remembered too, I think. But for me, that moment flashed before my eyes when Ketheric had you by the throat.”

Halsin felt his heart beat a little faster.

“I heard you,” he said, a smile twitching his lips. “What was it you said? Get your hands off my druid?” he teased.

Tavya froze for a second before breaking down into quiet laughter.

“Well, you are my druid,” she admitted, squeezing his hand. “Just like. . . I heard you.”

Halsin felt his heart almost stop as Tav looked up at him, her eyes warm and full of moonlight. He turned to face her more and reached to tuck some stray hair behind her ear.

Gods, he never grew tired of that.

He decided it was now or never.

“I never realized how burdened I was until I met you,” he began, his voice low and quiet, as if the very tree they sat on was trying to listen in. “The threat of the shadow curse, the politics of the grove. . .I was forgetting who I was, but you lifted the fog. Thank you.”

“Well, you are very much welcome,” Tav replied.

Halsin shook his head in disbelief. “You are far too modest. I wager you truly don't know how extraordinary you are. . . But I do.” he cupped her face in his hand, rubbing her cheek with his thumb.

Tavya leaned into his touch. “Perhaps I'll remember it. . . If you keep telling me.”

Halsin chuckled. They had repeated the same words they had spoken to each other that first night in the Shadowlands. They had been traveling companions back then, friends on the road. But now. . .

Now he never wanted to leave her side again.

“So, what do you see, now that the fog has lifted?” Tav asked, moving to cuddle into his side, his hand resting comfortably on her hip.

“Not what. . . Who.” Halsin replied, taking in the faint scent of rosemary and mint that always seemed to float from her hair. “But all in due time.”

Tav’s cheeks blushed. “There is so much left to do.” She sighed heavily, fingering the talisman around her neck. It's copper glint caught Halsin’s eye.

“What is that, might I ask?”

Tav looked up at him, then looped the leather chord over her head, placing the amulet in his large hand. Halsin turned it over in his fingers before a flash of shock and recognition darted across his eyes.

“Thaniel gave it to me before we left his domain. He said it was a gift from the Oak Father.” Tav explained. “I don't know why, but I feel safe when I wear it.”

“Tav, this amulet. . .” Halsin’s voice shook as he spoke “This belonged to my master.”

“What? But how?”

“Only the Oak Father knows.”

“Well, you should keep it then,” Tavya said, closing his fingers around it.

Halsin shook his head.

“No. It was gifted to you.” He said, taking the chord and placing it around Tav’s neck. He gently pulled her hair through the loop and moved it to hang behind her back. “It's an amulet of protection. It will aid you in battle.”

He gently held the talisman in his fingers, taking in the worn details. It hadn't seen living hands for a long time. Now it hung around the neck of the person he cared for the most.

“The Oak Father’s blessings are truly upon you.” he said, as he left it to hang against her chest.

“He’s chosen me as a paladin.” Tav revealed, grasping the amulet in her fist. “I don't know what to make of it.” She looked up at him. ‘What I do know, is that he wants me to return the balance, and defeating the Absolute is the only way.”

“Then you will have me by your side,” said Halsin, resting a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Through curses, parasites, the Absolute. . .Anything."

Tav leaned into him, wrapping her own arm around his back, her hand resting between his shoulder blades. "I know."

Halsin let his head fall until his cheek rested on top of her head. How long they stayed like that, he didn't know. But eventually they heard their names being called from the edge of camp by the others.

"We should head back," Tav sighed, slowly getting to her feet. She held her hand out to Halsin, who took it and reluctantly stood.

Tav looked around the clearing as the fireflies disappeared, leaving only the moonlight streaming through the canopy. "We'll have to come back here, once we're finished with the Absolute."

"I wholeheartedly agree." said Halsin, as he interlaced his fingers with Tav's. "Let's take the scenic route back, shall we?"

Tav smiled. "I think we shall."

#baldurs gate tav #fanfic #my tav #baldur’s gate fanfiction #bg3 halsin #halsin x tav #i might be obsessed #halsin fluff #halsin x tav fluff #halsin is so damn sweet and i cant get enough

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