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elspethdekarios · 3 months

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Faerûnian Writing Challenge: Family Reunion

Hello, this is very late because it sparked a larger idea and then I could not write anything else.

Elspeth has a not-so-great relationship with her noble family. She's always been second-best compared to her older sister, who she hasn't spoken to in months, and doesn't care to ever speak to again, frankly. That is, until she finds her sister's name among the targets for the murderous Bhaalist cult rising in the city.

This is part 1 of 2 and part 2 will be a masquerade ball (you're welcome). I'm really happy with this and super excited to write the next part, so I hope you like it!

After attending Gortash’s inauguration, Elspeth and her current companions returned to Wyrm’s Crossing to help find “the stern librarian” they’d been told went missing from Sharess’s Caress. The disappearance seemed timely after the murders of Father Lorgan and Dribbles, and they suspected Ffion’s disappearance may be connected, so they volunteered to help find her. And find her, they did.

In Ffion’s room at the Flophouse, they not only found her dead body, but clues about the murders that seemed to be happening around Baldur’s Gate. Notes were sprawled on the desk, some torn, some bloodied. One stood out from the rest, its edges fingerprinted with fresh blood–a list. Elspeth and Gale seemed to spot it at the same time, always being the ones to read through notes and ruffle through desk drawers. She picked up the parchment and read aloud:

“Those wishing to face the Dread Lord's Tribunal and enter the Temple of Bhaal must slay the targets on this list and frame the corpses as a murder by the cult of the Absolute.

Bring the victim's hand as proof of the killing. Walk in blood, Aspirant.”

Astarion and Shadowheart gathered around to listen as she read the list of names, some of which were already dead.

“Duke Stelmane, killed. Father Lorgan, killed. Dribbles the Clown, killed.” El’s hands shook as she processed the horror. “Alexander Rainforest, killed. Franc Peartree, killed. The rest are still alive, it seems. Cora Highberry, Figaro Pennygood, Ari–” Elspeth’s breath caught in her throat, a coldness settling in her stomach upon the next name. Her heart seemed to slow down and beat wildly at the same time.

“El–what is it, love?” Gale asked from beside her, leaning over and steadying one of her shaking hands. His eyes grew wide as he read the name. “Gods above….”

Shadowheart and Astarion peered over her shoulder to see what she and Gale were gawking at.

“Ariadne Vaidelark,” Shadowheart read aloud. “Is she related to you, El?”

Elspeth slowly nodded, handing the bloody parchment to Gale. She wasn’t sure how to react. Her body wouldn’t move from its spot standing in front of the desk, her eyes locked on nothing. Finally she was able to speak, a low voice, devoid of emotion: “She’s my sister.”

“Oh, shit,” Astarion said, taking a step back as if she could explode at any moment. Only she wouldn’t. She felt numb other than a rising panic rumbling throughout her body, one that she had become an expert at ignoring over the past few months of mortal peril.

“Here, love, sit down for a moment.” Gale pulled the chair out from the desk, but El only shook her head.

“No, I’m fine,” she said, steadying herself. “Let��s just get out of here.”

They went to camp straight away, where everyone took on their normal duties, though an unease seemed to have settled on everyone as they learned the news. El didn’t want to talk about it, not yet, so she sat by the fire with Gale as he prepared their dinner for the night, a soft blanket wrapped around her shoulders. He kept the conversation light, talking about his favorite bookstore in Waterdeep and his most prized magical tomes he’d collected from there, to keep her mind occupied until she was ready to talk. His thoughtfulness was one of the qualities she loved most about him. Even though her heart was unsettled and confused, just being close to him, hearing his voice, looking at the concentration on his face as he worked–it was a salve on an angry wound.

Gale handed her a piece of carrot that he’d been slicing, and she ate it slowly, crunching small bites between her teeth as she listened to his rambling, which was now about rare abjuration charms that he’d learned from said prized tomes. Another voice interjected from behind them.

“That smells so good.” Karlach approached and took a seat on the wooden log Elspeth was leaning against. “Will it be ready soon? I’m starved.”

“Another hour at least,” Gale answered, dumping the chopped carrots into the stew.

“Damn,” she said before placing a hot hand on El’s shoulder. “Ellie, I heard about your sister. On that list. We’ll save her, okay? I swear it.”

She looked up at Karlach with a sad smile. “Thanks.”

“And if you ever need to talk or hug it out, I’m here for you. Always.”

“Thank you, Karlach. I know you are,” she responded. “Actually, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can you tell the others not to bring it up? I will talk about it. Just not tonight.”

“You got it, soldier.” Karlach rubbed Elspeth’s arm before walking back to the center of camp, loudly telling everyone to listen up.

Karlach must have struck the fear of the hells into their companions, because no one mentioned her sister at dinner. In fact, everyone seemed to go out of their way to either be completely silent or talk incessantly about lighter topics. No one even brought up their plans for the next day, which they always discussed at dinner. Wyll volunteered to clean up the dishes, a chore that Elspeth often claimed, and she and Gale slipped into his tent to call it an early night. Safely nestled in his arms, her facade slipped away and she let herself sob into his shoulder, aware that the others were still awake and could likely hear her. It didn’t matter. They had all seen her cry before–it wasn’t that she was ashamed of having emotions. It was the fact that her emotions surrounding her family, especially Ariadne, were… complicated. She had briefly talked about being the outcast of her family, and of course Wyll knew, since their families ran in the same noble circles. But Gale was the only one who knew details. He was the only one of their companions who she told about her childhood spent never measuring up to her sister, preferring to help in the kitchen than participate in noble customs. The bruises and tears she was left with as she endured paladin training, Ariadne always coming out on top, her parents’ disappointment in Elspeth evident in their faces. Her calling to become a cleric instead, and the way her mother offered to pay for her training and board at Ambrose Academy–a kind gesture, but one that Elspeth always suspected was a prime opportunity for her parents to get her out of the house. Gale was not the only one who knew about Ariadne being engaged to her ex–she told the others one night after a few glasses of wine–but he was the only one who knew how much it truly hurt her. She didn’t have feelings for Leon anymore, and hadn’t had them for a while. But seeing them together, just minutes before being taken by the nautiloid… it was painful. A reminder that she would always, always, be second best.

Gale held her as she cried, tears and snot wetting his shirt. He didn’t force her to talk–only hugged her tight and rubbed circles onto her back and offered words of comfort.

“Let it out, my love” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I’ve got you.”

“I can’t let her die,” she choked out between sobs. “She’s horrible to me, but–I can’t–she’s–she’s my sister–and I–”

Words became too much, and she buried her head into Gale’s sleeve once again.

“I know,” he said. “We’ll find a way. I promise.”

No more words were exchanged between them, other than a soft “I love you” from Gale as Elspeth’s cries quieted and she drifted off to sleep.

El chose her companions carefully for their trek to the Upper City. Gale, of course, was coming with her. Wyll volunteered to go, since he knew her family, though they didn’t know about his new devil form. Astarion practically inserted himself into the group, desperate to walk the streets of the Upper City in the sunlight–but she would have asked him to come anyway. She also asked Shadowheart, since she was, besides El, the most “normal looking” girl of the group. She was reluctant at first, having no memories of the Upper City (or Lower City, for that matter). Karlach excluded herself, though she was desperate to help however she could.

“From what you’ve said about your family, I doubt they’d let me take a single step inside their house,” she said at breakfast. “How about I keep watch close by the gate? And if I hear any commotion, I’ll come running.”

“My bodyguard,” El joked. “Unfortunately, you’re probably right about the first matter.”

“Eh, fuck ‘em. Not my style anyway.”

Elspeth made everyone stop in Carm’s Garms in Wyrm’s Crossing beforehand.

“I wouldn’t mind some nice clothes, don’t get me wrong,” Wyll said as they approached the storefront. “But I worry we’re wasting precious time.”

“Ariadne’s name was farther down the list,” El said. “If they’re going in order, which it seems they are, they have several people to kill before they get to her. Besides, you know as well as I do, Wyll, that they won’t let us step foot in the Upper City looking like this.”

Even their nicer clothes now were worn out, torn, or stained with blood and grime. They had been mistaken as refugees several times already, and Elspeth knew they couldn’t risk the same mistake as they got close to the Upper City. Wyll knew it, too.

“You’re right,” he nodded. “Very well. Let’s go play patriar for the day.”

After being greeted by a very talkative man, they browsed the store’s collection, Elspeth asking the owner specifically where they could find her most expensive items. They tried on dresses, overcoats, new shoes–everything. They had acquired enough gold to treat themselves to nicer clothes, and no one was complaining. Astarion seemed to be especially enjoying himself, trying on every brocade suit jacket and critiquing the cuts of the shoulders or the length of the sleeves. They left the store in their new clothes, looking cleaner than they had ever been so far on their journey.

“You look lovely in that dress,” Gale said to her as they continued to the city. Her dress was dark blue and cinched at the waist with a silver jeweled belt. “You look lovely all the time, but… well, you know what I mean.”

“Thank you,” she said, slipping her hand into his and admiring his own new outfit, a simple but elegant white linen shirt, sleeves buttoned at the wrist, topped with an embroidered vest that matched the dark brown of his new trousers. He also bought new shoes–some tasteful, yet practical, embroidered loafers. “You clean up quite nicely yourself.”

“Will you two stop being so lovey-dovey?” Astarion scoffed from behind them. “Honestly, we have a murder to prevent.”

“Since when have you ever been so keen to stop a murder?” Shadowheart asked. He pretended he didn’t hear her.

While the Lower City was teeming with refugees, the Upper City was as calm and sophisticated as ever. People in elegant outfits walked the streets, often arm-in-arm with someone just as well-dressed. Steel Watchers stood tall on every other street corner, casting menacing shadows onto the stone pavement. Music seemed to play from nowhere at all, and the water from the grand fountain just inside the gate cascaded serenely into its basin as sunlight glimmered in the crystal blue water. No one would know about the mass panic that ensued on the other side of the gate from this view alone.

“Welcome to the Upper City,” El sighed. Even though this was her home, she felt like she didn’t belong here. She was always an outcast among her family, yes, but after her adventures these past few months, standing among the pristine, the rich, the powerful felt… wrong.

Gale squeezed her hand and ran his thumb across her knuckles.

“You’ll be alright,” he said. “We’re all here with you.”

El was thankful that she had the foresight to upgrade their clothes. Even in the flowing dress she wore, she felt underdressed as they walked the streets towards her family home. Patriars passed them in vibrant ensembles adorned with golden accents and fancy hats, their heads held high, their walking leisurely and controlled. They came upon a small, well-manicured park where children played with wooden swords and parents mingled in the gazebo. Though they were only a couple blocks away, El slowed down near the entrance.

“I used to play here as a child,” she said, smiling sadly as memories rushed into her mind. Good memories of playing tag or hide-and-seek with her school friends–but also bad memories, like when Ariadne fell and scraped her elbow only to run home and tell their parents that Elspeth pushed her down on purpose. Or when a pre-teen Elspeth snuck out of the house one night to meet a boy in the park, unknowingly being trailed by Ariadne, and came home to her stern-faced mother waiting to reprimand her for breaking curfew. Her nostalgic trance ended when Wyll noticed a flyer on the park’s bulletin board.

“A masquerade ball,” he said with a hint of excitement. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to one of those.”

“I’ve always wanted to attend one,” Gale said as they huddled around the flyer. “The intrigue, the mystery, the romance of it all.”

“They are quite fun,” Astarion added. “Although I’ve only ever been in order to find expensive dinners for Cazador.”

“It’s in three days’ time,” Wyll said. “Maybe we can find an excuse to attend. If we’re not in imminent danger, of course.”

Shadowheart was in her own little world, letting a butterfly crawl onto her finger near the flower bushes. It was like seeing a child discovering the joys of the world for the first time. Despite the thunderstorm of feelings stirring in Elspeth’s chest, she smiled to herself.

“Come on,” she said after the butterfly took flight. “We’re only a couple blocks away.”

The Vaidelark House sat along a row of patriar homes, each slightly different, but all sharing the same Upper City architecture: stone pillars, tall ceilings, iron-gated green courtyards. It was all a far cry from the Lower City’s run down houses. After camping in the wilderness the past few months and seeing so many refugees and beggars throughout the area, Elspeth’s childhood home seemed like a distant dream, and a sense of guilt arose in her as she thought about all the privileges she was raised with and still had, even after being cast out by her family. It felt like a cold blade to the heart.

“Good gods,” Gale said as they neared the stairs at the front of the house. “You and I surely had different childhoods.”

A large stone “V” supported by two doves adorned the space above the grand front doors, and yellow flowers bloomed on the bushes lining the front of the house. She took a long, deep breath when they reached the entrance.

“I was lucky,” she replied. “But it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Not for me, at least.”

It took all of her courage to pick up the heavy iron knocker. She trembled with anxiety–more anxiety than she’d felt at Moonrise just a tenday ago. Gale kissed the back of her hand, letting his lips linger on her skin as they waited for the door to open. She was expecting to see Tessie, the housekeeper who was like a true mother to her. Or another houseworker. But it wasn’t either of them who opened the door.

It was Ariadne.

The sight of her sister’s face was enough to incite dread in the pit of her stomach at best–raging, fiery anger at worst. But as the two sisters sat on mirrored sofas in the sitting room, Elspeth felt… sad. Sad that she would never have that true sisterly bond with Ariadne. Sad that their lives had been spent at each other’s throats. And sad that now, someone evidently wanted her sister dead.

An elven footman entered the stuffy sitting room with a large tray of tea and biscuits. “Good to see you, Lady Elspeth,” he said, nodding to her with a polite smile. She always liked Van–he started working at the house when she was a teenager, and would often sneak a couple of sweets under her bedroom door after dinner.

“You as well, Van,” she replied. “Could you please let Tessie know I’d like to come down and see her before we leave?”

“Certainly, my lady.” Van bowed and left the room.

While they waited for their parents, Elspeth and Ariadne sat in awkward silence as they drank their tea. Gale and Shadowheart sat on either side of her, with Wyll in an armchair nearby and Astarion leaning against the mantle behind her, no doubt eyeing the valuables.

Please don’t steal anything, she willed into his mind via tadpole connection. They already dislike me.

She felt something akin to an eyeroll before he replied. Ugh. Fine.

“So, Wyll,” Ariadne broke the awkward silence as she sipped her tea. “You’ve… changed since I last saw you.”

“Indeed,” he said. “But you’ve stayed exactly the same.” He smiled as he said it, but El could hear in his voice that it wasn’t a compliment. Ariadne’s facade faltered for a brief second as she realized it, too.

“I suppose you’re here to make amends with your father, now that he’s in good graces with Lord Gortash?”

“Don’t speak to my friends like that,” El snapped at her sister. “Clearly you don’t know Wyll at all if you think that’s the case.”

“Why else would he be back? Especially ballsy to return looking like a devil.”

“Shut your–”

Their squabble was interrupted when the Lord and Lady of the house entered the room, bringing a silence with them that was only broken by their light footsteps. They each took a seat beside Ariadne.

“Elspeth,” her mother said sternly, more of a statement than a greeting. “Why are you here?” Her mother’s already-stoic face was colder than usual.

El floundered. Suddenly, she was a child again, awaiting her mother’s ire as she stood above a shattered vase in the foyer. Crying on the terrace after getting her ass kicked by Ariadne as they learned to duel, looking to her mother for comfort only to find her staring down with disgust, pale green pools of apathy where her eyes should have been. Being charmed to behave at important dinners with nobility instead of just being trusted–this was the only time her father stepped in. He was a quiet man, and left the parenting to his wife, but it seemed that magic manipulation was where he drew the line.

Gale’s hand on her knee was enough to pull her out of the flashbacks and back into the room. The room where her family sat across from and in direct opposition to her, seemingly ready to tear her down and humiliate her in front of her friends at any moment.

Friends.

She wasn’t alone this time. It wasn’t just her against her family. She was surrounded by people who cared about her, people who had become her true family over the past few months. She had the most wonderful man, the greatest love she’d ever known at her side. A would-be Dark Justiciar who defied an evil goddess in an unbelievable act of bravery and strength. A vampire spawn who would soon be free of his master for good, who made the difficult choice to be better every day that she’s known him. And, not to mention, the Blade of Frontiers, the son of Duke Ravengard, who once sold his soul for the people he cared about, and undoubtedly would do it again.

She wasn’t small anymore, and she wasn’t alone. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t a disappointment to these people, but a beacon of hope. A leader. A friend.

“I’m here to save your life,” she said, locking eyes with Ariadne. “Whether you want me to or not.”

#BG3FicFeb #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #elspeth #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fic #my writing

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