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Chapter Text

THIS BOOK CONTAINS:

- Offensive language

- Threats

- Graphic descriptions of violence and murderous fantasies

- Graphic sexual encounters

- Alcohol consumption

- Involuntary restraints

- Kidnapping

- Murder and death

- Paranoia

- Trauma

Please note that there will not be trigger warnings on specific chapters beforehand. Do not read if this causes you any pain.

These scenes are for entertainment purposes only. Any views expressed by the characters in this book does not reflect the authors beliefs, and the author does not condone the actions of every single character.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This novel's story and its characters are fictitious and built on the developed characters and events from Larian Studios "Baldur's Gate 3".

-RATED MATURE-

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Chapter Text

Hello again!

I'm so glad you've found your way to my fanfic, and I sincerely hope you'll enjoy it! If you're an anxious bean like myself, commenting can sometimes feel daunting even though it's very mundane. Don't be discouraged! It's not as scary as it may seem, and the community response is usually nothing but great!

This fanfic starts at the end of act 2 of Larian Studios-developed game "Baldur's Gate 3". It will be heavily referencing events and characters from the game, and having at least some knowledge of it going into the fanfic will probably help you a lot along the way.

I hope that this book can be a safe space and host fun thoughts and interesting ideas around the fanfic and the game, so please be nice to other commentators! I love comments, I think getting feedback and interaction from readers is really fun, but keep it nice and don't go off on each other.

If you notice a grammatical error, PLEASE comment and tell me so that I can fix it ASAP!

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• Not contain spoilers! If you've read ahead and are re-reading, don't ruin it for the first-timers!

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• Be nice to other commenters!

Chapter Text

"What now? You've got what you wanted, after all."

"I have. But perhaps, there is more that I want..."

The blood still rings in my ears, rushing through my body and making every part of me vibrate. Images of the carnage below still flit before my eyes, pulling on my heartstrings and provoking the gleeful, forceful song of violence from my heart. One would think slaying an avatar of Myrkul would've settled it, but I was strung tight as a bowstring. Murder sung to me, urging me to take more life.

I hear myself distantly, thanking Halsin for his promise to remain by my side as I search for a cure even after aiding him in his mission to vanquish the shadow curse. The blood is loud in my ears, drowning his words out as I force out the pleasantries. His face is still splattered with blood, and my eyes are drawn back to how it mingles with his tattoo again and again.

"I'm glad to be had - glad to be with you, I mean."

Seemingly everyone wants to speak with me. Why, I do not know, as my tense expression was not one inviting conversation. Harpers and tieflings alike, Dame Aylin and Isobel, even Art Cullaugh seek me out. Far too many have deemed it appropriate to gather in the entrance hall of Moonrise, several of whom had no part in the battle.

The bodies we slayed coming through still lay bleeding on the floor. They are comforting to look to as the company I'm forced to drawls on, craving my attention now of all times. The murdered guards had tried their best to fend us off, and I'd savored the light leaving their eyes as I cut them down. Their corpses filled me with a twisted glee, a want to bend down and touch. Dead little playthings, I find myself thinking.

The regal walls of the grand halls are even more beautiful where blood has splattered, the high, valved ceilings having echoed screams of agony just hours ago. The floor is slippery in some places. The open, dead eyes of a fellow paladin stare at me as I venture upward the hall. Her gaze draws me in, hypnotizing me.

Withers' cryptic drawl and calming aura of death is comforting once I reach him, even though his enjoyment of the carnage does not seem to mirror my own. His voice echoes of forgotten tombs, breaking the dead paladin's enchantment.

"Do illithids possess souls?"

I don't know. I can't even find it in me to care currently. They possess bodies, bodies to spear, to tear, to rip. That is enough.

"You know of these Urges." I bite out, forcing the words past my lips even as they claw at my throat to stay buried. My tightly clenched fists ache, and I can feel them tremor against my side. "What can you tell me?"

"Nothing thou dost not already know."

How would his greying flesh peel from his skull? Would he bleed if I cut him? Would he scream?

Gale's noticeable agitation regarding the Crown of Karsus is of course a matter he has to air out with me, as is Wyll's frustration over Mizora.

Lae'zel and Shadowheart have ceased their endless bickering for once, and if my mind was less occupied I'd be surprised at how easily Lae'zel lets the cleric tend to her wounds. Karlach's running high on soul coins and adrenaline alike, entertaining a small audience and causing Astarion's aristocratic laughter to echo through the hall.

It takes hours before I manage to gather my troop, starting the trek to our camp by Last Light. Making it back to camp with my own, and everyone else's limbs, intact is grueling.

Despite the initial jovial mood of the group I feel pent up, like the carnage of the day was just throwing the door off its hinges to get into the real killing. The tension with which murder holds me remains as tiredness falls over the rest of my companions. Even Karlach simmers down after a while as the perils of the day overcome her.

Everyone is tired, so tired, after the day we've had. By the time we reach camp, only mumbles are heard as feet are dragged behind us.

Our fiery friend volunteers to make a fire as Gale slumps by the log Halsin had dragged to sit on, using a magic hand to bring out some day-old bread from our supplies. The wizard doesn't have the energy to cook tonight, it seems. A modest selection of bread, cheese, wine and some dried fruits is assembled with a little bit of help from our companions.

Soon, we're sat around the campfire. Gale especially seems worn, exhausted. A large bruise is forming across his left cheekbone, already turning an ugly bluish-black.

Would he have the energy to run, I wonder? What if I held a knife to his throat? What then?

A bottle of wine is passed around as I remain silent, the idle chatter and laughter of my companions genuine but kept at a low volume. The lands swallowed up all light and joy, and I'd noticed we all spoke quieter since entering as if adapting to fit in with our surroundings.

No one has the energy to stay up and chat, and it's with a relieved sigh I retire to my tent as every filters off. Taking my armor off is tiresome, and my shoulder still hurts from being dislodged when I stretch to drag the breastplate over my head. No matter. With everyone retired to their tents, there's no one to notice the initial grimace of pain, or the smirk that threatens to make itself known on my lips as I roll it to feel the answering ache again.

It's quiet, once I lay down. A rustle from Shadowheart's tent, a low chuckle from Karlach's. It grates at me, every small movement and noise agonizing. My stomach churns, every moment bringing a new urge to kill, to maim, to bleed. A thousand moments of death flit across my eyelids, the steady stream turning from reality to gruesome fantasy.

I could bleed a corpse and sit upon it. How wonderful wouldn't it be, to feel it cooling beneath my thighs? I could touch and twist, cut and turn to my heart's content as it laid dead beneath me.

Astarion would make such a pretty corpse.

I rise like the undead from my bedroll, stumbling out into the free air. My feet take me to Astarion's tent. The decadent cloth and pillows hide what I know is the more ragged blanket inside. Through a slit in the cover, I spot him. He sleeps like a lamb, peaceful and pale under the moon, unaware that his life hangs in the balance.

"He is so afraid."

I jerk as the nasal voice sounds from behind me, reaching for the dagger in my boot and turning around quickly. The little fiend stares right back at me, bowing his head in respect. His watery red eyes peer at me from under the brim of his hat.

"So, so afraid. Of everyone, besides you, who he ought to fear the most. You could do so much better, milady."

"Cease this insubordination. You serve me." I hiss, for that much I knew. I may not know my past, may not know my memories, but I knew this thing to be my servant.

"I am but an eager messenger, from the depths of your dirty thoughts."

The excitement in his voice and the little jump he does before bowing yet again disgust me, making me want to bear my teeth.

"Your clever mind is penning tragedy as we speak. Your repressed urge yearns to kill. And kill you will. Tonight, the moment you close your eyes, your favorite person will be brutalized."

"I didn't lay a finger on Isobel. I can control myself."

But by the Gods, did I want to. Finding her crypt, watching her lie to my face under the guise of innocence as I confronted her. Even worse, when she turned out to be truly innocent, her life after death the result of a wicked father. She was blameless, risen on someone else's accord.

I longed to return her to her grave.

"It is precisely because you didn't kill her that you are insatiable. Your dark urge will have death, one way or another. Tonight."

Drawing a shaky breath, I clench and unclench my fists. My grim silence only spurs his dapper spirit further.

"There was much disappointment in your refusal to kill the little Moonmaiden. Now, you could kill this one deliberately." He muses, using a darkened nail to part the flap of Astarion's tent. "I'm sure it will be considered a great show of goodwill. The tithe could still be yours."

"Haven't I done enough killing already?"

"There comes a time when every precious young master must triumph over scrutiny. Had you excelled instead of resisted in killing the Moonmaiden's cleric, you would have received a disgusting price already. But it's not too late yet. Your perfect instincts force your knife arm. You know that well from the bard."

He beams with pride, and the sick stirring of glee and disgust swirls within me once again.

Alfira, the sweet girl had only asked for the chance to serve me. A part of me feels like she had, dutifully taking stab after stab to the chest. Like the dozen wounds in her stomach was her tribute.

The open crimson in her chest. The terrified look on her face. The blood on my hands.

A perfect little gift.

"You will do something divinely unspeakable on this eve. Your betters are not fond of the company you've been keeping... An example must be set."

My butler's beady eyes move to the sleeping elf. Astarion remains blissfully unaware as the imp skips around me and peers at him, gesturing between me and my former lover.

"It will be the most perfect, the most brutal death in your long career. Even from before your little indisposition."

"I'll save him. Whatever it takes."

"I do not doubt you'll act with the decorum befitting one of your rank. You have always struggled to conduct yourself properly without me, but now, now master, you will excel! Goodnight, sweet lady."

A mist of red magic rushes over him, and he's gone before my hands can grip him. My breath comes shallow as I look down at my trembling hands, the cold sweat making me shiver as I feel myself turning towards Astarion's sleeping figure.

I need to wake him, to warn him, but as I kneel by his bedroll I'm transfixed by his neck. I long to wrap my hands around his throat. Did vampires need to breathe, I wonder, as my hands inch closer and closer.

"Edienna?"

The loud ringing in my ears quiet as fast as it'd built and I throw myself back from Astarion, scrambling with bare hands on the ground to get away from his tent. The gravel scrapes my palms, opening little sores. The pale elf is still asleep, but the voice that startled me didn't belong to the wretched butler either.

"Edie, are you hurt?"

Halsin's lumbering figure slowly comes closer as he crouches in the dirt next to me. He holds his hands out calmingly, as if I was a spooked animal. His voice is filled with concern, features set to a worried frown.

"You are in a lot of danger. We need to act fast." I hurry. Halsin's eyes sweep the edges of our camp, and oh how I long to throw myself at him and pierce his gullet the second his eyes drift from me.

"Where is this danger?"

His voice is mellowed, controlled. Alert, but not distressed.

"Take my daggers. On second thought, take my shoes too. I may try to kick you and the heels are hard."

My voice shakes as much as my hands as I desperately try to lace up the boots, almost screaming as Halsin's large, warm hand is placed over mine.

"What is going on? Have you been cursed?"

"There's no time to explain. I- I'll do- fuck, I'll try when it's over. Restrain me, don't trust me no matter what I say. Come morning, I'll do whatever you wish."

My head pounds and the taste of iron fills my mouth as I feel my eyes rolling in their sockets. Fatigue moves through my body, as unstoppable as morning mist over a lake, clouding my judgment. I whimper, then growl when Halsin's fingers finally move to remove the half-laced boot.

"Where are your weapons?" He asks, keeping his voice low as he hastily pats down my ankles to make sure he didn't miss any of the knives he knew I kept hidden there.

"Tent." I wheeze, falling back and seizing. "Dagger, arm."

My body cramps and contorts as Halsin takes it off me, undoing the leather straps keeping the blade to my skin. By the sound of it dropping, the pile of my belongings is no more than a few meters away. I'm a second away from reaching for it when thick vines sprout from the ground and wire themselves around my torso and legs. My arms are plastered to the sides of my body, every part of me immobilized and kept to the ground as the rage envelops my body and a field of red fills my vision.

Halsin's stature towers over me, his outstretched hands breathing disgusting life into the dead ground to chain me. I squirm, growling and fighting against the confines as they grow tighter and tighter around me the more I move.

"Oak Father preserve us. What has taken over you..."

His gentle musing irks me, the concerned look in his eyes repulsing.

"Stop! You must refuse this."

I growl, my voice raising to the pitch of a scream as frustration takes hold when the vines close even tighter. I try to wiggle up to get some leeway, aiming to bite a finger of off his outstretched hand. When it doesn't work I move harder, shaking my head until I'm banging it into the ground, harder and harder until blood covers my teeth. The uncontainable urge grows feral as another thick vine slithers over my forehead, anchoring my head to the ground until I can't move.

"Let me go!"

My growl is inhuman, the deep voice a twisted thing that echoes my normal tone. Halsin remains silent, staring at me from above as I convulse and try to find a weak spot in this prison of his.

"I trust you enough not to rely on your words, Edienna."

Another feral scream rips from my chest as I seize, fighting against the vines.

"I will scoop out your eyes and toss them to the dogs." I hiss, setting my eyes on him. "I will cut you and make your corpse sing!"

When my head finds some wiggle room and slam into the ground hard, Halsin winces and kneels by my side. His hands reach for me and I jerk to bite him, only narrowly missing his finger.

"Your blood will clot for me like liquid rubies. The bruises I give you shall gorge themselves on your blood." I sneer, baring my teeth at him.

"I will not let you harm anyone, not even yourself. Now still."

The druid's command rushes through me, slithering in next to the violent fantasies. The rage grows unbearable in my head now that it's confined there, with no control to lift so much as a finger.

"You were never able to protect anything." I hiss, the venom spilling from my lips like a flood. "All you've ever accomplished is because of me. Your brothers in arms were swallowed by the curse that took your precious Thaniel away from you and you fled like a coward. You're the last of your line, and I will put a stop to your pitiful legacy."

The twinge of hurt on Halsin's face allows me a tinge of accomplishment as my body refuses to yield my command. Another wave of hatred is about to well up as a glimpse of white moves behind Halsin's shoulder.

Astarion, with a raised dagger in hand.

My eyes flickering to the vampire's form is all that saves Halsin, the second of warning just enough for him to turn and dive out of the way as Astarion strikes. Halsin quickly rolls to his feet as Astarion takes a protective stance above my body, keeping his eyes trained on the druid.

"What've you done to her?"

"Nothing, I swear! She asked me to do this."

Halsin's reassuring words make Astarion's eyes flash to me with confusion. Oh, how sweet of a friend he is. He thinks he's protecting me. I, who had cursed and begged to not harm him only to almost strangle him in his sleep.

My eyes water and I try for a pitiful look, my voice dripping with false tears as I direct my speech towards him.

"It's not true, Astarion. He chained me, used me to get rid of Ketheric. With the curse gone, he didn't need me anymore."

A tear pools in the corner of my eye and excitement fills me as Astarion's eyes flicker between Halsin and me, cold determination overtaking him.

"You can't trust a word she says."

Halsin's words fall on feeble ears as Astarion lunges for him, aiming low and using his smaller form to try and slice and evade the larger elf. Halsin sidesteps him, going to grab him around the midriff but missing. I draw a fast breath as Astarion turns and strikes, panting as the dagger stops right above Halsin's heart.

"She's cursed, Astarion! You must believe me!"

"She's chained to the ground, crying!"

"Precisely! When have you ever seen her cry? By the Hells, her Oath is one of Vengeance!"

Astarion falters at that, his brow twitching as his eyes once again flicker to me. Before I can ward myself, shut him out, his tadpole reaches for mine, squirming agonizingly inside my skull as he gazes into my memories. Bloodied fantasies and dreams are laid bare, along with my wishes for hands around his throat and my plea for Halsin to help.

"By the Hells."

Astarion's dagger drops, clanking against the ground. His low whisper is shocked and his jaw clenched as his watchful eyes view me with new understanding. My face twists into a mask of mocking hatred when I spot the fear in his eyes.

"Why, you can't even protect the one who stood by you? Pathetic. Your one true friend in this world and you're so quick to abandon her?"

My goading smile twists to something sickly, my blood-covered teeth grinning at him as I make my voice sweet as cherries.

"Don't listen to her, Astarion. She spews only lies to harm us. We must keep a level head."

He swallows hard, my eyes tracing the movement under the pale skin. My eyes on his neck register, and I see his body tense.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know. She promised to tell come morning."

"So what? We just wait?"

"Yes, yes, just wait as I dream of the blood rushing under your skin. You're no stranger to that, are you vampire?" I spit out, grimacing against the pain of being forced to remain still. "Oh, but I forgot. You're just a spawn, a pawn to dance on Cazador's chessboard. Come, little doggie, come." I whistle, watching as his face contorts before a neutral mask slides into place.

"Cast silence on her, at least." He mumbles, letting his arms drop as he takes a seat on the ground next to me.

"I will take an hour of pain for every minute you keep me here! I will crack and snap every bone, peel every layer of skin, bleed every-"

My voice cuts off, the heavy blanket of silence falling over me so not even I can hear myself. I spit and bite, screaming out the words threat after threat, madness consuming me as Halsin calmly takes a seat next to Astarion.

The night is unbearable as they sit there, so close but so far. I can see them talking for a while, then sharing wine over worried glances in my direction. My eyes roll in my head as the world whites out, then fills with red only to fall into darkness.

I would end them all.

Chapter Text

The voices are muted when I come to, obscured as if spoked through a wall, from a different room.

"Is she waking up?"

My head aches, my body stiff under the still-hard grip of the vines. My mouth feels swollen and dry all at once.

The memories all rush back as the sensation of coarse dirt and rough plants register. The night of blood, the violent thoughts. I gasp, body arching as I desperately try to fill my lungs with the bitter morning air.

My heavy eyelids flutter before slowly opening to gaze at the faces before me. Astarion's wounded, worried expression and Halsin's careful, calculated one.

"Edie? Morning has broken. Are you with us?"

His calm voice is like balsam to my ears and I feel the tears once again filling my eyes, this time real as they spill and run down the sides of my face.

"I'm sorry. I'm so- I- I'm so sorry." I sob, trembling under them. A moment passes as they look between themselves, deliberating silently.

"I'll search her mind. We can't be sure."

Astarion's worm tentatively reaches out to mine once again, and I don't think I could've stopped him from entering my mind if I tried. My thoughts are in ruins, laid bare, barren.

He must find his answer quickly, for soon the vines slither back into the ground, and I feel Halsin's command break. My stiff body can't move, only turn on its side and curl together as I hug my legs to my chest and shiver.

A warm, gentle hand pierces through the shaking, caressing my cheek before continuing to stroke down my back, carefully urging me to sit up.

"It's okay. It's over now."

The comforting words rip through me like claws, tearing my chest and making me wail. I can hear the commotion around me and it's too much, all too much. Clenching my eyes shut, I bring my hands to my ears to cover them, curling further in on myself.

The ground shifts underneath me and packed dirt is replaced by a warm embrace and a lulling sound. Arms hold me, cocooning around me. The hand stroking through my hair tugs gently at the band keeping it up, drawing it out and letting my hair fall over my shoulders. Mumbled words are uttered, and a flash of blue colors my vision. A rush of life and wellness moves through my veins, and I can feel my muscles loosen and my wounds close.

A wet nose sniffles at my hand, but soon that's gone and all that's left is the grounding embrace caging me in, keeping me from falling apart. If it were to let go, I might disintegrate and scatter to the wind.

I don't know how long we sit there. The sounds around us slowly turn from agonizing to comforting, as the sparkling of the fire and low conversation over breakfast ensues as our companions rise for the day.

The more I patch my mind together, the more shame and guilt grow within me until it feels like I can't move at all. Oh Hells, how could I face any of them?

The things I'd said, the things I'd almost done... and Astarion had seen my desire, entered my mind. How I wanted it, craved it.

How the disgust and despair I felt toward my violent inclination had been replaced by bloodlust and cruelty.

The sound of someone walking over hits my ears, and when heat caresses my side I conclude it's Karlach. She's offering my hiding spot breakfast, but Halsin declines. Of course it was Halsin's embrace, his wide, large body spanning twice my height and thrice my girth. His arms could cover me, his lap offer plenty of room to hide.

With the storm passed, annoying notions such as needing to scratch my nose return. When I shift in his arms, his grip loosens, and his hair tickles my cheek when his head turns down to look at me. I burrow deeper, keeping my head bent and my forehead plastered to his chest. He seems to understand, stroking a hand over my back.

More time passes, and the chatter around the campfire grows idle before it's replaced by the sound of scrambling armor. If we're heading out, I should be with the party, but I can't bring myself to look anyone in the eye.

Who would, who could, trust me to have their back? Ketheric may be gone, but these were dangerous lands still, and who knows how far the army had made it yet?

No matter.

It's been silent for a long time when I once again shift in Halsin's lap, an encouraging stroke across my back urging me to emerge. I lean back, keeping my head felled in shame as I shuffle away from his sanctuary. My hair falls in front of my face, and I have half the mind to leave it there before it tickles my face and I'm prompted to stick it behind my pointed ears.

"I'm going to make you some tea."

Halsin's casual announcement is bizarre. Otherworldly, almost. So very... mundane. He and the other's should be throwing me out, and the fact that they weren't was worrying in of itself. A grace period perhaps, to allow me the chance to survive on my own before parting ways?

The large elf rises, and I catch the wobble of his legs as he moves to stand. He's stiff, probably in pain from sheltering me in his arms for so long, sitting still on the hard ground. Too empathic to leave me alone in the dirt, too good to not strain himself for my piteous sake.

The sound of him moving around behind me would usually unsettle me, as any noise I wasn't facing is a potential threat, but the urge to protect myself seems to have vanished along with the more murderous tendencies.

When a pair of tasteful boots made of worn leather enter my sight, I have to swallow down bile and turn my head. I hear him stop before me, still, watching.

"Now that you're back with us, we need to have a talk."

Astarion's voice, so theatrical and normal, reveals nothing of his intentions. The empty husk the night has made of me struggles to take action, and I feel the flurry of emotion as I stumble across my own decision-making. It's deeply unsettling, to be rendered effectively useless like this. Resilience and straightforwardness lay at my core, and to be vulnerable, unsure and without agency put me off kilter.

To not be the leader, I discern, was nerve-wracking.

"Well? Don't just sit there. Talk."

Astarion's tone is hardened by irritation from my lack of explanation, and I find myself wishing he'd kick me, bruise me, scar me in return for what I did. He and I, we knew violence, understood it.

I grit my teeth as the worm squirms behind my eyes when I direct it towards him, showing my wishes to him. I expect a mocking laughter, a punch, a kick in return.

Nothing.

And it almost hurts worse.

Heavy footsteps come behind me, and soon Halsin is crouching by me and pushing a warm cup of tea into my hands.

"Drink. You'll feel better."

He sits down in front of me, close to me, as if my repelling aura didn't affect him.

"How can you say that? There is nothing that could make this better."

My voice is raw and breaks halfway through the sentence, higher pitched than usual.

"Your current state cannot be described as anything but an improvement from last night. Now, drink."

Halsin's diplomatic speech falters towards the end, and an irritated sigh from the paler elf fills the silence.

"Just drink the damn tea!"

Astarion's petulant tone brings a slight tug to the corner of my lips, and I slowly raise the cup with both hands to my mouth. The two elves' different approaches were amusing when seen side by side like this. I hope they'll grow to be fast friends after discarding me.

Among the healing herbs and honeyed sweetness in the tea is the faint taste of Klauthgrass, so my conviction of banishment remains unshaken as I swallow.

After all, drugging me for the truth was far from the worst sin committed among us within the last few hours. Wonder if they'd asked Jaheira for it, and how much she and the Harpers knew in that case.

"There's just the three of us here. Karlach is on guard close by, but the rest are scouring Moonrise for anything useful now that it's fallen. You should know though, that we intend to share with them all that you say."

Astarion snorts at Halsin's speech, his own approach a far cry from Halsin's diplomatic calm.

"We have the worms, druid."

Before Halsin can answer, I pipe in.

"Exactly. You should be throwing me to the shadows and leaving me to die."

"I could just stab you myself, you know." Astarion drawls, but the regular teasing tone doesn't hold the same charm.

"If that is how you want to take your vengeance, I will die by your blade."

Silence pillows us again as I take another sip, the scolding hot water burning the roof of my mouth.

"I told you of my urges. I told all of you. You all brushed it off, as if it was normal. Fine even, so long as it was directed right. This... I don't know what it is, but it's not normal. I don't know why I am this way, I can't remember, but it's not new. I know this to be a part of myself, and I dread to think of what horrors are shrouded in my memories."

"I was never trivial regarding your issue. I told you that I believed you when you said that your symptoms did not wholly align with the makings of the parasite." Halsin's calm counter makes me wince, my heart filling further with shame. Yes, he did say that, didn't he?

"Could it be part of your Oath? Some godforsaken way of setting aside your own purity to punish those who deserve it?" Astarion's grasping at straws, and surely he must know it as well as we do. Whatever this was, it wasn't my oath.

I shake my head, finding reprieve in letting Halsin counter his guess.

"Has this happened before?"

Halsin's question is answered by Astarion as I take another sip, sinking in on myself as he puts two and two together and reveals the truth of Alfira's disappearance to the one who sheltered her.

In the end, I tell them everything.

The urges, the iron grip they held on me, how certain I felt in my compulsions while simultaneously abhorring the very ideas themselves. How much I fought and grappled with my own hatred for myself, how truly disgusted I was with my own soul.

"You should break my bones for what I said to you last night. Break them and heal them so you can break them anew. Bruise my ribs so I can breathe your pain. I... I wish I could say I didn't mean it, but part of me did. The part who sits before you, however, will forever bear the heavy cross of shame. Please know that I do not believe you to be anything less than a true guardian of innocents, Halsin. And Astarion-"

I draw a shaky breath, feeling the tears rise yet again.

"My cruelty shall not go unpunished. The trust you placed in me was a precious gift, and I grieve I was not a worthy recipient. I know you well enough to know where to strike, and the moment my urges called, I struck. I am less than a worm in the dirt for how I treated you."

The air is thick as they contemplate my words. My hands, which are now cradling the empty cup, are unfolded by Astarion's slender fingers as he takes it from me.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't believe it. That what you said about me were simply words, and nothing more."

I draw a breath, finally lifting my gaze to his ruby irises.

"You are so much more than your master made you to be. You are not worthless. You are my friend, and if you still deign to travel with me, I swear to help you avenge the one who enslaved you."

His eyes search mine for any trace of a lie. Maybe it's the Klauthgrass, maybe he actually finds something trustworthy in me. I will never know, but after a few moments, his gaze softens and the tension lifts from his shoulders.

"Then it would be most foolish for me to throw you to the shadows, don't you think darling?"

His tentative smile is one I don't deserve, but it brings a small, matching one to my chapped lips nonetheless. Inhaling deeply once more, I turn to the larger elf.

"Ask me."

"Of what?"

"Of what I think of you. So you can know, for certain."

"I believe you."

I tilt my head quizzically, studying him.

"Ask me."

"I believe you."

Chapter Text

After our lengthy conversation, I'm ordered to rest and recuperate from the night's anguish. I protest wildly of course, Halsin's suggestion absurd for more than one reason. For one, I should be aiding camp however I could. Secondly, how could we know I wouldn't go into another murderous rage when I closed my eyes?

"Listen to the nice druid and go lay down, darling. Halsin, restrain her again if you have to."

Astarion's casual wave makes his statement utterly absurd, but as Halsin's arguing hadn't gotten him anywhere the past few minutes, he gives Astarion a grateful nod when I'm found dumbstruck.

"Come, let's rest."

A heavy hand falls on my shoulder as Halsin steers me towards my tent. The warmth of it seeps through my clothing.

It's... comforting.

"You are exhausted, and in no condition to adventure. There is nothing we can't solve without you in the coming few hours, I assure you."

"You don't know that..." I grumble, pride wounded though I recognize the truth in his words.

"Then I promise to wake you if you are most urgently needed." He smiles, the hand pushing down to make me sit as we reach the tent.

I'd always been fond of purple, or at least, I thought I'd always been fond of purple. The shades of deep lilac on my clothing and the possessions I'd had when I woke on the nautiloid spoke to that, and regardless, I'd found myself enjoying the color now.

But today, the usually comforting deep, rich fabrics of my pillows and bedroll fill me with dread.

"What if it happens again?"

My voice is kept to a low as I look at my own hands with fear.

"I won't let you harm anyone."

"You can't promise that."

"I can't? Forgive my insolence, you are a marvelous fighter, but I am still twice your size with thrice the life experience. Worse comes to worse, I think my weight alone could keep you immobilized."

The terror in my eyes must translate as I imagine his dead body covering mine, a life given as a shield to protect the others from me.

"Not like that!" He hurries, realizing my horror. "I simply meant that you are not unconquerable. I will find a way."

I swallow hard, wanting to believe his words.

"Anchor me to the ground again. Please."

Halsin ponders my request for a minute before giving a nod of agreement, gesturing for me to lie down.

This time, I'm restrained in a lot less hurried fashion, and with such sweetness it nearly brings tears to my eyes. Not that I had anything left to cry.

Nimble fingers undo my shoelaces, removing them slowly and placing them nearby instead of throwing them into a heap. My blanket is pulled up and I'm tucked in like something precious, vulnerable. I hate it, but I can't help but love it as well. Something familiar stirs within, but the notion escapes me as his hands guide my head to the pillow.

The vines that spring from the ground aren't as course this time, nor as tight. Slowly, tentatively they wire themselves around my legs, up my stomach and torso to my shoulders.

"What about my forehead?" I ask once they stop growing, and my head is left free.

"That one was to protect yourself. I would've liked to have a closer look at the back of your head, but if you had injured yourself severely we already would've known. If you start hitting it into the ground again, I promise to suspend it as well."

I nod, feeling the corners of the tent go blurry as I feel myself relax.

"Sleep, Edie. You need to rest."

•••

Waking up in the shadowcursed lands was always a little disorienting, as night and day were virtually the same. No light could penetrate the deep darkness from the outside, so our campfires had come to mean more than they previously did.

Bonding with each other over shared food and drink followed the expected trajectory of caution to friendliness, but in the darkness, the hearth became the center of everything. It was safety, comfort, the beginning and the end of bone-chilling trials.

After many days on the road together, having everyone gathered together provided a calm content, apart from the enjoyable banter. The campfire was the steering rod, the center, the mark of another day passed. A measurement of existence in this cursed land, where time did not pass outside of the hearth.

The gathering around the hearth also told the time of day, and from the crackling of the fire and chatter of confidants behind me, I figure evening has come. Even with my back to them, I can count the sounds of their hearts if I concentrate hard enough. Everyone seems to have returned safely for the day, despite what my urges may have tried.

The vines are loose around me, but not loose enough that I couldn't rise without considerable difficulty. I take inventory of my body, and can soon happily establish that the arm I use for stabbing isn't feeling exerted, and that I have no blood on my hands. Nothing seems to ache or have been bruised, and I have no memory of being taken over again.

Thank the Gods.

I ponder signaling having woken up to my companions, but quite frankly, I don't feel worthy of joining in with the mirth. How do you approach confidants who put their lives in your hands after trying to murder one of them in their sleep?

I settle for remaining a silent listener, keeping my back turned and my mouth shut.

Karlach's announcement that she was looking for company after having her engine fixed up enough to be able to touch others had led to quite the development both in camp and at Last Light. She and Dammon already had great repertoire and shared backgrounds, but whenever the blacksmith was brought up, Wyll acted like a kicked puppy. His telling of his stories as 'The Blade of Frontiers' may feed into Karlach's love for heroes, but I knew her well enough to know it wouldn't feed her lust.

Heroes were for stories, not bedmates.

I smile to myself as he tries to weave meaning into another story of his, when it was obvious he only wanted to tell of his heroism and that the story had no real bottom line to speak of. It was amusing, albeit a bit annoying to hear another failed allegory that proved nothing beyond his want for love. Karlach's praises sound regardless, along with muttering from Lae'zel about our 'benevolent burden', which surprisingly makes Shadowheart giggle.

I lay there listening for a while as they talk and laugh, waiting for the loneliness to set in. I've reached a conclusion on what my plan of action must be, and made my peace with it.

Travel I must, and for as long as my company endangered the party, I had to travel alone. Perhaps that is why I don't feel lonesome, but rather... reserved. It was my choice, after all.

I have to suppress a laugh when Gale asks Astarion if he had considered moving the boar he drank dry and left in the middle of the road to be found by everyone the day after. The indignant huff is followed by rustling and what I can only assume to be a rather amusing pantomime by Gale of trying to push an extraordinarily heavy, dead boar.

"Now that Astarion's bloodlust isn't singular, we need to speak of last night."

Lae'zel was... crude, but the hardened gith had grown on me during our travels. She was fiercely loyal and devoted, and her rudeness was much easier to tolerate when you understood her background and got to know her good heart. I'm grateful for having stayed 'asleep' when she speaks though, for if her voice was as sharp as her gaze I fear I may have split in two.

I hold my breath as the crackling of the fire fills the loud silence, waiting for someone to answer.

"Oh don't worry darling, I'm still the only vampire around. Can't have two, now can we?"

"So she tried to kill you for sport? Or a lovers quarrel, perhaps?"

"Friends, Lae'zel. And no, I'm far too amicable for that!"

If the situation was any less daunting, he would've made me smile.

"I believe she's shared her urge to murder with all of you."

Halsin's steady voice breaks through, pausing without receiving a verbal reply. I can only assume his audience nods, as I'd asked around indiscriminately to figure out if it was the tadpole causing it, but no.

The only other person who suffered memory loss as well was Shadowheart, but she could recall the cause for her memory loss at least, and she had no violent fantasies. For me, trying to remember my life before the nautiloid was like gazing into a dark abyss.

"The urge overtook her last night. She has this... servant, who visits her when her mind grows violent. Apparently, she'd been tasked with murdering Isobel and refused. The axe was to fall on Astarion's head as punishment.
She went to wake him up, and that's when I found her. Lingering over his body. She seemed... distressed. When I spoke to her, she jolted as if electrocuted, and begged me to disarm her and chain her down. The rest you all know."

Did they know of the threats? Did they see me, feral and writhing on the ground? Did I attempt to harm more of them after I blacked out?

I count my heartbeats as the silence stretches on. I reach seventeen before anyone speaks again.

"I commended her for admitting it, but I thought just aiming the urge towards our enemies would be enough. 'Obsessions that could become compulsions', she said. Man, how didn't we see it?" Karlach's upbeat voice lowers to a more sincere, somber tone as her speech goes on.

I wonder if it would be more merciful to my companions if I just... disappeared. No awkward goodbyes, no grief. If I just upped and went under the cover of darkness.

"Looking back, I think she's been battling this for longer than I've noticed. Gale, do you remember the beach? She stood above a corpse, staring at it as if in a trance. Then that same jolting, shaking her head as if trying to rid her thoughts of something that clung to her."

I'm surprised at Shadowheart's testimony. She's more perceptive than I gave her credit for, to put it together like that. I'm sure there are more examples, countless, if everyone kept a sharp eye on me. I can only hope the ex-Sharran was vigilant due to her inherent distrust rather than me being too obvious.

Unfortunately, that turns out to not be the case. I'm forced to listen as my dearest ones recount stories of how I'd lost myself to murderous fantasies time and time again.

Driving my sword through a passing body when leaving the battlefield, to 'check it wasn't just unconscious'. Twisting a dagger within an enemy, eyes fixed on the blade. Picking the slower poisons, crushing bone under boot, drifting off in thought while staring at someone hurt awaiting aid from Shadowheart or Halsin.

The stories pile, as does the bile within me. To have it all laid bare disgusts me, filling me with hatred, anger and despair at the reverberating satisfaction I can't stop from echoing through me at being acknowledged.

"We should've helped her sooner."

My tense body jerks at Wyll's words.

Kind.

Affectionate.

And not singular.

After recounting stories upon stories that spoke to how little value my life held, they collectively agree it's their fault.

"Imagine if we'd taken her at her word."

"Do you think we made it worse, having her charge first into battle?"

"I didn't clean my axe properly each evening. Do you think the blood on it, having it just standing in camp, messed with her?"

My initial shock is followed by anger, and I turn before I can consider my actions further. The vines fall away as if they weren't even there, and I'm fast on my feet and nearing the campfire.

"Have you all lost your minds? You should be outraged, vying for my disposal!"

My scolding words bite as I chastise them, meeting a few surprised faces as I look upon the gathering. I can feel the blush color my cheeks as heat rises through me with the fury, glaring at them all with clenched fists at my sides.

"This is precisely why we're not. You realize that, right?"

Gale's bookish, refined manner of speaking is more annoying than usual, as if the wizard refused to grasp the severity of the situation.

"You realize it's bad, and you've been fighting against it alone this entire time. When I told you of the orb, you helped me. When Astarion revealed his thirst, you helped him. You've negotiated Wyll's pact with Mizora after finding out he bonded with a devil, and supported Shadowheart through her journey of faith. Hells, Lae'zel decided to oppose a god and you stood by her! And in matters of the heart, I think Karlach is very grateful for you helping to fix up hers! You've helped all of us, and none of us have stopped to think about helping you. Of course we're sorry."

It's easier to be angry than sad, but I feel the emotion slip through my fingers like sand, unable to stay mad as the tremors spread through me. Sadness not over neglect, but over acknowledgment. My fists remain clenched even when shaking, and I wonder if I've ever known what else to do with them as my body trembles and hot tears fill my eyes.

"Oh, come here you!"

Karlach's warm embrace covers me, holding me together as I break. More arms come around me, comforting hands and assuring words. More and more people, until it's hot, and snug, and crowded.

And absolutely, unequivocally safe.

Chapter Text

One would think a full day's rest would be enough to replenish me, but after the grandstanding at Moonrise and the night that followed, fatigue still chains my limbs. After being doted on and fed by the campfire, feeling like a part of the group rather than its leader, everyone slowly retreated to their tents.

I offered to take first watch as payment for their kindness, but was told in no uncertain terms that it was not my place for the night.

Perhaps for the best I was not the only one left awake, as their trust was far too limitless in my opinion. The urges had drawn back, but I could still feel them whisper at the edge of my mind.

I didn't worry about being overrun again. Not for now, at least.

Despite my heavy limbs, the moment my head hits the pillow,I'm wide awake. I'm haunted by more than my own mind as I finally have space to process some of what I found of my past below the towers. The Bonedaughter's words still haunted me, paralyzed me with fear over memories I couldn't recall.

Would I want to remember what happened to me? How I ended up in her clutches?

Someone had beaten me black and blue on the floor of the sanctum, and left me for dead after placing a tadpole in my skull. The Mistress of Souls had kept me on the verge of death to cut me open time and time again. She found pleasure in my defiance, relished in it. And somehow, after all that, there was the nautiloid and memory loss.

Another clue was equally unsettling, but I felt... detached, thinking of it. As if I was watching someone else's life through a window, or reading a story about someone else.

A note, written in my hand, begging forgiveness from a father I no longer recalled. My own writing that Gortash, Ketheric and I would rule as Absolute.

And then, the ruptured mindflayer pod, and the distinct memory of being trapped inside, blood gushing down my face from throwing myself against the glass in an attempt to break out. Astarion's confirmation that it was indeed my dried blood inside the pod solidified the memory for me. How my fingers had broken with the impact of trying to desperately claw my way out.

The taunting laughter from outside the pod.

The sense of betrayal, and the rage.

The red woman, Orin, who we saw with them must've been anointed as my replacement after my disappearance.

I'd been shocked at Ketheric's admittance of planning to betray his allies, but according to my own letter, I myself had planned to sacrifice him and Gortash upon "my father's altar" once it was all done. An allegory, or a true altar? And the title of 'father' - a religious leader I followed, or in the true sense of the word?

The sarcastic note by Balthazar at the bottom of the page, remarking that "Orin was right about her sister" sent me down a whole new road of questions I didn't want to be confronted with.

Panic has a chokehold on me when I finally manage to rise from my bedroll, needing to fight the petrifying notion somehow. I catch myself rubbing at an old scar running across my ribs on the left-hand side, stroking it and feeling its ridge to do something, anything, with my hands.

My body was riddled with scars, most of them faded from age or healed in a way that barely left a mark. Now, as my past slowly unraveled, the scars feel constricting in a way they never have before. Like rope tying me to a fated destiny.

Suddenly, I want to see them. Rising to once again head to Astarion's tent, I quietly make my way across camp to the large ornate mirror he ironically kept on display. With his tent flap closed, I needn't worry about waking him so long as I stayed quiet.

Coming in front of the mirror, I angle my body and lift my shirt. With a featherlight touch I trace my fingers along one of the scarred ribs, from the top near the center of my chest, down to my back. This scar is awfully long, as if I'd twisted out of the way as someone swung their blade at me to cleave.

Following its path I twist further, looking over my shoulder to see the shorter but harsher scar on my back, by the kidney. It was thicker but a lot shorter, the wound most likely deeper and left from a stab wound rather than a slash. A cheap shot, whoever went for the kidney through the back, but an effective one nonetheless. Seeing as I was still breathing, not effective enough though.

"Is your mind playing tricks on you again?"

Halsin's steady voice doesn't make me jolt as hard this time, but I still tense. How such a large, heavy man could move so silently I'd never know.

"It's not the urges, if that's what you're asking."
I let my shirt drop, turning to face him. He's got a hand on the shaft of a dagger in his belt.

Smart man.

"I'm just... contemplating." I admit when he remains silent. He studies me as I watch his troubled face, wondering what he sees when he looks at me. For an elf, he was middle-aged in body. His spirit was far older, and wiser, if you asked me. What deduction he made of me would weigh heavy.

The depths of his eyes is only one of many ravishing features. His skin shows the years of hard work under the sun, through storm and rain. The little braids in his hair have been undone for the night, and the string used to keep his hair from his face is discarded.

I'd always found him captivating, with his low-set eyes and strong jaw. Both sides of his face marked, one willingly by the tattoo and the other unwillingly by another bear's claws. Such extraordinary beauty in steadfastness. Such soft lips even with the deep scar sitting right under the right corner of his smile.

The violent thoughts have me again before I have time to stop it. How did it feel, to have the giant paw swipe and tear at his face? Four wide talon marks, tilted on the left side of his forehead. He was lucky to have made it out with his eye intact, let alone his life. But a wound like that, deep and ruthless...

Oh, it must've stung. Once the adrenaline wore off, it burned. I could see it in front of me, a younger, terrified, Halsin stumbling through the woods with blood gushing down his face, coloring his vision and filling his mouth as he fled.

"Would you like to come sit with me? I'm on guard for another hour."

His words make me tense again, the bloodlust is fast overshadowed by guilt and remorse. The glassy eyed-dream of red clears and he returns to my sight, unbloodied and dependable. His words are far too kind and accommodating for someone like me.

They are an invitation to speak. Or to escape loneliness, at the very least.

I give a small smile and nod, letting him lead me to the waning fire. The fool turns his back on me as he walks. I ought to school him, but some small part of me brightens at his display of blatant trust.

The campfire crackles in the night, warming the ground and lighting the logs around it. Halsin takes a seat on one side, leaving me to choose a seat on the same log, but at a respectable distance to his left. Enough to see him from an angle, without feeling his eyes bore into me.

Scratch and the owlbear sleep bundled up together opposite the fire. The embers cast a golden glow over the druid too, similar to the light shown whenever he wildshaped.

"Would you be guarding as a bear? If I wasn't here to speak with?" I think aloud, watching the animals snooze peacefully.

Halsin smiles as pokes a dry, brittle stick into the fire to stoke the flames and make it burn just a little brighter.

"Perhaps. Would you prefer it? Some find it easier to speak with an animal."

"It would still be you, though. I don't see what difference it would make, except not being able to read your expressions or hear your replies."

"Hmm, yes. Still, I've been told the bear is comforting when sharing one's emotional woes. Perhaps some welcome the lack of spoken answers when pouring one's heart out."

I stare into the fire, rescinding my answer and letting the crackle of the flames fill the silence. Let him do as he wishes, wildshape or not. I didn't know what to say regardless.

He stays silent for a while too, feeding the fire and stoking the flames until it's hot enough for tea. Soon, I have a cup cradled in my hands, as does he.

The tea is warm and comforting. Soothing. I don't recognize the herbs he put in, but as I can't distinguish anything poisonous, I keep drinking.

No Klauthgrass, though.

That reminds me.

"Did you get the Klauthgrass from Jaheira?"

Halsin takes a sip from his own cup, putting it down to the side to pick up his dagger. I tense for a moment before its attention is put towards a piece of wood and he starts whittling.

"Yes."

"How much does she... know?"

A smooth sweep of the knife, and a rounded edge takes form on the wood.

"That we needed it." Halsin states, carving a few more pieces off before continuing. "I doubt she'll be satisfied with the lack of answer forever, but for now, she's as unknowing as the rest of Last Light."

I drink my tea in silence as he whittles.

It's... cozy. Nice, even. The silent camp, the resting animals, Halsin's slow and steady whittling beside me.

I take another sip of tea, watching as the owlbear's ear twitches when the fire crackles particularly loud.

My thoughts wonder back to my scars and their origins eventually. It's not long before the thoughts become daunting again, and with a willing companion to share them with, I can't hold them in.

"How old do you think I am?"

Halsin stops his carving to look upon me for a moment. His eyes rake over me, and I briefly consider making a joke over aged sight when he squints at my face.

"Rather young for an elf, I'd say. Forties, or fifties perhaps? Then again, you don't seem to have been raised among our kind so I doubt our customs are applicable, in this case. You were most likely treated as an adult whilst our kind would've considered you a child."

Fifty years of a life lost. What more didn't I remember? I held no recollection of the father mentioned in my letter, nor any other who mattered to me.

Fifty years of scars, and none of them opened.

How much harm could I have inflicted in that time?

How many people? How many bodies?

I force the smile from my lips before it can even start to form.

"I've been trying to figure out who I could've been. So far, every new piece just paints a more grim picture."

"Is that why you were watching your scars?"

He's gone back to the slow process of carving whichever figure or utensil he's currently working on, looking down at his hands rather than watching me. Giving me space to answer, without feeling the weight of his gaze.

"Yes."

My voice breaks a little. I watch as the thin pieces of wood fall from Halsin's hands and into the fire, burning to crisp sheets the moment they make contact.

"I think... I think I was tortured. And it makes me feel violated. Dirtied. And worse - it stirs no recognition. I can't remember it. It feels... wrong. But not remembering my life feels worse, even though I expect only horrors to be shrouded in my past. What kind of sick, twisted mind thinks like that?"

Halsin hums, the deep sound reverberating through his chest. My fast breathing hitches as an echo from the darkness sounds through the camp.

"You despise that something has been taken from you, more than you despise what you endured at their hands?"

I throw him a glance, mulling over his words as I take another sip.

"Only partially. It feels like a greater violation to have lost my memories, than my body having been broken. And I fear the rage it fills me with, this feeling of having been unfairly robbed of myself, even as I suspect myself of horrid crime. I'm angry at a past I can barely remember, and disgusted with myself for craving the memory so, if it's only bad. Does that make sense?"

Halsin doesn't meet my gaze, carving at the wooden shape in his hands for a minute before speaking anew.

"I never told you much of my past, did I?"

"What?"

"I'm starting to realize I never allowed you to know me beyond the extent of the curse. Perhaps, it's time to remedy that."

With a deep sigh the whittling project is put to the side as Halsin rights his sitting to be further from the fire, resting his arms on his bent knees.

"Many years ago, long before the curse, I was a foolhardy young druid, intent on discovering all of nature's beauteous bounty. I set my sights on discovering the otherworldly fauna and subterranean glow of the Underdark by myself.

Certain... events transpired, and I found myself the guest of a noble drow house for a time. Concubine is more accurate, I suppose. The house matron and patron saw me as a novelty, and took great interest in my body. I was chained in their bedchamber for nigh on three years."

Halsin's tone is leveled as he speaks, but I catch the faint tensing around his mouth, and the way his hands fiddle. He's opening up at great cost to himself, regardless of how casually he speaks of it.

"I was young, and naive. I hadn't garnered the sense I now have. Hides of other elves hung in the garden, serving as trophied warnings. I did what I had to do to not end up another skinned elf, to keep my hosts interested. Sometimes I did more than was required, surpassed that which was needed to safeguard my survival. If they grew bored... I never allowed myself to be anything other than enthusiastic, to try to enjoy it as much as possible. But touches delivered by chained hands are never truly freely given."

His eyes stare into the fire, but he's a thousand miles away in some distant memory.

"I hate that I didn't hate it, because sometimes, I enjoyed it. Even though it was forced upon me, directly or indirectly. I was always cautious, and fear was always looming. But there were moments... hmm, I haven't reminisced on this in many years... They used to feed me exhilarators that would light up my body, making me lose myself to their desires. My pulse would quicken, and my body sung, even when I knew what was happening was wrong."

"I'm so sorry." I breathe, watching as his forehead wrinkles. He gives a small nod, an acknowledgement of my sorrow, but nothing more.

"What I mean to say is that I understand abhorring yourself for not hating yourself. I feared for my life and wanted my freedom back, but there are scenes of my past I look back on with pleasure, and that makes me sick."

The groveling way in which the final words are delivered reverberate through me, striking a cord.

I abhorred my violent thoughts, even more so because they felt so good. The vibrant joy even the mere thought of murder brought, the way it lit up my whole being, always to be quickly followed by disgust. I despised not remembering the horrors retold, but not for the assault, but for the lack of remembrance. They were my deeds, and I selfishly wished to remember.

"Thank you. I... I don't know what to say. Of course, forgetting may seem like a luxury to you. To me, it's just... aimless. I don't know who I was, what my life has been. I don't know what I'm chasing."

Halsin nods, but his soul is still far away, present some two hundred years ago below ground.

"How did you escape?" I ask after a moments silence, bringing back the conversation to his capture.

"Lolth's noble houses are constantly at each other's throats. One day, I could taste the blood in the air, hear the sound of weapon piercing flesh, and screaming. Another noble house had most likely sought to unseat my hosts. I fled in the chaos. Made my way to the surface. Never looked back since. Until now, that is."

"I see now where your resentment toward drow springs from."

"Resentment? Hmm... indeed. Perhaps I carry more resentment than I realize. Time can prove to be a trickster on one's recollections. What would be multiple lifetimes for others now separate me from my captivity. Perhaps I have lost perspective on what happened to me."

I can't help but think of Astarion as Halsin speaks. His story gives me... hope. Not that Astarion would look back on his past with any kind of fondness, but that his wounds would heal and his scars would fade. Halsin was without a doubt the most well-adjusted at camp, and maybe time was a more vital ingredient to that than I'd given it credit for.

"If you ever want to talk... I'm here. It doesn't account for much, but a willing ear can be liberating, as you yourself have demonstrated." I offer as he quiets. Old scars being opened anew could be just as painful as the original wounds, after all.

I should know.

My proposal grants me a tentative smile and another nod before he picks up his creation and starts whittling again. The grating of wood colors the soundscape, a soft crackling singing second as the campfire tires for the night. Scratch huffs, turning beneath the weight of the owlbear's rested head, making it produce a soft coo.

It is heavy, and it is calm. It is good within the bad.

Chapter Text

Leaving the shadowcursed lands after so long spent under its heavy yolk felt akin to walking into the Astral Prism. Suddenly, the heavy weight pressing down on you evaporated, and it felt as though nothing was there to anchor you to the ground anymore.

But in this, at least, we had succeeded.

Watching the shadows give way as we packed our things and said goodbye to Reithwin was marvelous. The darkness withered away like old paint and life sprung from the ground as if to catch up to the hundred years of stunted growth. I even heard a bird sing as we headed for the road to Baldur's Gate and left the Harpers behind.

The benefit of traveling with a small party was that we could move fast. Our agility and adaptability came in handy more than once in just the first few days of our journey, as we ran into scouts from the Absolute's army on multiple occasions.

Apart from the brief, bloody intermissions, our travels went surprisingly well. Well enough that I started to worry something was wrong, after a few days of walking. It was unsettling facing no foes after weeks upon weeks of daily strife. I wondered if it was secretly the urge picking at me, but tried to dispel the notion whenever it came knocking.

If anyone shared my worries, whether regarding the peaceful road or my violent tendencies, no one voiced it. Astarion complained loudly about his feet of course, but other than that, most seemed to be in high spirits. Many of us were heading home, after all.

Today was truly a gorgeous late-summer day, to the extent that many of us opted for wearing camp clothes rather than armor as if we were just traversing through the landscape. I hadn't checked a calendar, but from the way the Grove had spoken about the upcoming harvest, I was fairly certain we were reaching the end of Eleint soon. The golden light, the warm breeze and the sound of grasshoppers singing in the evening spoke to that.

I imagine it to be quite idyllic, had I not been wound tight as a bowstring, ready to snap.
The road was beautiful, sunny and open for miles upon miles. The forest was a stone's throw away, and a faint sound of running water soothed the mind as the day neared its end.

I wanted to scream after the long, uneventful day of just walking. I felt as if I had demons on my tail, and the quiet was just a trick to lull me into complacency. Every night I had visions, horrible, delightful visions, of blood and death, and I worried that they were premonitions.

On our tenth day of walking, Karlach is spearheading the group, bursting with life as per usual. Because she was at the front, so was Wyll. Lae'zel had taken to being our guard on the left, and so I had moved to the right flank to keep a keen eye on the sprawling woods. We kept our main spellcaster's at the center of course, to protect Shadowheart and Gale from any incoming attacks.

I find it a bit odd that Astarion has nabbed the tail of the party, what with his sociability. At first I simply assumed his years of being locked inside drove him to finally appreciate the landscape in silence, but when I feel Halsin's long shadow fall over me from behind I perk my ears. The two are a few too many paces behind, and I was fairly confident magic was at play because their voices were discernible without being understandable.

That of course worries me tremendously. The moment I realize there was magic at hand I spin around, sword in hand, figuring someone had crept up on us and mellowed out their screams as they attacked. Halsin's calm eyes meet my panicked stare, and I'm left feeling sheepish as the rest of our party started into to striking my imaginary enemy.

I apologize, blaming it on a creaking noise from the woods. Astarion jests about feeling threatened from a bird, waving my worry away. The part continues forward, and I'm forced to turn around as the spell settles once more on Halsin and Astarion.

They were talking, just talking, but about what? What was so important they had to obscure it from us? From me?

Had they finally decided to get rid of me?

Astarion probably knew me best among everyone present, and after our conversation by the campfire, Halsin wasn't far behind. If they wanted to strike together, they'd have a pretty good shot. I was confident I could take on one of them, but if they attacked at the same time...

Stopping for the night is agonizing. The sun has only just began to set, coloring the tree tops. My body aches with the day's travel, but my thoughts move faster than a bolt of lightning. An angry, ugly feeling festers in my chest, and because I have nothing real to be angry about, I get angrier. Furious at my fury.

I am nothing but composed as I drop my pack to the ground, resisting the urge to slam it into the soil, to hit and flatten it. I breathe slowly as I pull at the straps of my breastplate, biting my teeth together and pulling hard when it doesn't give way immediately.

The soft bustle of putting up tents and preparing for supper continues as usual, and I feel entirely misplaced. The grudge within me isn't even the violent urge, it's just ugly, restless anger, and everything around me makes it worse.

"I need a bath."

My announcement cuts through the air unprompted as I remove my final piece of armor and turn my back on the gathering. The sound of water we'd heard meant a spring was nearby, and a bath is the perfect excuse for some solitude.

As I search for the spring, I quickly go from walking to running, forcing my body through the greenery scraping my skin as I barge through the forest. Running as hard as I can, it doesn't take long until I reach a small pool of water.

In my rampage I tear at my clothes, throwing them on the ground as I reach the waterbed and dive in. The scream I let out as the freezing water envelops me fills my lungs, the suffocating weight of water crushing me before I dash to the surface, spluttering and swearing.

I heave myself up on the shore, shivering and reeling from the cold. I try to force my body to still as the dying rays of the sun rest on my skin, their pale warmth drying me inclemently. I push my legs to my chest and wire my arms around them as the final rays disappear, resting my chin on my knees.

I study the way my hair stands on end on my arms before my eyes get stuck on the water. My reflection is rippling and pale, but the dark tattoos on my forehead and around my eyes paint me as something dangerous.

When my own eyes unsettle me, I set my gaze on the waterbed on the opposite side of the small lake. I get lost in thought, yet it is the absence of thought. Comatose, but aware. Staring at the spring is a welcomed limbo of consciousness.

It's properly dark before I hear the crack of twigs behind me. My head jerks around, but comes back to rest on my knees when I spot the druid in my peripheral.

He was probably here to kill me. Astarion was most likely in the bushes somewhere, waiting with bated breath and an arrow prepared for my heart. If I hadn't known how good he was at slipping in and out of the shadows, I might have been impressed.

It's not exactly peaceful by the spring, but it's enough. Better. Better than standing up and facing Halsin. Better than standing up and fighting.

A good place to die.

Halsin's steps are heavy as he approaches me. I conceal the surprise from showing on my features when his hand lowers on the ground rather than on my throat, and he takes a seat next to me.

Ah, of course. He was too honorable. He was probably going to request I stand and fight fairly.

"You must be cold."

A statement, not a question.

I shrug. My body was cold, but the cold acted as an anchor. Something real. Something tangible. Like his vines that had kept me to the ground. Solid, inescapable pressure.

A warm hand graces my shoulder, and then a garment is placed over my shoulders. The thick material must be some sort of cloak, but I can't seem to mind checking as he spreads the fabric around me.

Bad move, to cover my hands. Now he wouldn't know if, or when, I decided to strike.

"Gale saved you some food."

So, Gale wasn't in on it at least. Why save rations for one you planned to be rid of come dawn?

I keep my stare locked on the surface of the water, but I can feel his eyes on me from my right-hand side. Heat radiates from his body, and if it were to come to hand-to-hand combat he'd planned well to sit so closely. If he could pin me down, I doubt I could get back up from under his bulk.

"Your mind is submersed in thought. Are you pondering, or drowning?"

"Pond-ering? You're making jokes now?"

Halsin's lets out a breathy chuckle.

"Perhaps it was misguided of me. Forgive my poor judgment."

Silence settles, and the sound of a croaking frog fills it.

"Where is Astarion?"

"Hm? Oh, I think he's at camp. Why?"

I wonder if he'd drain my corpse dry after killing me. He did always so savor my blood, after all.

"I can't see him, nor hear him. A commendable ambush, I must admit."

"Ambush?"

"Oh, come now. I saw you two whispering. You finally came to the conclusion I reached a tenday ago. I'm too dangerous."

The croaking frog is an odd sound to hear in the background of your very own judgment day. I hear Halsin whisper a prayer under his breath, steeling myself for the blow I was sure to come.

"Astarion is at camp. I'm here because you seemed agitated before."

My eyes sweep across the bushes and up to the trees, searching for the vampire I knew laid in wait to strike. Perking my ears and straining my eyes, I find nothing.

"Edie..." Halsin starts, and I catch his hand moving in my periphery before he halts himself and abstains from touching me. As if I was acid, about to burn his hand. "We're not planning to kill you."

I remain silent, staring ahead.

"Whatever Astarion and I discussed, it was certainly not your death. You have to trust me on that."

"Oh, really?" My dry tone drawls. "The man who joked about using you as a shield is now confiding in you?"

"Yes."

Halsin's calm agitates me, and the anger from before wells up so fast it's staggering. My sight fills with red and I move before I have time to weigh my actions, rising and kicking his shoulder so he falls on his back before straddling him. The knife leaves his belt and enters my hand like a limb returning to its host, and before he has time to react I have it pressed against his throat. The blade digs into the skin, but doesn't cut. Not yet.

I wait for the pain of Astarion's piercing arrow. A blade sunken deep into my body. A force pushing me off Halsin. A slap, a punch, a hit.

Nothing comes.

"Where is he?"

I hiss at Halsin's stunned expression, throwing speedy glances at the tree line. When nothing happens, I bolt up, pacing the shoreline

"Astarion!"

My bellowed voice carries through the meadow, scaring a few birds enough to fly away from a nearby tree.

"Kill me! I'm waiting!"

My screams and taunts continue as I pace, cloak hanging heavily on my shoulders, dagger firmly gripped in hand. My voice breaks as I wave the knife through the air, pointing it aimlessly into the darkness.

"He's not here, Edie."

Halsin's voice tries to placate me, and when I turn around to face him I realize how mad I must look. In him I see what I've become, the shivering, shaking madwoman having threatened him.The large druid is walking hunched down, palms out as he takes small steps towards me. My eyes are blown wide, my hair must look like a crow's nest, and with the trembling knife hand I look every part the lunatic.

I've scared him, and done wrong by him.

"I'm going to come closer and take the knife, okay?"

I stay frozen in place as he nears me and slowly pries the dagger out of my stale hand, lifting one finger at a time before dislodging it. It's thrown away into the bushes as his hands raise anew. He waits, watching for a reaction that doesn't come.

His hands fall on my shoulders, resting there for a moment as I get used to their warmth and weight. When I allow him, he slowly pulls me into his chest. I tense, then relax. Halsin's size and weight, his warmth, assault my senses more than the freezing stream had. The tension that grips me slowly melts away, and my muscles let to as I breathe against his chest, the trembles giving way.

"No one is here to take your life. I understand the past days of... inactivity, have put you on edge. Your past may be shrouded in darkness, but going days without mortal danger is good. You don't need to worry. You're safe."

I don't want to cry. I especially don't want to cry in his embrace again. I swallow the sting of tears, nodding against his chest in confirmation.

"Do you want to sit down and talk? Or would you prefer to return to camp?"

I don't want to return to camp.

I take a step out of his arms, settling on the ground at his feet. Halsin lets me go freely, taking a seat on the grass too. He conjures a small fire in front of us, urging it to warm me. He fiddles with something on his belt, untying a leather string.

"I have some berries, if that would interest you...?"

The request is made with a held-up bag, showcasing the golden goodberries inside. The chock must be visible on my face. I hold a dagger to his neck and he offers me a snack?

I shrug, feigning indifference. He places the satchel in my lap regardless, before placing a water skin next to it.

Slowly, as to not alert him to my beckoning hunger, I bring a single berry to my lips, chewing and swallowing slowly. I force myself to pause and take a swig of water before taking another.

"Your mind is playing tricks on you again."

Another statement, not a question.

I keep my gaze on my lap, surveying the pile of berries.

"If you could help me understand, perhaps I could offer aid. I am here to be your ear, as you bear your burdens, and the arms that protect
you, if you can shoulder them no more."

The dry laughter tears at my throat at his sweet words.

"Why would you do that?"

"I care for you. Deeply."

Bewildered, I turn to face him. His body language is open, relaxed. Ever unshakable. His words ring true, yet I cannot fathom why. He has grown to care for me now, after I threatened him, rather than when I openly propositioned him weeks ago?

"I came onto you twice and it takes attempted murder for you to respond?"

He lets out an abashed chuckle, fixing his eyes on the ground for a moment before meeting my gaze again.

"I will admit, your... proposition, at the tiefling party, has followed me for quite some time. Offering to make me 'less comfortable' only served to aid the already growing discomfort, I'm afraid."

"I can't believe this."

My shocked whisper carries over the still water and into the greenery beyond.

"So what? You want me to ride you as I hold a blade to your neck?"

My disbelief only increases further as his eyebrows raise, clearly imagining the scenario and not opposing it at all.

"Halsin!"

"Forgive me, my heart. I meant no disrespect. Your... affliction, is most unpleasant, and one I will continue to help you with whenever you wish. But even your shadow cannot hide the radiance of who you are, and my love, I-"

"Stop! Stop it! You abhor Kagha for victimizing innocents, and that is what I do! You despised Ketheric's curse, but I relished in thoughts of murdering his daughter so that the shadows might claim further victims! I loathe me, as should you!"

My impassioned speech has brought me to my feet, and even standing I barely tower over his sitting form as he watches me.

"Justice means nothing without mercy. It's what you told Kagha, no?"

"Halsin-"

"There is a war within you. A war over your very soul. I know you to be a warrior, and if you stand on the side of the light, the battle is not lost."

Something feels stuck in my throat as I try to swallow, to comprehend his words. Halsin senses my hesitance as he moves to kneel before me, grasping my hands.

"Was it not you who said that anyone could rise above their nature with pure will and great courage? Lae'zel is not much for words, but her muttering after encountering the supposed egg-buyer were of admiration. You cannot look at your actions towards our companions and conclude you do not belong to the light."

His warm hands envelop mine, the coldness slowly seeping from my skin. My voice is small when I finally speak.

"I tried to kill you."

"I trust you."

"You are a fool to trust me."

"Then I will be a fool for you, my heart."

A single tear breaks free from my eye, leaving a cold trail across my cheek as I sink to my knees in front of him.

"You are a fool."

Then, I kiss him.

Chapter Text

The kiss is almost reverent, like a sacred touch between us. His lips on mine are yielding, yet answering my call. The way his arms pull me to his chest makes me breathless, and in the sharp intake of breath his tongue finds mine, delving deeper into my mouth.

My hands roam his clothed chest, drawing upward to caress his neck and tangle in his hair. It's all incredibly... soft.

The embrace. The kiss. The intent.

It's caring. Caring enough that it almost douses my flame of desire, out of the sorrow that grips my heart. But his care feels so nice, a soothing balm to my quivering spirit, however undeserving I may be.

Halsin's tongue explores my mouth, and I feel my body respond to the low groan of pleasure he emits when I nip at his upper lip. We kiss and revel, the sounds of the forest only interrupted by soft sighs and reverberating groans.

When the kiss ends, it is to breathe. Halsin's forehead rests on mine, and his breath on my face is warm and quick.

"I trust you, my heart."

"What if I hurt you? The urges... look at what I almost did to Astarion. I couldn't live with myself if..."

"I have no intention of dying, nor of letting you perish."

"I'm serious, Halsin."

"As am I."

I snort, opening my eyes to glance at him. He's entirely serious, but the endearing glint in his eyes makes me melt like snow under the sun.
I kiss him again, starting slow again this time, but an eagerness to explore quickens my touch. The slow caresses turn desirous, full of yearning, as my mouth explores his and my hands search his clad body with increasing urgency.

Tangling my arms around his back, I squeeze and moan at the feel of broad muscle, the sheer magnitude of his impressive stature. I allow a hand to caress his neck as the other appreciatively explores the dips and curves of his exposed shoulder, down to the rippling muscles of his arm. I shiver, imagining just what the entirety of his body would feel like beneath me, over me, beside me.

Halsin's hands on my cloak-covered body stray downward, but remain over the fabric. His hand fits so perfectly in the crook of my waist, and I know the realization has hit him too when his deep groan is followed by a tightening of the fist. The other hand explores my hip, following the curve of the muscle as he pulls me even closer to him.

The cloak is maddening in the best way, covering enough for exploration to be possible and thrilling at the same time, not revealing what was truly underneath. His greedy hands and deep kisses stir arousal in me, and I feel him react when I let out a sound of pleasure. I moan at the hardness poking at my stomach, breathing heavily as my own arousal grows further.

"Halsin..."

My moans color the night as his lips kiss down my throat, following the column down to my chest. His eyes look up at mine as he kisses the broach keeping the cloak together, kissing down the front of my body over the fabric. I let out a shaky breath as he bends to kiss the crook of my leg, closing his eyes and breathing deeply against the skin.

"You have had a tiring evening. As much as I want to relish in you, perhaps that's better saved for another night."

My mouth finds his again, pushing him over in a forceful kiss. Gods be damned if I'd let him slip through me fingers. His touch made me feel precious, and it distracted from my guilt. The pleasure of exploring him, of having him explore me, is a needed respite.

He groans as he falls to his back, cushioning my fall with his body. His hands find my hips again, and the sound of pleasure he emits when I grind my hips against his could turn an unbeliever into a faithful cleric.

The thick hardness strains against his trousers, the outline long and hard despite the layers of clothes between us. I moan and grind down harder, working my hips to get more, kissing him deeper as I move.

Halsin's hands grow hungry on my body, squeezing and grasping as he guides my hips, following the motion to pull me against his hardness. When his legs bend to help his hips thrust, I let out a loud moan at the burst of pleasure.

"Halsin..."

"You should not feel so good, even like this. Oh, my heart... Edie..."

His hips are almost too broad for me to straddle him properly, the flexing and twitching of my hips quickly reaching its limit in terms of speed as we grind against each other. The leather of his pants quickly grows slippery against my bare sex, and the glide is delicious.

When his hips punch up and his hardness hits me right between my legs, my lips tear from his as a loud moan breaks free. Halsin's mouth chases mine and he rises to sit, holding me to him as he works his hips against mine. My thoughts cloud as I feel myself sink into the pleasure, throwing my head back as more moans spill from my lips. His hands on my hips move me as if I'm weightless, using my weight as an asset to make pleasure explode behind my eyes when his hips grind up.

"You're so wet... I can feel it."

Halsin's groan is almost pained as it's whispered against my ear, making me reel as his hot breaths turn labored against my neck. I grasp his head, my arm wiring over the backside of it to hold him close. His thick cock is hard and full against my wetness, and knowing how badly he wants inside me works like a drug. The leathers are tight, straining against him.

I hang onto him as he bucks, clinging to him desperately to not be jostled off his lap as I try to match his movement. His arm flexes under my hand, and the way the muscles strain and play under his skin makes me salivate. I want to feel more, to touch more, but the blasted shirt of his is too thick to reveal anything underneath. Stopping to take it off was not an option.

His hands on my hind, his bated breath by my ear, his hard cock and rolling hips against mine, fill my world, drowning out all other thought. I hang onto every bated breath, clinging to him and working fervently to mirror him as our ecstasy grows until I feel myself pulsing, nearing the cusp.

"You're so big..."

My breathless comment comes out like a moan, and he kisses me passionately as reward.

"Fuck, I want you in me so bad."

"Oak Father help me." He groans, tilting forward further until my hind touches the ground and his knees rest on it. My world tilts as I'm turned on my back, but Halsin remains steady through it. With one hand lifting my hips and the other braced to the ground he gains excellent leverage to thrust against me, making moans spill from my mouth in an obscene fashion.

"Fuck me." I beg.

Halsin groans, burying his head in my shoulder as his hands squeeze my hips. I open my mouth to urge him again but he thrusts hard against me, punching a moan out of me instead.

"Not tonight."

His pace is ravenous as he rides me, the twitching hardness under his trousers only getting more and more uncompromising. My moans unravel him, and I catch the feral glint in his eyes as I buck against him.

Halsin's movements are practiced, yet instinctual. He moves fluidly, knowing just how to bend his legs to spread mine, how to grind to make me cry out, how to kiss me til I'm breathless.

"I'm- ah! Please!"

Halsin lets out a feral groan, and a faint whisper of gold lifts from his skin before dissipating in the air. I try desperately to align our sexes, panting and matching his fervor until my eyes roll in my skull and my muscles seize. His hardness pulses underneath me, and with a cry I explode.

My body bends as pleasure drags me under like a tidal wave, drawing me out from shore and into the deep waters that was this man. Every inch of me tingles, all centered around the amazing feeling radiating from where his sex desperately grinds against mine. He keeps going, moving and holding fast my twitching body in an uncompromising manner, making me whimper and squirm as the pleasure grows and continues.

Halsin's loud moans and groans work in tandem with his thrusts as he moves against me, finishing himself and prolonging my pleasure. He's glorious with his hair all tousled, head thrown back and eyes half closed as he pants. It's addicting, the way he moves my body as if I weigh nothing, throwing me around and steering me to how he wanted me.

"Hmm..."

Halsin's deep sigh of pleasure furthers the slackness of my muscles, making me sink deeper into the ground as relaxation takes over my body. His hands remain on my hips as he lowers himself, letting his heavy body rest on my heaving chest.

He angles his head upward from where it's planted, gazing at me. His hand caresses my face, soon drawing me in by the neck to rest our foreheads together.

Halsin's kiss is content, loving and caring. It is all that he is.

And I am so greedy for him.

Chapter Text

My first restful night since the butler visited me. The calm, deep slumber is so complete I'm groggy and disoriented the next morning, fumbling with my buttons when I notice how high the sun has risen.

After the explorations of last night, Halsin and I had returned to a mostly sleeping camp. Shadowheart had given us a nod as we entered from the darkness, taking her duty as guard seriously enough to make sure we weren't intruders.

If her eyes lingered on my unusual attire, she didn't comment. A cleaning spell had erased most of the evidence of our misadventures, but we were certainly a sight to behold regardless.

Not only had Gale saved me some food, but my tent had been risen in my absence by Wyll. I feel so deeply touched by the sight when we reach camp that my steps stutter.

Halsin and I had walked to my tent where he'd bid me good night. I could see his palms itching, his thoughts running a mile a minute trying to decide between kissing me goodnight, or perhaps squeezing my body to his one final time. I took the choice away and entered my tent alone with a final 'goodnight' before he could decide on either of those.

Thanks to Halsin, the neatly folded pile of the clothing I'd torn off the night before now rests by my pillow as I wake. It takes me longer than usual to get dressed this morning, and I forgo the armor for now. It was warm inside the tent, and the crackle of the fire outside promised breakfast and hopefully a breeze.

The early risers among us - Gale, Lae'zel and Halsin - were usually the only ones up before me, if anyone was. Everyone seems to have me beat today as I'm greeted with a cheer and an "Aww! Sleepy face!" from Karlach when I join, letting my weight drop heavily upon the fallen tree used as seating.

I eat my bread and cheese slowly, relishing in the sweet slices of apple afterward. We were careful with water at camp, always making sure to purify it in case of poisoning or curse, and with the heat, the water bound in the fruit is all the more delicious.

It's not until after we've made it onto the road again and started walking that my foggy head starts to clear, the rhythmic sound of feet on soil bringing my focus back. It's another hot autumn day, and the memory of the chilled spring feels like another world entirely.

"If it isn't my favorite traveling companion!"

Astarion's lavish words match his body language as he slings an arm over my shoulders, using the height he had on me to lean on me as we lagged behind the group.

"Back from your little expedition yesterday, just in time to leave this morning. That is why you're so tired, no?"

I scoff but allow his arm to remain where it is, smirking at the friend I once called lover.

"I returned during first watch. Ask Shadowheart, if you want. I'm not tired because I didn't sleep. I'm simply well rested for the first time in a while."

"Oh, is that so? So, you didn't return in the dead of night, dressed only in a cloak and accompanied by a most dashing druid?"

"Why, jealous?"

"Darling, I'm hurt! You know, as your appointed best friend you really ought to tell me about these kinds of things! I may not want sex myself, but I can still enjoy gossip about your sex life."

"Who said anything about sex?"

"Oh, please! You speak as if I don't know what you look like satiated. I don't know whether to count myself lucky or unlucky for returning from my hunt when I did, only catching the bitter farewell between you two."

"For someone who's already made up their mind, you sure talk a lot."

"Oh, but what is a silver tongue next to the honeyed words of that bear?"

Astarion's melodramatic performance is completed with a hand over his wounded heart, and my laughter spills free at the sight.

"We didn't even have sex!" I laugh, grateful for the obscuration charm making our words unintelligible to the party in front of us. I catch the eye of Wyll when I laugh, checking the sound, but he quickly returns his attention to the hellion in front and leaves us to ourselves.

"Aha! So something did happen, you sly minx!"

"You said you knew!"

"Deception is my bread and butter, sweetheart. Eat up."

"It's probably poisoned, given the deceit."

"Poison you? But who would then tell me of Halsin in the throes of passion?"

"The man is 350 years old. I'm sure you can find someone."

"But none as dear as you, my precious little paladin! Do indulge a charlatan, dear. Tell me - what was it like?"

I smile, watching my boots and the road dust that's gathered on them from the past hours, as I contemplate the actions of yesterday.

"It was... thrilling."

Astarion is quiet for a moment, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"That's it? 'Thrilling'? Is this how you commented on my prowess when we slept together?"

"Why would I describe that to someone else?"

"Darling, I'm hurt! Paint me a picture, draw it for me."

With another laugh, I concede.

"Fine! It was unexpected, intimate and eventually gloriously carnal. Enough of a picture for you?"

"You deny me the imagery of a 'carnal' Halsin and expect me to be satisfied? Tell me, is he proportional?"

Astarion's wiggled eyebrows and accompanying grin leave no doubt as to what he's asking.

"I swear on my oath, I have no idea."

"Liar!"

"Says the charlatan!"

"So you seriously mean that Halsin, the inconsolably horny mountain of a man, who's gone through Gods knows how long without expending himself, didn't take pleasure in your body when given the chance?"

"I never said such a thing! We certainly took pleasure in each other, we just happened to leave his trousers on."

Astarion actually seems stunned for a moment before he picks himself up again.

"The 'gloriously carnal' experience was with him clothed?"

"Yes."

"And to think I tried so hard to seduce you. If only I'd known-"

A shove and a quick fall later and the resident vampire is hissing and sputtering in the small canal running by the side of the road.

The 'accident' does come rather timely after all, as Gale suggests we stop for lunch, and Karlach immediately follows Astarion into the stream to cool off. If I wasn't so certain he'd try to drown me if I joined, I would've probably jumped in as well. I settle for a rude gesture and a grin before following Gale to a shadowed meadow a stone's throw away, helping unpack for the meal at hand before taking a seat and enjoying the surroundings as the wizard cooks.

The sun is high, the breeze pleasant and the sounds of running water, rustling trees and singing birds bring about a whole different feeling in me today than it had yesterday. Now, as laughter rises from the stream and the calming rustle of backpacks settles, I feel nothing but joy. With the current company, the notion of traveling aimlessly forever doesn't sound very bad at all.

The unsettling restlessness, the vigilance toward an unknown threat, has all but vanished. Something about the slow, sleepy summers day actually calms me rather than rile me up. My head still buzzes with thought, but it's pleasant thought. Thoughts of comfort, and company, and companionship.

I play with the thought that this is it, and that nothing is waiting at the end of the road. That it's just us, forever. Wandering through the wilds, eating and sleeping beneath the great expanse of open sky. No elder brain, no urges, no old masters or estranged parents waiting for us in the Gate. Just this moment, with the sizzling food, joyous conversation, and the scent of wildflowers.

Wildflowers?

Searching for the source of the scent, I soon spot a cluster of purple aster nearby, where I was certain there hadn't been any but a moment before. Caution overtakes me as I reach for my sword, scanning the surroundings for traces of magic or enemies alike.

Had someone shrouded this piece of land with a spell to trap us? Was it so appealing because it was charmed?

My reaction quiets the rustle around me quickly, and Lae'zel is by my side with a sword in hand as Gale and Wyll try to keep the conversation going so as to not alert anyone who'd spotted us. I feel the scent of Shadowheart's magic rise to the surface, preparing to strike should the situation require it.

With a look and a nod, Lae'zel and I spread out, scouring opposite parts of the meadow in silence before creeping back when nothing unusual shows itself.

"Apologies. I must've been mistaken." I grumble as I drop my sword, taking a seat by the small fire. Lae'zel is not so quick to drop her weapon, remaining standing with her eyes fixed on the woods around us.

"Something worth mentioning?" Gale asks, glancing around for what had alerted me.

"The flowers weren't here when we sat down. I took a seat by the fire, closed my eyes and they had sprung from the ground when I opened them again." I explain, wiping my palms on my trousers before accepting the offered dish from Gale. "Or I'm still a bit tired and failed to take notice before. Nothing to worry about."

With a smile and a nod, my explanation is accepted and the bathing party joins us in the meadow for a bite to eat.

I'd be remiss to mention the abashed look on a certain druid's face. But that was a story for the evening to come, and not for now.

Chapter Text

About an hour after stopping to eat, when the sun has just tipped and started its slow descent towards the horizon, is when a goldfinch lands on Halsin's shoulder. The peaceful twittering turns out to be a warning regarding some scouts up the road, ahead of us and the army both.

As Halsin expresses his gratitude to the bird, Astarion slinks off into the bushes, tightly followed by Wyll to track the trackers, as it were. The goldfinch is rewarded with a selection of dried fruit and nuts before it sings a final melody and flies off.

Lae'zel takes cover in the foliage near our party as I ready myself with a hand on my sword at the head of the group. While we usually preferred each other's presently acquired roles, her facing danger head on whereas I favored an ambush, we'd learned from experience that not everyone who saw an armed gith assumed she was the protector of her company rather than their tormentor.

A few anxious minutes pass before Astarion and Wyll return, the vampire doing an exaggerated lick along his bloodied blade.

"Drow scouts this time. I suppose they tired of finding dead goblins in our wake." Astarion struts.

"There's no cause for alarm."

Wyll's more diplomatic statement helps ease the tension of the group, but we still decide to walk just a bit faster, and to find somewhere secluded when it's time to make camp. They'd hidden the bodies, but when the scouts' inevitable failure at reporting back to their commander became apparent, we didn't want more people searching our area.

Walking fast quickly becomes marching urgently, and under Lae'zel's command we put a lot of distance between ourselves and the endangered area the following hours. It was foolish to run from one scout or a small group of soldiers, but as they'd been found ahead of us on the road to Baldur's Gate, we worried the entire army was on our heels.

Bloodlust in all honor, but even I thought taking on an entire army at once was a bit excessive.

When we eventually make camp, it's far off-road and close to sunset. If we wanted food tonight it had to be cooked now. We couldn't risk anyone spotting the flames or pillar of smoke against the night sky, so a fire is quickly made and subsequently extinguished almost before Gale announces dinner is ready.

Conversation stays muted with how on edge we were, everyone listening to the sounds of the surrounding forest. While most of us raised our tents, Halsin kneeled on the ground and had a serious chat with the camp animals about the situation. The cub had a hard time focusing, but Scratch listened attentively and promised to keep his ears perked.

Judging by the cluster of birds hiding among the branches, news of the goldfinch's reward had spread and we'd have more than a fair few critters looking out for us.

All in all, our worries were probably mostly unfounded. It's hard to lean on 'probably', though.

Halsin, Gale and Shadowheart can all cast speak with animals, so a watch schedule is set based on that. It would do no good to have the Critter Watch if the guard on duty couldn't heed their warnings.

A sliver of excitement runs through me when I learn Halsin will be taking first watch. I am yet too wound up to retire for the evening, and getting to enjoy his company rather than staring blankly at the tent canvas while my thoughts spin isn't a bad prospect at all.

I feel like a schoolgirl as I wait for everyone to go to bed, trying to conceal my excitement as I go through inventory and rig traps along the perimeter of camp. If someone was stealthy enough to get past our animal guardians, the burst of fire from the tripwire would likely illuminate them and burn them enough for us to both see and hear them.

I smirk at my craft, finding myself questioning my delight as soon as it's crossed my mind. Did I smile because I felt proud of my cleverness and ability to set up the trap, or because the idea of burned flesh spoke to the urges?

I play with the thought as I walk back to camp, squinting at the veiling darkness. A weak dancing light sheds the shadows where Halsin sits by the dead campfire, using a small paring knife to cut up some autumncrocus. Calmly chopping the leaves, bunching the stems together to align the crowns. Even now, he looks so... sturdy. Steadfast, in body and spirit.

Not frazzled, nor unmoved. Perhaps vigilant, but staunchly keeping to his ordinary nightly activities nonetheless.

The night is still and warm, so going to change into the dress I rarely wear on the road, but for some reason keep, feels entirely natural. I smirk to myself again as I walk towards my tent, imagining Halsin's reaction at the open back, the way it clung to my bosom, the high slit in front that revealed the bare legs underneath...

The dress itself holds little appeal to me, if I spare a moments honesty. Its beauty was undeniable, but while it elevated my looks, it made me feel dirtied on the inside. Undeserving of beauty, and the admiration it brought. Of course, my selfish desire for Halsin's appreciation and attention win out, and-

I come to a screeching halt in front of the tent, ripped from my daydreams. I almost step on poor Scratch, making him whine and letting out a gasp myself.

The purple aster, that had inexplicably sprung from the ground by the spring, had grown around my tent.

Was it the butler? Was it some kind of message I couldn't recall the meaning of? Or was it a fae spirit playing tricks on me?

My reaction draws Halsin's attention, and he's by my side looking for the threat in question remarkably fast.

"What is it?"

His low whisper fans across my ear, his body close enough to mine that I can sense his presence against my back. My eyes stay trained on the flowers, searching for traces of malevolent magic, but coming up short.

"The flowers. They sprung from the ground again. Just like before. Do you think we're being tracked using some sort of enchantment that makes flowers grow in our path? Or is it my past again, some sort of signal I can't remember?"

I frown as I feel Halsin right his stance, relaxing and taking a step back as his alarm quiets.

"Ah, no. I'm afraid my magic has simply gotten the better of me. I will attempt to restrain myself going forward, lest someone actually use them to track us."

He sounds abashed, and as I turn around to survey him his eyes find the ground. His bulking form appears no smaller just because his shoulders hunch. A tad less certain, perhaps, by the way he fiddles.

"The scent of your pleasure still lingers on my clothes. My thoughts have been... wayward."

"Oh. Oh!"

How wondrous, and how opposite myself, wasn't this man? Where I held death on a leash, he breathed life into the very earth without a thought.

"They are for me?"

Halsin considers his words for a minute, holding my gaze as he reads my reaction.

"Yes. Not deliberately, but yes."

I spin to once again look at the flowers, surveying them closer this time. There are several clusters of purple, centered around my tent but spread throughout in camp in small throngs. They hold a resemblance to daisies, in all but size and color.

"They're purple?"

Halsin remains silent.

"My purple is unnatural. The life you spread around you is not."

"Unnatural? Unusual, perhaps. But seeing as you do occur in nature, I'd argue you're entirely natural, Edie."

"Awfully convenient for you, druid." I muse, turning to walk closer to him with the intent to tease and challenge. Stopping before him, I tilt my neck and hold his gaze. "How many purple irises have you encountered? How many beings with black hair that runs purple at the lengths?"

"Not very many, I will admit. And none that can compare to you."

The purity, and well-meaning of his compliment, is clear and so unfathomable all at once. His honest eyes are accompanied by a small smile, and a mountain of adoration. It takes my breath away. He must notice, for he continues speaking when words elude me.

"Sometimes I think conventional wisdom is too narrow about what someone can or cannot be. Stranger things have most certainly happened. How many elves my size have you encountered?"

I smile and shake my head, realizing my defeat.

"None with hair on their body, that's for sure."

I feel strangely... abashed, in his presence. Unsure of what to do, but inexplicably happy to be so inept. As the silence between us persists, Halsin too seems to grow unsettled.

"I should get back to my watch. Rest assured, nature is looking out for us."

With a familiar gesture of a fist to his chest, he turns and walks back to his spot, drawing a wayward hand through Scratch's fur as the dog trots by next to him. I remain frozen in place for but a moment before my legs bid me to follow, forgetting my tent and the bedroll within entirely.

Halsin throws me a curious glance as I sit down next to him. His hands are once again occupied with a whittling project, slowly starting to take form.

"What are you making?" I ask after a moment of uncertainty, as the sounds of the forest turn defending even in their solitude.

He smiles and brushes a splinter away from the craft.

"It's a duck. Or rather, it will be one, soon."

"A duck? How come?"

"I like ducks."

The simple answer brings a smile to my lips. The depths of this man were deep enough to drown in, and because he wore his heart on his sleeve I so rarely got a peek at the banks of his shore.

The mundane, the everyday-Halsin, is entirely unknown to me. The shallower waters were left entirely unexplored, and forgotten about as he shared his greater woes so openly.

"Tell me more of what you like. I wish to know you, beyond the arch druid and the shadow curse."

In the dim light, it's hard to make out his complexion enough to tell whether color actually rises to his cheeks or not.

"Beyond the grove and the curse, you say... hm, well. I grew up in the Western Hartlands, as the son of rangers. The rolling hills and grassy flatlands stretched on for miles and miles, only occasionally interrupted by smaller settlements. The forests were brimming with monsters for my father to track, and my mother to hunt. Perhaps we were a bit recluse, but whenever we came upon a town we were greeted with warmth."

Halsin smiles as he speaks, carving what I now know to be the beak of a duck.

"My siblings were older than me by a fair few years, but I never lacked playmates. I had Thaniel, and he had me. But, ah, I have spoken at great length about that. I take after my father in appearance, if I remember correctly. It was... a lifetime ago."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. They perished a long time ago. I am the last to carry the Silverbough name, I'm afraid. My family all rest in High Forest now, near the shade of the Grandfather Tree."

"It must have been lonely. Being left behind."

Halsin tilts his head, contemplating.

"Yes, perhaps it was. I'm at peace with the solitude of nature, but without anyone to share its beauty with, I lost... direction. I believe I serve Silvanus best among others, uplifting them and the Oak Father in unity."

I take in his words, feeling them reverberate through me and strike a cord thrumming, a forgotten tune playing within me once again.

"I think... I think I was the same. Before the nautiloid. Content in solitude, but joyful with company."

"Oh? Have your memories started to return to you?"

"No, not entirely. Sometimes I get a... feeling. Beyond the urge. Like I recognize my own character, somehow. I think I may have been a leader of sorts too, but I'm unsure of what."

"Hm. Perhaps, given time, it will come to you. Or, we'll find answers in the Gate. A family, perhaps?"

I frown, squinting at the dancing flame as I dig through my mind for memories of a family. It's akin to feeling my way forward through murky waters, the texture strange and unpleasant. Something vague picks at me, and something tangible takes form.

"I remember... playing? I think I had friends. We were children, running through the streets. I was a good hunter back then too, but it was not a harmful game. I was... careful. Intentional in my restraint not to hurt."

I follow the memory further, watching as the game dissolves and I run... home? A cottage in the poor part of the city. Cozy. I feel phantom arms embracing me as I return, but the memory is too faint to make out the faces of the figures. I see someone my height, beside the two figures towering over us.

Parents. A sibling.

The next view of the memory hits me like a battering ram. A small dagger in my hand. Soft, bloodied, cooling flesh beneath my feet. The family slaughtered by my tiny hands.

My breathing picks up and I feel nauseated as the satisfaction buries in deep, next to the disgust. A beautiful offering, excellently executed when I was just a little girl.

"Distract me. Please."

I pant, squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my fists until my nails dig into my palms.

"After roaming for a while, the grove became my family, with Silvanus as my teacher. I was most grateful to join their ranks, and studied under the arch druid. I'd still roam, come and go, explore to my heart's content. But when the assault on Moonrise came, and the arch druid fell... I couldn't leave the Grove alone to fend for itself. I had to stay, to honor the memory of my predecessor."

I slowly relax as he speaks, dreaming myself away a hundred, two hundred years back and into his life, away from my own. A younger Halsin, burdened all the same, but perhaps not as heavily as now.

"You did not want to be arch druid?"

Halsin lets out a dry laugh, and I peer at him to see his eyes crinkle and mouth tug.

"My ambitions are not of men, but of nature. Leadership, the structure of it... it does not become me."

"The best leaders are those who do not wish to lead. At the risk of becoming aimless, or unhappy though, I suppose."

"You speak the truth, my friend."

"I..."

I cut off my own sentence, swallowing hard before daring to try again.

"I don't know what kind of leader I was. But... the urge. Whichever cause I steered others towards, it couldn't have been a good one."

A minute passes in silence.

"Then we will find a way to remedy whatever damage you could've caused. I don't know who you were before, but I know who you are now. I know you, Edie."

I draw a shaky breath, glancing at him again. He means every word he speaks.

"Then I will choose to trust in your judgment." Selfishly so, a dissonant voice whispers inside.

Chapter Text

Day after day, the trek towards Baldur's Gate continues, until we finally reach the outskirts of the city. It's not far away, but dark has fallen and it's significantly safer both to travel and to arrive during the day.

We have a bit of an argument about the benefits of arriving under the cover of the dark before deciding, but eventually reach the conclusion that we were likely to be recognized too quickly for it to give us the upper hand for very long.

The abandoned ruins we set up camp in have a gorgeous view of the city, all its burning lights like stars bound to the earth. The magnificent mountains, the violent river, all glittering in the moonlight just beneath us.

The vastness of the ruins, its walls still standing in some places, offer a certain privacy at camp we hadn't previously been afforded on the road. Most took advantage of that, setting up their individual tents in spots where they could be alone. The ruins would protect us, in case of an attack, and our nightly guard could set up on top of the roof to easily spot anything suspicious.

Once my tent is anchored to the ground and the bedroll set up, I do my rounds of checking on everyone. It's a habit I'd lost after the... incident, but one I intended to pick back up.

As the unofficial leader, I wanted to make sure everyone was healthy and comfortable with bringing any grievances to me. My shame over not being trustworthy had held me back, but witnessing their lack of fear slowly allowed me to return to who I was. Who they saw me as.

It's while checking on everyone I notice the absence of our resident skeleton. Or perhaps mummy was more like it, as his bones weren't entirely bare. While the rest gather around the campfire, drawn in by the scent starting to rise from Gale's cauldron, I wander off in search of Withers.

With the limited area, it doesn't take long before I find him in the only functional building around. The small barn is dusty and old, but has a roof as opposed to the rest of the structure. As per usual, he's scribbling in his tome, a perfectly blank expression covering his face.

The disinterested look that greets me as I peek inside calms me, knowing everything is as it should be. With a smile and a wave I close it behind me again, returning to the others just in time for supper.

Dinner is heavenly, and so much more refined than we were used to after so long on the road. An old altar acts as table, and old benches have been set up on its sides to create a proper sitting area. If that wasn't enough, we'd managed to scour up some bowls and Gale had really put his mind to it and cooked up a mouthwatering stew.

"Oh, but isn't it wonderful to dine under an open sky, to hear critters in the grass, to not feel the suffocating darkness of the curse? I think tonight is the first night I've truly felt free of it since we left."

Gale's musings are agreed upon by most who aren't busy scraping their bowls. Another loaf of bread is brought out and sliced by Wyll, who smells it and smiles. Even if it had been baked this morning, it was as good as new to all of us. I think Karlach may have shed a tear when Wyll bought it off a farmer we passed along the road.

"I heard from Thaniel, during my meditations." Halsin starts as he breaks bread to share with Lae'zel. "He is well - and Oliver also. At times they are one, and at others they divide. Easier for playing, perhaps. And the land thrives also. I doubt you would recognize it. Perhaps one day we can return, and see it for ourselves. I recall it was a beautiful place, once."

"A druid calling a city beautiful? Pinch me, I'm dreaming!"

Astarion's joke is, as isn't uncommon, taken quite literally by Lae'zel, who then gets a sermon on the horror of putting blemishes upon his ivory skin.

"One might wonder where you draw the line, then. It'd be quite ironic if you of all people opposed lovebites."

Shadowheart's usually detached and airy tone is accompanied by a smirk over her chalice as she swirls the wine around, holding Astarion's gaze.

"Oh, I quite prefer to be the one doing the biting, darling."

I choke on my stew at that, resulting in a round of laughter. The open secret of Astarion and I's... habits, let's call them, was not very well preserved.

"Ah, so that's how you sustained yourself in the cursed lands." Halsin mewls, understanding dawning on him.

"Oh, not exclusively, of course! Our dear Edie might be strong, but her stature allows for a rather limited supply. Lucky for us, there were plenty of cultists who were dying one way or another."

Halsin glances at me, something unreadable crossing his eyes.

"I do wish you'd had asked me, if it was needed. I'm larger, and I could heal myself should it be needed."

Astarion's skill as a charlatan wells up, this time as a seductive lean over the table accompanied by lidded eyes as he holds Halsin's eyes.

"I'd be more than willing to take you up on that offer, dear."

His voice drops to a growl on the last word, predatory and seductive both. In hindsight, it's not hard to see why I was attracted to him in the first place, what with the very obvious, potentially malevolent danger surrounding him like a cloak. Halsin offers a polite smile and a nod before returning to his stew, leaving Astarion to lean back again.

"This is going a lot better for you than that wizard at Chilltouch, mate!"

Karlach's loud laugh breaks through the tension as Astarion's eyes grow wide and he turns his torso in her direction, a look of disbelief coming over him.

"Are you drunk, or just dumb?"

"Wait, the Chilltouch?" I ask.

"Yeah, that tavern in the Underdark. We went when you lot were-"

Astarion slings himself over the table, covering her mouth with his hand to stop her from revealing anything further. She struggles against his grip for a minute, moving her body to try and shake him off. It's a bit like watching someone trying to ride a bull, holding on for dear life.

"Halsin, why don't you tell us more of that wonderful city?"

Astarion's quaked-out words are strained and breathy as he fights against Karlach, being fully sat in her lap to keep her down. The fight mellows down as he gets a fresh slice of bread from Wyll to offer the tiefling as bribe.

"Reithwin? I suppose I can. There was a woman there quite like you, Karlach. She was one of the head masons. A good woman, and strong as an ox."

The fight has died down by the end of the table, Astarion staying seated as Karlach munches on her bread.

"Really? Eh... A-are strong women your type, Halsin?"

The nerves that overcome her should be sweet, but I find myself vexed nonetheless. If Halsin notices, he doesn't let it show.

Astarion's flirting may be repertoire, but Karlach's stutter revealed the same kind of fantasies regarding the druid that Shadowheart had whispered to me before Astarion and I had broken up. It put an odd taste in my mouth.

"I don't discriminate against any type." Halsin shrugs, taking another spoonful of stew.

Karlach recovers quickly, lifting her chalice and lowering her chin.

"Truly, a bear-man of the people!"

Her cheer brings about a communal toast as Halsin smiles into his stew, keeping his eyes low.

Dinner drags on until yawns start spreading, and Lae'zel concludes it would be wise to rest in preparation for tomorrow's challenges. A magehand is conjured, along with some water, as no one has the energy to care for the dishes this evening.

That wonderful calm that often eludes me has finally met me this evening. The calm of a belly full of warm food, of a bedroll awaiting me safely. I had set my tent up in an alcove where it was sufficiently covered by half-standing walls, and only a small jolt course through me when I turn the corner and spot that Halsin has set his tent up opposite mine.

The open tent flap allows me to sit inside my tent and look upon his, letting the fatigue spread through my limbs as I drape my blanket over my shoulders. I don't sit and stare at nothing for long, as the arch druid soon comes lumbering.

"Are you stuck, my heart? You seem to be deep in thought."

"Hm? No. Quite the opposite, actually." I admit.

"Oh? I worried Karlach's words perturbed you."

I raise my eyebrows, questioning, prompting him to further explain.

"Regarding Astarion's escapades at the tavern, in the Underdark. It was during the time you two were lovers. I thought it may have disturbed you, as you seemed... exclusive."

I take a moment to twist and turn the thought in my mind. It honestly hadn't occurred to me, having been occupied with petty not-quite jealousy.

On one hand, we had been exclusive. On the other, there wasn't a living being I couldn't imagine Astarion flirting with. It was practically part of him.

"Maybe I should be upset, but it doesn't feel like he was unfaithful. I can't put my finger on why, it just doesn't bother me much."

Halsin nods, taking a seat within his own tent and facing me. There's a meter and a half between the openings, two meters at most.

It's... comfortable.

"I'm glad. It would've been unfortunate if your relationship soured now."

I nod, gaze fixed on the way his hand rests upon his knee. My thoughts whirl in the silence for another minute.

"Would you consider it cheating? If your partner flirted with someone else?"

"Some treat their relationships like a walled garden - tidy, tamed, cut off from the world. That is their right, but it is not for me. I do as nature does, and let my heart run wild. Desire flourishes wherever it finds purchase."

"You don't believe in monogamy?"

"It has its place, but it is not for me. The wolf mates for life, but the bear roams free and partners as its instinct dictates."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but male bears live a solitary life and largely meet other bears only in the breeding season. Doesn't ring very true to the life you currently live."

Halsin smiles, tilting his head.

"No, it does not. Alas, I'm not solely a bear. As for the garden, I suppose you could say that it takes gardeners. Someone who frequents it, cares for it, spends time there. Doesn't mean visitors should be denied entry."

"What I'm hearing is that 'roaming free' is mostly in terms of sex. That you have a, hm, a hierarchy, to your lovers."

Halsin's eyes sparkle at my comments, clearly delighting in the open discussion of the topic.

"I can't say I think of it in such terms. Neither can I deny you are wrong. I should emphasize - so long as no one gets hurt, so long as it is discussed honestly and agreed upon beforehand, such accommodations are certainly preferable."

I feel the corners of my mouth tug upward until I'm mirroring his smile.

"You wouldn't get jealous?"

"Not in the sense you imagine. I would envy whoever you laid your attentions on, but I would not feel wronged or as if I was being robbed of your presence."

"Oh, it's me now, is it?"

Halsin's head bends as his eyes focus on his palms, a faint blush spreading over his cheekbones.

"What of you, Edie? Do you get jealous?"

"As with most things, I can't much remember." I shrug, thinking back on the few weeks I could recall.

Astarion's innate flirting didn't faze me when it was directed towards someone else whilst we were an item. But I had had some... unsavory thoughts, when Halsin's attention had been directed towards others.

"I felt jealous of J'ehlar at Last Light. You'd thank her so ardently for watching over Art, and the two of you would stay together whilst I was away. I think it was mostly because I was trying to win your affection, and someone else was granted it instead. If I already had it, if your attentions were already mine..."

I shrug again as the imaginary scenario doesn't produce any ill will.

"J'ehlar? Of the Flaming Fist?"

"The very one."

"Hm. I can't say I ever saw her in that respect."

"She was very appreciative of your presence, dear."

"Really? The curse really consumed my mind..."

I let out a giggle as he shakes his head as if trying to rid himself of wayward thought.

"Did you notice Apikusis' affections at the Grove, at least?"

Halsin's eyes flicker to mine, eyebrows furrowing before he sets his eyes on the ground before him.

"I won't lie. We spent a night together, but it must have been years ago."

"Well, you certainly are... memorable."

I lower my voice, letting the intonation lean towards seductive as I wink.

"She looked so amiable when I met her. Sun-kissed, and that gorgeous blush. I could just see it in front of me, how she'd flush all over with your cock in her."

Halsin's cheeks light up further, but his eyes rise to hold mine with desire. I lean back on my palms, lowering my chin to hold his gaze.

"She tasted so sweet, I just know it. Did she cry out into the night with your head between her legs? Her soft voice, ruined and wet with pleasure. Her skin, supple underneath your hands. Her words evaded her, surely, as you entered her. Only sweet hiccups and hasty breaths when you thrust deep. Oh, I bet she hungered for you. Desperately needing you to fill her."

Halsin's eyes gleam, and he moves to rise.

Then, noise explodes behind my eyes as the elder brain fills my head.

Chapter Text

The night had been... disturbing, to say the least. Fleeing into the Astral Prism and getting thrown into a war we'd been mostly oblivious of til now would've been more than enough. The revelation of our guardian's identity, and his relation to the imprisoned gith prince, made it all the more difficult.

Every instinct screamed at me that freeing Orpheus was the right choice. A mindflayer being the one who had subdued him and deceived me only served to strengthen my resolve further. Then another wave of the elder brain hit me, and I realized how lost we were.

Free Orpheus and we would transform. Without us, the illithid grand design was far more likely to succeed. Standing by the Emperor meant leaving an innocent man, a potential liberator of his people, in chains.

But if not, the illithids would bind the entirety of Faerun.

I find no pleasure in spilling the blood of Orpheus' honor guard.

Shame lies heavy on me as we exit the Astral Prism, walking toward my own disownment. I was sure my oath had been broken, but when morning dawned and nothing had been ripped from me, it made me even more confused.

Orpheus' situation was much the same as Aylin's had been - imprisoned by their enemies to harness their remarkable power. I'd been convinced, and still was, that freeing Aylin was the right choice. So how could it be right to allow Orpheus to remain imprisoned?

My thoughts weigh heavily on me as we make the final trek through Rivington, realizing that our ambitions of reaching within the gates of the city were a bit too grand with everyone we kept bumping into.

It's with exhaustion I finally take my armor off at the end of the day, desperately wanting to put circuses, explosive donations and vengeful Gur out of my mind.

Our new camp is strangely towny, with its old barns still standing, with nature kept on a loose leash. Lae'zel's speculation that it had just recently been left behind by someone fleeing the approaching army was perfectly adequate.

It almost feels wrong, camping like this. It felt eerie and unfamiliar, unlike the cozy ruins from the day before, or any of the grasslands and meadows we'd previously found ourselves in. Even in the shadow cursed lands, we had our cocoon of light that served as an enclosure for camp. Here, it was open by comparison.

Alas, the uneasiness vanishes when I'm served baldurian mash, roast pork and a glass of frostkiss ale for dinner. I think a moan must escape me as I take my first bite in weeks of properly cooked, real food. Food that required preparation, a kitchen, and a chef with access to all the ingredients they wished for.

Not to discredit Gale's cooking in the least, of course.

"And, to celebrate our arrival - berry tart!" Our fiery friend offers, serving up the platter with pride.

"I adore you, Karlach."

A cup of mermaid whiskey and a piece of tart later, and I'm ridiculously comfortable leaned against the assigned seating around the campfire. Comfortably warm, comfortably full, and the kind of tired that made you feel like you were floating on soft clouds. The pleasant buzz of good alcohol is most welcome after the long day.

Someone had found a lute during today's excursion, and it's being passed around as people attempt simple melodies. It's not long before Wyll's got Karlach on her feet, trying to teach the burly tiefling how one danced in the upper city. I sit in silence, leaning against my log with my hands around my whiskey, watching them with a smile.

I'd give up close to everything to protect my companions. Perhaps not the world, but only because then they wouldn't have anywhere to live.

I give Halsin a smile as he takes a seat next to me, turning my sights back to the group when he doesn't speak. I giggle as Shadowheart tries to rip the lute out of Lae'zel's hands, only for it to end up between the nimble fingers of our resident rouge.

"You appear happy."

"I am happy."

A moment of silence passes between us before Halsin speaks again.

"I worried you pretended in order to alleviate the strain of our party."

"What need have I of pretending? I've had good food and drink, and I'm with the people most dear to me." I lift my glass in a toast, gesticulating with it as I speak.

"I thought that perhaps the revelation of your guardian would've unsettled you."

"It did. It does." I bite my lip, reluctantly feeling that twinge of betrayal rears its head in my otherwise happy chest. "I'd prefer not to speak of it currently. Another day, perhaps."

"I see. And what would you want to speak of instead?"

"Do you play any instruments?" I ask, watching as Astarion strings together notes to vaguely resemble an old folksong.

"I'm afraid not. The precision most instruments require is hard to achieve with hands like mine."

I glance over at his hands, noticing the thickness of his fingers. He had no issue with handiwork, but the quick, nimble play over a harp or a flute would be entirely different.

"Don't suppose your lovers have complained though."

Halsin's smile is addicting, making me feel proud for calling it forth and needing it heedlessly to come again. His smile is neither bashful nor proud, yet both those things at the same time.

"No, I can't say there have been any complaints yet." He states before throwing the question back at me. "What about you? Are you proficient with any instrument?"

"No. Or at least, none that I can remember. I can be... impatient, at times. Figure I didn't enjoy the slow learning process if I tried."

"You certainly are eager."

"Eager?"

"On the go. Buzzing with energy. Whenever you sit still, I can see your mind whirring to compensate. It's rare for you to settle."

I ponder his words, seeing the truth in them. Yet, the statement is a bit too broad for me to be able to accept it as a rule for my entire life so soon.

"Sometimes, at least. I'm calm now."

"In all fairness, your hands, mouth, ears and eyes are occupied." He counters, pointing to my cup, himself, and our companions. "Besides, one would hope so, after the day we've had."

"Why? Didn't enjoy the circus doppelgangers? Or was it the djinni, who teleported Astarion to another plane for cheating him at his own game, who you found unpleasant?"

Halsin's rumbling chuckle caresses me, making me preen.

"That was less infuriating than the sham donation, at least. I almost ripped that vile man to shreds. To rather sacrifice refugees, orphans, than himself? One does not need evil when such cowardice is allowed to flourish." His voice darkens as he speaks, the growl hanging onto every syllable. "Why didn't you kill him?"

The darkness that overcomes him is frightening and beckoning all at once, making me draw a quick breath.

"I... I don't know, to be honest." I stutter, considering my words carefully to ensure their truthfulness. "He was pathetic. Scared. Cowardly. Selfish. Haughty. It would've been reasonable to end him. But something... I can't quite explain it, but denying it to myself felt like... rebellion."

Our conversation is kept between the two of us, and as Halsin refrains from responding, I feel the weight of his silence.

"Do you want to hunt him down together?" I suggest after a minute.

Halsin considers it for a moment - I can see it in his eyes - and the glint is maddening to me. He's violent, wanton for the slaughter in a way I know all too well.

"Silvanus shall judge him. But if nature's path leads him to me, he will not walk away freely."

I feel a tad disappointed, having looked forward to the prospect of hunting the man down. Alas, we had many foes awaiting us in the city that could be hunted in his stead.

"Are you always so merciful?" I question.

"Grace is bestowed by nature. Not by me. By the same measure, it is not my own ruthlessness that should rain upon the wrongdoers, but nature's. It's never my first choice to take a life, but to save a body you sometimes have to purge a parasite."

"The body being the village, the toy maker the parasite." Halsin nods, confirming my query. "By that measure, Kagha should've been dead by your hand. Exiled, at the very least."

Halsin frowns, turning to look straight into my eyes.

"Do you truly believe that?"

"Yes."

"Hm." He rumbles, taking a gulp from his own tea. "I never was suited to leadership. Perhaps, sparing her is only further proof."

He looks dejected, and I curse myself for bestowing that upon him.

"Halsin, look at me." I urge him, reaching out to gently palm the side of his cheek and turn his head back towards mine. "You are a fantastic leader. You are selfless, kind, caring, and merciful. You always manage to consider the bigger picture. In only this, I doubt your judgment. You are far too forgiving."

Any sane man would run for the hills at my touch. But because of his foolish trust, a moron's forgiveness, he only tilts his head further into my palm, closing his eyes. Finding rest in my hands, rather than pain.

"It is my nature, my love. Nevertheless, you are an excellent counterweight to balance me. Thank you, for your honesty."

Ah yes, the violence to balance his mercy. Halsin's kind heart probably aimed for harshness or accountability rather, but I am not so kind toward others that I deserve that kindness myself.

"I expect the same kind of honesty in return."

"Of course. What do you need to know?" He answers, opening his eyes and shocking me with the softness within. My heart melts instantaneously, drawing out my affection as he sits back again.

"Currently? I'm curious as to why you don't partake in this excellent drink." I ask, making my voice higher and turning to lighter conversation as I bump his arm with my cup.

I take another sip of the whiskey, relishing in the taste. Its Tethyrian vintner layers elegant and expressive flavour is like a bard's melody, playing across my tongue.

"After the missive on Moonrise a century ago, I became overly fond of honey mead and melancholy evenings by myself. Now, I rarely imbibe. Only on the most special of occasions. Part of my spirit was shorn away from me, as the curse swallowed my peers. I feel it has finally been returned. I feel... whole, again, after so many years."

Not such a light subject after all, I suppose.

"There is a burden to being the survivor of such an event. The witness to others' tragedies. It only grows heavier with time. The battle is a vivid wound upon my memory. I was lucky. I lived, when so many did not. Still, it would take me a day and a night to recite the names of all of the friends I lost."

The timbre of his voice tinges with sorrow as he speaks, heavy with the weight of old burdens. Halsin was always the strong, unshakable sort in my mind. I had been unfair in my expectations, not allowing him to be simultaneously strong and vulnerable.

"I never asked - did your line perish before Moonrise?"

Halsin nods, his eyes having gotten that same far-off look in them that they held when he recounted his experiences in the Underdark.

"Did you have anyone to lean on? Was there someone who could alleviate your burden?"

He silently watches the flames, immobile on the outside. Halsin then slowly shakes his head, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. It takes a minute before he's able to produce any words.

"When an oak falls in the forest, no one lifts it up."

His voice is heavy with sorrow, the desolation hanging over him palpable.

"You thought no one would come for you in the goblin camp, didn't you?" I ask, watching his expression fall. He stares blankly into the fire ahead, relinquishing his answer. "The grove failed you. Put their efforts to the Rite of Thorns instead of coming for you."

"I could not have asked them to sacrifice their lives for the possibility that it could salvage mine."

"Yes, you could have."

"It is not the ways of a leader."

"It is the ways of a family."

Halsin bites his lip, letting his gaze sweep from the fire to me. He studies me for a moment, taking in the serious expression.

"You came for me. Without knowing who I was."

I hold his stare, bringing my hands up to cup his face within my palms. Softly, gently holding him, showing him how precious he is to me.

"I will always come for you."

Chapter Text

The next day is equally as tiring as the last. As if attending Gortash's sham of a ceremony wasn't bad enough, Mizora appearing at camp with two infernal arbiters certainly set Wyll's mood for the evening. His voice trembled as she made him sign his father's life away. After it was done, Karlach led him away to his tent with an arm around his shaking shoulders.

He was heavy with mourning and guilt, but the sense of finality hadn't set in for me yet.

Mizora had come to bargain for Ravengard's life, and though the duke's fate may have been sealed, she had made no mention of a time or place of when the sword would fall. For a devil so obsessed with the intricacies of contract, I highly doubted it had slipped her mind.

Ravengard was still alive. I was certain of that.

We just had to find him before she did. And preferably, without her knowledge of our undertakings.

Spirit at camp is downtrodden compared to last night, and most people filter off alone or in smaller groups after dinner. Lae'zel mutters something about our blades dulling before gathering everyone's weapons to sharpen them, and as such there's just my armor left for me to clean.

The flawed helldusk armor Dammon had put together for me was a blessing in combat, and beautiful too, but with all its embellishments and overlapping plates, sometimes it was hard to get all of the blood out. Granted, we'd decided amongst ourselves to get proper city clothes by the morrow to draw less attention when walking around, but I doubted we'd get through an entire day without needing the protective plates at least once.

As had become habit from the past few nights, Halsin soon finds me and takes a seat by the campfire, just to my left. The two of us would spend hours alone, silently or conversing, and I scarcely felt more happy and calm than during our evenings.

It felt a bit strange to not have continued our physical pursuits since the night by the waterbed, but between the hard days and short nights, saving our strength made sense.

Even though it was the driest, most detestable logic imaginable.

I dip a rag in the cauldron of hot water beside me, starting to scrub at the upper breastplate and shoulders. Most of the gore tended to show there, so the other parts needn't be cleaned as often. The purple shirt I wore beneath it was a bit bloodstained, but the red blended in fairly well and could only be spotted when the light fell in certain ways, or if you got close enough to spot the texture.

Washing the plate is the sort of mechanical work that can either be infuriating with its never-ending state, or calming in its repetition. With Halsin beside me, I'm drawn towards the latter.

I wipe and rub at the spots that are extra grimy, slowly working my way upward. My knuckles ache sometimes when I grip something too hard, or after a long day of holding a sword, and I wince after rubbing at a particularly stubborn smudge on the armor.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, fine." I reassure him, dropping the rag onto the armor and bringing my hand out from my body to shake it, as if the pain would lose its grip and drop. I stretch my fingers, clenching and unclenching, but the ache only shifts.

"Here, let me."

Halsin's larger hands envelop mine. One of his hands stays cupped underneath while the other hovers above, supporting and steadying as he studies it in the low glow of the firelight.

"How long has it been hurting?"

The precision and care with which he studies me make my insides melt, and I busy myself studying his intelligent eyes while he treats me. He's bent over my lap, leaning down instead of raising my hand to his eyes.

"Now and again. It's not similar to Shadowheart's wound. I think it's an old injury, flaring up."

He gently turns my hand over in his grasp, checking the palm before twisting it back again. With a finger as light as a feather he trails over the knuckles. Even with the ache, his touch sends shivers down my spine.

The soft blue light that emits from him reveals the healing spell just before the ache fades away. Halsin lifts my hand back into my lap, placing it down gently.

"What of the other? The same ache?"

"Not as badly. I'm left-handed, and the excursion provokes it."

"But the other still hurts?"

I test my right hand, stretching and clenching my fist. It's a vague pain, the ghost of an ache. Not enough to require healing.

"Yes, it does."

I place my hand in his waiting one, enjoying his touch as he studies it intently too, to check for any other injuries. His finger, trailing over my knuckles, shines with the same light blue hue as before when he speaks the incantation once more.

He doesn't let go of my hand, and I don't withdraw. It's... nice.

His finger continues to drift over the back of my hand, traveling to my palm which he opens up to trace the lines there. His fingers drag from my ring finger to my index finger, before dipping down toward my thumb.

"I didn't know druids engaged with reading the future." I whisper.

Halsin lets out a breathless chuckle.

"We don't. It's the action of your hands that matter, not their design."

"What do you think of the design?" I whisper back, losing my breath as he suddenly moves his eyes from my palm to gaze longingly at me.

He doesn't answer with words. Instead, he lifts my hand, pressing a soft kiss to its back while holding my gaze.

Breath eludes me as he guides our hands down, but before they hit my lap I reach for him, leaning in. I stop myself a hair width from his lips, letting my breath fan out over his face.

Hesitation chains me for a moment.

Then, Halsin closes the distance. His lips meet mine as he straightens, making me strain my neck to reach. I shuffle closer, encouraged by the caressing hand on my cheek.

Halsin kisses like a practiced lover. He has care and finesse from centuries of experience. He knows just how to brush his tongue against the seam of my lips to make me want more, and I fall into him happily.

The forgotten plate of armor in my lap is jostled away as I nestle my way up into his lap, breaking our kiss to draw breath when his hands find my waist and pull me tighter towards him. His body is firm beneath mine, warm and alive.

Halsin's rumbled moan when he finally tastes me would've made me weak in the knees had I been standing. Now, it just makes me press closer, encourages my hands to feel their way across his broad shoulders and developed back. The knowledge that his muscles aren't just for show, but the result of centuries of hard work, lights something within me,
and I kiss him deeper.

Halsin accepts and returns my eagerness with equal vigor, drinking me as his hands too begin exploring. Even sat in his lap, he's taller than me to the extent that I have to bend my neck backward to kiss him properly.

His arms wire themselves around me, tightening as if he couldn't decide whether to let his hands roam or hold. He decides on both, in the end.

His large hand slots so perfectly in my waist, resting comfortably on the hip bone. Through the layer of clothing it's hard to tell, but I'm certain the one hand could span from my bellybutton around to my spine. The other hand runs up and down my side before traveling up the side of my neck, making me shiver as it tangles in my hair.

His tongue explores my mouth, dancing with mine, as low noises of pleasure exit the both of us. I get greedy and lean up, wanting more and chasing after him. His seduction is a drug to me, driving me to want as the heat grows between my legs.

I climb further into his lap, pressing my torso against his and spreading my legs to slot them over his hips. He's impossibly wide, and I can't help the wayward thought of how on earth his past lovers ever rode him. The memory from a few nights ago makes itself known, putting more coals onto the fire.

Halsin's hand has just started to drift lower, down my hip, when a crash interrupts us. I attempt to fly to my feet, grasping for a weapon, but end up losing my balance and falling back down as I'm too entangled in the large elf beneath me. Twisting and turning to assess the threat, I soon spot Astarion's impish smile and mischievous eyes glittering under the moon.

"Oh, don't stop on my account. I was rather enjoying the show."

"Astarion."

"Yes, darling?"

"Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Yes, he does. It's time to come home, brother."

The foreign voice makes us all jolt, flying to our feet to asses its origin. By the edge of camp are two figures, slowly emerging from the shadows. The first, a large human man with dark skin and braided hair. The second, a slight red-skinned tiefling woman.

The two share no similarities, except their glowing red eyes.

Astarion pulls his daggers, taking a stance as the tiefling holds out her hands.

"Peace, brother. We're here to take you home."

"The master needs all seven of us for the ceremony. Come with us and be reborn. We'll live again." The human follows, casting a worried glance at me as my hands move to the hilt of my sword.

"How did you find us?" I ask, keeping my voice stern and leveled as I take a stand beside Astarion. The slight ruckus our guests have caused is slowly drawing our companions out from their tents, and I can only imagine their confusion as it mirrors my own.

"Master Cazador has known where Astarion was this entire time. He knew he would return. The Rite... The master needs him. He must attend."

"Oh, I'm well aware of what the master needs. But don't we deserve better?" Astarion hisses, earning himself a confused look from the human.

"Better? What do you mean, 'better'?"

"After these centuries of torment, I know what you all want. More than power. More than to walk in the sun. You want to see him dead. The Rite of Profane Ascension will be mine, and he won't see a scrap of its glory. I am going to complete the ritual as the Ascendant, and then I am going to kill him. This is your chance. Stand with me. Name me your new master. We will get our revenge, and you will all live again."

I watch him as he speaks, feeling a wave of disgust overcome me. His liar's smile spells danger. He knows full well that his kin will die in the ritual. But if any of the bearers of the scar die before the ritual begins, he will lose his chance to perform the Rite himself.

He needs them to run willingly to their deaths, thinking they stand a chance against their master.

"You're asking them to die for you in this ritual." I hiss, turning my anger on him whilst staying vigilant of his acquirers.

His sneer is true, as is the disgust of his own actions I spot as he quickly tries to bury it deep within himself.

"Don't look at me like that. With the sweet little 'disappointed I'm not getting cuddly Astarion' pout. I can't take it! I can't be what you want to see in me."

Luckily, the visiting vampires have heeded my words.

"Die in the ritual? Whatsoever are you speaking of? We are going to cheat
undeath." The tiefling protests, genuinely believing her own words.

"You're slaughter-lambs, all. Cazador needs your souls to ascend."

"The master doesn't need to lie to us. He controls us, fully. Why go through the trouble of giving us hope..."

"Because it's more cruel... shit." The human interrupts, realization coming over his features. "We're doomed. All right - what do you need from us? We'll help you..."

As soon as the words are spoken, they seize and the woman lets out a scream.

"The bond's hold. He owns us. We have no choice, we must obey. Get out of here, Astarion, before..."

The battle that follows is brief, but harrowing.

They do not want this - that much is evident. As they lunge and bite, the regret in their eyes dispels any notion of free will. I try my best to parry, to wound without killing, but when Karlach accidentally lands a potentially fatal blow to the human, he just disappears into thin air.

"Cazador is pulling them back! Quick, get Aurelia!" Astarion shouts, leading Shadowheart to spell his sibling who, true to Astarion's words, disappears before death can claim her.

The sudden silence that often falls after a battle only lasts for a moment before my sword clinks against the ground as I throw it to the side, stomping toward Astarion.

"What a mess. Well, at least you've met my family now." He announces, right before my fist hits his cheek, throwing his head to the side as he falls to the ground.

"Are you insane?" I scream, watching the emotions flit across his face. Surprise, confusion, fear, and then anger. "I can't believe how you lied to them! You know they'll have to die for the Rite to happen!"

He heaves himself up, standing up to me with a snarl. He uses his taller stature to bend over me as he bites out his words.

"What does it matter? There's only six of them. And they are vampire spawn."

"Don't act haughty, you're only one tadpole away from being one of them!”

"Everything has changed! What matters now is that I can stand up to Cazador." He protests, refusing to see what I know he understands.
With a malicious smile he laughs, taking a step back as if we hadn't just been about to roughhouse. "He will be furious!” He chuckles. “And he'll be even more furious when I get to that crypt and stop him."

Astarion's eyes stray from mine as he saunters over to the group, holding his hands out in front of our companions.

"We will kill him, but there's more to it. Think about it. It sounds like Cazador, for all his evils, has gotten further than any of my kind ever have. He's on the verge of a miracle. If the time comes, and I can stay one move ahead of him, I'll take his place before his blood can hit the floor."

I thank my lucky star that I'm not the only one opposed as Gale voices his concern.

"I don't know. Raphael said the Ascension was lethally diabolical."

"Yes! Doesn't it sound delightful? For the lucky little vampire on the winning side?" Astarion laughs, letting his voice drop as his fury shines through. "After two hundred years of shit, pure shit, I think I deserve something better."

"Power is not the same as freedom." I bite out, clenching my fists.

"All I'm saying is: let's be clever about it. If an opportunity arises for me to become a more magnificent bastard than I already am, why turn it down? Let's find out more about the ritual before we waltz into Cazador's front
door."

"A wise choice, my friend. But let's not decide anyone's fate tonight." Gale announces, patting Astarion's shoulder as he walks past him, returning to his tent. The other soon follow, leaving me staring with clenched fists at the pale elf.

"You have something more to say?"

"They are innocents."

"Hah! Hardly. They've lured more people to their deaths than you can count."

"You know my oath bids me to protect the innocent. They are victims of Cazador, same as you."

"So what, then?" He drawls, confidently pocketing his hands as he swaggers toward me. "You'll cut me down?"

He stops before me, holding my gaze as my nostrils flare. His challenging stare is teasing, daring me to act.

"Thought so. You can't." He asserts, smiling in the face of my anger before walking off. I watch his back disappear behind a cluster of trees as he heads for his tent, feeling my anger fizzle out along with the sight of him.

He's right.

I can't. Not now, at least. He is too dear to me.

But if it was his life or the life of six others?

The scales were not evenly weighed.

I had to convince him not to go through with it. If nothing else to protect myself from having to do the inevitable, were he to descend.

Chapter Text

"Naughty, naughty, naughty, little Master."

The voice rings in my ears as I'm pulled beneath a suffocating wave of thick, pungent blood. My body struggles against the stream, fighting against the crushing weight of metallic warmth. Then suddenly, the blood crashes down and I'm left cold and sticky. Solid rock is beneath me and I jerk up, breathing hard.

"You have disobeyed your Father's wishes one time too many."

The room, no, chamber, is grand and cold, smelling of smoke and decay. The grey walls stretch up and around, enclosing me in its gargantuan embrace.

It is no ordinary room. I don't know how I know it, but I am certain.

It is a temple.

My butler's voice echoes inside the space, disembodied and grande all at once. I'm at the edge of a circle plateau, with one staircase leading down and two leading up and away. I don't have much time to contemplate my escape route before a pulsing red light over the descending staircase draws my attention.

"For she who fights with monsters should look to it that she herself becomes a monster." The butler echoes, making me twist as panic grows inside.

The pulsing red light emits from some kind of enchanted stone, inlaid in a gigantic carved stone skull. The eyes are piercing, watching me as if seeing through me to my very core.

"When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you."

The red eyes gleam, and my heart fills with devotion. I approach the sigil, moving without agency, enchanted by its eyes. It's familiar, so familiar, yet I can't place it. It's comforting, embracing, glorious.

The eyes gaze deeper, and I feel as if it's undressing my soul to lay bare the rot.

Another flash of red, and a movement much closer on the plateau, makes my head snap back to the centre of the platform I'm standing on. Raised in the middle is an altar made of stone. I notice the lines carved into the floor correspond with the ones on the altar, leading outwards. It is for sacrifice, for premeditated blood to filter out through the stone.

A figure on the altar rests gingerly, one leg casually leaning over the knee of the other as she admires the crooked dagger in her hand. She is laying down, facing away, yet there is no doubt in my mind who she is.

"Another will embrace what you have rejected. And that other will be your death."

With my butler's voice the figure rises, and I recognize her immediately.

Orin.

She was in the colony, with Ketheric and Gortash. Dressed in the red flesh of her victims, still.

She spots me over her shoulder, pure unadulterated hatred filling her eyes as a snarl exits her mouth. In one smooth movement she's on her feet, long braided hair swinging behind her as she points her dagger straight at me.

"But your Father loves you dearly. You may reinherit yourself yet." The butler echoes.

Orin's hatred grows at the echoed promise, spreading from her eyes like black tendrils. She shakes and contorts, cowering in on herself before exploding in a splash of gore.
Out of her grows a monster, a horrible thing of blood and viscera. A lizard-like monstrosity the size of four men, with horns coming out its head, back and arms. The tail of a scorpion, and the talons of a tiger on each of its four arms.

I try to brace myself, but without armor or a weapon it's futile. A warm claw grips my chest, lifting me with ease. I'm thrown against the altar, the edge digging into my back as the monster's powerful foot kicks me down and hulks down over me to let out a blood-curdling scream. Its teeth snap at me, reminiscent of a spider, but sharper, deadlier.

"Slaughter your line. Become the last of your name. Lord Bhaal shall have but one Chosen."

I feel the red eyes glow behind me one final time before the creature lunges. Just before it can tear my face off it's ripped away along with the altar, the eyes, the temple, the voice, everything.

I fly out of my bedroll, tasting cold, fresh air as I gasp for breath.

The campsite.

I'm back at the campsite.

It was a dream. But it wasn't.

My head spins as I scout for any threat around us, my heart close to beating out of my chest as the memories flood back. Snatches of my story, written in the blood of a thousand victims.

Years spent in worship of Bhaal, leading his savage congregation in prayer, sacrifice, and slaughter. I was their Master, and he was mine. A cruel Master, a Dread Lord... a devoted Father.

I remember the services. The chanting cultists perched on the stairs and the platforms above, the audience clamoring to catch a sight of the victim strapped to the altar as I plunge my dagger into their eyes, their chest, the soft parts of the stomach. The reverence as the blood of the innocent flowed through the altar and down over the platform.

I remember the nights stalking the streets, and worse, the days. Killing in daylight for the thrill. Tricking my victim into someplace we 'could be alone', hiding in someone's home in wait for them to return from a day's work, jumping from rooftops to plunge my dagger into pedestrians below.

And something more. Something, someone... I can't quite place. But what? Who?

I remember writing hymns, imbibing Bhaal's glory as I claim another kill. The hacking sound of a final breath. Clean cuts, efficient and deadly.

And then, in the darkness: A spark of defiance.

I remember being created in crimson, dripping in red, but picking purple.

I remember the doubt, the rebellion, the want to create my own life. I remember the Purple Plague, a name given by the presses when I used my fists to beat my victims purple instead of plunging a dagger into them. Father didn't care - death was death. But to me, it was different.

It was my kill.

In this, at least, I had agency. I executed my kills the way I chose, and no other.

Oh Gods.

Father.

I am a spawn of Bhaal. His heir. His scion. His purpled fists, no matter how much I had tried to make them my own.

I tense up, the storm raging within me close to tearing me apart. That may be what I was, but does not have to be what I am now. I had been my own person, resistant to his alluring death, forging myself a new path and a new family all on my own.

Removed from Father's influence, that purpled defiance was allowed to flourish and grow. It had taken root and sprung from the ground something new.

A purple aster.

I will never be free of my urges if I don't confront my past sins. But now, I know where to look.

My sister.

Orin.

I spend the night scouring my memories for everything I can regain, trying to find some semblance of place and time within them. The vivid memories are all violent and bloody, be it by blade or fist. I suppose walking around the city didn't leave much of an impression on me, because no matter how much I try, I can't place the temple. I know its inside from the dream, but I had spotted no window, nor anything else that could tell me of its location.

I pace, only to sit down and squirm for a few minutes before getting up anew. I'm restless, and the euphoria I feel at the endless scenes of slaughter flashing before my eyes have the odd effect of being intoxicating and sobering at the same time.

I can't keep my head straight.

It's early, so very early in the morning, when Astarion rises. The sun's rays have barely begun to glint over the horizon.

"The urges are calling on you again, aren't they? I haven't seen you sleep through the night once in the past days."

His statement is blunt and well-guided. I stop where I'm standing at the edge of camp, wiring my arms around my chest. He walks close to me, but not too close. Not fearful, but cautious.

"I'm sorry. For hitting you last night."

"Oh? Was it the urges?"

"No. You deserved it. Still, I am sorry."

"As you very well should be."

"How do you feel? Knowing Cazador has learned of your return by now."

His demeanor shifts from light to more openly vulnerable as he speaks.

"I won't lie, the thought hardly fills me with glee. Even with my newfound advantages, he's still an incredibly powerful vampire. But, he's arrogant too. If he tries to take me, he will expose himself in the process. Then I'll be able to strike."

"And how will you 'strike' exactly? He won't be alone."

"Neither will I, darling. At least I hope you'll come along for the show?" He winks, sending me a dashing smile. "But regardless, the plan is simple - find him, stop him from gaining almighty power, and then really enjoy killing him. And if I can seize that almighty power for myself? Well, all the better."

I reign myself in, feeling a little bit proud when I manage to put the flare of anger out.

"Let's listen to Gale, for now. We find out more about the Ritual. Then we strike."

"Couldn't agree more, darling."

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the next revelation.

"Speaking of finding out more... Don't be alarmed, but I've divined with near certainty that Lord Bhaal is my Father."

Lord Bhaal. Even as it lays on my tongue it tastes right. To call him lord is no mere courtesy; it is gospel.

"I knew you had some nasty habits, but I didn't want to pry overmuch. But, bloody hells, a Bhaalspawn? Probably more Baldurian parents scare their children with stories of your kind than mine. I thought your kind was extinct! Goes to show, you should always check your facts."

Astarion's voice rises in pitch as his eyes enlarge, and he gesticulates wildly at my still figure. When I don't lash out, or attempt to murder him where he stands, his demeanor becomes more personable as he tries to catch my eyes.

"So... how are you feeling? Keen to reconnect with your family? Or ready to throw yourself in an oubliette?"

A secret dungeon with access only through a trapdoor in its ceiling does sound a tad extra when I could just throw myself on my blade.

Then again, wouldn't that be a pretty offering for Bhaal? And what of my sister, who then receives the inheritance?

"I'm very afraid." I admit, drawing his attention with my candor. My voice splits as I speak, my fear and desolation raw and unfiltered in the face of my friend. "How can I stand up to a god? He wants me to cause carnage."

Silence rests between us for a minute. A bird sings in the distance. The first rays of the sun break through.

My arms are held tightly around my torso, as if trying to keep my guts inside my body. I refuse to cry another tear. I had cried far too much the past few days. But I would allow myself to grieve, if nothing else to make way for the much more effective wrath I expected to welcome in its wake.

"You know, I didn't realize you and I were so alike. I - I felt paralyzed to do anything about Cazador for so many decades. I gave up on myself. I gave up on any hope of escape after a few lashes."

I consider intervening after his likening of torture to a few lashes, but decide to let him speak his mind.

"Bhaal controls you in much the same way. I don't know how you can beat him, but I do know this: you must try. The half-life of a mind-addled slave is worse than death - don't become his. I wouldn't live another century as one for all the moonstones in Evereska."

Try.

Yes.

I would try.

For him.

For Lae'zel.

For Shadowheart.

For Karlach.

For Wyll.

For Gale.

For Halsin.

And finally, for that purple part of me, who even under Bhaal's yoke decided to not be red.

The purple plague, the purple paladin, and now, finally, after so many years - the purple aster.

Chapter Text

"Halt."

The cold, suckering wetness that caressed my skin as the submersible docked was unexpected and thrillingly familiar as it sent its thoughs into my head.

"Omeluum!"

My suspicions regarding Wyll's father had been correct, and after some investigation and instruction from my favorite scientist, we'd found our way to the imprisoned arch duke.

The blasted squid had tried to get us to leave him behind, but I'd sooner drown than see him die like this. The illithid detachment hadn't made him cruel, or manipulative. After his failed concoction in the Underdark, I should've taken an instant dislike to him. But despite having the ability to influence my feelings toward him, he hadn't.

In the myconid colony, he'd been tentative, expectant of distrust simply because of his origin. Emotion were hard to read in pearly eyes, but his reaction to being trusted warmed my cold heart in a way I wouldn't have expected.

So when we descended into Gortash's underwater prison and the illithid selflessly instructed me to sacrifice him for the good of the city, my resolve to save him only grew.
Perhaps it was my newfound ailment, and the idea of being judged for more than your origins, that fanned my conviction.

Or maybe, I just liked Omleuum.

The creaking walls of the sinking Iron Throne, along with the frenzied screams of hostages and sahuagin guards alike, would be a memory more unpleasant than most of my bloodied past. But all made it out, and all were going to see the sun again.

I'm exhausted when we finally climb out of the submersible and onto the hidden dock beneath the harbor. Everyone has something to say, and most of my companions are occupied with enough conversation for me to be able to slip through the cracks.

Wyll is engaged in conversation with a short, dark-skinned rock gnome who thanked us most ardently on behalf of the hostages. I vaguely overhear the valiant warlock promise to aid the Gondians so they may rebel against Gortash and destroy the Steel Watch, eyes flickering to the pained duke.

"Not that I don't want to bash a bunch of robots, but what of the duke?" Karlach questions before I have the time to. With my own disorientation and lack of sleep, it seems like the perfect task for me.

"I'll escort him back." I offer. The weight of the night without rest on top of the hurried hostage situation was enough to render me more of a liability than an assent in any battles to come.

"What of the warehouse?" Wyll's concern is met with attentive gazes from our group as they await my answer, turning their gazes to me.

I had wondered, at the beginning of our adventure, why everyone was so keen to turn to me as their leader. I had thought it was because I talked to everyone, and was able to get them to cooperate either through persuasion or intimidation.

Now, with my memories of my background as Chosen and head of Bhaal's congregation, I wonder if leadership wasn't sewn into me somehow.

"You lead them. I trust in you, Wyll."

The doubt in his eyes is too prominent for the Blade of Frontiers, but as his eyes flicker to his father it's not hard to see why.

"I will protect him with my life. You will need conjurers for the battle up ahead, should you encounter any Steel Watchers. Oh, and bring Astarion too for any locks. I request one healer, to care for the duke and myself, if you believe you could spare one."

After a moment of silence, Wyll tilts his head in a barely noticeable nod.

"I will go with her." Halsin proclaims, walking to take the position at my side as we face the rest of the group. "End this abomination of steel and darkness, so it may no longer plague the true living beings of this city."

Wyll gives his consent and leaves us to talk strategy with the remaining Gondians, the eyes and ears of our companions kept on him.

The duke has a splitting headache and has to take a breather on the docks when we finally make it all the way up. He sits down on a wooden pillar, resting his elbows on his knees as his head dips between his shoulders.

"I need you to lift your head and look at me." Halsin instructs him as he takes a knee before Ulder. He looks into the duke's eyes, searching for signs of something I didn't know to look for. One healing spell and a potion are dashed out quickly before a large cloak is hung over the man's shoulders.

"We should get a room, somewhere. Allow the duke to rest in peace."

I bite my lip, considering our options. The Emperor's consciousness pokes at mine, driving me toward the Elfsong.

"What of the Elfsong? It's not too far, and nice enough."

I don't mention it, but the murder having recently taken place probably made it a fair bit more affordable for the amount of rooms we'd need.

With their agreement, we trek our way up the lower city. Halsin squares up next to the cloaked duke, trying to draw attention to himself to allow the man to go under the radar. If anyone notices, it goes unmentioned for now.

My suspicion regarding pricing turns out to be correct, and after a bit of bartering by the bar disk, almost the entirety of the upper floor is ours. It's a large space with a private lounge, and almost enough beds for everyone in our party.

I chaperone Ulder upstairs, staying one step behind with an arm at the ready after a particularly unsteady wobble. It would be very ironic of us to save him from tadpole, tyrant and devil only for him to go out through tumbling down the stairs.

I hurry to his side to open the door leading to our rooms, grateful that we got an entire wing with separate bedrooms.

For being the lower city, it's very nice. Well-oiled wooden parquet floors and paneling, plush patterned rugs in green and white and heavy red curtains draped over large windows.

Straight ahead from the entryway is a sunken lounge with couches, rugs and a fireplace, a perfect substitute for our campfire evenings. A fence protects the walkways on the sides of the lounge, where several doors are left ajar. I lead Ulder to the closest, checking it before letting him in.

The bed is made with crisp white sheets, the red detail complimenting that of the curtains. The room is small, but it's enough to fit a traveler's trunk, and it has a small wash basin and a mirror. Once I've ascertained the room holds no danger, I step aside to allow the duke entry.

"Make yourself comfortable." I announce, turning on the threshold to meet Halsin's gaze. "Tend to him before he sleeps, yes?"

"That would be wise." Halsin nods.

Ulder doesn't argue, only follows Halsin with heavy feet into the small bedroom. The disguise is dispelled as Halsin opens his pouch, jumbling glass bottles and leather packets inside in search of whichever herb he is in need of.

I remain frozen in the doorway as he starts to work, but quickly excuse myself. I couldn't aid them in any way, and with the tiredness came the more persistent urges. It's better I rest, and once the thoughts quiet, I'll be trustworthy enough to be around again.

I stumble into the bedroom across the lounge, having half the mind to leave the room next to Ulder's to Wyll, should he want it. There weren't quite enough bedrooms for everyone to get their own, but the plush couches in the living area could serve as extra cots.

I don't bother closing the door behind me before disarming once I reach the room I decided would be mine, fumbling with the straps before heaving it off and into the traveler's trunk in the room. Someone else could have it later. It wasn't like I slept anyway.

I always underestimate how long it takes to remove the heavy armor, and am still struggling with removing the final pieces when a knock against the ajar door sounds behind me. Turning with my fingers still tangled to the straps on my waist, my gaze meets Halsin's as he leans on the doorway.

"Ulder is healed to the best of my abilities. All we can do now is let his body rest and recover in its own time."

"Thank you. Once again, you have my gratitude. And Wyll's."

Halsin studies me quietly as I continue to struggle with the strap, the knot having gotten wet from the ocean which made it near impossible to tear at. Before my frustration can grow, he comes over and places a placating hand on mine.

"Please, allow me."

With a sigh I let my hands drop. Halsin works slowly and methodically, unraveling it after yet another minute of patient tinkering.

"Thank you."

I turn away from him, removing the piece of armor with my back to him. The bracers come off next, and then the daggers from my boots.

"I prefer the open sky, but with the unusual hazards of the city and its poor camping accommodations, this is not a bad alternative."

I hum at Halsin's musings, continuing my disarming. I spot a dent in the armor on my lower arm, right above where a bruise is starting to bloom from one of the sahuagin.

"You are quiet today."

I respond to his query in the most befitting way - silence.

"Is there something you wish to talk about, my heart?"

That was the issue. I didn't want to talk. I was a monster, and I was too cowardly to reveal my true nature to him.

"It's weighing on you. Please, allow me to aid you with carrying this yolk."

I gulp, drawing a deep breath before turning around to face him again. His kind, open, honest face greets me. Would this be the final time I watched him look upon me with affection?

"I understand my affliction at last - I am a Bhaalspawn."

My words are uttered like a death sentence directed towards myself, yet it is only met with silence and a creased brow. I speak again, to clarify in case he hadn't understood.

"The Lord of Murder compels me."

A glimmer of Halsin's wise depths shows in his eyes as he surveys me, weighing my words.

"You are a mortal child of Bhaal?"

"Yes."

"Be careful with whom you share that fact - I hear many of your kind have met premature ends."

I stare at him, dumbfounded.

"Is that all you have to say?"

Halsin stares back, equally confused.

"What else can I say? You are not an agent of darkness. You have proven stronger than your compulsion thus far. I trust you to ask for help, should you require it. So, again, what more can I say?"

I pause, staring at the lunatic in front of me.

How this man could hold the title of arch druid, assemble all of his life experience, and come to that conclusion is baffling.

"You're truly not afraid of me."

"You are peaceful, not harmless. Same holds true for many of Silvanus' creations. I respect your might, and I trust you won't harm me lest I disturb the beehive."

I let out a breathless laughter at his unabashed trust, which of course holds a nature metaphor as well.

"You might actually be more mad than I am!" I laugh, bringing my hands up to my face. Halsin smiles at that, shaking his head slightly.

"The very first time we met, you aided a bear not knowing if it would savage you. I've never questioned your madness."

"Well, I was kind of hoping on the bear savaging a few goblins." I say with a smirk, taking a step towards him with my hands folded behind my back.

"That, we certainly did."

When I'm close enough to touch, I tilt my head to lean it on his chest, allowing my body to follow and lean against him with all my weight. His arms come up to stroke down mine, leaving pleasurable, warm shivers in their wake.

"Can you keep watch of the duke for a while? I just need to rest my head." I ask, hugging him to me.

"Of course. Come find me, when you wake. Hopefully, the others will be back in a matter of hours."

For once, sleep comes easy. I rest heavily, dead to the world until a soft hand jostles my shoulder. The weight of dreams shackles my body to the bed as my bleary eyes gaze upon him.

"The Steel Watch has fallen. And Wyll ordered a feast."

Halsin's calm smile and reassuring presence slowly make me come to. His fingers caress my cheek, and I lean my head into his palm to feel more of it against me.

"Come, my love. Let's eat."

His arm around my shoulders is so very nice as he helps me sit up, guiding me out of bed and into the lounge to our set-up dining table. Just like he had spoken, everyone is gathered, happy, and tired, and proud.

"Edienna! Did you hear the news? The Steel Watch is no more!"

Shadowheart's overt joy and lax expression are most likely accredited to the Amnian dessert wine, but her joy is shared nonetheless. The sweet red is fitting, I suppose.

Halsin leads me to an open seat, putting his hands on my shoulders to push me to sit before taking a seat next to me. I accept the offered bowl of chelo khoresh gratefully, taking a wine glass from the table to slake my thirst.

My bleary eyes slowly clear as sleep's clutches release me. I eat while the others chatter, leaning into Halsin and enjoying his figure against mine.

"Glad to have the metal fuckers off the street. And to have you here, of course." Karlach says in her chipper tone, lifting her head to the end of the table. I finally take note of the duke, sitting quietly at the seat of honor. The food in front of him is untouched, his slouched head lifting only at her comment.

His gaze sweeps over us, catching on Wyll. I feel my companion freeze, the warlock ceasing to breathe as his father's gaze rests upon him.

"Gods, it pains me to look at you. By Balduran's graces, why have the Hells ordained you to save me?"

I take to anger like a duck to water, and even in my tired state it's quick to rear its head.

"Have a heart - your son is a hero. He saved lives today, including your own."

"By every last hell, son. I... nngh... my head..."
Ulder squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his hands against his face as he rests his elbows on the table. All the healing spells in the world can't provide what his body needs: time to rest.

"First you cleave my heart in twain. Now you shatter it into pieces. My son a monster, twisted almost beyond recognition. To think my blood flows through those veins. Is this my fate - to be freed from Gortash's hell only to be
trapped in yours?"

Wyll's sorrow is tangible as he shrinks beneath the weight of his father's judgment.

"It isn't what you think. It never was-" He tries, but his words die out as his father hears none of it.

"You turned your back on me, on your city, to chase the she-devil and her power. She stinks up this place even now. It is exactly what I think."

Halsin's grip on me stops me from flying up from the table. I vibrate with fury at Ulder's unjustified condemnation, and my parasite lashes out with anger propelling it forward.

I call on the parasite, connecting father and son. Ulder should know the truth. His tadpole clenches as my memories - and Wyll's - flow into him.

Mizora, and her infernal sisters. The agony in Wyll's face as an impossible choice is set before him.

"No. My son-"

The past becomes present, and Wyll's thoughts are laid bare. Ulder sees Wyll partnering with Mizora to defeat Tiamat's cultists before they could lay siege to Baldur's Gate.

He sees himself through the eyes of his crying son, not yet an adult. He sees his imposing stature as Wyll falls to his feet and begs for mercy, to not be cast out.

He sees everything beyond. The nautiloid journey, the perilous path to Moonrise, the Astral Prism, and the Emperor within.

He sees it all.

"Wyll."

I fear I have overstepped, but as I look to my companion, all I can see in his eyes is relief. The tears that brim slowly spill as his father finally looks upon him with understanding.

"Everything I did, I did for Baldur's Gate. I did for you."

"My son, you sold your soul to save Baldur's Gate - and I cast you out for it. You gave yourself to the Hells' eternal fires so I might walk free. By the gods, can you ever forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive. You wanted to protect the city. I only ever wanted the same." Wyll cries. His father slowly rises, walking toward his son and falling to his knees at Wyll's side.

"You are a better man than most, and a better son than I deserve. I am not worthy of being called your father."

Wyll falls to his knees beside him, embracing him. For the first time in seven years, he is home. All is as it should be.

"You are worthy. You are my hero, father."

"Is he who rejects his own child a hero? What of he who calls his brave son a monster?"

Wyll cries silently against him, and to all of our surprise, Ulder fells a tear as his arms envelop his son. Their reunion has finally come, and after minutes of holding each other, they slowly rise.

Father and son, together at last.

"Well, fuck. I'm not accustomed to toasting with finer folk, but I believe this deserves the raising of our glasses!"

Karlach stands, almost pushing the table back as she holds up her glass.

"To the Ravengard's!"

"To the Ravengard's!"

The dessert that follows is jovial as the wine flows and treacle tart is shared. I can't suppress my smile at Halsin's content humm when he licks the sugary sweet breadcrumbs off his fingers, relishing in his joy.

The wine gets the best of Shadowheart, who leans heavily on our resident gith who feigns disgruntlement but caringly steadies her when she's about to slip. Gale regales Ulder with tales of our travels, only embellishing them slightly for entertainment. Astarion takes it upon himself to add more flourish and glamor to our adventures, making them sound less harrowing and more like that of a storybook.

Ulder nods and smiles, eating a little as he listens. Wyll stays close to his side, and when the duke announces he must rest, he leads his father back to his accommodations before returning to the table.

"All in all, a splendid day!" Gale announces, earning a huff from Astarion who had, in fact, broken a nail.

Conversation picks up again, a pleasant humm in the background as I rest against Halsin's chest. He plants a soft kiss on the top of my ear, making me smile.

"Do you want to tell them?" He whispers, and I see Astarion's ears perk at the far end of the table. Damned vamp.

"Tell us what? You're not with child, are you?"

I snort, abolishing the absurd idea.

"Of course not, twat."

I huff and sit up properly, the comment having directed everyone's attention to me. Lying, or directing them elsewhere, would be unfair. More than that, it could jeopardize their trust in me wholly.

"I have discovered the cause of my affliction." I start, looking around the table. "I am a Bhaalspawn."

"Hells - it explains so much." Wyll breathes, his whisper filling the silent room.

"That's a heavy weight. I know you can carry it, but it's heavy all the same." Karlach states, nodding slowly as she speaks.

"I knew another like you - Gorion's Ward, one of Baldur's Gate's great heroes. Bhaal's blood ran through their veins too. They chose courage, they chose honour - and so can you."

"Yes, Wyll! Tell her!" Shadowheart slurs, agreeing with the warlock.

The astonishing agreement that surrounds the table only ascertains itself when Karlach speaks further.

"You are so much more than your parents; you're more than the affliction that wants to consume you. You are my friend. Our friend. And you get to choose your destiny. Choose well, all right?"

"I will." I respond, holding her gaze and nodding before looking over my companions one by one. Compassion, a bit of caution perhaps, but no fear. "I will honor your trust. Even though you may be mad."

"Oh, but what is madness, friend? I say, we already bested one god of death. Why not another?" Gale toasts, bringing a round of laughter to the table.

Yes, why not?

Come to think of it, why not best another god?

Chapter Text

"There is an admirable harmony to the Society of Brilliance. Beings of all sorts, united in the pursuit of intellect..."

Yes, the building certainly had a... hmm, a different feel to it.

It's very central, yet easy to miss, and the plain stone facade doesn't reveal the abundance of knowledge within. As we make our way across the threshold, I can practically see Gale salivate at the lines of books with titles such as "The Pronunciation of Common for Monstrous Species: A Guide for Pedagogues".

Alas, books were not our primary objective.

"A bit central for a mindflayer, don't you think?" Shadowheart questions in a low voice as we survey the room.

"Only one way to find out." I murmur back, taking a step forward toward the duergar by the front desk. "Hi! We're friends of Omeluum. We were supposed to meet here."

"Oh, you must be the friends from the Underdark! Blurg has told us all about you, and how you engaged with their research regarding spores there! It's an honor - nay, a privilege! - to have you here! Blurg and Omeluum are just upstairs, to the left."

I nod in thanks, leading the charge upward and into a small library. Omeluum is conjuring and rearranging glowing signs in the air, but their meaning is unknown to me.

I've barely made it through the door before the hobgoblin has grasped my hand in both of his.

"Omeluum tells me I have you to thank for its safe return. Thank you, sincerely. We know the risks when we go out into the field, but to lose my friend in such a way would have been most disheartening."

"Bravery is no bad thing. In fact, your research could be invaluable for my cause. It's very good to see you again - both of you." I highlight, turning my gaze on the mindflayer.

"It is... pleasurable to see you. Your intervention within the cult's underwater complex was a timely one. I am glad my carelessness did not cost the life of Duke Ravengard. That you also saved me was unexpected." It thinks into my mind.

"Why were you down there in the first place?

"My meeting with you led me to a most unsettling conclusion. That my kind had begun to exert influence through this 'Cult of the Absolute.' I felt illithid interference would not be conducive to this plane's survival. I sought out other infected individuals to ascertain the truth of my hypothesis.

Unfortunately, I strayed too close. I was captured and transported to the prison in which you found me. There I saw Gortash and his followers inflict cruelties far beyond any I witnessed in the Underdark. I am grateful to have been spared such a merciless fate."

"I would never have left you behind. I rather like you." I smile, watching it process my statement before responding.

"I too feel some... warmth, at your presence.
Your inclination to generosity is an admirable quality. One I wish to reciprocate. Blurg and I have consulted on the matter of your reward. We first thought to ask the denizens of the Underdark for their aid in fighting the cult.
Alas, our influence there remains negligible. Instead, we have selected a series of items from the Society's vaults."

Blurg holds out a leather pouch toward me expectantly. I hold up my hand, stopping him.

"I didn't do it for a reward. Unless that pouch holds a netherstone, I'd much rather you keep it and share the fruits of your labor once they ripen. Again, your research could prove vital to our cause."

Omeluum pauses, looking at Blurg as the two communicate silently. Soon, the pouch is lowered.

"I owe you a great debt, sun child - one I shall repay. I will offer you what aid I can against this evil."

"Thank you. It is an honor, friend."

"Yes. Friend."

Omeluum turns away at that, floating past with its hands held behind its back. We exchange a few wares with Blurg, receiving a very fair price, before taking our leave.

I'm still trying to tie the coin purse to my belt when we exit, struggling with the knots that my hands refused to get good at, when a hand taps my shoulder.

"Is that Jaheira? What the devil is that old Harper doing here?"

Astarion's words are accompanied by a pointed hand leading to the large house across the road, and the figure heading toward it.

"Well, let's go say hi." I smile, earning myself a disappointed frown from the vampire who hoped to avoid any unnecessary pleasantries.

We catch up to Jaheira right before she reaches the stairs, drawing her attention away from the child practicing sword fighting with a dummy atop the steps.

"We meet again, Harper." I greet with a smile, catching as suspicion evaporates the moment she recognizes us.

"Ah, the purple one. And, all the rest."

Her dry greeting is delivered with a sweeping look over the cluster of companions behind me, her gaze rising to greet Halsin properly.

"Silvanus blessing upon you."

"Oak Father preserve you."

Silence befalls the group for a moment as the town continues to bustle around us.

"Well, this has been pleasant, but I must be going." She announces, clapping her hands and turning to walk up the house.

"Wait, Jaheira! We haven't seen you since Moonrise. What are you doing here?" Karlach asks, reaching for her hero. At the same moment, the child stop the stairs notices the small gathering beneath and draws a breath.

"The commander is home!" She shouts, running inside.

"Oh, is it a Harper property?"

Karlach bounces on her feet as she looks up at the house, buzzing with excitement.

"Not if I have any say in the matter." Jaheira grumbles, shaking her head before gesturing toward the house. "Well? You're gonna go in regardless. Might as well follow you."

Karlach squeals and makes an excited little jump before bounding up the stairs, tightly followed by Wyll. I hang back a bit, staying by Halsin's side as he patiently waits for everyone else to squeeze through the door before entering himself.

The house is large, but homely, with plants sprawling about the place. An adult elf and her half-orch brother face us as we enter, standing next to the child.

"Oh, Malar's mark. Here we go." Jaheira mutters as the woman puts her hands on her hips.

"Are we quite sure she hasn't actually died this time, brother? She looks dead."

"Smells it, too." The half-orch agrees.

"It has been a hard road. But I can clip you both around the ear to prove I am no ghost, if it would help?" Jaheira quips back.

"Forgive us, mother. We're just surprised you still know how to find your way home." The elf responds sarcastically, sneering at Jaheira before turning to us. "A Sending spell can carry twenty-five words. Do you know how many Jaheira's only message contained, in all this time she's been away? Seven."

"Only seven? That's cold, Jaheira." Astarion chuckles, leaning casually against the wall as he watches the events unfold with glee.

"The cleric who cast the Sending was wounded. Should I have sobbed on her shoulder?"

"The message went: 'I'm sorry. You know what to do.'"

"So why haven't you done it? You were supposed to get the young ones out of
the city!"

"And you were supposed to be dead! That's what your oh-so-stoic message meant, yes?
Yet here you are. So - what happened out there?"

"I got my skin saved by this one." Jaheira states, gesturing towards me. Unfairly so, seeing as it was no solo feat. "We've come to take the fight to the cult - which is exactly why you all cannot be here."

"Why? You plan on winning, don't you?" The daughter questions, turning towards me. "You're the one who saved her, so tell me - are we all doomed?"

"Not in this lifetime."

If death should claim me, I was certain I'd have more than a few sins to answer for. Which god would ever want to claim me? Best not to die yet.

"See, mother? A little positivity."

"You are a very irritating girl."

"Ah-ah. This isn't your house, remember? You'll keep a civil tongue under our roof, if we let you stay at all."

"Have mercy, sister. She's old, after all." The half-orch chimes in, placing a placating hand on the half-elf's shoulder.

"So old." The child pipes in, making Jaheira roll her eyes. "She can stay - but only if she brought home presents."

The daughter in charge sighs but relents.

"Seems I'm out-voted. See, mother - that is how you go about talking things through with your family. Now if there's more to discuss, then bloody well come in. And wipe your boots."

With a 'pah!', Jaheira wanders off to do... whatever it was that one did after returning to your home, having neglected your children and making them believe you were dead.

It's all very... odd.

"You know, I never dreamed our noble Jaheira would be such a terrible, terrible mother. It's nice to see heroes are as awful as the rest of us." Astarion chirps, looking like the cat who got the cream as he slips off to discover what untold secrets the old Harper might be harboring.

Most of our party spread out, talking with one of the many children, or following Jaheira into her office. Halsin, curiously, remains by the entryway to the kitchen. And as he remains, so do I.

I shuffle closer, looking expectantly at him as if to prompt him to speak. He throws me a look, folding his hands behind his back and diverting his gaze.

"Jaheira's family is a credit to her - she is wise to keep them secret, safe." He mumbles.

"So that is why you stayed silent. You agree with her parenting."

"I was never afforded a chance to start a family of my own - serving nature always
had to come first. But if I was in her shoes, who's to say I would've done differently?"

I humm a non-specific answer, finding myself mirroring his body language.

"Would you have liked to?" I ask, keeping my voice low so our conversation can remain private.

"Hm?"

"Start a family?"

"Oh. I... yes, I would've liked that very much indeed. To make a child smile is to dabble with the power of gods, as far as I am concerned. And to care for and nurture a youngling, to watch their true nature unfold? I imagine it would've made me very happy."

He speaks of it with reverence, letting only a tinge of sadness come through the last sentence. "But the life I've lived has not been suited to fatherhood. I would never wish upon a child a parent who has to live the way I've had to."

"You're not tempted to settle down here, I assume?"

"The city, you mean? With all its noise, smoke, stone, and bustle? I would not be here at all, given the choice... but I promised you my support. And that is what you shall have."

Even with his vow, I can see the toll it's taking on him, being so far removed from all that he considered natural, good and pure. I can sense his conviction, and greedily drink in his words as he continues speaking.

"Still, though... this place crawls with life, but little of it flourishes. I see refugees, unhoused. The destitute, unwanted. Orphans, unloved. The city is like a forest with an overgrown canopy. Light and nourishment cannot penetrate to those who need it the most and still it draws them in. The safety of numbers. The promise of civilization. The dream of better." He muses, his gaze a million miles away. I seize the privilege of watching him, feeling my heart's embers light at his certitude.

"All that potential is too often destined to die in the dark, and rot in the gutter. I wish... I wish there was a better way. I wish everyone could see the sun, have a full belly, and know nature as a friend. There is a balance that is yet to be found." He gestures in front of himself, hands grasping at the air as if he could catch the ideas and bottle them, make them come to fruition by railing them in. It's his gesturing that draws his eyes to my face and the inlaid smile there.

"Listen to me, preaching like an initiate in his cups." He chuckles abashed, shaking his head and breaking our gaze.

"Do not be ashamed. It is a fine dream. Perhaps you can help find that balance."

His eyes flit to mine, and my breath escapes me at the desire I find within them.

"That is certainly a thought to hold onto."

Halsin angels his body toward mine, throwing a look across the room. Most of our companions had gone on their own excursion, anyway.

"What would you say to retiring early today?"

"I thought you'd never ask." I smile, feeling the arousal stir within. Halsin nods, mirroring my smile before turning toward the door. I have the mind to grasp Lae'zel and announce our departure before leaving, as to not cause future alarm. The gith gives a curt nod, not bothering to ask why, or where we were going.

Perhaps she suspected it. Perhaps she didn't care.

The duke is asleep as we enter our floor at the Elfsong, his door shut behind him. The man needed plenty of rest, which in this particular case served us perfectly as we are left free to stumble into the room we'd slept in the night before, trying to kiss over the bulky armor.

"This is ridiculous." Halsin groans as he's forced to let go of me when my armor pokes him, tearing his mouth from mine.

The uncharacteristic giggle that escapes me makes me do a double take, but it's soon forgotten when his eager hands try to remove my breastplate. I quickly move to remove his, only for us to get stuck in the process.

"You take off yours and I'll take off mine?" I suggest, earning a repeated nod as he lifts his breastplate over his head. The scrambling sound of metal hitting the floor fills the room with its clinking for a minute before his body is finally on mine again.

Halsin's quarterstaff bumps against a bookcase, tearing down its contents and making us both pause in laughter. I pat his shoulder, urging him to to twist so I may remove it. With it follows the sheathed daggers in his belt, before mine are subsequently removed by him as well.

"All our enemies would need to succeed is a magnet." I joke as he tosses the fifth blade away, smiling while disarming me.

"A very druidic way of thinking, my love."

"Oh, is it? Perhaps you're rubbing off on me." I smirk, fully intending the innuendo as he takes a knee to unlace my boots.

"I could imagine you as a druid yet. Wildshape can be most useful. And comfortable, I should add."

"And what kind of animal do you think I'd be?"

"Hmm, a feline of some sort. What do you think?"

"I'd say no animal would suit me quite as well as the bear suits you. But yes, a crag cat could fit me, I suppose."

Halsin rises to his feet, towering over me. His adoring eyes take my breath away as his hands plant themselves on my hips and our lips meet once again.

"May I undress you?" He whispers in between the kisses, making me smile against his lips.

"Only if I may be afforded the same privilege."

It's not long before I've wrangled his leathers off, leaving him in only briefs, just as he's left me with just my undergarments. The need to kiss him is overshadowed by the want to drink him in, to run my hands over his exposed skin and memorize every dip and crevice of his chest.

"Nature truly used all of its powers when it sculpted you."

Halsin's hands run over my bare skin. The enigma of his hands, so gentle yet hardened from years of work, is a unique sensation.
His torso is scorching hot against mine when I press up against him, and his low moan of approval only makes my own fire burn hotter. I place a hand on his neck, urging him to bend down while reaching up to kiss him again, and he obliges.

Halsin's arms envelop me, holding me at first before testing the waters with their exploration. While my hand remains on his neck, the other on his sculpted chest, his feel up the sides of my body, squeezing my hips and the rounded swell of my bottom.

His breathing deepens and picks up when I moan into his mouth, trying to press up closer toward him. The problem is easily solved when his hands come beneath my thighs, lifting me up and aligning our sexes.

"Have I told you how much I love your size?" I pant, kissing him ardently while I cross my legs behind his back. Or tries to, at least. I barely reach.

Halsin hums against my lips, and I feel the corners of his mouth tugging.

"It has its uses."

Being held up gives me the added advantage I so rarely got, which was being at the same height as him. I can grab his head instead of grasping for it, run my hands through his hair and down his shoulders.

He kisses me deeper when I tug on his tresses, so naturally, I continue. The kiss turns impatient, and hungry. Our passions grow as he bites my lip, making me more ravenous for him as he plunderers my mouth.

"Bed-" I breathe, not having the time or air to get another word out before my back hits the soft bedspread on top of the mattress. Halsin rests on top of me, holding part of his weight on the arms planted on the sides of my head.

I not only loved his size - his weight was damn near enough to make my head spin. The hard,
sinuous muscle was one thing, but just the heaviness of him, the feel of him, stood on its own.

On one hand, it was complimentary that his body acted as an anchor to his strong morals. On the other, it made me feel something I so rarely encountered - vulnerability. He could move me around to his wishes, and with pure weight alone render me helpless if he wished. It was intoxicating, to know someone had the capacity of harming you, whilst trusting them fully not to.

When he uses that damned weight to grind against me I break our kiss with my desperate breath, feeling a bolt of pleasure run up my spine.

"My heart soars just to look upon you. What do you want?"

I bite my lip, relishing in the thrusting motion he's making. Oh, to feel him deep, to feel him bury himself and thrust would be fantastic.

"We should abstain, for now." I answer, my voice pitiful with complaint as the delicious motion continues. "I fear that if we do what we crave now, your dream of fatherhood may be realized a tad too soon."

Halsin groans at my admission, grinding against me and making wetness soak through my underwear.

"You will turn a man to madness with such language."

My breath stutters as he claims my mouth in another kiss, relishing in tasting me once again.

"I don't have any herbs to prevent it. It would be a bad idea." I groan.

"A horrible, horrible idea." He echoes, grinding still and emitting a low moan.

There could scarcely be a worse time for motherhood than during a world-ending event that went hand in hand with my own personal crisis. The ethics of procreating as a Bhallspawn were also to be considered, along with the deep, inexplainable anxiety that gripped my heart when I pondered the thought.

Nevertheless, teasing him with it could prove to be fun. Driving him mad with lust seemed a very promising prospect.

Feeling his naked skin against mine as he thrust against me was a pleasure in of itself, and his underwear didn't much cover his hardness the way his pants had.

"You're huge..." I moan, relishing as he sucks a mark below my jawline. "No wonder they called you 'Master Halsin'."

"No. Just Halsin, with you."

"Really? I thought it was quite sexy, master..."

His mouth claims mine in a ravishing kiss, sucking and engraving as his hips buck. Pleasure rushes over me as his hardness grinds just right, and my breath stutters as my body tenses.

"Ah, I- ah!"

Without preparation my body reacts as waves of pleasure wash over me, my orgasm catching me off guard. The wonder on Halsin's expression show his surprise as well as the flush spreads across my cheeks, and my wetness leaks through my underwear to coat more of him.

I open my mouth to speak, only to be kissed yet again.

"Let me care for you." I urge him between fervent kisses, his hips having gone still. I was adamant about being as generous of a lover as he was.

"To watch a woman flush with pleasure is one of nature's sweetest gifts. You need not give me anything more. But if it's truly your desire, I will not withhold it from you."

"I desire it. Voraciously, adamantly, eagerly..."

The sounds he release burns themselves into my memory. His thighs shaking on the sides of my head make it feel like the entire world trembles. And when his slick cock finally slides between my lips one final time, before he releases down my throat, I've never felt more honored to be on my knees.

Chapter Text

"This place is like some moist, unappealing maze. Can your nose guide us, Halsin?"

Shadowheart's question echoes against the valved walls of the sewers, filling the space around us.

"I fear not. The vapors in this alien cloaca are... most bizarre."

"Cloaca? Ugh, you could've just said 'tunnels', you know. I'm nauseous enough as it is."

A note on a now dead shapechanger had the district stench of the sewers, so we'd begrudgingly agreed to search the undercity for any traces of Bhaalist activity. Unfortunately, the search was tedious and smelly, the long tunnels stretching for miles upon miles until it was impossible to discern where in the city we actually were.

It wasn't just a sewer, though.

"This place seems ancient. It must predate everything on the surface. I wonder what it was like in its heyday."

The metal pipes were woven in between ancient stone walls, ornate valves blocking off the sewerage from flowing downward and forcing it to take other routes.

"A shame it's so dank and decayed down here - I suspect there's a wealth of history to be uncovered, if any could hold their breath long enough to find it." Gale remarks, eyes dancing over the high ceilings.

"There certainly is a strong ambience down here." Astarion responds.

"Ambiance? I wouldn't go that far-"

"I don't know if it's the bats or the decaying... well, everything, but it's quite homey."

Astarion's musings continue as he, Gale and Shadowheart chat away.

As often happened, Halsin soon falls back to the end of the group. I know he doesn't see himself as a leader, but preferring to herd us and protect us from behind is as much of a leadership position as the one Lae'zel had assumed at the front of the party.

My heart aches to be near him, and I soon find myself walking slowly as to let the others pass, falling back to walk next to him. He throws me a glance and a small smile when I take to his side, but the frown on his forehead remains.

"How are you faring?" I ask, keeping my voice low so as to not echo across the tunnels.

"This city troubles me... but I am here for you. I want to be by your side, and see this through."

The weight of responsibility lies heavy on his shoulders, and I feel a twinge of guilt. He'd been so free after leaving the grove, thinking it was 'too settled', only to travel to the greatest settlement along the Sword Coast and board at an inn with us.

"Are you still content at my side? This doesn't have to be your fight, and it's certainly not your typical habitat." I offer, cursing myself for giving him the opportunity to leave. He throws me a weak smile, one that departs a second after its inception.

"I will not lie and tell you I'm comfortable. But you have aided me in ridding nature's plight, so I shall see to assisting you in your charge. We shall vanquish this illithid blight, and watch the healing unfold."

I don't know whether to feel grateful or slighted at his reluctant support. Then again, hadn't I felt the same over entering the shadow curse?

"So long as I am surviving, and I have you by my side, I am faring as well as anyone can be." He adds when I remain silent, reaching for my hand to squeeze if affectionately. His touch brightens my mood, lifting it even within the current surroundings.

"You've seen my home, at least. Not that I remember much of it." I mumble, squeezing his hand back.

"Yes, I suppose I have."

The deep creases that marr his forehead return with another sigh.

"I have thought a lot about your opinion on my leadership."

"Oh? And what have you found?"

"For a while, after the shadow curse was lifted, I felt hope in a way that I hadn't felt in years. I thought that nature would heal, and balance between it and civilization could be restored, once and for all..."

"Perhaps it still will. You just need to give it time - the curse has barely had time to evaporate."

"That may be true. Yet, since we reached the city, I have seen more and more signs that I was being naive. I had hoped there might be a greater sense of balance within the Gate - that its walls might enable sheltering within it to foster community, peace... yet it is not so.

Unnatural steel beings patrolled the streets, the printed word sows discontent, and those in need are treated with disdain. Is this truly what progress looks like? Sometimes it is difficult to see exactly what we are fighting to save here. Sometimes the Shadow Druids' desire to separate nature from all this seems pragmatic, not fanatical..."

"I don't think you truly feel that way. The Shadow Druids peddle easy answers to sow division - you are far too wise to fall for their lies. You have always believed in balance."

"I still do... but at times like this, it can feel like an impossible dream. I was harsh on myself before - on my leadership of the Grove, the decisions I made... perhaps too harsh, considering this place."

He doesn't speak the words, and I'm not sure he realizes the extent of his sorrow.

Those left behind, those downtrodden, were not just victims of the city - they became victims of me. They were the hunting grounds for the deranged, the power-hungry, and the cruel. They were my hunting ground.

"The city isn't perfect, but neither is nature. It's dangerous to idealize one thing at the expense of another." I feel compelled to defend my cruelty, an ashamed need to not be the sole predator in this world of suffering.

The Grove had been far from peaceful, and nature was unforgiving in the wilds. Baldur's Gate offered far more predators beyond myself.

"You are right, of course. But such... drastic times can make it difficult to preserve nuance in one's thinking. Further reflection is needed. But that must wait for now - there are battles yet to be fought. We must save the world before we can dream of ways to better it."

I nod, squeezing his hand in mine and sending him a brief smile. I dared not dream of a future yet - the road ahead of me was shrouded in red, and I could not see past its cloaking warmth.

"I shall await your reflections most eagerly, my heart."

Halsin smiles back, and I relish the softness of his gaze. He continues in a lower tone, rationalizing his beliefs with less emotional fervor.

"Societies should be judged based on how they treat their most vulnerable. Baldur's Gate may deserve harsh judgment, from what I've seen so far."

I nod silently, biting my lips. I dread the day he understands the extent of my crimes.

"What do you think could be done to help?" I ask instead, steering his thoughts away from my sins.

"I wish I knew, truly... A problem for another day, perhaps. I just hope there is another day. But there are many orphans out there..."

His sentence is interrupted by a clang sounding from down a smaller corridor, drawing the attention of the two of us as the rest of the party ventures forward.

It's probably a rat, but when did 'probably' ever calm anyone?

Without a word I connect my tadpole to the group, gesturing for Halsin to follow me as they continue speaking and walking as if nothing was amiss. I've alerted them, and in turn asked them to not alert whomever could be responsible for the sound.

The small corridor I walk down is collapsed around a large metal pipe, closing off the sun entirely and making my footsteps seem like that of the group's with the way the echo bounces. It barely takes a minute to reach the end of the pipe, coming into a rocky crevice of what looks to be a razed basement. The low glow of my sword casts a shadow over the stones, and it's only the vague ray that allows me to spot a twitch in the corner of my eye.

In one motion I've drawn my sword and spun, cornering the moving figure against the wall. It screeches and presses its back against the stone, my sword's edge to its throat.

"Master, oh Master!"

My heart falls as the voice of the butler reaches my ears, and those beady eyes look upon me with adoration.

"You're following me now?"

"Only watching, Master! Your Father will be most delighted you're finding your way home."

Home? The temple from the vision?

"Who are you?"

"Ah, I should not fault you for misplacing my name. After all, so much has been taken from my Lady. I am Sceleritas Fel: Butler of Bhaal. I live to die, and die to serve."

The butler, Sceritas, is positively beaming with pride as he bows. I can't tell if he's disappointed or not that I move my sword so as to not let him be impaled.

"If Bhaal is my father, who was my mother?"

"Oh Master, your birth was a miracle! Bhaal gave out all of his seed long ago, in the time of Sarevok. Bhaal conceived you from a place beyond mortality. Your birth, your creation... your Father tended to you with love, sculpted you from a drop of his own gore. No Bhaalspawn has ever borne the Urge, the holy guarantee of murder. It was woven into your blood alone. But you have yet only fulfilled a fraction of your blood's dark promise. It takes more than birth-blood alone to become a consecrated killer."

He speaks as if lecturing a student, waving his finger at me as if he had spoken something truly clever whilst laying out my killing fate. Opposition burns within me, searching maniacally for something to prove his belief in me to be misplaced.

"I fell from position at Bhaal's helm before, right? That's how I ended up like this, with no memories and a tadpole in my skull. Why would he still want me to be his Chosen?"

"You may not recall all the wrong you wrought at the Temple, but one matter is undeniable: you belong to Bhaal. He manifests within you. You are a truer vessel of his cruelty than even the Slayer could be."

"I am not the Slayer." I hiss, watching him jump with fear and excitement.

"Oh, not yet Master! The thwarted dream of two centuries ago - for Lord Bhaal to walk the planes again - you are the one that can revive that dream! While Bhaal receives tribute through your sister, He lives again through you!"

My labored breaths fill the small space, the tight grip I hold on my fury only kept together by the innate fear of Sceleritas words. He looks expectantly at me, awaiting an answer. When one doesn't come and Halsin decides to speak, Sceleritas jolts as if he'd missed the presence of the looming elf.

"You said she's 'finding her way home'. We thought the temple belonged to Orin, the red woman from Moonrise."

His comment awakens prudent ire within Sceleritas, who bares his teeth at the large druid.

"How dare you so much as whisper the name of that serf, that watery-blooded peasant who pretends to bear the Lord's name? My lady-" he sneers at Halsin whilst gesturing at me, "is special, ingrate, and you should consider yourself the luckiest wretch in the realms to travel with her!"

"You will treat Halsin with respect." I command, watching as the delighted fear Sceleritas reveled in returns as his attention snaps back to me. His demeanor changes within a moment, turning from indignation to subservience.

"Of course, Master! Forgive me! Is he your breeding mate?"

"My what?"

"We always need to sire more Bhaalspawn, Master! If this one isn't up to the task, we may need to find you a new breeding mate. Or ten."

I feel sick to my stomach, my sword tilting downward as he speaks. Memories prickle at the edges of my mind, slowly coming into vision.

"Have I had children? Before?"

"Of course, Master! Your son was an excellent offering to Lord Bhaal."

"Oh gods..."

My hand quivers and the sword drops, clanging coldly against the ground. I stagger, bracing myself on the wall, grasping at the wet stone to stay upright as the world spins. Sound tunes out around me, making my voice seem detached as my words fill the darkness.

"What was his name?"

"Do you not remember, Master? You whispered it so sweetly as you carved a hole into his heart."

I don't remember, I don't remember, I don't remember...

And then, I do.

Samyte.

Named after the legendary murder of the king of Tethyr.

He had only been four.

We had waited, waited for him to grow. To struggle. To learn. To become an offering.

He had black hair, just like mine. But his eyes had been blue.

Sour bile fills my mouth as nausea overtakes me and I vomit against the wall. My throat burns and my chest contracts as I heave, caving under the onslaught of memories returned.

His smile.

I remember his smile.

Tears run down my face and I feel myself hyperventilating, gasping for air as my body trembles. I'm cold and feverish, spinning and stuck all at once.

A heavy arm around my shoulders turns me from the wall, holding me close. Halsin's heat is excruciating, melting and horrible.

"Are you not well, Master? Have you fallen ill?"

My heaving chest and desperate tears worry him. Sceleritas, who carelessly uplifted a mother who murdered her own son, now worried for the mother's wellbeing.

"Why make her do that, if you need more Bhaalspawn?" Halsin rumbles, the strain on his voice palpable.

"To become Bhaal's Chosen, of course. Master did not want to carry any more children after, murdering me incessantly whenever I reminded her of her duties."

I hear him ask further, more questions flowing, but the words drown in the ringing of my ears.

I had a son.

I had a son.

I had a son.

"Who was his father?" I whisper against Halsin's chest when the ringing finally stops.

"An unimportant, but virile man. I scouted the taverns for a good, strong breeding mate and let you have your pick. I can't quite recall his name, but his screams were the sweetest music when you turned on him."

"Why? Why did I do it?"

"For Lord Bhaal, same as all else you did. You are the only one fit to continue his lineage, and so you did."

A father, dead by my hand. Was he a worshipper too? Was he oblivious? Did he know of his son before he passed? Did he have a grave?

"Was it the worst thing I ever did?" I ask, needing to know it ended here. Needing to know I only slaughtered one family of my own.

"There was one time you gave a beggar some coin while we were en route to the Devil's Fee.
You didn't kick him or spit on him or anything! I was so shocked I almost fainted! I still have nightmares about it to this day. But I'm sure you only did so to lower the suspicions of the Flaming Fist. Surely?"

With tears clouding my vision I grasp for my dagger, tearing myself from Halsin's chest as I lunge for Sceleritas. His shock is brief, as is the weak sound from his lips as my dagger embeds itself into his heart.

"Master..." He sighs happily, grasping the shaft of the blade. His face contorts as a trickle of blood runs down his chin, a wet gurgling noise sounding from his throat. I see the life drain from his eyes, getting caught in the emotion within them:

Love.

Chapter Text

The sheets around me itch. They are too warm. Too comfortable. And I am too undeserving.

I barely remember walking back. I think I might've been carried part of the way.

I remember Shadowheart's soft hands helping me undress in the cramped bedroom at the Elfsong. Her silent tenderness as she moved me and clothed me for sleep, washing the blood off of my hands with a sponge before laying me down on the bed. The tips of her fingers on my eyelids, a muttered incantation putting me to sleep.

But no magic in the world could erase him from my dreams, now that I'd discovered him anew.

Samyte.

I had a son.

I had him, and I ruined him. Raised him like a pig for slaughter. A lamb, to be offered on my Father's altar. A son, the light of my life, extinguished by my own hand as to not outshine a God.

I remember it. The doubt. How he had slowly become more precious, more important to me than my father. How it terrified me, that something, someone, could matter more to me than my purpose.

More than Bhaal.

Samyte had threatened every certainty with his light. My own personal sun, illuminating the vile temple and my actions within. Casting light over my sin, and the cruelty of his lineage.

Nothing had been as pure as his love for me, for it had been unconditional. I was simply his mother, not an instrument to cause carnage on the world.

I was just his.

My muddled mind aches and throbs as I fight through the fog for more pieces of him, but they have all been lost. Only bits and pieces return, and they would be wholly unimportant if they weren't also all I had.

He liked blueberries better than strawberries.

He was only four.

He had been so excited for the ritual, because I told him to be. It was very important to mommy, so it was important to Sammy. His warm little body had rested on my chest the very night before as he slept, pressing down on my aching heart.

I remember his clammy, cushioned little hand in mine as we walked into the temple, onto the platform holding the altar. The onlookers were many, and he got shy. But he had promised to be a good boy, and to recite the names of mommy's blades if he got nervous.

Oh gods.

I can't sleep long. Every time I close my eyes visions of him return.

His soft little clothes. His pride over killing a rat that made it into the temple. His complaints when I disappeared at night to stalk the streets, because he wanted me to read him bedtime stories and stay with him instead.

My fear, when I too longed to be at his side rather than Bhaal's.

I'm frozen in place, petrified beneath the blankets. My body shivers and shakes, warm as a furnace yet breaking out in cold sweat. My mouth is dry, and my eyes itch when I can't cry anymore.

Occasionally there is a sound outside of the door. It comes and goes, but it never enters.

I feel myself go numb.

My body aches distantly. I cannot tell if it's thirst, hunger, or something else. When the familiar urge to kill resurfaces I clench my fists, fighting to keep the gall down.

Hours pass. Maybe days too. I don't know.

The numbness spreads.

The sound of the creaking door makes me wince, the noise loud in the otherwise silent room. I stare at the wall in front of me, keeping my back to whoever entered.

With a creak the door closes, and I'm alone again. At least for a moment, before my wrongful conclusion proves itself as steps sound across the floorboards.

Even without turning, I know his body. The feel of him, the size of him, the weight of him, as he takes a seat on the bed, making it dip.

He doesn't speak. He doesn't touch. He only waits.

Breathing is hard again.

If he has any mercy, he will let me die.

Numb was better.

"Whatever is between us, we need to end it."

My voice barely carries, breaking from disuse at first. I feel Halsin shift, see him try to read my expression in my peripheral as he leans over my curled body.

"And why is that?"

"I'm a murderer."

"No more today than you were yesterday."

"Do not trivialize my sins."

The sorrow and anger make my voice swell. Halsin sighs deeply.

"I will not pretend to know your anguish. But to know that you feel it, that you regret it-"

"He's dead. By my hand."

Halsin's hand on my back is warm, heavy.

Nauseating.

Curse him! A flare of anger burns in my chest as his presence forces me to feel once more. I desperately cling to the numbness, chasing the anger as it evaporates. All that's left is desolation.

Numb was better.

Halsin doesn't speak, and neither do I. As the minutes pass. I wait for him to leave. To get up and close the door, once and for all.

"A mother who did not care would not grieve like this."

I killed him.

I killed him.

I killed him.

"I wish your sins could be undone. But the sins of the life you led before are not the sins of your current life."

It does not matter. I killed him.

"If it is truly your desire to be with me no more, then I shall respect it. No matter how much I wish it was not the case."

"How can you say that? I killed my own son. His blood is on my hands."

"Yes, it is."

"It's on my hands. It's on my hands. It's on my hands..." I breathe, shaking harder and harder as tears overwhelm me again. I wail and scream, curling into myself as the pain grows unbearable.

Halsin's hard body crowds the bed as his front is pressed against my back, caging me in against the wall. When I start to claw at my hands, he firmly grasps my wrists and locks them to my chest. He holds me close, curling around me and keeping me contained as my soul tries to scatter.

I cry, and cry, and cry. I cry a river, I cry every drop there is. I drain my body, drying on the shore of my sorrows, blind to the passing of time as I succumb to it.

Darkness covets me, after many, many hours. My body can't fight it when sleep claims me, my dreams producing wave after wave of images of Sam.

My son.

The hours pass.

•••

It's warm, and dark again. The dreams and the world are one and the same. The only difference is Halsin's body against mine.

The room is still. The street outside is quiet. The tavern below sleeping.

If I'm still enough, perhaps this can be it. No more. I can die, leaving this place behind, if only I don't move and let my body succumb.

Numb.

A finger strokes down my arm, painfully shattering the illusion. I whimper, curling in on myself.

"You have no duty to care for me. I am not your lover anymore." I whisper into the darkness, feeling as Halsin's chest expands against my back.

"Lover or not, I will remain by your side. As an ally, advisor, friend... in any way you desire, my heart."

I have no more tears left to cry. My eyes itch, but nothing comes.

"After all my years of living, I know all too well that nothing lasts forever. Yet a parting can sting, nonetheless. But that just means what we shared was precious, and will live on in my memory. Thank you - I am a richer man for having met you."

Foolish, foolish man. Sentimental, poetic fool. Wonderful, kind, empathetic, forgiving fool.

"I love you."

My words are whispered into the darkness, forcing the sting of tears back to my swollen throat.

Halsin's silence weighs on me. The stillness of the room, this cursed moment, torturous.

"As I love you."

My heart breaks again, his confession shattering me.

"I want to be with you. If you'll have me."

I am a weak, undeserving, cretin of a woman. For when he whispers to me, even in the pits of this darkness, even as the corners of my mind urge me to kill, I can't help but nod.

"You swear you'll kill me? If it comes to it." I whisper, keeping my voice low.

"You cannot ask that of me, my heart."

"Swear it. I cannot bear another's blood on my hands. You must swear it."

Minutes pass as he contemplates my stipulation.

"I will."

My relieved breath disgusts me. How foul wasn't I, to dare to take pleasure in selfish love when I robbed a child, my own child, of that experience?

The tension in my chest grows as my thoughts swirl, safeguarding a future still far out of reach.

"I cannot have more children. I will not."

"Okay."

"Will you be alright with that?"

"Always, my love."

I hold my response, giving him time to rescind his promise. As the seconds pass, and no revocation comes, I slowly relax.

Sleep claims me again.

•••

A creak outside the door wakes me much later, jolting me against Halsin's chest. The low mumble of voices outside reveals the dawn of a new day.

A day my son would never see.

Halsin stirs against me, yawning and stretching in the cramped cot. It's only now I notice the harsh leathers of his day clothes against my skin. He came to talk, and ended up holding me through the night instead.

The clinking of dishes and the smell of food filters in through the door. More voices join in.

"Did they hear?" I ask, keeping my voice low. Did they know of my son? Did they hear the butler? Did they know what had rendered me worthless?

"No."

Halsin's answer calms me, yet brings me shame. My companions did not know the extent of the monstrosity they were traveling with, and that comforted me. What a vile creature I was.

"You need to eat."

Halsin's plea barely faces me, but my body finds itself reminded of its hunger. It claws at my stomach, but I am too weak to move.

Numb was better.

"His name was Samyte."

Speaking his name is like blades to my lips, but the heavy weight on my chest eases to let me breathe.

"We will honor his memory."

Chapter Text

The dreams tear at me, flinging me between fear and bloodlust. I try to get away, to run, to heave and throw and fight, but I can't escape them.

Visions of faces, known and unknown, bleeding and crying and pleading and dying.

They crowd me, forcing me to cut to get away. I run and run, fleeing through unfamiliar streets and houses, my heart beating out of my chest. They're close, I can feel it, and I need to escape.

It is not my life I fear for - it's theirs. They follow me to their deaths, thinking they can change their fate, only to die by my hand.

Every cut, every severed hand, eases the fear within me. Cutting is easier than running, and they scream so sweet. My panic shifts into excitement, a giddy sort of joy, when I rip my blade from the belly of a father to plunge it into the heart of his son.

Then, the son turns into Samyte.

The desperate breath I draw as I finally escape the dream cuts through the silence of the snug bedroom. I jerk and heave myself into a sitting position, getting tangled in the sheets as I flail around.

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down! It's alright."

Halsin's hurried whispers are accompanied by strong arms lacing themselves around me from behind, holding my arms close to my body and caging me to him. He holds me, whispering words of reassurance until my heartbeat slowly calms and the tension of my muscles dissipates. With a kiss to the top of my head, he loosens his arms slightly to lay back down and draw me with him. He shuffles into the mattress, laying on his side and directing me to face him.

The bed is small. Too small for two. Halsin takes up two-thirds at least, crowding me against the wall. Even facing him, dreams linger, leaving their stain on my mind.

"Nightmare?" He asks, stroking a hand down the side of my face. I position myself on my side to mirror him, lying face to face. I feel like cowering under his gaze, feeling scrutinized from having all of his attention.

When I can't bring myself to answer, I swallow and nod.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head, nuzzling into his palm when he thinks to withdraw it from stroking down my cheek. He lets out a deep sigh, drawing his fingers across my skin again.

I've almost settled in the stillness when he speaks.

"Not all of your deeds have been in the service of evil. You have your oath."

If I wasn't exhausted, I might've rolled my eyes at him. If anyone was familiar with living in the past, it was Halsin.

"I'm a child of Bhaal - how could I ever have become a paladin?" I muse, letting a brief, desolate smile pull at my lips. The irony is palpable.

"Nobody belongs entirely to their bloodline. Even those fathered by a god. You chose a path, made a pledge, and Bhaal had no part in it. Your past may be shrouded, but through your oath, we know you were more than just his Chosen."

"So you're suggesting I murdered no innocents?"

"I'm certain you did. But perhaps you sought another way. Pledged your oath after..." He tapers off, not mentioning the name on both of our tongues. "It is what you do, not what you are, that determines your oath."

I bite my lip, contemplating his words. Materially, he was correct. In the utmost concrete sense, at least.

"Separating my actions from my impulses only serves to paint a deceitful image. It's... once Bhaal's favour has quickened within me, the bliss of his love is nigh-indescribable. It is a mindless, instinctual, primal sensation. The erotic spasms that wash over me in the moment of murder overshadow any other pleasure. Nothing can compare."

Ecstasy. My description of it, as if it was a salacious act, a drug, unsettles him. I can feel it, how he tenses against me. He understands me better, understands my sick, decrepit joy, and I can only wait for him to withdraw.

I risk a glance at him, getting caught in his eyes the moment I look up. His concern is apparent, as is his unwillingness to accept my words for truth.

"Bhaal designed it to be that way. For you to taste pleasure like a drug, only when doing his bidding. I do not, I cannot, believe it originates from within you. It is your Father that wills it so."

My pain only grows as he speaks, the conviction in his words slicing flesh from bone. My misery multiplies with each syllable, the desolation filling my chest as he finishes his defense of my character.

It was all a lie. Misguided attempts at salvaging my rotten core.

"How I wish for truth in your words." I whisper, attempting a smile before breaking eye contact. "You do not know what it is to be taken over by bloodlust, my love. You do not know."

I take his silence as agreement until he shuffles against me, his arm around me twitching as if stuck between trying to decide to stay or leave. Comfort escapes him, the tension palpable in his chest.

"Halsin?"

The silence in the room stretches, as does my worry when his sorrow grows. I watch as he shrinks before me, ducking his head to avoid my eyes. If my body wasn't wedged up against his chest, he would've had a much better position to shield himself.

He has finally understood my danger, I think, before he speaks and perplexes me.

"I wish for you to know me the way you have allowed me to gaze into your soul." His voice trembles as he speaks, the lines on his forehead and between his eyebrows deepening. I nod against him, urging him to go on. "There is another reason I felt responsible for the shadow curse, beyond what I revealed to you."

I perk up, pushing closer up against him as he threatens to close in on himself again. Pressed to his chest, he can't escape me.

Wrong of me, perhaps. But I cannot stop it, no more than he can stop the words flowing through his mouth. His confession has started, and it pours out of him, dragging itself over his lips.

"Over a century ago, the city of Reithwin opposed on nature in a way the Grove disapproved of. I was sent to meet with a representative of the prominent Thorm family."

"You met Ketheric before?"

"No. I met Isobel."

My confusion grows as I try to piece his guilt together, failing to do so.

"How do you describe events like these? An accident? A tragedy? The cruelty of fate?" He muses, voice heavy with pain. "I can't remember what happened with any clarity. We were negotiating. Words grew heated. Someone threw the first punch. It was mayhem."

"You were defending yourself." I immediately figure, seeing no other option.

"I... maybe. The one clear memory I hold is Isobel, staring at me, my glaive's blade buried in her stomach and shock in her eyes. I couldn't believe she wanted to hurt me. It was pure instinct - the heat of combat. At least that was what I told myself when it happened."

"She wanted to hurt you. You said so yourself." I protest, feeling indignant at his discarding of his own character.

"Do you truly believe that?" He asks me, locking eyes with me. The pain within him swirls, taking my breath away. "She and Ketheric were Selunites. They had just lost their mother, their wife. Isobel was in love with Dame Aylin. Your own urges called on you to return Isobel to her grave because her innocence made her the perfect victim. Can you truly believe she wanted to harm me?"

My thoughts stand still, not having any solution to offer or path to uphold. My silence becomes my answer, filling his eyes with tears before he speaks again.

"I washed the blood from my hands. My glaive was still there, coated in her blood, but something else felt different. There was a sickness in the blade. It seemed cursed, but by whom?" He sighs, shaking his head. "It is locked away now. I do not trust its power in the wrong hands. And I never want to see it again."

"Cursed? So you were cursed, then."

The muscles play under his taut skin as he diverts his gaze, not wanting to meet my eyes.

"It does not matter. Isobel is just as dead."

"Was just as dead."

"Precisely. In Ketheric, I see my errors made manifest. He did not fall - he was pushed. His grief was twisted by shadow, but none could deny my hand gave that grief shape."

Silence settles again in the wake of his admittance, allowing my thoughts to swirl. Someone cursed the blade - someone who wanted to attack the Selunite leadership of Reithwin. Were they intent on driving Ketheric toward Shar, or was it a happy byproduct of losing his family?

Shar must have cursed the blade. Surely, with her willing embrace of the patriarch, it must have been her doing.

It's after all my pondering that another sliver of realization pokes at my consciousness:
Halsin thought himself equally as guilty as myself.

I sit up swiftly, bracing myself on his reclined chest to twist and look at him from above.

"You are not tainted. Not like me." I growl, watching his surprise turn to resignation before me. I push my fingers into him harder, feeling my frustration grow. "I've killed thousands. I enjoyed it. You can't even remember your misdeed, having been cursed and taken over by bloodlust once."

"As opposed to you? You can barely recall your past. Speaking in thousands could be entirely fictional."

"It is not fiction. I killed them. I know it." I growl, affronted on his behalf. He was good. Is good. He is a life-bringer, a preserver, a custodian of life. How dare he lower himself to whatever wretched thing I was?

More than that, my victims deserved better than to be discarded as some part of my past. They were people, with their own lives and loved ones, that I'd ripped apart for my own enjoyment and in the service of Bhaal.

Even through my anger, a tiny whisper plays around the edges of my mind. A deeper, darker part of me felt robbed of recognition by the way he so nonchalantly waved off my actions.

As if my hands hadn't offered. As if my hands hadn't killed.

Halsin remains reclined, breathing calmly as he looks up at me. My fury doesn't frighten him, and his calm in turn lessens my anger. I fight to dislodge my hands, making an effort to not grip him as hard.

"You were under the lash of Bhaal. Without his plight, his... ecstasy, you would not have followed him."

"Following a God for my selfish enjoyment at the cost of others acquits me of guilt?"

"Of course not." He interjects, voice growing stern. "I am not trying to wash away your sins. But you cannot claim to look upon your past and not see glimpses of who you could have been. Who you are, today."

"Be that as it may, Isobel was but your mistake. Samyte was my doom. The two are not comparable. You were cursed. I willingly led my son to the altar."

Halsin's gaze leaves mine, his eyes falling to the end of the bed.

"I know you want to see good in me. And I-" I speak, my voice breaking as tears climb their way up my throat. "I truly wish it was there, for you are truly good, Halsin. I am unworthy of your love, and I claim it regardless, awaiting the day you tire of me, or realize you were wrong. I long to be the person you see, I simply am not."

Halsin's hazel eyes drink me in as he slowly braces himself on his arms, pushing himself up until our faces are leveled.

"Are you willing to be?"

A tear runs down my cheek and I look at him, not knowing what to say.

"You want to be good. I think not for me, but for yourself. You give yourself too little credit. I am but a... benefit, let's say. But you were not competing for my love when you forged your character over these past few months. You acted in your own interests. Struggling, and violent, and independent, and fighting for yourself. And look what you've managed to become."

I let my tears fall, feeling my heart tremble in my chest as he strokes them away from my cheeks.

"A broken woman?" I croak, looking to him.

"A promise of something better. You can be something better, because you will it."

Chapter Text

Will myself to be better.

The words had sown a seed within me, a seedling of determination slowly breaking through to prove Halsin right.

After days sheltered in bed, I had risen and cared for myself. Eating, drinking, conversing once more. The worried looks I'd garnered luckily hadn't invited any prying demands, but rather an expressed gratitude regarding my return.

I'd picked myself up and taken my place amongst my companions again. Every enemy cut down sent a spur of glee and a sickening resounding nausea, but I did it regardless. My mind plays tricks on me, the endless dark clouding my vision after the first day back of killing.

What was really the difference of killing for Bhaal and killing for another purpose? I didn't want to murder, didn't want the sickening joy the kills brought. Death was death, and I didn't want it either way - for Bhaal or anyone else.

On the second day, a Flaming Fist lunges for Gale, and I slice her clean through. In a panic I twist toward the wizard, praying I was quick enough. The echo of joy that accompanies the kill is almost muted compared to the relief of finding Gale alive and well. Bloodied, but well.

On the third day, I tell Halsin of the darkness I couldn't seem to fumble my way through. About the sense of meaninglessness. He holds me and kisses me, stroking my hair until I fall asleep.

On the fourth day, Karlach saves my skin with a swing of her axe. The urge within me screams as if robbed. Robbed of the kill, or robbed of my own death, I do not know.

On the fifth day, I kill unabashed. More than that - I accompany Astarion to the Szarr palace. The dream of personal betterment is snuffed out. Left is only darkness.

The vampire is not long for this world. Cazador is dead before dusk has fallen. A spark of desperation drive me to fight for Astarion's betterment and wellbeing still, even though I'd proven a lost cause.

"I should probably start getting used to the shadows again. Who knows how long I have left in the sun?" Astarion muses once we've returned to camp, and he's washed himself clean of the blood.

"You did the right thing, stopping the Black Mass. Cazador's ritual died with him, as it well should have." I reply, wiping the blood of my sword's hilt.

"I know. That doesn't mean it stings any less. Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom."

Astarion's somber expression speaks to the hurt and longing he felt for a life outside of the darkness. A life where he could be part of society's daily life, and not be bound to the night.

A different darkness than my own, but a darkness nonetheless.

He was strong, to be speaking of the matter only hours after the murder of his slaver. Leaving the chapel behind and returning to the Elfsong had done him good, especially after a few hours alone. Now, after dinner, his desolation had settled from a raging thing into something... different. Like a pelt of snow, heavy and weighing all the same, but spread out.

"I'll be with you either way. I hope you know that." I promise.

I don't think I'll be long for this world. I don't know how I know, where the certainty springs from. I only know I'll protect Astarion as long as I can.

"I think I do. Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you."

I huff a laugh, patting him on the shoulder before turning to leave.

"Edie! I... I wanted to thank you." He interrupts, grasping my wrist and making me turn back to him.

"For what?"

"Back at the ritual, all I could see was the power on offer and the safety it promised. I was so blinded by it. Just as Cazador was. But you saw something in me - someone else I could be. Someone who could break the cycle of power and terror that started centuries ago. You saved me back there. I may not have appreciated it at the time, but I do now. Thank you."

The naked honesty in his eyes and words moves me deeply.

In truth, I had been compelled to seal the spawn's fate. Astarion's fury, and the power the ritual promised, made it all the more appealing. My mouth had watered as I imagined holding Cazador down as Astarion carved the runes into his skin. And the deaths of not seven, but seven thousand?

I shuddered in pleasure at the mere thought.

I was barely of sound mind when I spoke with him. We were both lucky Karlach had grabbed my arm and moved me out of the way from a lunging necromite that wasn't as dead as we'd thought, for the distraction was the only thing that had allowed me to gather my wits and implore him to let the ritual die with his master.

"You saved yourself, I just gave you a push."

"You did more than that. You believed in me - believed I was enough just the way I am. When I look at my future, anything and everything feels possible now. You saved me from myself and let me walk a new path where I can be free. Truly, honestly free." Astarion draws a breath, diverting his eyes before echoing the very words he spoke the first time I allowed him to taste my blood. "This is a gift, you know. Thank you - I won't forget it."

My eloquence is far less impressive than that of most of my companions, Astarion especially. My pride, warmth and affection for him could birth a sonnet, if I knew how to write one.
Unfortunately, I don't. My hands were always more articulate than my tongue.

Astarion hesitates when I pull him into a hug, lacing my arms around his torso and resting my head on his chest. His breath stutters, and it takes a moment before his arms slowly envelop me and he sighs deeply.

He is cold, his body hard, yet the embrace is done with the utmost care. His breath fans out over the top of my head, making the hairs stand on end from the flash of coldness.
When we finally let go, and I take a step back, the vulnerability in his eyes has dried up a little. He's rebuilding himself, slowly, after being broken time and time again.

I could only hope to be along for the ride as he found who he wanted to become.

"It feels ridiculous to still be thinking about Cazador. He's gone, I'm here - I won. But I still keep reliving everything that happened. Playing it over and over in my mind."

"Do you think we did the right thing, freeing all those vampire spawn?"

"I have to hope so. And if not, at least there's only so much damage they can do in the Underdark."

I don't speak it aloud, but if the spawn could weed a bit among some of the noble drow houses down there, I don't think the world would be worse off for it.

"But that first rush of freedom can be intoxicating - I didn't always make the best decisions when I first tasted it." I smile at his abashed admission, remembering the multitude of choices he made simply because he could. "They'll need guidance."

"Are you volunteering for the job?"

"No, much as I'd like to become a lord ruling over the Underdark's vampire spawn, we have unfinished business with the mind flayers. After that - who knows? Everything that happened to those spawn is my fault in a way..." He pauses, biting his lip. "I suppose that's the less convenient side of freedom - having to live with the choices you made."

Astarion glances at me, the tension of his stare putting me on edge. I can't quite read his intent or emotion, but before I have time to delve into it he poses the next question.

"There's... something I'd like to show you, if that's all right? Something out in the city."

I look down at my boots and the dirt that clings to them. The city was large, but the Elfsong was central enough. We wouldn't need to walk far or be gone long. We could still be back before bed if we left soon enough.

I longed to be by Halsin's side again, and as bad of a friend as that made me, the pull toward my druid was unmistakable.

The darkness only ever really lifted in the warmth of his presence.

He soothed every wound, knew every ugly part of me, and loved me regardless. He was freedom, and sometimes, I felt like I could only really breathe in his presence.

It was an undeserved reprive. And a selfish one, on a night like this. I owe Astarion support more than Halsin owes me.

"Of course. Let me just tell Halsin we're heading out."

My dear druid only kisses me and smiles at the news, wishing us a pleasant evening. The day had been rough on all of us, but of course Astarion had it worst. Lending my time to the vampire was the right thing to do, and Halsin knew it too.

Halsin's maturity, and security in himself and our relationship, was incredibly freeing. He understood the value of friendship and did not feel the need to restrain my relationships with other people due to wanting my company for himself. He trusted me with my own well-being, as questionable as that may be. Even when I harbored wished for him to lock me down and shut off the rest of the world.

It was liberating, his trust, because I knew he genuinely felt happy for me. It wasn't a ploy to exploit my trust or to relish in his own freedom, neither was it a ploy to manipulate me. He wanted a good life, a fair life, for himself and for me.

If only that was possible.

The streets are silent as Astarion and I leave the Elfsong, traversing through the darkness, as most of the residents of the city have bid the day farewell. He leads me through the lower city, north of the tavern, the walk remarkably short. My confusion grows with his silence as we near the stone gates of the graveyard.

The graveyard was a place I was too delighted by. There were not enough bodies, never enough bodies, and it makes my mind spin to be in the resting place of so many. I can remember only the mangled orgy of dead flesh I've put to rest, but not a single name or face.

"Are we here to piss on someone's grave?" I joke, trying to break my own chain of thought.
Astarion lets put a dry chuckle, turning toward a section lined with older, more overgrown headstones.

"The enthusiasm is appreciated, but hopefully not."

The stone he stops in front of is almost entirely overgrown with vines. The gray stone itself is weathered, likely from centuries out in the open. He stops before it, looking at it with something unreadable in his eyes. I stop next to him, throwing it a glance before looking back at him.

"Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there."

"Oh."

With careful movements he lowers himself to sit, kneeling in front of the grave.

His grave.

"I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then, when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his. Until today."

He moves his hands over the stone, detangling the vines and making them fall to the sides. The inscription is worn too, but the letters slowly take form when I squint:

Astarion Ancunín: 229 - 268 DR.

Thirty-nine years in the sun, followed by two hundred years in the shadows.

I lower myself next to him, sitting close but leaving him some space to think.

"The bastard got what was coming to him."

"It doesn't wipe away the stain he left on the world, though." He remarks, closing his eyes for a moment. "For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here, dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want."

The grass is dewy under my legs. The faint sounds of critters in the underbrush create a hushed lullaby to the chilly night.

"While I don't share your plight, I can understand part of what you feel. Learning who you are anew can be... frightening."

"Yes. It certainly can be."

He bites his lip, looking at the inscription.

"Have you figured it out? What you want?" I ask, looking to him.

A shadow of confusion passes over his features as his forehead wrinkles. He stares at the headstone, drawing the dagger from his belt.

"I should fix this..." He mutters to himself, starting to carve into the stone. With a line, he erases the previous dates, a new number being written beneath - 468 DR - with a line leading to an open space. A new birth year, without a day of death.

"I've been dead in the ground for long enough. It's time to try living again. With everything that life has to offer."

I open my mouth to utter an agreement that dies under his lips as they're firmly planted on mine. I'm so shocked by his kiss that I neither respond nor push him away at first, staying frozen in place as his lips caress mine.

"Astarion-" I mumble against him, leaning back to detach myself from him.

"I know, my love." He whispers back, kissing me harder and reaching for my waist.

The kiss is sudden and abrasive, taking me by surprise and making me reel back. Astarion follows my movement, leaning with me and keeping his lips planted on mine. The noise of surprise I let out only allow him to deepen the kiss, tasting me further.

"Stop!"

I wring my head to the side, putting my palms up flat against his chest. Astarion's expression reveals nothing as I look at him, my own expression incredulous.

"What are you doing?" I breathe, raising my brows.

"Kissing, darling. I thought that was rather obvious."

With a dashing smile and a cheeky wink he leans in again, going for a third kiss. I brace my hands against his chest, pushing back as I try to get my legs out from underneath me to shuffle away.

"No, Astarion, wait. What are you doing? Why? We're friends."

"Oh come now, that was only for show, wasn't it? I'm free now. I can act on my heart's desire!"

He moves closer again, and for a moment, I see the truth in his eyes.

The want to want.

He desires so deeply to want, to freely and without compulsion or fear hunger want for connection. He wants to be free again, and the death of his tormentor should bring about his wants.

But healing was no quick process.

He wanted to want. But he didn't truly want me. His movements were practiced, instinctual even. He thought if he did what his master made him, but of his own volition, it had to be good.

The same way I'd tried killing for purposes other than Bhaal.

But death was death, no mater how you spun it.

"You don't want this."

"Don't be ridiculous, darling. The druid is unique. He has a lot of experience with this type of arrangement. Thus, I'm sure it would be quite a harmless affair."

I put my hands up against his chest firmly, pushing him back at arm's length.

"Precisely. 'A harmless affair'? You don't want that! Not with me. Frankly, I don't think you truly want that at all. You think acting as if the past is forgotten will make it go away, but one death is not enough to pay for the years of trauma you've endured."

"Oh? Are you offering to hunt down my tormentors?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Astarion! Listen to yourself, you're putting on an act! This is the charlatan I met two months ago. This is not you."

He stills at that, watching me silently for a minute.

"You don't want me anymore."

"I don't want this. You-" I try, but my voice gets stuck in my throat as I feel tears start to well up. "You hurt me. You used me. But I love you, I love my friend, Astarion. I can't let you use me again. I don't deserve that. And neither do you."

"Oh, so now I'm not good enough to sleep with the revered paladin?" He sneers, flashing his teeth and throwing his arms out as he sits up straighter, leaning away from me.

"That is not what I meant! You are purposely twisting my words, trying to make them into something they're not. Sex isn't just sex for you, so don't pretend like it is."

Death is death, no matter how you spin it.

For once, Astarion's anger is silent. It rages within him, and I half prepare to defend myself should he decide to act on it. When he rises, I move to face him, waiting to see if he'll strike.

His hateful eyes stay pinned on me as I slowly stand, keeping my hands held out and open. He stares, unwavering, keeping me pinned under his gaze.

And then, he leaves.

He turns to walk, to exit the graveyard. Tears tear at my throat, spilling down my cheeks.

"I won't let you turn me, your friend, into someone you despise."

My words hit his back, falling lifelessly to the ground. He tenses for a second.

Then, he's gone.

Chapter Text

The walk back is cold and lonely. Astarion had vanished into the shadows and hadn't reappeared even though I waited a while before deciding to head back.

I would feel safer if I knew where he was, but if he needed solitude I couldn't force my company on him. I had to trust in his years of navigating the city at night.

Surely, he would be alright. And if he wasn't... well, I wouldn't think about that.

Only a few patrons remain by the bar as I enter the Elfsong, and even fewer of my own companions are still awake as I enter our quarters. The doors to the bedrooms are closed, and only Wyll, his father, and Shadowheart are still gathered around the faintly burning lantern at the centre of the dining table.

"Hey, Edie. Welcome back." Wyll greets me with a smile as I remove my coat, taking a seat at the table. "Where's Astarion?"

"He needed a moment."

"Well deserved, after the perils of the day." Wyll remarks, referencing the events below Cazador's palace. I nod and grab a wine glass, not eager to divulge further hardships.

"I'm surprised he cared for a nightly stroll. I couldn't do anything after visiting the cloister." Shadowheart ruminates, shuddering at the memory of her former home.

"Speaking of, and please, stop me if I'm untoward - what do you want us to call you now that you have two names?" Wyll questions. Shadowheart looks conflicted, studying the bottom of her glass intently.

"Jenevelle is a dead girl's name. I don't deserve it - I had to look up how it was spelled, for pity's sake."

"So it's still Shadowheart, then?" I ask after a minute, allowing her a moment of grief.

"She's as much a part of who I am as Jenevelle; I can't just forget her - that's not what I do anymore."

Silence settles over the table once more. I wonder how much Ulder understands. How much of our travels, our stories, had been revealed to him.

"Maybe you could pick a new name altogether." Wyll suggests after a while, trying to lighten the mood. Shadowheart sends him a grateful glance, swirling her drink.

"Yes, Blade of Fronteirs-Avernus. Why not another new name?” She rolls her eyes. “Tell me - how did you even get Wyll with a y?"

"A great-uncle's name, my father always said." He admits, gesturing to the smiling duke. "But I just figure he couldn't spell."

Ulder chuckles, shaking his head.

"The registries of old could be mistaken. But your mother and I liked it, and it suits you well, my son."

"Registries? What registries?" I ask, frowning.

"Old taxation records. Citizens are listed by name and occupation per district. We have ones dating centuries back, which is most useful when tracking ancestry. Do you need to find someone?"

"Myself, I should think. Who I presented myself to be, at the very least."

Ulder thinks for a moment, taking a sip of wine.

"If I'm being honest, trying to find someone by first name alone might be difficult at best. What is your full name, child?"

"Edienna. I can't remember a surname, I'm afraid."

A flash of fear graces Ulder's features.

"Are you certain?" He asks, sitting up straighter with a curious expression.

"Yes. Why?"

"Where would you have paid your taxes? Which district would you be listed under?"

I bite my lip, trying desperately to remember. I had no idea where my place of residence had been, or what my occupation would've been listed as. That said, the lower city felt... familiar. I couldn't navigate it, and never knew why, but most everything north of the Elfsong in the lower city had an eerie feel to it.

"A bit north of here, so lower city. I think, at least."

"Most curious..." He mutters, keeping his eyes fixed on me with increased vigilance.

"Father?" The duke remains silent, locking eyes with his son. I can't read his expression, but I can feel the tension in the air. "She saved you. I trust her with my life."

Ulder studies Wyll further, letting a minute pass before he sighs.

"I can't guarantee it was you, but there was an... incident, before I traveled to Elturgard. One caused by a woman bearing your name."

"An incident?"

"A woman from around here had paid her dues in a most worrying fashion. An expensive piece of jewelry, plucked off a patriar that had been found murdered the week prior. It had the council worried."

I tilt my head, searching for any memories of the account. None come to me.

"That seems almost overtly brazen. As if I wanted to arouse suspicion. Assuming, of course, it was me."

"I was of the same mind. Lord Gortash spoke extensively of the ritual killings, worried that they were making their way up in society after plaguing our streets. Knowing what I know now, I'm certain it was his intention to scare the noble houses pliant."

"Do you remember her surname, father?" Wyll asks, posing the question I was vainly most interested in.

"I can't be certain it was your doing, remember that." Ulder clarifies, holding up a finger as if begging me to pause. "Does Ahlba ring a bell?"

Ahlba...

I search through my shattered mind, looking for anything that struck a cord. The disappointment that greets me is heavy enough to deepen the cracks of my already-marred heart. There is no missing place where the name Ahlba fits.

"It's an anagram!" Shadowheart exclaims, taking centre stage in place of my defeat. She sits up straight with a glint of excitement in her eyes, looking around the table. "Oh, we used to do it all the time at the cloister. An open secret only those within the know understood."

"Please, reveal my secrets then." I urge her, doubting her confidence on the matter.

"Surely you know. It's kind of ridiculous, actually."

She smiles at me knowingly, waiting for me to get it. I stare back, not understanding a thing.

"It spells 'Bhaal'." Wyll whispers, realization coming over his face. "It is an anagram."

"That's... so stupid." I groan, letting my head drop back as I squeeze my eyes shut. I get that it was Bhaal, but reorganized to sneak it into the system, but gods it is stupid. "A lot of people don't even have surnames, making one up was the least subtle option." I complain, rubbing my tired eyes.

"Maybe that was the point." Shadowheart jokes, chuckling at the predicament. "Really, it's better than 'Laahb'."

That makes the laughter spread around the table until even Ulder's lips pull at the corners. The tiredness of the day does wrong by us as the giggles grow despite our attempts at suppressing them to try and avoid waking our companions.

"I think 'Edienna Graves' would've sounded a lot better, personally. If we're going for obvious, that is."

"What of 'Edienna Headstone'? Or 'Edienna Fists', perhaps?"

Wyll's pure mind doesn't realize what he's just suggested, making Shadowheart spit out her drink while I howl with laughter. His confused expression reveals his shock, but I can't get the words out to explain it to him. Even then, him wanting that knowledge was highly questionable.

Before I can make a decision regarding that particular issue, our ruckus is interrupted.

"What's all the fuss about?" A mumble sounds from behind me as the door to mine, no, our bedroom creaks open and a sleepy Halsin exits. A sleepy, shirtless Halsin.

"Hi, honey." I whisper, trying to keep my mouth from stretching with laughter to allow myself a few words. I twist in my chair, standing up and walking over to him. I hug his side, wiring my arms around his bare torso as his heavy arm falls around me. "Did we wake you? I'm sorry."

"I assure you, I've endured worse." He smiles, stroking the side of my face. His tired, naked eyes entrance me, drawing me in. "Where's Astarion?"

I disconnect our eyes, fleeing his gaze momentarily before righting myself when I realize that is far too guilty a look. When I find his gaze again, he already knows something weighs on me.

"He's still out."

Halsin's eyes search mine, and his other arm grasps around my waist to hold me closer.

"We think we figured out Edie's surname."

Shadowheart muses, taking in Halsin's stature a bit too appreciatively for my tastes.

"Oh? And what is it, my heart?"

"It's an anagram for 'Bhaal'." I snort, burying my head into his chest as my cheeks heat. A chuckle escapes Wyll once more as Shadowheart giggles, and when I glance at Halsin he looks most confused.

"I'm sure it was very funny in the moment." He muses, keeping his voice low as he squeezes me to him.

"You had to be there for it."

"Yes, it seems so." He nods, still looking at me with an incredulous expression. "Are you ready to sleep, my heart?"

A yawn breaks forth as exhaustion envelops me at once, my body being reminded of its tired state. I nod against him, slumping against him further.

"Best see to it that you get some rest, then." He smiles. His expression is softer than any pillow, and I believe I could rest peacefully in his eyes til the end of time.

With a nod and a wave to the table we bid our good nights, returning to the room behind us. Halsin has left a small lantern burning, with the lowest flame possible to bathe the room in a warm, flickering light. The feeling of being cushioned in, safe, wirhin the small room is remarkable.

"I like having our room." I muse while I undress, changing into a soft cotton night linen before slipping into bed next to him. Sinking into the mattress, feeling his warm body against mine, was a unique pleasure. The intimacy, the trust, and how absolutely mundane it was settled something restless within me.

"As do I." Halsin mumbles, pressing a sleepy kiss to my forehead. He lays on his side, allowing me to rest against his chest. "Are you alright?"

The twinge of anxious sorrow is unwelcome to me, now that we had this. For us, I just wanted it to be this room. As if the outside world didn't exist. We already had to spend too much time handling everything else but ourselves.

"I worry, for Astarion. He's... going through a lot, right now."

Halsin allows me a few moments to expand, should I wish it. His steady, warm breaths across my scalp beckons me closer to sleep.

"He has been through a lot and prevailed. It's bound to take some time, but I'm certain he'll find his way."

I burrow closer to him, letting his heat encase me and warm me from the outside in.

"I hope so too."

Chapter Text

Astarion didn't return that night. Nor the next morning. Nor by lunch.

I start to really worry by supper.

We hadn't received a ransom note or the like, but that didn't mean he hadn't got cut down somewhere in the streets. By nightfall, I'm on the edge of my seat, itching to go search for him, when Karlach finally comes bearing good news.

"He's taking some time for himself, but he promised he's alright and that he'll still help us kick the elder brain's ass."

"Where is he?" I ask, searching her face for clues.

"He wanted to be alone."

Irritation flares up within me, but it's hard even for me to stay angry in the face of Karlach's steadfast, kind care. I can, however, scoff and throw my hands up before stomping away.

He didn't want to return? Fine! He didn't have to return!

I find my way to a patch of nature in the city, where I can brood and mutter curses to myself for a while. It's dark and silent, except for the rustling of wind in the greenery. The small patch of grass is right by the river, to the side of the bridge leading to the upper city. The house next door probably only left this plot of land untouched due to fear it would get swept away when the spring rains came.

A snapped twig makes me whirl around, putting me on edge as I reach for my daggers. Halsin's open hands, held up in a peaceful gesture, are all that greet me.

"I didn't mean to startle you."

"Again, you move impossibly silent for a man your size." I mutter. I try to hang on to my irritation but feel it slip through my fingers in the face of my druid.

"Apologies."

"No need. It's not a bad skill to have."

He smiles warmly, eyes flickering between me and the ground. I turn back to the river, expecting him to join my side. As the moments stretch and silence greets me, I turn around with a raised eyebrow to sweep over his adoring face.

"You make me feel like some lovelorn ninety-year-old."

He nears me slowly, coming to stand next to me on the riverbank. Even the water seems to flow slowly tonight, as if the warm summer's night had stopped the clock for the evening.

"Careful, Halsin. You're speaking with a forty-to-fifty-year-old. That sounds dangerously close to an insult." I jest, grasping his hand in mine with a smile. His eyes flit back and forth again, oscillating between me and the water.

"I'm not usually one for shame, but it does trouble me that I have centuries on you."

"Why?"

"I have life experience you lack. I fear I'm limiting you in your exploration. I also selfishly fear your heart will lead you elsewhere."

"Away from you, you mean?"

"Yes. It is... strange, I'll admit. For me to feel that way. I usually prefer openness above all. Your body, I could share in without issue. But I find myself selfish when it comes to your heart."

I pull on his hand, swinging his arm to the side so he has to face me rather than the water.

"Do not feel guilt over making me happy."
Something tired comes over him, as if I couldn't hear him, or had answered his worries wrongly. "No, look at me. You don't get to do that. You don't get to decide what I want, or what is good for me. I want you. I can't imagine losing you. So don't let me."

The shadow of guilt still plays behind his eyes as he studies my determined expression. It's obvious he takes my word for their usual defiant anger, which makes me feel angrier. My upset isn't without cause, isn't simply a default reaction.

It feels as if he is trying to infantilize me to justify his fears.

We remain at a quiet standstill for a minute or two before he yields, breaking my gaze to set it on our hands as he nods silently.

"If it takes a century to convince you, we'll have a wonderful first hundred years together. Stop worrying so much." I say, squeezing his hand in mine.

He chuckles at that as his spirit lifts. Halsin shakes his head, as if he's sorting through his thoughts.

"I'm used to living in the past. Now, it seems I can't stop dwelling on the future." He mumbles, bringing his other hand up to stroke across my cheek and cup my face. "I never quite realized how burdened I was, until I met you. The threat of the shadow curse, the politics of the Grove... I was forgetting who I was, but you lifted the fog. Thank you."

I often had a hard time understanding his vague, metaphoric way of speaking, all the while finding it exceedingly beautiful. He never made me feel witless, not on purpose at least.

"So the fog's lifted - what have you discovered?" I muse, smiling up at him.

"You. I discovered you. I have lived a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now."

I feel breathless in the moments before he kisses me, molding his lips to mine in a soft caress.

His lips meet mine, their soft pillowy grace caressing my mouth. Halsin's kiss is one of reverence as his tongue skims along the seams of my mouth, asking permission before tasting me.

I push myself up and into him, leaning on him and trusting him to keep me up. I taste him back, reveling in the sensual movements and the low moans of pleasure he allowed to sound. I reach around his neck, moaning in turn when his hands place themselves on my hips before moving up over my back.

"When do I get to have you?" I pant against his lips when we separate for air.

"I want more than to fight at your side, or sit around the campfire with you. I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine."

"Then let's do it." I breathe, pushing up on my toes to kiss him again. He moves his head back, opening his mouth as if to speak. He hesitates, whispering the words after some contemplation.

"Age does not make one immune to heartbreak."

I furrow my brow, watching the vulnerability in his eyes as he gazes down on me.

"I... I understand." I speak, diverting my gaze as my heart drops and sadness, rather than anger takes me. "I have not proven myself a trustworthy partner."

His hands slide over my back, dropping from it and taking his warmth with them. I feel my breath stutter, and I'm about to turn and walk away when his hands reach for mine.

"You misunderstand. I did not mean to discredit your character. You are a remarkably strong, resilient woman. It is not your betrayal I fear - it is your death."

My eyes snap to his, raving over his concerned face. His hands rub against mine, warming them up just as his eyes warm my very soul.

"We are at war." I mumble, not knowing what I'm trying to convey. I understood his dilemma, and the odds of us both making it through the challenges to come were far from certain. I would do everything in my power to make certain he was the one who made it out. "Do you have so little faith in our chances of victory?"

"No. Quite the opposite, in fact.” He begins, stroking a hand down my cheek. “Victory eludes us yet, my love. But let us press on against our enemies, regardless of what our odds may be."

He places a chaste kiss on my forehead, letting out a deep breath that fans across my scalp. As he withdraws, my heart ramps up in pace, beating wildly at the prospect of watching him leave.

I was never good at thinking, but sometimes, sometimes, I just knew. In these kinds of situations where I should be stressed or overwhelmed, instead, it was like the world slowed down and finally made sense to me.

"I don't want you to go." I speak, clutching his hands harder and urging him to stay standing. "If I am to die, I want to have known the joy of being with you. And if... if you... should I not get to see you again, after the hardships we'll face, I'll forever curse myself for not seizing the moment. And should the world end... well, at least then, we will always have had this."

The words flow, but not without effort. They are too large for my throat, getting caught and stuck as my voice quivers. Halsin's patience and compassion do not make little of me as he listens, weighing my words.

His thumbs stroke across the backs of my hands. He looks at them untwined, letting the sound of the running water and rustling of trees fill the space between us. I feel half the night must've passed before he speaks.

"If it would please you, I would prefer to have you in nature." He whispers, resting his forehead on mine. I let out a shaky, happy breath. "There's a patch of woods not far from here."

"I would love to see you in your element." I smile, bumping his nose with mine. "Give me half an hour, and I'll meet you there."

Halsin's expression is one of confusion, but he agrees nonetheless before giving me directions and seeing me off. I just had a quick stop to make at Bonecloak's Apothecary, in the hopes that Derryth wouldn't mind some light breaking and entering.

I was going to leave money on the counter. Probably. Most likely.

Time is slow to pass, yet it feels like I have taken but a breath when I reach the glade Halsin had directed me to. It's beautiful and serene in the night, and not even the sounds of the city can be heard.

Halsin's back is to me as he steadies himself on an oak, eyes closed while connecting with nature. The mischievous streak within me wants to push him into the lake he's gazing over, but the rest of me is too taken by his beauty to even consider the idea.

By all standards I move quietly, yet his head rises and body turns to greet me when I am but a few meters away.

"You came. I was concerned you might have had doubts. Or that this might have all been too much..."

The relief in his voice is palpable, and dispel any notion that he is unmoved by our bond. It's a touching display, reaching deep within my heart in a way I hadn't expected. To have his affection, when he had shaken the very foundation of my character.

"Why, is the big, strong Archdruid Halsin nervous?" I tease with bated breath, the guise of a joke masquerading my own nerves as I weave my way through the grass toward him. A faint blush dusts his cheeks as he averts his gaze momentarily.

"Perhaps a little. In truth, I have had a hard time containing myself. I'm almost frightened to touch you - if I give in, I may not be able to stop until I have devoured you."

His words stir arousal within me, but his mention of fear makes me hesitate.

"You do not have to do this."

"Words seem to fail me this evening." He muses, shaking his head before looking straight at me. "I want this. As do you, I think."

I nod, earning a smile as he prowls closer.

"Just as nature intended. Come here to me-"

He nears me, reaching for my waiting hands. Steadily, brimming with anticipation, he stretches his arm toward me, his fingers gracing mine with the softest touch. He draws a quick breath, retching back as if electrocuted. My eyes widen as he withdraws, worry suffocating my heart.

"Halsin?"

He pants as a sudden golden light envelops him, radiating from his hands and spreading outward and up over his arms, moving through his chest. His steps are halted as he stumbles back before falling to all fours, caving in on himself as the bear springs free.

Halsin in wildshape was no new discovery for me - I'd watched him fight within this form plenty. But to be stood in front of him, watching the mighty bear survey me, was another experience. The mighty beast stands on all fours, yet it reaches my naval - I dared not think how huge it'd be towering over me. Talons the size of daggers, teeth that could rip me apart, a build meant to crush...

It does not matter that I know it is Halsin. It looks like a bear, a deadly force of nature.

I'm stood in shock, watching as the cave bear examines me. It has dark eyes, so different from Halsin's, but holding his kindness all the same. After a moment's hesitation, the bear rises in its haunches, making my breath stutter as I take an involuntary step back. The golden light encompasses him again, dissipating to reveal the elf once more.

"Forgive me. I... I lost the run of myself. Sometimes, if blood runs hot enough, it's difficult to tame the beast."

His voice, his body, his face, all speak of his apprehension as he stutters an apology.
He looks at me, waiting for me to run, to scream, to reject him. My heart still pounds, but now that he's assumed his regular form again, I can discern my emotions better.

He was still himself, regardless of how he appeared. The bear was frightful because any bear would be, but he had not harmed me. I had no desire to be intimate with more than one form, but there wasn't a world where he'd force himself on me should I not wish it.

He posed no threat to me, bear or not.

"I... I'm a little bit flattered I have that effect on you." Halsin's eyes bulge in an almost comical manner. Perhaps he did not see it as reassuring that I affected him so. To me, it was quite validating. "Just so we're clear, you being one with nature doesn't imply I'm getting fucked by a bear, right?"

"No, of course not! I have hot blood in my veins, and to me, it is the same veins regardless of which shape my body takes. I do, however, understand that it is not the same for a lover."

I feel my shoulders drop as I exhale, settling into the explanation, happy to not have inferred wrong. He watches me silently, tension permeating the air before I grant him a shy smile.

"Then I would very much like for you to touch me."

He lets out a breathless sound of relief, diverting his gaze for a moment before setting his eyes on me. His gaze burns with want, leaving me short for breath for an entirely different reason.

"I need no further encouragement..."

Halsin crosses his arms and grasps his shirt down by his hips, pulling it over his head before shrugging his pants off. Fully naked, he moves swiftly, grasping my hips decidedly and pulling me toward him. His lips on mine are hungry, coaxing and laving.

I meet him eagerly, reaching up to deepen our kiss as his hands squeeze against my sides. Nipping at his bottom lip playfully, I end the kiss with a coy smile before backing away from him and into the glade behind us.

The lack of audible steps behind me tells me he's remained by the lake. I send him a beckoning smile over my shoulder, skewing his view of me behind a tree as I undress. His steps behind me urge another smile to my lips as I shred my last piece of clothing, turning to face his appreciative gaze. His pupils are blown as he drinks me in, a low rumble sounding from his chest.

Halsin's hands fly to my hips once again as I turn to face him, and my back hits the solid trunk of the tree behind me. He crowds me up against it, pressing his naked body onto mine.

I feel his cock twitch against my stomach, and the cold mark that's left behind from his wet tip. He kisses me and I moan into his embrace, relishing the way he tastes my mouth before he finds his way to my neck. He kisses, bites, sucks, and with every nibble my arousal heightens.

The warmth of his body is taken away as he sinks to his knees in front of me. The kiss he plants on the sensitive skin of my upper thigh, close to my centre, draws a gasp from me. He looks to me for permission, kissing deeper when I nod.

With one arm he coaxes my right leg over his shoulder, opening me up to him. He closes his eyes, leaning in to kiss my pearl. I spot the shimmer of wetness on his bottom lip as he pulls back, and the way his tongue laves over it to taste me before he delves in.

He starts slow, with a tentative kiss, careful to keep his teeth out of the way. The sensual movements of his lips and tongue make my hips jerk and legs shudder, my hand moving to his hair to steady myself. A moan is coaxed out of me, and the humm of approval he answers with sends pleasurable vibrations up my spine.

He licks and sucks until my wetness overflows and the rumbling of his chest grows as my inner thighs become coated with it. His fingers tease me, tracing the outlines of my slit and making me pant before two thick fingers enter me.

"Ah!"

Halsin groans, crooking his fingers slightly while his tongue plays on my outside. His fingers thrust inside me, slow enough to drive me to madness. I try canting my hips down, trying to ride them, but my one leg on the ground can't quite manage the motion through every sensation.

He takes pity on me, thrusting his fingers harder and faster when I whine. His kiss against my center grows more fervent, less careful of custom as he loses himself. The wetness of his mouth and my sex makes it deliciously slippery, and he pushes his mouth closer, uncaring that the mess spreads over his chin.

"Halsin, Halsin!" I moan as he flicks his tongue fast before sucking, making me buck over him. He takes it as encouragement, adding another finger as his tongue speeds up. My moans chime through the glade, faster and faster as my chest rises and falls, unable to keep up with his hands and mouth.

His fingers flex and stretch me, curling to hit the perfect spot just as he laves his tongue over me one last time before I explode.

"Ah, ah, aah...!"

My hands have his hair in a death grip as my leg shakes over his shoulder. He pushes closer, keeping me up against the tree as my one leg threatens to give out under me. My climax grows and grows as his fingers thrust fervently inside me, making me cry out loudly.

My body tingles even after my orgasm has come and gone. The relaxed, still-hungry feeling inside me reaches for him as he carefully sets my leg down, raising to a stand before me. His lips glisten in the moonlight.

"More?" He asks breathlessly.

"Yes..." I pant, letting out a whimper as he crowds me against the tree, his warm body aligning with mine. He kisses my neck again, sucking and biting, groaning as I let out a moan.

The grass is soft as I'm laid down, Halsin landing on top of me. My hands grasp for him, and I shudder at the feel of his hard thigh while his lips work fervently. I pull on his leg, drawing him toward me as I attempt to wire my own legs around his middle.

"Like this?" He pants, grasping for my hip to pull me closer.

"Yes..." I moan, reaching for a kiss. He grants my request, kissing me deeply and moaning against my lips. I feel his cock twitch against the inside of my thigh, the impossibly hard member begging to be inside of me. "Please..."

Halsin leans back to guide his cock to my slit, leaning toward me slowly as the tip pierces my warmth. He is not slow, entering me with one swift movement. His eagerness comes through as his body lays over mine, letting his cock slide deep, taking my breath away.

His lips claim mine, my breathlessness mirrored by his own. His tongue plunders my mouth, tasting me vigorously as his hands touch all over. One tangle in my hair, the other squeezes along my side. His rough palms are greedy for any part of me, his being enraptured with me.

It is intoxicating.

When he finally starts thrusting, bracing his hands by the sides of my head, I can't contain the loud whine that escapes me. His face is a mask of pleasure, watching me keenly as he fucks me.

"You feel heavenly, my love..." He groans, making me bite my lip. His next thrust hits a glorious spot inside, making my insides flutter around him, coaxing another moan from his lips.

"As do you..." I moan, arching my back as I reach for him. Our kiss is messier, uncoordinated as he thrusts inside of me. His chest rumbles underneath my fingers, the steady movement with which he pounds me making my legs tremble.

His hard cock must be made of dreams with the way he feels inside of me. The thick, unyielding shaft deliciously long, stretching me beyond limits, filling me so well. The slide is sinful, the warmth of him enough to make a faithless woman weep.

Halsin thrusts deep within me, moving back and forth, back and forth, stealing a kiss in between as he pants against my mouth. He fits so well, gods he fits so well...

I can feel him throb within me, picturing the way his manhood must ache for me. The swell of his length, the girth of it, the heaviness of it as it plunders my insides.

"Yes! There-" I pant as he hits just right. My core burns as he pulls out halfway before burying himself deep, making me throw my head back with a desperate moan. Halsin's breaths are labored as he sits back, lifting my hips to align with him as he thrusts deep. The long thrusts make my head spin, my pleasure growing to an unbearable simmer.

"Ah! Hah, ah, yes!" I pant as he speeds up, the answering growl making me leak for him.

"You take me so well..." He mumbles, biting back his words. His hands on my hips lift me, holding me in place for him to fuck. The show of strength is dizzying as he loses himself, his thrusts turning harsher. "So tight around me..."

"Ah! Yes!"

My legs tilt inward, threatening to close only to be held open by him. His fingers scratch down the inside of my thighs, his eyes locked on the supple skin there before he sets his gaze lower.

"You're so big..." I moan, losing myself as he watches himself thrust inside of me. He seems fixated on the sight of his cock entering me over and over again. I rise on my elbows and instantly understand why.

I glance the slickness of his shaft as he pulls out before swiftly pounding deep, the wet sound deliciously dirty. His abdominals flex as he cants his hips back and forth, watching me swallow him.

His fingers move over my thigh until he can thumb my center, making my eyes roll. He moans as he uses his thumb to spread me, watching with rapture as my hole opens to him.

"You look so good around me." He moans, thrusting til our hips connect, burying himself as deep as he can. Just the thought of him cumming inside me sends shivers of excitement down my spine.

His thrusts turn punishing as he pounds deep, leaning over me once more to steal a messy kiss.

"I want it." I moan as our lips detach, watching a second of confusion flash across his features.

"Inside?" He whispers, cock twitching inside of me. I nod, planting another kiss on his lips.

"Bonecloaks." I explain quickly, not having more words to spare with the chaos he was wrecking upon my body. Halsin possesses no more lucidity than I, and the eager growl he lets out before plunging my mouth as his cock ravages me answer enough.

"I will fill you." He growls as he shakes our bodies, angling to thrust me into the ground. His balls slap against my bottom as he pushes himself deeper, greedily taking all of me.

"Please!" I whine, pawing at his chest as I grasp onto his hair with my other hand, his labored breaths hitting my face. He hikes my legs higher, folding me into a senseless, helpless position that hits so deep I see stars. It's so good, hitting just right, and the moan he lets out is testament to how tightly my insides reward him.

His lips on my ankle as he brings my foot to his shoulder is dizzying, his cock relentless as he pounds harder and harder, burying himself faster. He holds my thigh with unbending strength, keeping me still to fuck thoroughly.

"Halsin!" I moan as pleasure threatens to overwhelm me. Gods, his breathless pants and greedy groans, I could practically feel him leak inside of me.

"Edie, Edie, Edie..." He mumbles my name like a chant, his hands squeezing my legs, my sides, my chest while his hips work fervently. My pleasure rides on the precipice, dangerously close to falling over as unintelligible moans spill from my lips.

"Don't stop!" I cry, my legs flexing within his grasp as my stomach contracts.

"Want you to cum around me." He groans, spearing me with his cock. I cry a wet moan in return, flailing beneath his unyielding hands. My body twitches helplessly, stuck in his steady grasp. His cock pounds into me, the skin of my thighs turning red with the force of his thrusts as he forces himself deeper, faster.

"Yes, yes!"

"Inside you..."

"Yes!" I cry as white-hot pleasure explodes behind my eyes, blinding me as I erupt. My insides tighten and contract, and yet, still, he forces himself inside of me, his manhood spreading me and making me take him. Halsin roars a moan as he spears me and my wetness flicks over his thighs, coaxed by every thrust.

His fingers twitch against my legs and I feel the first rope of cum release inside of me, hitting me deep and propelling my pleasure to new heights. He fucks himself deep, thrusting as he fills me, painting me from the inside.
I whimper as his frantic thrusts come to slow, his spend inside of me lighting up my insides.

Gods, I loved how he fills me.

"Again?"

Chapter Text

Drinking kisses from Halsin's mouth could very possibly sustain me for the rest of my life. He tasted like desire, and having his hands on me could only be likened to a drug. His large frame making me reach to touch him, his bare skin against mine, his sinful manhood...

He was quickly becoming my obsession, making all other thoughts a nuisance, any other task irritating because it meant I had to tear myself from him. He possessed all my attention, and no promenade, battle or bartering could be done without being reminded of him.

I longed to engross myself in him, to memorize his body and delve into his mind until every crevice was explored and every centimeter laid bare. My desire to know him, and to occupy his attention in turn, was bordering on obsession.

He was so good. Not just in bed, mind you, though the ghost of his touch alone made me wet. He was genuinely and truly good, in that he wanted the best for everyone.

He was just without being meek, realizing the need to protect through violence at times to defend the defenseless. He was wise without being pretentious, content without lacking ambition, steadfast but not arrogant.

He was wild, and that in turn made me feral for him.

But he also made me good.

He made me want a future, see a future for myself separate from my past. Ao knows how I'd get there if we even survived this ordeal, but I was close enough to taste it.

A life with him.

Maybe it all could be worth it, if it could be with him.

What I'd do, who I'd be, I didn't know. Not yet. But his belief in me, his confidence in my character and the love he held for me, were enough to make me believe I could figure it out. I could find who I was, figure out who I was to become, as long as I had him.

Kissing him now brings it all back.

The memories of the night overwhelm me as I push closer to his body, making him stumble against the railing by our communal sunken lounge at the Elfsong. His muted moan spikes my need, and I barely hear Gale's uncomfortable cough from the sofa.

A mix between a whine and a growl grows in my chest as Halsin detaches our lips, his breath fanning across my face.

"A new day has dawned. We have much to do."

I remain silent as my thoughts fight for dominance. Halsin was right, of course. But it didn't feel right.

Nothing that took him from me felt right.

"I would still be there with you now, if the sun hadn't intruded on us, and the city hadn't stirred for the day."

His assurance didn't quiet my dissatisfaction at all.

"The populace could do with a show. Take their minds off things."

"If not for the children, I couldn't agree more." He mumbles, getting a positively ravenous look in his eyes. "We were as one. The warmth of your skin, the feel of your..." He pauses, breath hitching as he diverts his eyes for a moment. "I must be careful, or I'll lose the run of myself again. An archdruid should show some restraint."

The smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth makes me smile in turn as an overwhelming happiness expands in my chest. How odd, to unravel me so completely with a simple smile.

"Please, don't restrain yourself on my account. Perhaps a bed next time, though." I suggest, putting a hand on my sore lower back.

"I am open to anything. If you can find a piece of furniture that is up to the challenge."

"Ugh. You two are disgusting." Astarion retches from his seat a few paces away.

I was happy to have found him at the Elfsong when Halsin and I returned at dawn, but the pale elf did not harbor the same sentiment. His ire had calmed from our quarrel, but his snide comments flow more freely today than usual, their sting more bitter.

Halsin shakes his head, ignoring the vampire and focusing back on me.

"I'll be meeting Jaheira in the lower city, to discuss getting potential aid from the Emerald Enclave. I'll see you at sundown?"

I groan at the prospect of my own plans of searching the sewers, imagining the stench that awaited Astarion, Karlach, Lae'zel and I. We didn't have many leads for where Voss could be hiding, but it was of utmost importance to Lae'zel to find him now that we'd rejected Rafael's deal.

"Sundown." I whisper back, making it a promise.

I force my hands to withdraw from his chest, pausing as they drop before taking a step back. My eyes hold onto him longingly, dreaming of a world where we didn't have to part.

"Moving out, soldier."

Karlach's chipper command is delivered with a hand on my shoulder as she marches past, the rest of our company in tow.

"Stay safe." I tell Halsin, following Karlach after one last, longing gaze in his direction.

"Ugh, you're so in love. It's disgusting." Astarion remarks, filling his voice with discontent as we're led out of the tavern and out onto the street.

"Aw, don't be sour Astarion. Edie - I think you two are very sweet. I'm happy for you." Karlach's encouraging comment does send a smile to my face, but that may just be because she reminded me of Halsin again.

"Thank you. I'm happy for me too."

"At least this one doesn't weaken you by drinking your blood." Lae'zel's hiss, which once would've been rude and threatening, is now purely funny with its course directness.

"She can't walk properly and that's your discernment?"

I move to smack Astarion, but the nimble rogue ducks and moves out of the way.

Most of the day continues along the same lines. Traps are disarmed, treasures are found, mad sorcerers are spoken to, and we even find a small group of Bhaalists to slake my bloodthirst with.

Below ground it's hard to tell how many hours have passed, but I'm certain evening is nearing when we finally find Voss.

My feet are heavy as Lae'zel conducts her business with the kith'rak, but I make an effort to show excitement over the silver sword he awards her with.

The sewers are a maze, and when the Emperor announces we can enter the Elfsong through his old lair through the sewers, I send a wave of gratitude his way. The walk is far, but not impossibly so, and only a few traps need to be disarmed along the way.

Soon enough the wooden door marking the entrance to the cellar is in front of us. It's darkened outside, the lit torches making shadows dance across the stone walls. My heart jumps with excitement as Halsin comes running through the door, but my joy quickly turns into alarm when I see his distressed expression.

"No... you can't be here - it's not safe! She has my scent." Halsin is frantic, clutching his side as if to hold a wound together. "Run! Do not stop until you feel sunlight and fresh air."

"What's going on? Halsin, talk to me! Let me help-"

"It's just flesh. But my spirit... she did much worse to that. She tormented me, with blades and hot irons. I resisted... but then she forced me to drink a foul brew - the rabid, cursed blood of all manner of beasts. I lost control. I felt the bear take over, blood-crazed... and she forced me into a cage. Along with... with children! Taken from the streets!"

Halsin stutters on his words, his hands shaking as tears clog his voice. A girlish giggle echoes from behind him, making him whip his head in fear before turning back to me.

Something is wrong. Very wrong. But there's something...

I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's distinctively unsettling. It's him, but it's not quite him.

"I was powerless to stop myself. Their screams. Her laughter. It's all I can hear. I do not deserve to see the sun again."

His voice is pained, but his words don't ring true to his character. The running... why would he run? He would not leave such a being that he describes alive. He would fight til his last breath for the chance to rid the world of such evil. Even if he believed himself beyond salvation, he would surely take her down with him.

He has persisted through greater horrors during longer periods. Would a day truly be enough for him to break?

"She's too strong. You have to turn around. Go - let me buy you some time. She's coming for you."

His panting has slowed down, and while he gestures to the path behind me, his eyes are fixed on my face. I hesitate, studying his expression.

"Soldier?" Karlach's low voice questions from behind, and it occurs to me that Halsin hasn't once looked at our companions.

No, something is wrong with him.

Something is very, very wrong.

"She's coming for me? I'm coming for her. Stay, and rest. I'll avenge whoever did this to you."

I grasp the hilt of my sword, taking a step toward the door to sidestep Halsin. His expression turns blank, and confusion shakes me when he doesn't move to let me pass. His breath evens out immediately, and a cruel smile spreads on his lips as malicious anger colors his vision.

"Fool. Rabid beasts must not be coddled - they must be put down."

He straightens, letting go of his side to reveal the absence of a cut. Relief over the lack of injury skyrockets into worry as he holds my gaze, cracking his head to the side and breaking his own neck.

I reach out my hands to stop him, letting out a shocked breath, but I'm not quick enough. His hands contort, his body bends, and in a flurry of red he disappears, leaving her where he stood.

Orin.

"Look at it, Father's favourite all lost and wandering. Have you forgotten the way home?" She taunts me, moving her hands as if to pull on invisible cords that play on my anger.  "Should I set your lapdog to screaming? That could help you find the way. I could peel a fine pelt from the mutt I caught sniffing at your heels. Drag skin from flesh from bone-"

"I will end you." I hiss. Lae'zel takes a stance to my right. Whether to protect me or charge, I have yet to figure out.

"I should cut him to teach you, underling. So dull and brittle. You must be sharpened before you set your edge against my skin. A mind-mangled beast, no talent, no beauty in your atrocities."

I feel Astarion's tadpole poking at mine, and in my rage I nearly abolish it before allowing his thoughts access.

"She speaks of cutting him. That means he's not dead. Keep your cool, and his life may yet be preserved." He thinks into my mind.

My next breath is long and deep as I internalize his message, reigning myself in and grasping my self-control like my life depends on it. Like Halsin's life depends on it.

When I don't respond, Orin's goading continues.

"A blunt blade like you is not fit to carve Bhaal's glory. Thick-headed and foolish, to let the Banite's airs corrupt you. Gortash betrays us, blood kin. He sets a leash to our slaughter, uses us to drive the herd towards his tin men's oppression. You must kill the tyrant, smear him across his rock-rotten halls, and pluck the Netherstone from his carcass."

"You make yourself my enemy and then suggest we collaborate?"

"Collaborate? Hah! Then we duel, sweet slaughter-kin. The winner claims the stones - Bhaal's true Chosen. The loser rots on his altar."

The altar from the vision. The temple, somewhere I couldn't remember. Oh, if only I could dig deeper and just remember.

"Agree, and I will bring my assassins to heel. They watch you always, longing to spray the crimson from your veins. Refuse me, and you'll learn what happens to those who defy Bhaal's doctrine. So will your toy."

So, this was Orin's intention. A combat against me, a fellow scion of Bhaal, witnessed by the Lord of Murder himself.

"You can't defeat Gortash without me. You need me. Give me one reason why I shouldn't peel the skin from your body here." I hiss, feeling my control slip as she lets out another giggle.

"You forget how Father's blood clots our veins. It must be returned to him, seeped straight into his grimborn jaws."

"As someone who wishes to dishonor Father, I'll take my chances."

I draw my blade, only getting it halfway out before Orin's enraged scream pierces my eardrums.

"Filthy, blasphemous, unworthy scum! How dare you oppose him! How dare you! I should skin your pet as reprisal!"

"If you so much as touch a hair on his head I shall make your death last a century! You will be bleeding and begging and wanting for death, and not even that will be granted your lord as offering. I shall keep you on death's edge until you succumb to age if Halsin sees even a sliver of your blade!"

The bloodcurdling scream is barely human, and Orin's crazed eyes gleam with hatred as her hands twitch for her dagger. She can't kill me here, she won't, but she aches for it.

"I will tell you once, and only once! Make gutspill of the tyrant. Gore the lordling. But listen. Listen close, Bone-killer... Come to my temple before you turn Gortash to carrion, and I will ready your pet's corpse to greet you."

"And if I refuse? Ally with Gortash?" I feign, watching her eyes flash with amusement at my poor charade.

"You won't. You are too sentimental, sister. Always have been. Never worthy of being Father's Chosen." Orin grins, her melodic voice singing with glee. "Destroy the Banite. Bring his stone to me. And then, I will bathe the temple in your blood, heretic. We will duel, yes, yes! We will! And I will leave your pet alone, simply for the pleasure of hearing his scream as I rip you from this world. Step in my domain while the tyrant still sucks air, and I will carve your failure into your pretty plaything's skull. Bhaal is waiting, slaughter kin. Do not disappoint him."

In a flash of red, she is gone, taking my sanity with her.

Chapter Text

Sleep evades me.

In a fit of rage, I'd followed the trail leading to Candulhallow Tombstones and down below. Sarevok had gurgled on his own blood before he could reveal anything useful. I'd run around the court, desperately looking for a missed keyhole, a hidden door, something, anything that could lead to Halsin.

It wasn't there.

My echoed promise, I will always come for you, rung inside my head until all other sound faded. My fury had turned to hysteria when I realized, and Karlach's strong, warm arms around me had been all that held me together.

The world around me seemed a distant dream as we returned to the Elfsong. My stomach revolted at the very thought of food, but even going to bed early didn't allow me any rest.

I will always come for you.

The night is overwhelmed by my killing fate. I dangle above a dark precipice, one move away from falling. The blood that had flown under my blade, and the frenzied strain that powered me, egged on the violent compulsions, urging me to take more, to kill more.

Halsin was gone, and he had taken all that was good with him. All that was left was death, death, and more death. Itching knife-hands, compulsory thoughts of murder, dreams of draining life through my own bare hands.

I will always come for you.

Even in my dreams, I am not left alone.

The floor creaks next to the bed.

When I open my eyes, it's to the sight of two drawn blades.

"Dark dreams?"

"Jaheira?" I say, eyes adjusting to see the aged Harper. Her lips are pursed and her eyes determined. 

"I think I can guess. Visions of blood on your hands. The blood in your veins, perhaps. For all the gifts Bhaal's children inherit - a peaceful night's sleep is not among them."

"How do you know what I am?"

"Wyll sent for me. Said my experience with Bhaalspawn was needed."

Her vigilant eyes stay trained on me as I heave myself up on my elbows. Her blades do not budge, even when they threaten to break the skin on my neck. She stands tall in the small bedroom, the candlelight reflecting on her blades.

The door behind her is closed. None to see, none to hear. None to know.

"I don't owe you answers. Especially not at sword-point." I jut my chin out. 

"And what is it I owe? Should I allow some horror to be born anew, when I could end it here and now?"

"Kill me then, coward. I dare you." I hiss, leaning into her blade until a pinprick of blood wells up. Her vigilant eyes search mine for a moment until a spark of curiosity flashes. My anger seems to intrigue her, and she withdraws the offending rapier just a little.

"Ever the Bhaalspawn's lot. To bring death, or wait for it to find them." She straightens, withdrawing her blades just a little. "This is your father's true legacy, you see. Not his children - but the fear they plant in us. The savagery it blossoms into. In another time - with another of your kind - we found a better way. I would dearly like to find it again."

"'A better way?' It's too late. My cruel deeds cannot be undone."

"You are what you are, child of Bhaal. But that need not be all that you are. You would not be the first to turn the taint in your blood to your advantage."

"And if I embrace Father's power? Grant unto him my love?" I challenge, raising an eyebrow at the High Harper.

"There have always been barriers a Bhaalspawn must overcome. And if not, I suppose Minsc and I will have another mission set up for us."

"The mad Rashemar? I thought he was dead."

"The accounts of his death were greatly exaggerated."

My eyes almost bulge out of my skull as Jaheira pulls up a chair to take a seat next to the bed. Weapons sheathed, door closed behind her, with me sitting higher up. I may be unarmed, but I was also far younger and had a good bit of physical strength on her.

"Perhaps you are not the saviour you seem. I know better than to think of life as some simple tale, after all. There is no guarantee of happy endings, or true heroes. I believe that still. But, when I look on all we have achieved, I wonder... perhaps it is not heroes we need. Only people who are willing to try. And you, you certainly try."

An unexpected lump clogs my throat as she speaks. Her wise, gravelly, playful voice is oddly maternal, and the way she recognizes my efforts made me feel small, but in a good way. Like a child preening under their parent’s gaze.

I know I am not one for displays of emotion, and so it follows that my efforts often get overlooked.

As if everything I go through leaves me unfazed. As if none of the horrors touch me. As if I don't get tired, or hurt like everyone else.

In another life, Jaheira knew one like myself. A child of Bhaal, destined for murder. One who bested destiny.

I pull my legs up to my chest, whispering my admission into the open room.

"Bhaal frightens me."

"Then you are wise. I will not mince words: You are already further under Bhaal's power than my old friend ever was. But so long as you fear that power, there is hope. Fear means you are not fully mad - not yet."

"Why? Didn't the other Bhaalspawn..." I taper off, not knowing how to put my murderous rage into words.

"Not... mad, no. Take Sarevok, for example. For as much carnage as he caused, there was always a cold calculation to it. He craved power, and his bloodline was just another path to achieve it. I saw that same bloodline turned to better ends than Bhaal ever intended for it."

"Orin is that bloodline. He told me so, right before I skewered him. She is his granddaughter. And if his journal tells the truth, his daughter also."

"Illmater's ashes. It wouldn't be the first time, I'm afraid." Jaheira exhales, shaking her head. "Orin - I am sure you already know that so long as she lives, she will never stop hunting you. It might be that you have to turn and face her - you cannot change that. All you can choose is how you meet her: as another bloodied child of Bhaal, or as yourself."

"I will end her." I grumble, feeling the simmering anger rumble in my chest. "I would sooner die than let Halsin fall by her blade."

"Then you will need sleep, cub." Jaheira smiles, and the warmth of her gaze surprises me.

"Cub?"

"Not so much a term of age or affection as simple old habit. You object?"

"Not so long as I get to call you crow." I reply, unable to keep the smirk off my lips.

"'The Cub and the Crow' - sounds like a cautionary tale. As it probably should." She jests, meeting my smirk with one of her own. "Now, rest."

I lay down on my side, pulling the covers up but keeping my eyes trained on her.

"What if the dreams come again?"

"The dreams alone do not concern me. It is what waking deeds they might inspire." She muses, lowering her chin to hold my gaze. "Are you truly your own master? What is it you feel, when your father's dreams come calling?"

I weigh my answer, hesitating on how much to tell her. On one hand, her blades rest close by. On the other, I don’t think she would kill me unless I posed a direct threat.

Wrapped in blankets, melancholy heart weeping behind a plush pillow, was not threatening.

"I feel euphoria. Then disgust, at the joy. Then it feels as if my soul is tearing at itself as the two notions war."

Jaheira's eyes study me, but not with fear. She takes me seriously, but separates me from the urges. An incorrect way to go about it, if you asked me.

"But not all death brings you pleasure?"

A pang of pain pierces my heart as Samyte's face flashes across my vision, followed by a horrifying sight of Halsin lying dead on the altar in the temple. The image starts with Orin holding the knife, but her figure twists into my own in a bloody display.

"The urge within me rejoices, but my heart weeps. I..."

"Yes?"

"I fear I'm doomed to return to whatever life I led before. That the urges lead me to one end, and one end only."

"There is another end that is certain." Jaheira says, nodding to her blades. "But I have hope for you yet. A godspawn draws trouble like iron to lodestone. There will be crusaders who wish to rid the world of your taint, or jealous minds who believe themselves more deserving of the power in your blood. But freedom, and happiness, are not beyond a Bhaalspawn. It simply comes at a higher cost - constant vigilance."

Watching the shadows, expecting a blade from even those closest to me, always being on my guard... it was instinctual to me. I had done it before. Out of necessity, perhaps.

"There's also the question of what happiness means to you. If the joy you reap is harvested from the soil of decaying bodies, then rejecting Bhaal comes at a great cost to yourself."

I think back to the road, and the endless days of traveling with my companions. Walking, chatting, stopping for a swim or a meal. It was peaceful. Fun.

"The people I hold dear make me happy. Their deaths would bring me a moment of pleasure, followed by eternal grief. I would rather die a thousand deaths than cause their demise."

"Then I have good news for you, cub." She smiles, reaching for a rolled parchment from her belt. "We found a map, down in the Murder Tribunal. I recognize the temple drawn on it. The hunt for Halsin is not done yet."

Her words bring me to a swift sit, which her outstretched hands hinder as I try to rise.

"Tomorrow, cub. You cannot save him without rest."

"You don't understand, I have to go!"

"I do understand, and you need to sleep." She chides me, coming to a stand and pushing my upper body to recline. For some reason, I let her. "Orin will not kill Halsin. He is her bargaining ship to get you to the temple. Going now will only give her the advantage."

"What if the butler tells her, and she kills him anyway?"

"The butler?"

"The wretched imp that follows me."

Jaheira throws a glance around the small room before her eyes return to me.

"I suppose he can turn invisible, or read minds?" She raises a questioning eyebrow at me, her question answered by my silence. "Didn't think so."

The tension in my body slowly releases as she leans over me, tutting as she tucks the blanket around me before assuming her seat by the bed once more. The flickering flame of the candle on my nightstand warms her face, showing the motherly smile there.

It is easier to admit the extent of my depravity like this. To her, who knew my kin before me. She who wasn't my lover, or really my friend either. She was a different entity altogether, and in the small, dimmed room, safely tucked in as she watches over me, the words come to me as easy as breathing.

"The dreams frighten me too, you know. They get worse."

Jaheira nods solemnly.

"As it did for my friend. The harder you resist, the darker your dreams become. Our camp was often roused by screams in the night, back then. We learned to take them as a marker of pride. Even gods can be resisted."

"You mean to say it's a good sign it's getting worse?"

She smirks, tilting her head.

"Something like that. But, if you'd like to, maybe I could tell you a bedtime story to fill your mind with instead."

Her voice is sarcastic, but I jump on the opportunity nonetheless. Anything to not be alone with my thoughts.

"Please."

She's surprised by my request, twisting in her seat. Her movement makes the pendant around her neck glint in the candlelight.

"And what should I tell you about?"

"How about your necklace? It must have some story, to be worn by a Harper of your vintage."

"Hah! Cheeky."

Jaheira chuckles, twisting in her seat as if comfort evaded her with the newfound awareness of the chain around her neck.

"It was a gift from my husband. Khalid."

"I didn't know you were married."

"Emphasis on 'were'. It was a long time ago."

"Oh."

"He was a Harper. A better one than me, truth be told - any idiot can swing a sword. But to believe in the cause, with the whole of your heart? A much trickier thing."

Her strength falters as she speaks, fading to make room for a more vulnerable Jaheira as the memories crowd us.

"He died. Alone, in pain, and far too young - murdered by a mage who craved immortality. I'll not grant it by naming him in the same breath as my husband."

She fingers the locket, gaze staring into nothingness.

"You remain loyal to him, even in death."

"Would you not do the same for Halsin?"

Her words silence me, for in that moment I feel the bond between Jaheira and I tie together. It only grows further as she speaks.

"Most Harpers swagger and flash their feathers to catch your attention. Khalid was of a quieter sort. I have never known a warrior who would go so far out of his way to avoid a fight. Which meant the few he chose were usually the right ones. And when we were married-" her voice quivers. "on an upturned cart in the rainy Dalelands... he stammered so much, I've never been sure if our vows actually counted."

I may be of far worse breeding than Jaheira, but her story thrums a cord within me. Much the same way Khalid was the calm to her storm, so was Halsin to mine. Whether I possessed her strength to build a life after the death of my love, I hoped to never have to find out.

"It sounds like Khalid had true strength."

"Oh, I'm sure time and an aging mind have smoothed out a few of his flaws. But he was a good man." She concludes, swiping away a runaway tear. "The songs make much of Khalid's meekness. The quiet little Harper who had to keep a tight hold on his courage. But he had it when it counted. And, more than that:
He had compassion.

When you live a Harper's life, see all that a Harper sees, that is by far the harder thing to hold on to. But a bard can tell you all the rest. As for all the things they cannot... well. I shall just have to keep those for myself. Are you ready to sleep now, cub?"

Her expression is melancholic as she looks upon me. I nod, burrowing deeper into the pillows.

"Take what rest you can - I will watch over you this night."

"How do I know you won't kill me in my sleep?" I ask, throwing her a tentative smile.

"I suppose you do not. Sleep well." She smiles back.

Chapter Text

"We need a plan to get into the fortress."

Shadowheart picks up a map of Rivington and sprawls it across the dining table in our quarters, making the team gather round from all sides.

The condition of freeing Halsin were to end Gortash before facing Orin. But ending Gortash required finding a way of getting to him, and the man had ensconsed himself inside Wyrm's Rock Fortress the day we disabled the Steel Watch. All entries and exits sealed, and wards against teleportation had been put up.

We know, because we tried.

"What if we sneak in past the Basilisk Gate?" Karlach suggests.

"They rolled up the bridge."

"Same on the other side, I suppose?" Gale mumbles, earning himself a nod from Shadowheart.

"Yes."

"And the bridge can only be lowered from the inside of the fortress?"

"Mhm."

"Is there any way to shoot the mechanism from the outside?"

"The bridge covers the opening entirely when rolled up. We're not getting through that way."

"What of flying? Could we go straight to the roof?"

"And risk being seen by every guard and shot out of the sky?"

"Fair point."

"Does anyone still have a scroll of feather fall?" Wyll asks, interrupting the conversation for the first time.

"Somewhere, I believe. Why?" Gale questions.

"There are exits leading out onto the rocks and beach below the fortress. Ancient crevices, largely patched up or caved in, but that could be opened anew. Prisoners have tried to escape that way."

"So you want us to jump on the side of Rivington down onto the mountain the fortress is built on? Don't you think a company of seven vaulting over the cliffs will be noticeable?" Disbelief colors Shadowheart's voice.

"If you have a boat stored somewhere in your leathers, go ahead and suggest sailing." Wyll answers, throwing out his open palms and raising his eyebrows.

Shadowheart sends Wyll a condescending look, folding her arms over her chest as she stares him down. The stare is noticeably silent.

"So, feather fall it is?" He asks, looking around the table at our party as no one suggests a better idea.

"Feather fall it is." I confirm. "But we wait til nightfall. Best to utilize the cover of darkness."

"Agreed."

The grueling hours that follow are enough to make me tear at my hair. Tensions run high at camp as everyone prepares, sharpening their weapons or inscribing scrolls while trying to preserve their energy for the battle to come.
I try to sit still, but my legs disagree as they bounce against the carpet.

"Do you intend to stomp a hole through the floor?"

Lae'zel's hissing voice holds the usual edge of irritation, which wasn't really irritation at all.

"Better than to stomp a hole through your skull."

"Chk." she replies, tossing her head to the side. "Direct your bloodlust toward our enemies."

I purse my lips, letting my head drop between my legs.

"Apologies. I'm... distressed."

"I'm not surprised. You've become death incarnate. Mighty, yes. And altogether unpredictable and intractable."

"I'm not-!" I start, body twitching to square up to her as she stands before me. "I'm distressed because every minute we wait is another cut Orin can make on Halsin's body."

"He is strong. Do not discredit him."

"It is not his strength I fear for. It is his life." I sigh, pressing my palms against my eyes until the sockets ache. As I remain quiet, Lae'zel takes the seat next to mine in wait for my answer.

"You don't understand the powers that be. You consider me unpredictable and intractable, but Orin... Orin is deranged. My urges call on me, and I can choose to respond. Orin has no reason or will to deny them."

I know Lae'zel too well to expect comforting words - the gith is far too pragmatic for that.

"One day, perhaps soon, Bhaal will demand your fealty. You'll either muster the strength to defy him - or you will succumb. I know how I'd choose."

With that, she raises and straps her armor on, readying for the excursion and arch-dukeal murder ahead.

I pace and kick at the carpet, cursing the daylight as the hours pass. Someone calls for lunch, and I can barely get a bite down. I excuse myself with a lie over nausea, taking to Halsin's and mine's bedroom only to be left standing in the middle, watching the unmade bed that still smelled of him.

The door breaks behind me.

"You'll be no good starved. I should know."
Astarion's voice is softer than usual, and his volume is lower too. "You need to eat something."

"It's only been a day. I'll be fine."

Silence fills the room. It's too small in here for him to be far away, but he maintains a respectful distance by the door. It clicks closed behind him, and I steel myself for whatever comes next.

"I'm sorry."

His apology echoes in the room, filling my head with yet another thought to make it even more crowded.

"You were right. I used you, and I apologize for trying to use you again when my motives were almost entirely selfish."

"Almost entirely selfish?"

"Oh come now, I'm not that bad in bed."

The jest almost brings a smile to my lips, and I can sense the tentative smirk on his without having to turn around.

"I understand why you did it. You were scared, wanting, exploring. And I'm... I'm so eternally sad you had to live the way you did these past two centuries. You're changing, and I'm happy for you. But I can't be the sacrifice for which you pay for your new personhood with."

He takes a step closer, and I turn incrementally to be able to see him. His body language is lax, if a bit anxious as he picks at his nails.

"No, you can't. Or rather, shouldn't. Besides, I can hardly blame you for rejecting me. Even if I did have feelings for you, I don't exactly have much to offer right now, beyond new burdens to carry."

"Astarion..." I sigh. For the first time today, a feeling other than restless anger invades my heart as a flood of sadness washes the cinders away. "You have so much to offer. You are a wonderful, witty, creative, beautiful person. You must know, surely you must know, how I adore you. I love you enough to not engage you in romance. I love you enough to be with you without desiring you. I love you enough just to be your friend."

Astarion chuckles, but it's a chuckle marred by sadness as tears rise within him too.

"That's quite the backhanded compliment."
I match his smile, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. He leans his head into my palm, closing his eyes incrementally. My eyes water as he places a gentle kiss to the inside of my wrist.

"Oh come now, don't cry!" He whispers, voice coarse but playful. "You are one of a tiny number of people I've slept with who aren't dead. Cheer up, it's quite the achievement!"

That brings a genuine smile to my lips, even as we both loose the battle against our tears. I envelop him in a hug, holding him close, and for the first time, he doesn't hesitate to return the embrace. His arms come around me, holding me tightly to him as he lets out a shaky breath across my scalp.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, friend."

"Yes. Friend."

Even after the brief intermission of sorrow, anger and distress doesn't take long to rear its ugly head again. Night can't come soon enough, and supper is ordered and consumed in silence. Wyll and Karlach discuss strategy, having both been familiar with the fortress years prior, but all other conversation is kept to a minimum.

The plan is to jump across the ravine, hike around the fortress and climb or fly up the side to the throne room. We'd decided that going through the prison was too big a risk. Even if we could find a way in, chances were we'd alert the entire guard on our way up. Keeping close to the facade should help us stay hidden from above.

From there, we should be able to make it up onto the roof and into the top chamber where Gortash most likely would've hidden away.

There was no doubt; he knew we'd be coming.

But we knew just how to play him.

The plan goes off without a hitch, everyone crouching under the cover of darkness. The few guards we encounter are dead before they can sound the alarm. The throne room poses a larger difficulty, but is ultimately handled quickly and efficiently.

The glow of Karlach's engine pulses steady with light, growing brighter and warmer the further we get. I place a hand on her to calm her, only to withdraw when her flesh burns my palm.

"Here, let me."

Shadowheart's mumbled prayer of healing knits the skin back together, making the pinkish skin return to its pale hue.

None speak as we trek across the roof, silent as the grave when we slide through the large wooden doors. At the furthest end of the chamber, behind a long wooden table sprawled with maps, books, goblets and carafes, is our victim.

It is a grueling battle. Gortash's condescending speech makes Karlach fly off the handle, attacking recklessly as the rest of us try to eliminate the Banites in the chamber.

Gortash's chains of tyranny are counterspelled without effect, but with a well-aimed cut, his concentration shatters. Grenades, black fists and curses are thrown across the room, and when Karlach lands the killing blow, Shadowheart falls to the ground with exhaustion.

It's finally silent.

Everyone remains frozen in their places as Lae'zel pulls her sword from the final guard's stomach, letting his dead body fall to the ground. Gale helps Shadowheart up, and Astarion sheathes his shortswords as Wyll's watchful eyes land on Karlach, assuring him of her well-being. I watch her too, waiting for her reaction. Waiting for her to stomp on Gortash's skull, as Aylin had with Ketheric, but she simply stares blankly at his corpse.

"So Gortash is nothing more than a pile of flesh, same as the rest of us."

Her hallow voice echoes through the silent chamber. I pause over Gortash's body, watching her watch him. She's glowing with the heat of her engine, the light flickering within her chest.

"I feel like there should be a sunset for me to ride off into. Or an orchestral swell or... something. But there's nothing, is there? I killed the bastard who ruined my life, and my prize is that I get to crawl into a corner and die." The silence in the room swells until her furious cry pierces it. "Am I fucking missing something?"

Her anger goes unanswered as none of us know what to say, because she is right. It's all entirely, disgustingly unfair.

"I can't do it anymore. Ten years, man. It's enough. It's enough."

The exhaustion comes through her tone. The bone-deep sorrow vibrates in the air.

"He's dead, and he's no fucking sorrier now than he was before. What was the point? I'm still dying. I'm dying. I'm going to die!" She sobs, pounding her fist against her heart. Wyll takes a tentative step closer but is forced back by the heat she emits before he can comfort her.

"I'm here with you, and I will be until the very end." I promise. Karlach's head snaps to the side, facing me. Her eyes glow like embers as her sadness overtakes her, mingling with fury.

"Don't say that! Say, you found some way to fix me. That now Gortash is dead, I'll get my heart back. My heart. It was mine, and they took it. I'm going to be as dead as Gortash any day now. Any moment. And what then?"

She mumbles, her resignation waning as flames of anger dance across her skin.

"Off to the City of Judgement to waste into oblivion? Into the dirt to get eaten by maggots? Is that it for me?! Is that fucking all?! And you - you'll just keep going, won't you. Watching the stars. Warming your hands on the campfire. Dancing, eating, making fucking love all night - all of it, all of it!" She roars, gesturing toward all of us. Wyll takes a step closer, reaching toward her.

"Wyll, take a step back!" I warn him, just before a pillar of fire engulfs Karlach, scorching the floor around her.

"That's my reward for everything I suffered! That's why I survived ten years of torment! The fighting, the clawing, the loneliness, the fucking loneliness... All of it, so I could rot. Because the person I trusted the most gave me away to the devil."

As fast as the flames had appeared, they vanish as she breaks.

"It isn't fair. I don't want it like this." Karlach sobs on the floor, crumbling before our eyes. Her cries rip into her chest, tearing out of her painfully.

Wyll slowly steps toward her, sinking down to his knees beside her before embracing her. Karlach sobs against his shoulder, shaking under his hands as she wails. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"

The silence is devastating in the wake of her question. A desperate cry for an answer that none of us hold.

"I won't let you die." Wyll whispers, holding her closer. "Let me come with you to Avernus. I will never let you be lonely ever again. And when Dammon figures out a way, we'll return to the Gate."

The tiefling's sobs echo against the walls. Whatever choice she made would not be decided tonight.

Wyll holds her as she cries, leaving the rest of us to slowly start moving again. I pry the netherstone from Gortash's cooling fist, feeling the Emperor's approval. Lae'zel searches the guards as Gale rummages through the cabinets for anything useful.

The somber chamber is dark, only lit by the few candles that survived the battle. It's a perfectly melancholy setting to Karlach's grief.

In the darkness, I almost miss the book by the grand desk. Something about the worn, green cover plucks at my memory. The fabric bookmark is inlaid a fair few pages in, and I open the book to its page.

Memoirs by Gortash, Outline for Chapter 4

With attentive eyes I scour the text, feeling the growth of something in my chest. Yes, this, this was familiar. I knew this.

He re-established worship of Bane in Baldur's Gate as a hidden cult, realizing the secret worship of Bhaal was also on the resurgence through me. He found me, impressed that I was not only Chosen, but an actual Bhaalspawn too.

Pages are torn and notes intelligible, several pieces of my past lost among them. After the torn pages is one with blood splattered on it. In Orin's bloodied scrawl a threat is penned.

Allies? No no. We had a balance, the Chosen three, but it tumbled when the Bone Lord turned to ash. Now you try to gouge me from my city. Festering inadequate! Thinks me a flesher, butchering and cleaving only to whip the herd towards your tin men's oppression. I will gore you like a pig prepped for the spit.

You are made of nothing, meaningless flesh and bone. I do not need. I offer. Bhaal's age approaches, and you could have been there to see it. An idol of flesh, made to welcome his bleeding dawn. Now, you will rot.

Orin the Red

Her words are penned in the blood of her victim, signed with a lavish hand. She wanted Gortash dead, but why? Because she was mad? Because he had been my ally, and she detested me? Because I was Bhaalspawn?

More importantly - I was a figurehead in the rise of her Lord's worship.

Why detest me when we seemed to have worked for a common goal? I had sacrificed everything to be what I was, even my own son.

How dare she consider me unworthy?

I will always come for you.

Chapter Text

I will always come for you.

My stomping echoes across the cloaca, sending news of my rage to any unfortunate soul who dared block my path to the temple.

One would think the blood of the Banite and his posies would've slaked my thirst and lessened my anger, but with every cut and slice, the red they bled only colored my vision further.

I am murderous, livid, rampant with anger, and the rage only grows with every step toward Orin.

She hates me when she should've been my ally, my family, and now she toys with me. Not only through taunts and assassination demands, but though kidnapping Halsin.

Our plan had been to kill Gortash, return to camp, and to go after Orin tomorrow. But when we reached the Elfsong, a bloodied note already awaited us.

You have done well, underling. Baldur's Gate gags on Gortash's gall, and your little pet still has eyes to witness it.

Now, Bone-killer and Tyrant-flayer, to do proper honour to the Murder Lord, accept his challenge and face me in the Bhaal Temple, deep below the bleeding city's rotted cobbles.

In that unholy sanctum, the Murder Lord will witness our blood duel and crown the victor.

I will keep your minion safe until then - unless it misbehaves.

Orin the Red

Even through reading, I could hear her girlish, shrill taunts. Shadowheart asks Scratch if it's Halsin's blood on the paper, and he denies it having any scent of the druid.

She was toying with me, toying with him, banking on us having to counter her derangement.

The path to the temple has gone through an ambush that shook my companions. I'm lucky enough to not go without anyone's support as all decided to embark on this mission with me, and they're lucky to have each other because I can't see anything besides the goal ahead at the moment.

I can only look forward, only toward ending Orin.

I will always come for you.

The bridge to the temple is rigged, and the traps feel like a personal affront. The butler, the wretched, disgusting butler, waits excitedly at the door. I rush at him, grasping him by the lapels and slamming him against the stone door.

"Where is she?"

"Oh, Master! It's so good to have you back!"
He gets teary-eyed even as I press my arm against his throat, threatening to cut off his breathing.

"Did you cause this? Did you tell her where we were?"

"Of course not, master! I would never serve Orin! She is not special - not like you, master. We are only unfortunate bunkmates, as she refuses to leave your estate!"

"Special? Is that why I had to cut my way through the tribunal to get to my own temple?!"

"I would have told you, but I wouldn't dream of interrupting when you were enjoying yourself so!"

My fists tighten on his shirt, itching to wire themselves around his neck. My murderous intent must show, as the wretched little thing only gets more excited.

"The Temple is all tidied and ready for your worshipful act of mortal combat! The eye sockets of our graven god's icon are all polished up, ready to glow menacingly as you bludgeon your sister to death! I've re-stacked every pile of skulls, and mounted more skeletons on the walls for a cosy touch!"

I want to slam his head hard enough into the stone that his skull cracks. I want to beat him, bludgeon him until his corpse twitches.

I would have, if not for the hand on my shoulder.

"He can let us in, Edie."

Astarion's low whisper is loud in the large space. I use his words to ground myself, focusing on my breathing until I've regained enough sense to unfurl my hands and take a step back, letting the foul being drop to the floor.

"Open it."

"A thousand succubae could give me no greater delight, master!"

With a wave of the hand, the stone doors open, allowing me to push through.

"There's a puddle of blood on the floor as you walk in, careful, don't slip!" He shouts behind me as I rage inside, the sound of my companions following assuring me he hadn't stuck his claws into any of them.

It looks exactly like my dream, only from above rather than from below.

A large stone structure, with circular platforms leading down. It looks ancient, with its old pillars and razed staircases. The many Bhaalists occupying themselves in the temple stop their aimless wandering as I enter, watching me with awe.

"She has returned."

"Has she come to abolish the impostor?"

"She's a sight worthy of our Lord of Murder."

My heart stops as I reach the first staircase, allowing a better view over the central platform with its unholy altar. Several assassins stand around the edges of the platform, eyes fixed on the figures in the center.

The red figure, crouched over the green.

My breath stutters as I hurry down the stairs, thoughts running a mile a minute. Halsin is still as a corpse, but for the slight lift of his chest on an intake of breath. Orin hovers over him, playing with her dagger against his unmarred skin. He is unbloodied.

Unconscious, but uninjured.

"Look, your saviour approaches." Orin coos, stroking his face. "See how it crawls towards us? Not a dream now. No, no. It is blood and bone. Carrying the tyrant's rock."

She lets go of him, standing up to face me. It's both a relief and a repugnant offense, the way she looks at me.

"But Sarevok's crimson was not yours to spill. He was mine. You had no right to take him." She hisses, milky eyes fixing on me. "Did it think it could protect? Did it think it could save? Only the blades can offer salvation."

Her purr sends a shot of terror down my spine, making me stop in my tracks as her attention is returned to Halsin. She angles her dagger against him, smiling with glee as I tense when it hovers above his eye.

Sarevok's death was no regret of mine, and I wasn't about to make it one by having it cost Halsin's life.

"You make a meaningless offering. It is my blood you must spill." I shout, resisting the urge to act as I feared she'd strike.

Orin sighs, withdrawing her blade the way a child would after having been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"You do not lie, underling. It is your blood I am destined to spill. Your death spit will stain these walls, little lamb. Your skin will be grandfather's shroud. Bhaal's altar will flow with His own unwilling flesh. Draining, dying, drip, drip, drip." She sings, rising from the altar to near me. "You still don't remember, do you, blood kin?"

Her taunts hang in the air as she stalks closer, disappearing in a cloud of red as she takes my form. Her body shrinks and her voice deepens until my own eyes stare back at me, sneering at me with clenched fists as she circles.

"How you screamed as my knife slit your skull, your brain juices sticky and sweet. A little hole, big enough for the worm, your body a blood sack to feed it. The favourite of Bhaal turned meat puppet, strung up by the sinews and plucked by my hands."

In her words, my words, I recognize the truth I had forgotten: I was the favourite, the Chosen - Orin was my subordinate. I led the cultists of Bhaal and orchestrated the Absolute plot. It was my genius, my cruelty, my design.

At my moment of greatest triumph - when all the pieces were in place - she betrayed me, infected me, and took my place. I taste iron as the rage swells within me at the filthy, dishonorable deceit, the claim she made to my glory.

My hand twitches on my sword handle as she leaves my form, taking her own once more and coming to a stop a few feet away from me.

"You did all of this for jealousy!?" I roar, taking a step toward her. She betrayed me, tortured me, dethroned me as a form of petty sibling rivalry?

"You were a heretic! They worshipped you, not Father! You deceived Bhaal with mindless flayings, and our temple, no, my temple, decayed because of it!"

"I was his scion! I spoke for him, I created for him, I killed for him! I only shouldered the yoke of the other Chosen in order to bring glory to our Lord! You mindless, insolent child!"

"LIAR! You did not make their blood spill worthy of Father's altar!" Orin's eye twitches, and for a moment I think she's about to lunge at me. A treacherous calm falls over her as she begins stalking again, pacing before me."Husk. Maggot. A Bhaalspawn, slip-sliding in filth with these pigs. You don't deserve the Murder Lord's blessing."

Her voice is boiling with hatred and anger, all directed towards me. It only fuels my own bitterness as I throw the truths I unraveled at Candulhallow Tombstones back at her.

"And you do?"

"My grandfather ruled this city! A slaughterhouse ripened for my blades, and you stole it!"

"You are pathetic." I sneer, feeling the hatred well up inside. "Desperately as you may try, you can never take the place which was rightfully mine."

"Your rightful place is strung above my altar, carcass fluids flooding into the gutter!"

"Filth can only speak filth." I growl, sneering at her dirtied blades. "You are not worth the dirt on my shoe. You are the child of a father and his daughter. Your mother was Sarevok's daughter, cretin."

I see the shock on her face, the disbelief in her empty, white eyes. But I have not told a lie, only revealed to her what lay in her past.

"No no NO NO NO! He didn't. He didn't... Filthy, pig-mouthed little LIAR!" Her voice breaks, and I relish in her despair. "Grandfather loved me! He worshipped me! These petty smearings will not save you!"

"Bhaal rejoices in such cruel betrayals. You really believed you were the exception?"

I see the moment it clicks, the pieces that slot together to break her and the panic that follows.

"No. Not him. Not him... I did all this for him. Everything... everything..."

Terror overcomes me as the red eyes on the sigil above the descending staircase behind Orin glows. The sigil I now knew to be Bhaal's, and the eyes I now knew belonged to his detached spirit. The disembodied, gravelly voice that echoes through my head drips of blood, caressing me with fear as he speaks.

"No, Orin. You did this for me."

"Bhaal... Father, she lies to me. She lies!"
Orin's desperate scream is filled with panic and the naivety of a child as she turns to the sigil, begging and pleading with the god who created us.

"Hush, child. No more doubts, no more fears, no more Orin. Become murder."

Her scream of pain delights me for a second as her body contorts, bending and breaking and snapping, not to her will but to Bhaal's. She twists and turns and shakes as her soul is stolen, and in her wake another is birthed to rise anew.

The Slayer.

The smokey, rust colored barrier that appears around us scours the edges of the platform, closing us in and locking my companions out. With everyone barred from entry, there's only one person for the Slayer to charge for - me.

Bhaal's duel has begun.

I duck and slide underneath one of its four arms, bringing my blade up to slice at a tendon to limit its movement.

The monster roars, and I use its distraction to move behind it and jam my sword through its back. I slide my blade out but only make it halfway before it twists as if the blade isn't even there, tearing itself open to slash at me. Three of its arms grasp onto me and the talons draw blood as its head lowers, snapping its jaws around the air where my head had been a second ago.

With a scream I drive my sword upward, using the momentum of being lifted to drive it home and making it let go of me. I fall to my feet, taking a few steps back before my heart stops when the back of my shins hit the altar.

Halsin.

He was still here, confined within the barrier. Dread coats me as my eyes flit from him to my companions outside the barrier, my eyes meeting Astarion's frightened one's.

If I die and Orin triumphs, they will be but the first of countless casualties. I have to win, to become powerful enough to protect them.

Even if it means their horror being directed toward me.

I have to protect Halsin, to save him, somehow! If it costs me my life, so be it. Perhaps I can take the monster down with me, leave Bhaal with no heir at all. My companions could walk out of here, and they could live a long life, and the world would be better for it.

My death is a small price to pay for their lives. For his life.

The Slayer's attention is fixed on me, and I use its focus to roll away from the altar as it comes bounding towards me, drawing it away from my love. I reach the barrier in just a few steps, turning to face the monstrosity on my heels. It is tall but thin, adorned with talons on four arms and two legs, with enough teeth to skewer me in one bite. I need to do this smart, because I can’t outrun it or overpower it. I have to kill it without it realizing it is dying.

The battle that follows is a dance of wills and wits. I run, slide between its legs to plunge my sword into its stomach. It retaliates with a roar, slicing at me and biting, whipping around so its tail almost pierces me before the dance repeats itself again. At times I miss, and at times it slices.

I scream out in pain as a searing strike tears my leg, its talon grasping my knee and running down to my foot before I can get away. The wound is deep and slowing me down, and the scent of blood eggs the monster on as it takes another strike at me.

The scream when I cut its offending arm off is rewarding for a second, before the arm I'd missed hits me from the other side, throwing me across the platform. I lose my breath, keeling over and grasping for air as I try to find my footing and rise before the Slayer can reach me.

I cough and steady myself on my sword, using it as a crutch to stand up. In my peripheral I can see the pale, blood-addled flesh of my enemy barging towards me. Time slows as the sight of Halsin holds me captive. His hair, half-up. The marred side of his face toward me. The unlaboured breaths of his strong chest.

With unknown force, siphoned from a place within me yet unknown, I rise with a roar and charge toward the Slayer, running with all I can muster. It raises its arms as we reach the middle, preparing to strike with momentum. I use it to my advantage, sidestepping it as it leans forward to tear me, kneeling and slamming my blade upward through the air.

My arms buckle under the force of its body as I use all my might to hold the sword steady, driving the horizontal blade further as the monster throws itself forward and across my blade.

The shrill scream of death is cut in half as its body parts, the upper body tearing from the legs and hitting the ground with a wet noise. I scramble back on my hands as it claws its way toward me even in death, screaming and fighting to end me.

The monster hacks, its breath coming short as its guts are left on the floor behind it, blood gushing out. Even through its screams of pain and terror is the hint of something human. The fear in its eyes. The desperation of a woman who lost everything.

I hold her gaze as she dies.

Orin is no more.

I breathe heavily, keeping my eyes fixed on the still carcass even as the barrier around us depletes. My companions take a tentative step forward as none of the Bhaalists react, waiting to see if another fight will break out.

"Master. You are the chosen one." The reverence in Scelerita's voice is what breaks the silence, calling my attention. "He is near... He comes for you."

His exalted cry meets a gurgling end as a knife pierces his heart, making him bend backward. His body floats, carrying him toward me as he whimpers on the blade. He hangs impaled on in, back bent as blood drips down onto the floor before me. Another dagger pierces his kidney, another his liver, and another, another, another until he is addled with blades.

A suffocating presence lowers itself over the platform, sinking into every crevice, forcing itself into the depths of my mind. It's loud in its silence, horrifying and formidable.

In the pool of the cretin's blood, I see the truth of my father. Sceleritas's eyes turn red, and the force that holds him envelops the murdered being. It is no longer the butler - it has become an avatar for Bhaal. The avatar speaks, a conduit for His presence, actualized in murder and unbound from the sigil.

"I expected the other." He speaks. It is no longer the meek voice of the butler. It is murder incarnate. Deep, gravelly, egregious. It freezes my blood, stilling the air and making it into something thick and grimy. "But you live, and her blood is returned to me. You are my Chosen. I have a gift for you, Child. You will use it to lacerate this world."

A chance to reclaim the glory Orin robbed me of. Vindication, ascension, anointment.

The world stills for a moment. My companions haven't dared near, so I am left alone on the platform. There's just father, and Halsin's sleeping form.

For a moment, I want it. The power. All that I had built, led, earned through service of this temple.

For Sammy. For my sacrifice to mean something. For Halsin, and Astarion, and everyone who I could wield my power to protect.

I will always come for you.

The air crackles with power, tasting of metal and blood. It is intoxicating, frightening, and mighty.

But with Orin's death, my lust for vengeance has vanished. My rage deflated, leaving only a hollow resignation in its place. I'd come, I'd prevailed, and what now?

Three family members, my own family members, dead by my hand as our Father watched. Sam, Sarevok, Orin, all gone. Bhaal never truly rewarded a sacrifice, and his power could never be benign.

Orin betrayed me and usurped my throne. But in the face of our Father, was it ever truly mine? Was any of this truly for me?

A lifetime of Bhaal, unraveled in the few months spent away from the temple. Who I could've been, who I now was, a far cry from the head of His church.

Accepting a gift from my god, my Father, would be nothing more than confirmation that he owns me. His affection only goes so far as my obedience.

"I will not have your gifts." I recede, bending over my lacerated leg to protect myself. My body aches under the wounds, the pressure, the sorrow. I train my eyes on Halsin's still body. I try to pretend he's asleep. Simply resting, after a long day's work. "I refuse."

"You refuse me? You are my spawn. Your veins course with my unholy blood. Your life is mine. Accept your inheritance, or I will reclaim it."

Bhaal's voice echoes through me, reverberating through my body. I stand alone, perforated by His presence.

I feel calm.

"I will never be yours again. I will not be made anew by you."

"You were made to conquer. To devour. You reject my blood, and so I will reclaim it. I will make another who is worthy."

The red, gleaming eyes flash with finality as he speaks his judgment. Immediately my body pulses, discomfort spreading through my limbs that rapidly evolves into an unbearable pressure. I watch in horror as the blood running from my leg is drawn out, and how the uncut skin next to it begins to bleed as well.

My blood recoils from me, refusing me.

Pain tears through me as my blood forces its way out of me, pushing through my skin and making me wail in agony. An invisible force lifts my contorting body, leaving me to hang in the air as a limp offering. My pores expand and I scream as blood forces its way out, tearing and pushing and eviscerating every orifice.

And then, it all goes black.

Chapter Text

Silence.

Not a sound, not a breath, not an echo. Peace. And everlasting, endless calm. In the end, my own death brought more joy than any I ever wrought on this land.

Oblivion.

Rest.

Calm.

It is grey, and the mist is soft. It feels like running your hands through a cloud, except it's not a cloud, and there's no hands. There's just me, and a soft, airy weightlessness.

The grey is peaceful. It is flat, bland, and unassuming. It is nothing.

In the distance, something glints. A think it must be a spire, but the grey quickly covers it over again.

The gray is nice. It is airy to breathe. Or non-breathe.

It is peaceful.

And then, a touch of something in this nothingness. An anchor hooking itself to me, tethering me uncomfortably.

A presence. A friend.

"Rise, Challenger of Gods."

A ripple in the nothingness. A sound, a feeling, a pulse. Something pulling me, urging me, drawing up, up, up.

The thrum of a drum, a rapt tapping that whispers within, growing in strength. It goes faster and faster, tapping a growing and filling out until its sound is unmistakable, urgent, beating within my very bones.

The pulsing echoes within me, coming in forceful waves that grow in strength. With each pulse, a new command: rise, rise, rise!

The command grows with power, and the pulses bend my soul to their whims, dragging and tearing at me. A force of pure power pushing, lifting, moving me at will through layers of existence.

With a jerk my soul snatches away, and the crushing weight of the world comes rushing down. The weight is suffocating, pushing me down into the ground and forcing life into my bones once more. I cough and seize, throwing my hands out to catch myself against the fall. The hard, cold stone of the temple greets me. The gravelly surface beneath me, the cold wetness clinging to my hands, the tinge of metal I taste in the air.

My body has been reclaimed.

It is tethering, solid, alive.

It is aching, bleeding, bruised.

I keel over, hunching over my bent legs as I cough when the voice of death reaches my ears. The eternal echo of tombs, the deep and gravelly tone.

Withers.

"Thou hast defied Bhaal, thy liege and father, and in doing so hast earned a place among champions and heroes. But, alas, thy courage was in opposition to the divine cosmology that bound thee to the Lord of Murder. Thou art now faithless - godless - but I will not permit thee to wander the Fugue Plane for eternity. Death will not claim thee whilst I endure."

I look up at him, bleeding arms pressed to my quivering chest as his eyes hold mine. His bandaged torso, aged clothing and broken adornments did not discredit the power with which he'd just torn me from death's grasp.

"Who are you?" I breathe, voice hacking as my soul tries to slot itself back into place within my broken body.

He gazes down at me, taking a few steps around the altar.

"A scribe, a seneschal - a keeper of records. And now, thine advocate, both here, and in the City of the Dead."

My chest heaves with another round of rasping coughs, shaking me hard enough for me to brace myself against the ground.

"I deserve to die - for all the evil I have done." I plead, my voice shaking as I do so.

It would be better to die. Easier. But as much as my mind knows it, my body refuses to feel it. Even bruised and battered, it brims with life, an undying spark of it amidst the wounds of battle.

"The sole way to atone for thine actions is to do better, in a new dawn. That dawn has come. Bhaal tried to extinguish thee, but his wrath is imprecise. He only succeeded in killing the part of thee he knew. The Urge that drove thee to terrible acts. The spark of brutality that made you his."

Withers walks around the platform, casually gesturing to the temple around us. He is barefoot, unarmed, out in the open. Yet he does not fear the unholy assassins around us.

"But there is a new part of you that hath grown during thy travels. That part, Bhaal could not extinguish. And so instead of destroying thee, he hath made thee anew."

Withers holds my gaze, letting his words sink in slowly. I let my eyes flick from my lacerated leg to his ragged form, watching as his flesh remains dehydrated while mine slowly heals.

"A new part." I breathe.

The choice of goodness. The constant defiance against Bhaal's will, before I even knew it was his will.

Compassion, care, kindness.

Preserving life instead of extinguishing it.

The part my companions saw in me. What Halsin saw in me. And now, that Withers has seen it in me, I dare to hope too. To believe it.

To see it for myself.

My future was not sealed.

"The heart of a saviour hath overshadowed the mind of a murderer. Thou hast vanquished thine urge."

My eyes look in wonder upon my hands. Dirtied, but made anew.

"Did you know my nature all this time?"

"I know all, but to state truths is to interfere, for the minds of mortals are easily swayed. My place, for the most part, is to observe. This intervention, the reclamation of thy soul, is beyond mine ordinary remit. But thou art extraordinary, and so are these times. Today, thou art born anew."

His proclamation causes a surge within me, another bout of power, of truth, of life.

"Greet the bloodless dawn, child of none."

My legs shake as I heave myself up, feeling power unleashed course through my limbs. It is more powerful than my oath, than my urges-

My urges!

My head.

It is silent.

The shadow of murder, the presence of greedy bloodlust that always hovered...

It is gone.

"Thank you." I breathe, my voice wet with tears.

"Do not thank me - trust in thy courage, and the conviction of thy companions. As it was, so it is again. A hero has risen from a legacy of death."

With a final nod in my direction he leaves, wandering through the carnage as if taking a stroll through the grasslands.

My gaze follows him, watching how the unholy assassins who'd bore witness to my death scatter before him. Left in the temple are only my family.

My true family.

With Withers gone they run to me, gathering on the bloodied ground beneath my battered body. Astarion skids to a halt, throwing himself down on the rocks next to me.

"Don't you dare die again! It was horribly vexing!" He cries, throwing his arms around me. His embrace makes it a bit harder to breathe, yet easier all the same.

Our family follows, surrounding me with love and declarations of hope, care and affection. Gale's face is reddened by tears, and Shadowheart's makeup has run down her cheeks. Lae'zel looks shaken in a way I hadn't expected, and Karlach's tears barely have time to dry on her hot cheeks as she cries. Wyll's dry sobs and proclamation of my herohood come out hacking through shakily drawn breaths.

Looking upon them is confirmation of my death. They were grief stricken, because they lost someone they loved.

Love. I am alive.

I draw another shaky breath, turning my attention to the altar.

"Help me find a key. There must be a key!" I hurry, falling to my knees in front of the pile of gore that was Orin to rummage. I grimace as my unsteady hands meet the cooling flesh, determined to look all the same.

"Calm down, soldier. Fangs?"

My bloodied hands come to a stop as I hear the click from the altar, head snapping up to where Astarion is perched with a lockpick in his hands.

I fly up, running to the altar and to Halsin's side. My hands flutter over his body, checking for injuries that weren't there. I muster all my might into channeling my oath, planting my hands on his chest and forcing life into his body. His chest convulses and lifts under my hands, the light of the spell embracing him.

"Wake up, wake up..."

His tired groan brings tears to my eyes and a smile to my face as his head rolls to the side, and he shuffles against the uncomfortable stone.

"What happened?" He mumbles, slowly opening his eyes to squint at me.

"Orin."

Our party gathers around us, everyone taken with the scene as tears and joy brims over. Karlach steadies Halsin as he sits up, while Shadowheart discreetly tries to mutter another healing spell under her breath to expel the poison Orin used to render him unconscious.

I catch Halsin as he tries to sit, almost falling forward and straight into my arms. I brace myself against the altar, forced to take a seat as his weight pushes me down. He is heavy, and he is warm. He is alive.

I can't help the tears when they come. I cling to him, burying my head into the crook of his neck as his head rests on top of mine. His arm lays limp in my lap as he slowly regains control, embracing me to him.

"You came for me... thank you. Thank you."

I cry harder, snorting against my better judgment. His gratefulness and reverence touches me like none other, because it is his hope that saved me. What he saw in me, what he dared believe against all odds, finally realized.

"I will always come for you."

"I feared Orin's accursed smile would be the very last sight I beheld."

Halsin squeezes my body to him, shuffling me closer and into his lap, holding me as tight as his tired arms are capable of. The force with which he embraces me is forevermore welcome, the strain of his grip nothing to the harrowing notion of being so untethered before his return.

"You weren't harmed when Orin took you?" I mumble against his shirt, not daring to let go. His near-death faze me more than my actual one, and my hands shake against his back as I hold him.

"Just my pride - I can't believe I allowed myself to be knocked unconscious and spirited away like that..." He responds, squeezing me hard one final time before slowly letting me go and leaning back to look me over. "Impressive that she managed to move my bulk, come to think of it. I wonder how that was managed."

I laugh, for what else can I do? His query brings a smile not only to my lips, but to our family around us and I throw myself at him, kissing him for all I'm worth.

It's a breathless kiss of new beginnings. Of hope, of power, of prevailing through hardship.

Of survival.

For one way or another, we will survive.

And we'll do it together.

Chapter Text

The war is over.

The final battle is done, and with it, so are our tadpoles. The parasites had perished along with the netherbrain, and without time to celebrate, so had Karlach and Wyll disappeared into Avernus, and Lae'zel to the Astral Plane.

Astarion, the fool, had gotten burned by the sun and tried to run and hide not just from it, but from us too. I realize myself, Halsin, Shadowheart, Gale, Jaheira and Minsc were less of a party than if we'd all been together, but really, it was just rude.

As if we wouldn't love him the same.

Alas, the drinks were few and far between with all the wounded that needed care. I lay my hands on as many injured as possible, channeling my oath to try and stitch together the many broken bodies that littered the path up toward the city.

Once we make it out of the harbor and up into the lower city, Shadowheart and Gale immediately get led to the impromptu field hospital to provide healing and to utilize their knowledge to the best of their abilities. I try to keep up, to help where I can with knowledge of medicine and poisons.

I lose track of Halsin in the chaos as he too gets pulled away to aid the wounded. The hours pass with a never-ending stream of blood and pain, screams of loss and joy the like once people found their loved ones, or their stale corpses.

The cobblestone beneath our feet is coated in dust and blood, from the ruined buildings and ruined bodies scattered all around. The high sun blazes with unforgiving heat and light, illuminating all of the harm that the early morning had brought.

My mind and body drains under its rays, the armor growing hot over my clothes. I can feel strands come loose from my updo, the strands sticking to my sweat slicked skin.

When the sun finally lowers behind the standing buildings around us, the chill is more than welcome, yet still the final nail in the coffin. My clothes turn stale as the sweat dried on my skin, the final burst of magic exiting me as I heal a young mother.

Suddenly it's days end, and I'm wading through hoards of people to try and find Halsin.

The world slows around me when I finally lay eyes on him, the prickling part of my chest that craved being near him settling. The safety and comfort of just being near him consume my being, eviscerating all other worries. He's knelt on cobblestone, holding the arm of a crying child as his healing magic closes a wound.

Looking closer, there's a small gathering of children, all watching, some with tear streaks down their dirtied cheeks but curious looks and tentative smiles on their faces.

"See, it's all gone now. You were very brave, bringing your friend here first. Does your arm feel better now?"

The child shakes their arm, looking at it before dragging over the healed skin with the opposite hand.

"You're magic! Thank you, daddy Halsin!"

Halsin's open mouth and big eyes bring a smile to my lips as the small child throws itself around his neck. He's soon overrun by more children, thanking him and cheering him on as the miracle worker he was.

It should be a moving sight.

And it is, in all the worst ways. The pain and guilt grapple me, reminding me of my sins. A fist squeezes my heart until it aches, but it feels as if I'm bleeding out all the same.

He's destined to be a father. And I can never be a mother.

While I'd anxiously been awaiting reuniting, he'd devoted himself to the young ones in need. The small, the defenseless. The parentless.

I take a seat against a wall of rubble as the children clamor to sit in his lap, pull at his hair and chitter about his scars and tattoos. They are so happy to be with him and to have their love reflected back. He shines in the presence of their love.

"You're even bigger than my brother! And he's massive - he's sixteen!"

"Can you really turn into a bear?"

"I want to be like you when I grow up!"

It's painful, watching them. So I continue, watching from afar in my solitude against the rubble. It is punishment for my misdeeds.

I think Halsin would've stayed the entire night, entertaining questions and games the like, if a benevolent nurse hadn't ushered the children away. Barracks, that used to belong to now-fallen Fists, have been turned into temporary housing for the many children that scattered throughout the city during the battle. Parents had been coming and going all day, looking to reunite with their lost families.

I hadn't counted, but the ratio of children to adults was staggering. For every parent that came and found their child, five children were left behind. I wasn't cynical enough to believe it was intentional on the parental part.

Unfortunately, that meant many parents had perished throughout the battle. How many children would be left orphaned by the end of this?

My eyes stay trained on Halsin after the children leave. He remains kneeling on the stone, a steady oak on an empty square of land.

I'd never thought of Halsin as old. Now, he has to steady a hand on the ground to rise, grimacing with the pains of the day and from sitting on rock for so long.

It is... strange. Odd and unsettling, whilst imbuing me with a sense of safety and misplaced familiarity.

He's simply too good.

He sways as he tries to get up and exhaustion gets the better of him. I'm by his side in a flash, grasping his side and letting his arm fall around my shoulders, allowing him to lean on me.

"You have given too much of yourself today, my love."

"I fear it's far from enough." He rumbles, looking grimly at the disappearing hoard of children.

"You cannot help them all." Halsin doesn't respond, only leaning more heavily on me. "Come. Our boarding at the Elfsong hasn't ended just because the world nearly did."

That at least brings a tug to his lips, but I cannot tell how much of it is only to placate me and how much is genuine amusement.

The walk back to the tavern is short, yet infinitely more gruesome than ever before. Wherever there isn't a ruined building, there's a ruined body. People are littering the streets, alive and dead, searching for those lost during the day.

Darkness has never seemed so dark before.

We're exhausted when we make it back, greeting Shadowheart, Gale and Astarion who'd returned just a bit earlier. I scarcely have time to enjoy the meal they've ordered before collapsing into bed, placing a hand on Halsin's bulk to keep him there before drifting off.

•••

I rarely dream of anything other than blood.

It is a surprise when Wither's appears, his weathered body walking through the grey mist of my dream.

"Thou wanderst, even know. Why?" He asks, voice echoing throughout my mind.

"I... I don't know."

"Arest thou not asleep?"

"Yes, I am. I... I just want to rest." I stutter, looking around. It reminded me of the peaceful place I'd been before he brought me back, only without the tranquility.

Even in this incorporeal, shadowy landscape, the weight of the world bears down on me.

"There is no true rest for those like thee, faithless. But when victory is won, I swear, I shall find you a home."

"When victory is won? We are victorious! Please, I don't- I don't know what else to do!" I shout, voice breaking. I try to reach for him, but he appears further and further away the harder I try.

"Thou has made good on thine promise of thy better heart. To leave thy burden unspoken, is to leave thyself burdened."

"How could you be so callous?" I cry as he slowly disappears before my very eyes.

"I speak not with malice, but with prudence. We will see each other again at the proper time, and place. Now, sleep."

•••

When I wake I'm disoriented and tired, noting the still dark night outside. The shadow of a dream lingers over me, but its details are blurry and slip through my fingers like sand.

The bed is warm and soft. It's all wonderfully palpable. For once, the city is almost quiet. I burrow closer into Halsin, sighing softly as his arms encase me.

"Did I wake you?"

Halsin's whisper is accompanied by a hand stroking my hair. His fingers feel so good against my scalp, making me sigh with pleasure as I whimper against his throat.

"No."

He continues stroking, moving his hand calmly, and I'm struck with the realization of how I adore this man. If this was eternity, I would be happy. I adore his deep roots in nature, his confident demeanor, his wit and his care, his body and his soul.

"I cannot remember the last time we did not have a grand purpose to work towards..." He mumbles. I hum in response, finding peace in the truth of his words.

"We could stay in the city. Help to rebuild it."

"Perhaps. But I fear it would take an entirely fresh start to mend the ills of this place..."

I throw my leg over his midriff, hugging him to me to hold him closer. The subtle rise and fall of his chest against my palm, the heat of his breath, the texture of his skin all speak to the divinity of this creature I had the privilege of holding.

On a backward stroke, his hands grasp my hair in a loose fist, angling my head back. In the darkness, I spot only a glimmer of his hazel eyes ringed with a faint golden hue. His nose bumps against mine, and his breath fans across my mouth. My breath stutters as my heart comes alive, waiting for his lips to descend on mine.

We are not hurried in our love, no, not tonight. Slowly, my clothes leave my body, before he is undressed too. His skin is rough under my hands, and addled with little cuts and tender places. Still healing.

When he enters me I let out a sigh of relief. It is more than pleasure - it is confirmation of us being alive. The heat of him, the blood rushing under his skin, the whispered affections in the dark. Halsin thrusts within me, whispering a prayer of thanks against my mouth as we come undone together.

We are alive.

We are together.

All will be okay.

•••

The next time I wake, the world is brighter, illuminated by the sun streaming in from the window. I burrow deeper under the covers, coveting the warmth before promptly feeling the loss of Halsin's weight. My hand searches for him, bumping into his bulk on the other side of the covers. When I open my eyes, he's lying on his side, head propped up on one hand as he studies me.

"Watching me sleep?"

"Yes. I relish in the sight of you breathing. Calm, and allowing yourself to rest."

He strokes a weathered hand down my cheek, making me seek him out for more of his touch.

"When we joined battle for the last time, I did not want to presume we would survive. To feel your touch again seemed like a distant dream. That made last night all the sweeter."

His even tone has a bittersweet twinge, and as his hand draws away, suspicion arises within me. My eyes run over his face, and he diverts his eyes from me. Dread fills my chest as he turns away, sitting up on the edge of the bed with his back to me.

"Why do I get the feeling you're about to say goodbye?"

"Because I am. At least, for now."

I heave myself up on my elbows, still covered by the sheet as he rises. He's already dressed.

He has prepared for this.

"Part of me wishes we could stay in this room forever, you and I... but there is a new dawn breaking. And I have a part to play."

"You're leaving?" I ask, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. I do not know if he hears it, if he knows the true question - 'You're leaving me?'.

"I wish we had been afforded more time together, but there is so much to do in the wake of the Absolute's defeat, and precious few hands with which to do it."

Our time is over. He speaks as if he's saying our time is up.

"The wars of late have left many with nowhere to turn... Many lost their families, their homes - some never had them to begin with." He continues, still not turning toward me.

I have lost my family, my home. You were my new family, my new home. Why are you leaving me?

"They need help - help that this city cannot provide right now. I shall aid them to make a new place for themselves, in Thaniel's realm, under nature's watch."

He's leaving, to go far, far away. Alone.

He had spoken of returning to Reithwin together - were they all just empty promises, made in the turmoil of war?

"Now is the time for us to take care of each other. Already, people are gathering to depart. The promise of a new life inspires great haste. At last count, there were nine whole wagons of children in tow. They are my duty now. 'Daddy Halsin', they call me. Who am I to tell them otherwise?"

His chuckle as he echoes the words from yesterday stings as he finally turns, watching me from across the room. I clutch the sheet to myself, trying to hold myself together with the fabric.

"What about us?" I whisper. I would pity my tear-stained voice if I wasn't so pathetic.

"We are each free, as we always were..."

His words trail off as he sets his eyes on his hands, fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve. Tense silence stretches in the room as we both remain immobile, locked in this moment.

"You must visit as soon as you can - there will be much for you to see, and not a soul among our numbers who will not wish to praise the saviour of Baldur's Gate."

Was this how he felt when I jokingly called him arch druid, or master?

Being reduced to 'savior' by the one I love is a tear on my very soul.

"What about you?" I ask.

"I... well, I shall have my own selfish reasons for wanting to see you again, if you wish the same. But forgive this old fool the odd hopeful glance towards the horizon, in search of you."

The strain on his voice, the tension of his shoulders, and the labored breath finally show me what I ache for: My pain, this pain, was misguided.

He didn't wish for us to end. Not truly.

"You daft, dim-witted old druid." I breathe, clutching the sheet to my body as I rise, taking a step toward him. When he doesn't react, I walk closer, until I'm stood right in front of him, forcing my way into his line of sight. "Don't be an ass, Halsin. I'll go with you til the ends of the earth."

I stretch a hand toward his lower face, gently drawing it across his cheek. The instant I touch him he draws a deep breath, as if rendered breathless without my touch.

"What about all that you'll miss out on?"

"You are my home, Halsin."

"Your name will be feted in this city - there will be parades, medals, feasts, hands to be shaken, babies to be kissed... they'll want to erect statues in your likeness!"

Sighing, I take a step closer until my body is pressed up against his. I stretch up, balancing on my toes until my nose graces his. I give him a moment to pull away, to draw back in case this was something he truly didn't want.

He doesn't, and I kiss him.

It's chaste, and caring, and infinite in its tenderness. It lasts for a moment, it lasts for an eternity. It spans across eons, but only a second.

"I'll come with you til the ends of the earth. I love you."

Halsin's breath is unstable, shaken as it fans across my face.

"Do you truly mean that?"

"I love you."

"Say it again."

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

His breaths echo his disbelief, coming easier every time I reaffirm my conviction.

"Our time together does not end here." I promise, echoing his words from the battlefield.

He kisses me, and I am home.

Chapter Text

Two months later

I-

I can't-

I can't do this, I don't fit, I don't know how to fit.

The children laugh and play and live and dance, and Samyte doesn't.

Halsin tows the fields and builds our houses, getting up every morning with conviction and purpose.

I don't know how to fit with him when he fits in with all of Reithwin, and I don't.

I don't know how to tow fields or build houses. I only know how to kill, how to destroy.

Another child laughs.

I can't be here.

I need to go.

I need to kill again, to feel the familiar hilt of a blade, to hear the last gurgled scream of a dying man.

I am good at killing; it fits me, I know how to do it.

I... yes. I need to be away from Reithwin, and I need to kill. I know how to do that.

That is me.

Chapter Text

My boots skid as I take a sharp curve, feeling the gravel roll beneath my soles. The dark figure before me bounds down the stairs, past Forge of the Nine, turning right to try and lose me once again.

He doesn't succeed.

The night is pitch black in Baldur's Gate, but I've been hunting him for a tenday now, and it's as if I can feel my whole being zone in on him as I chase him through the streets.

I'd stayed out of the public eye since I returned, covering my face whenever I encountered anyone. I slept on the ground, making camp like we used to, only alone.

At night, I hunt.

Bhaal's assassins still stalk the streets, and I'd been weeding out the rot one by one. I'd finally caught the scent of this one, or rather, he'd caught my scent.

He knew I was coming for vengeance, and he'd tried hunting me in turn.

When a stranger offered me a drink at the Mermaid, my suspicions immediately arose. But he'd played his cards well, making me think he was just a grateful citizen who'd recognized me from the fight against the elder brain.

I'd smelled the wine before tasting it.

"If I drink this, how long before the poison you've added kills me?"

His eyes had widened as I lowered the chalice, holding his gaze.  Not every knave prefers a blade in the ribs or an arrow in the back. Some prefer venom.

"You should have used Venian's Breath instead - it doesn't carry a scent." I advise, flying out of my chair and kicking him in the chest. He stumbles backward, falling into the table and stools behind him. An angry patron shouts while another cheers, thinking it's a regular bar fight.

He scrambles back on his hands, keeping his eyes on my approaching form. He heaves himself up, throwing me an anxious smile.

"Venian's Breath leaves the subject paralysed. I am not so unoriginal as to copy the likes of Dolor."

I lunge for him with my sword, but he dodges out of the way, slinking like a fox through the pub and out the door.

The chase that follows carries up the lower city as I stalk him up and down streets, keeping him off the harbor so he can't dive or disappear on a ship. Now, finally, as he takes a right past Dammon's forge, I am within reach.

The graveyard is empty and silent, bathed in the night as the assassin dashes through the gates, choosing to head straight, and up a flight of stairs. I expect him to continue across the graveyard, and stop in my tracks when he instead tears open the gate to a grand mausoleum.

Surely, this is not where the Bhaalists had taken up camp, after mine and Orin's duel in the old temple?

I snap myself out of my stupor as I see the gate beginning to close, rushing forward to place my sword in the thinning gap. I manage to wedge it between the stone and the metal, bending it open so I can squeeze my way through.

My hesitance is warranted, as all other mausoleums are labeled. There's Durinbold, Hhune, and Gorion - famous tombs, where people still pay their respects.

This tomb is too ancient to have a name anyone remembers, elven or otherwise.

I stalk my way down the passage, seeing a dim room up ahead, but no assassin. The second I take a step into the room he accosts me, throwing himself over me from where he'd lain in wait just out of sight. I manage to dodge his swinging knife, almost tripping over him as I roll out of the way.

I bounce back up on my feet, spinning to face him as he gathers his balance. He is quick as a weasel and light on his feet, but his blade is short, barely reaching down the length of his arm.

My greatsword slashes at him. He lets out a guttural scream as blood sprays over the floor, and he drops his knife. Cunning and quick, he dives for me before I can get my sword up again, throwing his whole weight on me. My back hits the stone floor hard, his body landing on top of mine.

His slippery hands grasp my shoulders, trying to grab them to slam my head into the stone, but my pointy armor allows him no firm grip. I bring my leg up around his middle, throwing my body to the side to roll us over, forcing him down and settling on top of him. I unsheath my dagger from my arm, and he stops it an inch from his bare neck, holding it with his bare palms as a bloodcurdling scream exits him.

Even through the pain, through the frantic fear, he offers me a deranged smile.

"You think that you are free of his blood, just because you reject him?" He taunts me. His teeth are covered in a sheen of red.

"I am." I pant, pressing the blade down harder. He wails when I feel it grate against his bones.

"My death will honor him. You will have done his will." The snake beneath me hisses, trying to muddle my mind and broker his freedom through exploiting my past.

"You murdered a family. A happy family that was blessed enough to survive the siege. Bhaal has nothing to do with your death. I do." I hiss back.

"He is death." The man beneath me pants.

I drive my blade through his hand, piercing his throat. The last gurgled scream of a dying man echoes across the chamber, but I don't remove myself until I feel his chest stop moving with breath beneath me.

I allow myself a few deep breaths once it's done. The hunt for him has left me tired, and I thank my lucky star there aren't more of Bhaal's assassins down here.

It's just an old tomb.

To my right, there are chests with offerings. To my left, there are two large, rounded platforms, each the height of a man. There are stairs to the side, and in my curiosity, I follow one up. I sidestep a trap or two, finding myself upon a pedestal of sorts. In the middle of the platform, there is an ancient sarcophagus. It almost resembles a bed, with the way the headboard is carved.

Behind it, right to my left, towers a statue. The figure it depicts is frightening, clad in a cloak that conceals the person beneath. Enshrouded, there is not much to be devised of whom it could depict, other than the parchment held in its hands, reaching the floor with its many inscriptions.

At the bottom of the statue, there's a plaque in a language I am familiar with.

Through knowledge comes atonement.

An eerie feeling of being exposed blossoms within me, and I take a step back, keeping my eyes trained on the statue.

I head for the entrance of the mausoleum, but end up turning left instead of right, feeling a draw to the final room of the crypt. It is lined with rows of parchment, and a proper bookcase on one wall.

On a table lies a crumbling journal. It is so old, it must predate even the stone surrounding it.
It calls to me.

I don't dare lift it, fearing it will turn to dust in my hands. I let it lie there as I carefully open the cover, turning to the page marked by a piece of cloth.

I was still a supplicant when I came face to face with him: Masked in gold, his skin fine and worn as parchment. Jergal, the death-keeper, the End of Everything. I asked what he needed of me. He asked a simple question: "What is the worth of a single mortal's life?" I knew not how to respond, and said as such. He seemed nonplussed; neither disappointed nor pleased. I fell to my knees in respect for his awesome power. This garnered no reaction.

There I stayed, trembling with an emotion I could not name. And when I stood again, the Final Scribe was gone.

What is the worth of a single mortal’s life? The very same question was posed to me, so many moons ago.

I don’t remember what I answered. Which mortal, I suppose I’d asked. Which standards I’d judge each soul by, I barely know myself.

The inscription on the statue seems to reverberate through me, singing its message higher and higher.

Through knowledge comes atonement.

Withers.

I have to find Withers.

Chapter Text

Another two months later

On the corner of Sail and Sea Lion Street, in Waterdeep's Dock Ward, is where I finally found Gale's home. The house was built on the water's edge, and from the balcony you even had a view of The Honorable Knight. There was also a copy of a rather passionate book on said balcony, which Shadowheart and I had a laugh about in his absence.

It's so early now, the sun has barely begun to rise. I let my bare feet sink into the carpet, pulling the soft robe tighter around my shoulders as the soft clinging of the first ship's bells sounds distantly.

The centre of Gale's universe, this simple room inlaid with warm browns where I stand, is very cozy, and very befitting of its owner. The walls are lined with books, with few spaces left for art, a desk, and a piano he had made play us a tune on its own last night.

Now, it's quiet.

"To think Mr. Dekarios welcomes such ill-mannered friends into his home."

I turn from stroking my fingers across the spine of a tome, looking for the source of the old woman's voice. I find it quickly, perched on top of the piano stool.

"Good morning to you too, Tara."

She lets out a loud growl, bordering on a hiss. The dramatic old thing never did like me very much, especially not after accidentally called her a cat. I'd spared her the pain of revealing I'd heard it first from Gale when he misspoke.

After all, what was a tressym but a cat with wings?

"You helped Mr. Dekarios save Baldur's Gate from the Absolute, isn't that right?"

"Sure. Something like that." I smile, letting the tressym talk. No wonder Gale put himself at the centre of the universe if his family saw him that way too. "How has he been, in the months following the victory?"

"Exceptionally well, of course. Mr. Dekarios is a resilient wizard."

I nod, going back to stroking the backs of the novels in his bookcase when Tara speaks no further.

It was so very good to be here.

The purpose of my travels had far less exciting prospects, however interesting they may prove to be.

Jaheira had offered me a list of companions who aided Gorion's Ward during the last Bhaalspawn Crisis, and an evereskan enchanter by the name of Xan placed high on the list. I had heard rumors that the elf in question was visiting Waterdeep, but I had had no luck finding him so far.

The creaking of a floorboard startles me and I instinctively reach for the dagger in my belt, forgetting I don't have it equipped. My cause for alarm seems futile rather fast as Gale appears, sleepy and still dressed in his nightwear.

"Good morning, my fair friend. Slept well, I hope?" He asks, walking up to Tara to scratch her behind the ear. I'm honestly unsure who of us the question is directed toward until he cants his head to me, lifting his eyebrows.

"Yes, thank you. I hope you yourself got some well-earned rest?"

"Certainly! I find the perils of the road couldn't tire me out the way my students manage every week!"

I chuckle at his statement, following him down a corridor to the kitchen.

"I figured the esteemed Blackstaff Academy would have better-behaved students, professor." I jest, offering his back a smile.

"One would think that, wouldn't they? I spend most of my time trying to convince them how much fun the study of magic can be, but it'd be easier to crack a smile on an intellect devourer than some of my pupils..."

"Magic is no idle study. It's dangerous, and should be treated as such." I counter, earning a nod as he puts a kettle on the stove. I take a seat on the wooden bench, watching him wave is hand to make bread and condiments float to the table. His kitchen is oblong and a bit narrow, with high stone walls and a long table running down the middle.

"Still, I hoped my students might be a little more open to the playful side of such magic. I fear my students find me somewhat intimidating, due to my, erm, explosive former reputation. I seem to put the fear of the gods into them."

I laugh with him, grasping for a stray jar of jelly as it almost floats past me.

"Of course, I haven't clarified with my students that the orb is no longer a threat. The legend of my explosive capabilities is an excellent means of controlling a classroom. Too good, if anything."

"Yes, I imagine the thought that my teacher could suddenly level a city would put me on edge, should I get the answer wrong."

"Or should you whisper in class." Shadowheart speaks from behind me, walking up to take a seat next to me.

"Good morning, Shaddy." I smile, watching her roll her eyes.

"Really? Karlach's many nicknames for me are coming back now?"

"Oh, come now Hearty." Gale smirks.

"Shadsy?" I suggest, wiggling my eyebrows.

"My favorite was always just 'The Fringe'." Gale finishes, leaving even our cleric unable to keep her laughter at bay.

Soon, there's toast with butter, jam, cheeses and ham to pick from, along with steaming cups of tea. Some fresh fruit is even on offer, and I dig in greedily.

"Not hard to discern you two remain on the road." Gale states with a twinge of disgust as he watches Shadowheart and I load up our plates.

"I'll have you know, the adventuring life is almost a tonic when you're not constantly threatened by brain monsters and cultists. Say Gale, don't you ever miss life on the road?"

"I confess, sometimes while marking a student's fifth attempt at explaining the principles of illusory materialization, the thought occurs to me... In fact, I've actually been considering writing down the story of our adventures. The true tale of our flawed but ultimately endearing troupe, and the trials and tribulations we overcame. I can hardly leave it to the likes of Volo to give a true account of our adventures. And no one would believe him if he did."

I let the two speak while I eat, listening to them with warmth in my heart. They both made it out remarkably well, considering our journey. Gale especially seemed better than ever, and even though I detected a hint of grief at Shadowheart's newfound freedom, she appeared content to grow into herself in her own time.

"And you, Edie? Where have your travels taken you?"

"I visited Candlekeep to research Bhaalspawn history. The librarians really fussed over me." I smile, rolling my eyes as Shadowheart chuckles.

"I can imagine - a celebrity in their midst? They must have raised their voices from whispers to faint murmurs."

"Speaking of murmurs, or rather the lack thereof - have any of you heard from our friends in Hell?" Gale asks, furrowing his brow.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the cloak of worry that hung on my shoulders. Neither Wyll nor Karlach had gotten in touch, but messaging between the planes wasn't the easiest thing to figure out. I hoped they were just busy, or hadn't found a way to contact us.

"Where did Astarion settle? He was of two minds when we last spoke." Gale asks, reminiscing on our farewells a few months back.

"He spends his time in the Underdark, but visits Reithwin plenty. He's a good support to the spawn there, especially after the quarrels of his siblings. Apparently, Leon killed Dalyra over murdering his daughter, before taking his own life. Petras, the fool, got himself killed by some drow."

"Oh? So Astarion's a leader, now? Not sure how I feel about that." Shadowheart muses, and not to her discredit. Our pale friend could certainly wield that power in unsavory ways, should he wish it.

"Believe it or not, but our vampire has gone... not soft, but caring. Not all spawn stuck together, but those who wanted a community and support have formed a settlement. Some of the less morally guided spawn got overconfident rather quickly and ended up dead in Menzoberranzan. That lead Astarion and the more conscientious spawn to organize properly. They have a growing city now, called Aethen."

"He named a city 'others', did he? I'd say that's rather beautiful, if one thinks about it." Gale mumbles. Of course the wizard knew elvish - what else should I expect?

"Depending on his mood, I'm sure he'd agree with you." Shadowheart smiles, stirring her tea.

"Oh, then I would abstain from such a remark if I were you. They are quite smitten with feeding on thinking creatures and attack Lolth-sworn settlements frequently. He was quite downcast last I saw him, having found slaves in their bedchambers." I explain, remembering the flurry of emotion on Astarion's face as he aired his sorrow to me.

"What of Lae'zel? Anyone heard from her?" Gale asks, changing the subject from the somber topic.

"Yes, actually!" Shadowheart exclaims, to my great surprise. She and the gith hadn't always got along. "Her and Orpheus are fighting the war against Vlaakith. They'll need allies, but word has only just spread about Orpheus's return. A rebellion is no short process, it seems."

"And the egg? Did it hatch?"

"A little boy, named 'Xan' after the gith word for freedom."

"Hah! That's the name of the wizard I'm tracking!"

"Really? Well, you'll have to tell us if he's a gith child."

A clock dings from somewhere down the hall, drawing attention from the table. Gale finishes his tea, dusting his hands as he stands up.

"I'm afraid class is due in a short while. I'll be gone for the day, but feel free to take advantage of my home should you wish."

"Thank you. If Xan proves distant, I'll return."

"I'm headed for the House of the Moon, but I'll be back for supper. It's the largest temple of Selûne in existence. Figure it's worth a visit." Shadowheart informs us as she too stands up, swallowing her last piece of toast.

"Lovely! I'll see you tonight, then! I have a pantry full of Waterdhavian delicacies and a delightful bottle of Elverquisst with your names on them..."

"Well, then you most definitely will." I smile, waving to him as he exits before returning to my breakfast. Shadowheart leaves soon after, eager to get going, leaving me to my own misadventures.

A novel, huh? If written by Gale, I might find it interesting. Hopefully he allowed some input from the rest of us before publishing anything. I'd hate to read it only to discover secrets revealed I'd rather keep hidden.

The day passes slowly without their company, and the boredom I find myself trudging through doesn't let up as the sun slowly caresses the blue sky. I find no wizard, nor any source to tell me where he's gone.

I miss Halsin.

My heart aches with thoughts of him. In my travels, I came and went, always circling back to him, only to leave again. After tonight, I would steer my path toward Reithwin.

Back home, to him.

But the one I truly sought refused to make himself known.

For all my travels, most of my excursions felt like distractions compared to my true goal; finding Withers. The one who raised me, and recalled me back to life.

In truth, the search for him had been a distraction too, at first.

After settling in Reithwin, Halsin quickly got to work on making it a functional community. He would run around from dawn to dusk, lifting, speaking, organizing, settling disputes and a thousand other tasks that somehow all fell to him. I had tried to help, to fit in and feel a part of it, but I felt... displaced. Like every conversation I held went horribly, like no task I attempted turned out right, like I always stood out in a crowd.

The few moments of belonging I was granted with Halsin, alone in the evenings, were only brief reprieves of the pains every day brought anew.

The drop that made the cup of pain overflow was when Halsin didn't return for the evening, and I went to look for him. The children had begged him to stay after bedtime stories, and he had fallen asleep. There must've been a dozen children draped over him, resting peacefully against his sturdy form.

I left the next day. Not out of jealousy, but out of guilt.

My heart could not take it.

I was a blight on him, and he could not see it, for he was blinded by love. But he was good, and pure, and fatherly in a way I could never be worthy of. His passions and his strength lay in his community, and I simply did not know how to be part of it.

All I knew was death.

The one life I had created, I had killed.

I was not worthy of him, that much was plain to see. But more than that, I did not fit within his world.

I wanted to. Gods, I wanted to.

But if my past haunted me, by the Nine Hells would I haunt it back.

Not only was I in search of allies who fought my kind - no, I was in search of the proprietors. Every unholy assassin who had fled Baldur's Gate, every cleric who dared invoke the name of Bhaal, every wizard who spoke his kills would die by my hand.

But Withers...

Withers was the key. The missing piece to the puzzle. I don't yet know how he fits, but I know he does. The centre piece that would make the whole picture clear to see.

I don't know how, nor why, but something within me, a pulsing sensation, is adamant about locating the skeleton. He holds something I need.

Answers? Maybe.

Guidance? Perhaps.

But in my prayers, I whisper a silent wish for peace.

Chapter Text

My back hits the wall hard, tumbling backward through our front door with Halsin tight on my step. His large hands roam my body as his mouth devours mine, kissing me deeply and passionately. I hear the door slam shut behind him, kissing him deeper as I press my body to his.

"Cast silence." I pant, breaking our kiss briefly for him to speak the incantation. The words have barely left his mouth before he's on me again, his unyielding, large body looming over my smaller form and pressing me up against the wall until I'm wedged stuck.

At least those outside wouldn't be privy to our pleasure.

I squirm against him, reaching up to get more, taste more, touch more. One of my hands grasps his hair, holding his head to mine as we kiss, while the other hand tries to undo the clasps keeping his shirt closed.

Halsin's pleasured rumbles send shivers through me, and I feel myself growing wet as the aching grows between my legs. His hardness grinds against my soft stomach, hips moving instinctually.

The kiss grows feral as clothes are torn and strewn across the room. Halsin groans as he kisses down the column of my naked throat, hands working to undo my pants without tearing the buttons off.

"I have waited too long for this."

"Agreed."

I relish in his greedy kisses, in the hurried way he needs. My month of travel had been fruitful in its pursuit of knowledge, but while it filled in some blanks in my mind, it left the space between my legs achingly empty.

"I've missed you so much."

"Oak Father have mercy for how I want you."

His coarse fingers send my eyes rolling as they delve in between my wet folds, making me draw fast breaths and cry out in pleasure. My eager hands work to rid him of the offending garment keeping him from me, and I let out another moan as his naked hardness twitches beneath my hands.

My heavy eyes open to drink in the sight of him after so long apart. I would never tire of the sight of his naked body.

The years of manual labor inscribed into his roped muscles. The maddening cleft between his pectorals. The defined line of muscle down the sides of his stomach, guiding me to his thick, large cock.

I salivate at the sight, knowing just how good it felt inside me. I thanked the Gods for how proportional Halsin was when we first slept together, and my gratefulness had only grown since then. Long, thick, sinuous and heavy. Heavy enough that even now, throbbing hard, it dipped under its own weight.

"I need you in me."

Halsin doesn't waste a moment bringing his hands underneath my legs, lifting me easily and steadying my back against the wall. I chase his mouth, kissing him hard as his member bumps against my inner thighs, searching for my cunt.

A growl of frustration exits him at the delay, making me whine in response. I search blindly for his hardness, grasping it and guiding it to my center.

Our kiss breaks with a mutual moan as he finds home, sliding in slower than I would've liked. The weeks apart have made me unaccustomed to the stretch, the impossibly wide fill and the hurt that comes with it. If anything it makes me more feral, my body craving to reacquaint itself with his size.

"Halsin-" I moan, panting against his open lips as he bottoms out, letting out a groan as our hips touch. My legs tremble in his hold, and even so, I cling to him, needing to be closer.

"You feel heavenly..." he groans, slowly starting to move. "Every memory I've replayed of you pales in comparison to your body. How you stretch around me..."

"It's my favorite part too. I love your size, fuck, I love it. You reach so deep. You fill me so well."

Every syllable hangs on a moan as I speak, egging him on. I let out a dry sob as the thrusts grow fluid and long, gliding almost all the way out before slamming back.

"Fuck, Halsin...!"

He effortlessly holds me still as he thrusts, feeding me his cock. His expression is one of wanton desire as his eyes run over my figure. My pleasured face, my blushing chest, his cock entering me over and over and over again until it made me mad with pleasure.

"Faster, please, please!"

I barely have time to beg before he follows, hips canting quicker as his body pushes closer to mine. He wedges me up against the wall with his body, kissing me once before breaking it to pant and moan against my face. The torturous pleasure of long dicking me grows into a storm as he thrusts faster and faster.

My legs bend further against the wall until my thighs touch my stomach, his cock hitting so deep and perfect every time. I see stars as he thrusts up, hitting me perfectly and making me cry out.

"Fuck, fuck, there!"

I'm mumbling incoherently, losing myself all too quickly, but I hadn't a care in the world to change it. Halsin's long cock inside me had a tendency to render my head useless in the most excellent way, and I couldn't imagine a more perfect homecoming.

"You squeeze me so tight. Love it. Love you."
His words hang on a growl as his grip tightens around my hips, canting me up to align my body over his cock and to his wishes. I drool at how easily he can toss me around, move me and use me to his heart's content.

And Gods did I love being used by him.

"Missed you so much. So empty-" My sentence breaks as a loud moan is punched out of me, my words making him growl with pleasure. "-without you. Fuck, always want you."

"You're perfect around me. No one feels like you. No one as good as you."

Moans spill out of me freely at the confession, relishing in how desperately he wanted me and no one else. No matter who we brought into our bed, it would still be our bed, and the two of us would always have this.

"I have longed to cum inside you. To spill deep within you. To fill you until you're bursting with it."

"Yes, yes! Want it, need it, please!"

"You drive me mad with thoughts of you. I could barely sleep, waking to dreams of being buried within you. Not a day passed where I did not long for you."

His thrusts are hard and fast, his thighs slapping against my bottom and turning the skin there pink. We hadn't even made it into the bedroom, and the wall in the entryway is creaking with force as he moves with abandon.

"Love you, love you, love you-"

"You're tightening. Oh-"

Halsin's strained voice is filled with the last remnants of sanity as he clenches his jaws shut, hips undulating at a speed that makes me lose my breath. His thickness inside me throbs and grinds, every movement sending sparks flying behind my eyes as they build and build to a reckoning.

"Oh, Halsin, Halsin-"

His rumbled groan is animalistic as I clench around him, feeling my body pull up and seize with pleasure as I get even more wet. He keeps moving - Gods, he keeps moving - provoking a scream as my nails dig into his back, pleasure becoming my being.

My eyes roll in my head as his cock throbs inside me, his head buried in my neck. The groan of pleasure is right by my ear, making my head spin as he starts to fill me. He gyrates and grinds, thrusting fast and hard as he cums long and deep.

My body is shaking, throbbing around him as his thrusts slowly come to an end. I adore his greediness, continuously grinding deep and hard as little bursts of cum keep filling me. Even as he runs out, he keeps his body plastered to mine, squishing me against the wall as his head rests on my shoulder.

"I want you to stay inside."

"No hardship from me."

He lets out a pleasured groan against my skin, pushing his hips into mine and jostling his cock deeper where it had started to slip.

A minute of heavy breathing passes as Halsin rumbles happily, the reverberating sound making his chest vibrate underneath my hand.

"Do you have anything that needs tending to today?" I ask. Halsin shakes his head, still keeping it hidden in my neck.

"Perfect. I'd like to ride you and then have you pound me."

His cock twitches inside me, already growing hard again.

"Can I fuck you into the mattress?"

"Please."

"I love you."

"I know." I smirk, giving him a peck. "I love you too."

•••

"I've missed this." I mumble much later, as we're lying in bed. His naked body is on display, and even after rounds and rounds of having him, I can't keep my hands off of him. Neither of us have bothered to dress, and I'm particularly grateful for it now as I stroke a finger down his bare skin.

"As have I."

The love in his eyes, and that damned smile of his make me short for breath still. My cheeks ache with how much I've been smiling, and I can't help but peck him again.

"Tell me - what have I missed?"

Halsin hums, planting a proper kiss against my lips before speaking.

"There was some... discourse, among the children. Not of the friendly sort."

"Oh? Are you alright?"

"Yes, my love. But it warms my old heart that you would think to ask." He smiles, sighing deeply as his hand trails my arm. "Housing the children in Moonrise Towers is the best solution for now, but some were upset that Steelclaw spent more time with the elder kids. Words and fists were thrown."

"Steelclaw? The cat?"

Honestly, I was surprised she was still alive.

"Yes. You've met?"

"Months ago. And before that, before the nautiloid even. I, um... I may have kicked her for snarling at me." I wince at my own admission, watching Halsin's frown.

"You're the one she calls 'death-walker', whose face she 'shreds in her dreams' still?"

I wince further, forcing a minute nod.

"It was a long time ago! But I'll apologize. Again."

"Yes, perhaps that is best. None of the children have learned to speak with animals yet, but if you do decide to tell your story, it should be you who does it and not a cat."

I nod in agreement, being reminded of another cat I hadn't greeted since returning.

Well, I had been... preoccupied.

"Have you seen His Majesty?"

"This morning, in Last Light. He lounges there, content with the lack of children."

Halsin smiles, shaking his head. His Majesty and I had become unlikely frenemies ever since he hissed at me and I hissed back. The refined cat had declared Isobel a liar and subsequently slinked right into my heart.

He was a lot like Astarion, come to think of it. Well, if a vampire was comparable to a cat.

"I'll have to visit him later. I set aside quite a few greetings in my eagerness to reach you."
Halsin's arm tightens around me, pushing my naked chest up against his as he once again claims my mouth.

"You have been gone for far too long this time." He mumbles once we part for breath. The lump in my throat makes it difficult to force the words past.

"I know."

"You roam as your nature wills you to, and
your heart remains your own. I just wish you would let me share in it more often."

I rest my forehead against his, focusing on the rise and fall of my chest and the steady thumping of his heart under my hand.

"It kills me. To see you with them." I whisper. Halsin lets out a long, heavy exhale filled with the weight of his sorrow.

"The children would love you. If you let them."

The anger that flares is snuffed out almost as fast as it comes. I had gotten better at that, controlling my emotions. But in its wake is only devastation, and I hate that even more.

I prefer anger over sorrow. It is easier.

"I can't." We breathe against each other, allowing the grief room. "If Bhaal still holds secrets, we can never be safe. I must study all there is to know, and I can't do that here."

Halsin's exhale is heavy as he strokes a hand down my cheek to my neck, letting his thumb stroke over my jaw.

"When will you leave again?"

Leaving the first time had ripped my heart in two. The second time had been easier. The third time, it felt like leaving a part of me behind to chase the past.

But even as I plan for the fourth time, part of me longs to stay, to entwine my roots with the deep ones Halsin had already set for himself. Reithwin has become a sanctuary, a wonderfully safe, mostly peaceful world where no one suffered.

It was happy, despite all the pain.

Children forgot. Or perhaps outgrew. Or adapted.

So long as they were alive.

And Samyte is not.

Every child in this place felt like a beacon of light. When Lily, a Dragonborn from the city, organized a school in the Towers to host classes, the children's joy could've lit the lanterns for an entire week. They felt special and cared for, and that lifted the spirits of the damaged adults around them.

I can't look at them and not see my Sam. How special he felt to finally get to come with mommy to a ritual. The loving trust in his eyes as he grasped for my hand, and I squeezed his in return before leading him to the altar.

"Minsc is busy in the city, but has offered to help me find a certain sad-mouthed Graycloak and someone he calls Aerie. They aided him and Jaheira during the last Crisis, and may know something."

I've kept my mission of hunting stray Bhaalists a secret from him, only because it would worry him so.

Why I don't tell him about my search for Withers, I don't know.

Perhaps due to the vanity of my quest - finding Withers would do the world no good. It might not even serve me. It does nothing for my legacy of death, and yet, the skeleton is intertwined with my legacy. He raised me from the dead, and then, he disappeared.

I feel... unfinished.

I can sense Halsin's sorrow, for it mirrors my own. His grief, because of my grief. There is no excuse that can erase the unspoken. That which I could only dare to whisper in the dead of night.

"I will wait for you. Most ardently."

Chapter Text

Another two months later

I do not get many letters on the road. Mainly due to the lack of address, and the lack of carriers willing or capable of finding me. But when I wake one morning to the sound of barking, and the feel of a wet nose against my cheek, I can't be anything but happy to be found.

"Scratch!"

The overwhelming love he greets me with washes over me, and it takes a good few minutes before I can manage to rise past the excited dog to reach for an animal speaking potion.

"Scratch, m'boy! How did you find me?"

"Your scent! I followed it all the way from Baldur's Gate!"

"The Gate! So you remained in the city, then? I thought you went with Shadowheart."

"No, but I'm looking forward to seeing her too! Bone man said she'd be at the reunion as well!"

"Reunion?"

"He gave me this letter." He says, nodding his head to a dropped scroll on the ground. "He said it was very important you get it."

I raise my eyebrows to the dog, reaching for the dropped parchment and unfolding it.

Challenger of Gods,

Surely thou wishest to see thine true family, once more?

Wither's hand is unmistakable, and the sight of his familiar script from hours of writing at camp makes a mantle of decisiveness and determination settle over my shoulders. The letter asks me to find my companions at the place where it all started, at the beachfront by the Chiontar.

I'm up and away before breakfast has left my hands, deciding to walk while I eat in my eagerness to find the man I'd been searching for for so long.

Withers is finally within reach!

Scratch and I put miles and miles of distance behind us, reaching Fort Morninglord by day's end. The travels of the next day are more than enough to reach the ruined temple within which we'd unearthed Withers, so I settle for making camp not far from it.

I don't seem to have been the only one who hurried, as my companions soon filter in one by one. The very next day, Gale portals in alongside Shadowheart.

"Edie! What a lovely surprise!" Gale bellows as he sets foot in the camp I'd started to raise, trying to mirror the one from so many months ago.

"You're one to talk, opening a portal like that!" I laugh, dropping the hastily grabbed dagger to go and greet them.

"We were so sure we would be the first ones here..." Shadowheart mumbles over my shoulder as she pulls me into a hug.

"What, thought I'd be late as I don't have a Butler to check the time?"

"Oh, you know I didn't mean it like that! I thought perhaps you mightn't want to be reminded of the past, even if it was to see old friends. But I'm glad to be proven wrong."

I offer a smile and a nod, releasing her to embrace the wizard. When I step closer, the hiss of a nearby tressym draws my attention. I pry behind Gale's bellowing robes, spotting the discontent lady.

"Tara was invited too?"

She hisses again, mewing as Gale looks at her, turning to me for the interpretation once the cat settles down.

"She says that her invite was more certain than yours, as her manners are befitting of the company. Apparently, she and mother have hosted luncheons with Withers more than once."

I freeze up, throwing a quick glance at Tara.

"Withers joined them for lunch?"

"That is what she said." Gale utters, drawing another hiss from Tara.

"I never saw him eat...?" Shadowheart mumbles, recalling our months on the road. I shake my head in agreement before turning to Gale again.

"You met Withers?"

"He seems to have escaped my company."

"When was he last in Waterdeep?"

Gale turns to Tara, asking the petulant thing while I wait impatiently.

"Last month, it seems."

Last month! I had been in Baldur's Gate, accompanying Harper Geraldus to the ceremony that made him a Watcher before the Council. Jaheira had put him forward for 'service to the city', and he'd wanted me to speak for him as I once had before.

As he had tried to kiss me the very same evening, I had a feeling it was more than my sorely lacking speech that had urged him to seek my company.

Even with Halsin being as open as he was, I couldn't bring myself to partake and indulge in Geraldus's curiosities. It felt wrong to do so in the absence of my druid, what with our relationship being so distant currently.

No, I would not seek the company of another whilst our relationship strained. I may be unworthy of Halsin, but I would not deign to deem him unworthy of me. Halsin is my lover, first and before anyone else.

The current day passes slowly as Shadowheart plays with Scratch while Gale and I chat and organize camp. The old tents are conjured back up, the familiar colors and decorations swirling through the air. Despite Withers being the one who sent the invite, he is nowhere to be seen.

"Surely, he wouldn't invite us and not show up himself?" I wonder aloud, petting Scratch as he patters over to me.

"He's a strange fellow, I'll admit. But to not show would be curious." Gale ponders, shaking his head.

"Certainly. Although, he's quite powerful for a fellow content to loiter in our camp the whole time, isn't he? I wonder if he'll ever reveal what he's been up to, exactly... apart from luncheons with your mother, of course." Shadowheart supplies before throwing Scratch's ball again, drawing the dog away from my hands.

Around lunch, the thundering of paws on soil reach my ears, making me grasp for my sword. Shadowheart hears it but a second later, leaving only the resident human oblivious to the approaching animal. It sounds like a hunt, and hopefully, we are not the ones being hunted.

I almost dive for the creature when it pierces the woods, flying into our camp and landing with a boom right at Scratch's feet. I jerk back with the realization that the dog is anything but fearful, no, rather excited as he sniffs the newly arrived bear.

"Halsin!" Gale exclaims, excitement and joy pouring out of him as he nears the two, watching as Scratch jumps around and paws at the large beast. The bear turns toward Gale, standing on its haunches and showcasing its staggering height before erupting into Halsin.

"Gale! For too long have we been parted!"

Halsin laughs, happily embracing the wizard before turning to greet Shadowheart too. I let my sword rest and allow them their greetings in peace, sinking back into the meadow unnoticed. I leave the sound of their laughter behind, letting the forestry envelop me as I pace deeper into the woods.

The joy that sparked within me just laying eyes on him was staggering, but so was the anxious guilt. I can hold no part in such elated ease and joy, no matter how much I want it. I have simply robbed Halsin of it too many times before to deserve it.

I would not ruin this reunion too.

Every time I returned to Reithwin, it was to his loving embrace, but every time I left I saw the hope diminish within his eyes. He dared not say it for fear of pushing me further away, but every time I left it damaged our bond more and more.

Last time I left, I'd been solitary for an entire month by his side. I'd slowly watched him relax, find his rhythm with me and our lives, watch his joy grow as we finally got a start at building a life together.

And then, I left. Again.

Just as I was now, leaving. A coward, slinking into the woods.

It hadn't even been the children this time. It had been an old diary, plucked off of an Unholy Assassin's corpse. I'd stowed it away after killing him, intent on reading it at a later date in case it revealed something in regard to where others might have gone. Instead, it was Orin's dramatic red scrawl that greeted me.

Oh, my stupid slaughter kin. How many thousands will you mutilate before you learn to make their blood spill worthy of Father's altar? You deceive your god with these mindless flayings, and our temple, no, my temple, decays because of it. It can't be so. It mustn't be so. The favourite of Bhaal must be one worthy of his name. One who serves him, and only him. If you insist on shouldering the yoke of these other so-called Chosen, then I will craft you a better one. A worm, to make you mindless as the altar-meat you butcher. And I will restore this temple in Bhaal's true image. A glorious vision, built atop your festering corpse.

Thousands.

I mutilated thousands. Mindless flayings. Meaningless death.

Did Orin count Samyte among the mindless altar-meat? Had she known him? Had she encouraged me? Had she watched as I led my son to his death?

Desolation had set in within me once more, and I had to leave. I didn't truly have a goal other than to leave. Reithwin, Halsin, the peaceful, loving life we lived, it held no place for sins of this magnitude.

Yet my selfish heart longs for him, skipping a beat as a twig cracks at the edge of the small meadow.

"Hello."

The greeting sounds from behind me, the lumbering druid having managed to move silently once more. He remains on one side of the lea, allowing me space on the other. I turn and attempt an answering smile.

"Hello."

His unsure expression and tight shoulders make my heart ache to touch him, to soothe him. But every moment of happiness he brings me feels as if stolen from the lives I'd taken. Every comfort I can offer deceitful, as I was the one who had inflicted the wounds.

"Are you well, my heart?" He asks, looking me over as he plays with his fingers.

"I'm better now, in your company." I speak, making an effort to bring warmth into my smile.

Halsin nods, mirroring my expression briefly. Silence stretches in the open air as dragonflies play and purple asters sway in the wind.

"And you? How have you been, I mean." I ask, watching him shuffle in place.

"You would think someone of my vintage would be inured to the passage of time. Yet this past month has seemed endless without your company."

My heart sinks and my guilt rises. I was doomed, hating myself for allowing myself to be happy with him, and hating myself for hurting him when I left.

"I'm sorry, my love. I... I'll try to stay. For you."

He watches me with sincerity, searching for... something.

"Does that mean you're coming home with me? That when we leave, we leave together?"

I draw a deep breath, steeling myself before nodding.

"Yes."

He lets out a relieved exhale, letting his shoulders drop. Slowly, as if floating above the forest floor, he finds his way to me, grasping for my hand. His thumb strokes across the back, his fingers play over my palm.

"That brings joy to my heart. The Oak Father has been kind to me this past while, yet I cannot forget the bond we forged together. It is one that can weather any distance, any passage of time. I know it can, for I feel the longing for you in my heart each day."

Halsin's words flow like a soothing balm to my soul. I admire his ability to stitch his sentences together, as I lack his eloquence.

Words do not come naturally to me. Not like that.

When he tilts his head downward, I'm nevertheless certain of how to answer. Angling my head upward, taking a small step closer. Letting his breath fan across my face during a moments trepidation.

The kiss we share is one of coming home.
I rest my forehead on his once we part, relishing in the ghost of his lips upon mine.

"I have been unfair to you." I breathe, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. "My past haunts me, but I have allowed it to haunt you too. I do not want to expose you to my sins, for fear of you hating me. Instead, I have left you without explanation or promise of return. I... forgive me, my heart. I am so sorry for how I have treated you."

Halsin's expression is one of caution and contemplation as he draws back, searching my gaze.

"Is it guilt that haunts you?"

I nod, not wanting to speak past the lump in my throat.

"I cannot imagine the life you led before, and the parts I know of are enough to drown a man in sorrows. But it is my firm belief that the person you have turned into can alter the scales tenfold, and bring good about the world before leaving it behind. I myself am accustomed to dwelling on the past, even when it brought me nothing but unhappiness. You changed that for me, and gave me the most precious of memories. I would be happy to help you make that change too."

A tear slips down my cheek, catching on his thumb before it's wiped away. I nod against his palm, sniveling and shivering in his embrace.

Whether I deserve it or not, his offer sounds infinitely more tempting than the solitude I've forced myself into.

I will remain by his side, I vow to myself. Should I ever need to leave, I will speak with him first, rather than announce my departure and be gone.

I just have to find Withers first.

Chapter Text

By nightfall, I'm grateful to return to our camp after a brief visit to the Grove. A brief, tense visit, I should say.

Given that Nettie had tried to poison and kill me, and that I held a festering grudge against  Kagha, it was a strained few hours for me. Halsin was happy to revisit his old home and speak with his successor Francesca, and Gale was scarcely put off by the free rein to Halsin's old study.

Even after we vanquished the shadow druids, their malign ideas had found purchase within the Grove. Francesca had set the offenders straight, but I reckon it was only a matter of time before their hateful propaganda festered anew.

I keep back during the visit, not speaking unless spoken to. Without the tieflings here, there aren't many I want to converse with. The druids of the Grove were easily swayed elitists who'd almost murdered refugees to preserve themselves, and I feel disgust at their company.

Rath is fine. Apikusis too, and a few of the others who had lesser standing within the leadership.

They were happy with Francesca, as was Halsin, so their new arch druid seemed a good pick for the poisoned brood. Hopefully, she could lead the lot of them down paths that didn't lead to death and destruction.

As far as I was concerned, Kagha was not one to be guided down a lighter path. It was simple, really - she wasn't willing to be. She hungered for leadership and power, and her sneer was no different now than it was months ago. Her repentance for her involvement with the shadow druids had gone long enough, she figured, and she felt cheated to not have been returned to her previous seat of power as second-in-charge.

At least when I was in Bhaal's grasp, I killed indiscriminately. She aimed for the weak and killed for greed, in order to further herself.

During the visit, I see Kagha's mocking bow, her eyes lingering on Francesca and Rath both. The shadow druids' words are meant to inflame those already given to anger and helplessness, and she certainly had retained her philosophies in regard to the anger.

I long for the day she slips up. I long to hunt her. One word from Francesca and Kagha's head would be delivered by sundown. My being no longer yearns for blood, but hers I would spill with pleasure.

If Halsin notices my ire, he doesn't comment on it as we grab Gale and return to our camp. Shadowheart had opted to visit the former goblin camp, previous temple of Selune, now that she could look upon it with new eyes.

She awaits us when we return by nightfall.
Awaits us in a greatly decorated camp, as it was.

There's tents overflowing with plush pillows and throws to rest on, tables rich with food and drink the like. Everything is illuminated by a crackling fire and spread out torches, casting a warm glow over the festivities. A man I don't recognize thrums a lute on top of the large rock at the center of camp, floating conjured instruments around him following his melody.

"You know, I never really imagined Withers as much of a party-thrower, but then again I suppose our camps weren't taking care of themselves while we were out gallivanting, were they? There's hidden depths in that loveable husk." Shadowheart muses as she greets us, hugging me close even after just a few hours apart.

I'm just about to respond when a rift opens, and the unmistakable sulfur of the Hells wash over us as Karlach and Wyll come tumbling into camp.

"Hells! What's going on?"

"Oh shit. Oh my gods! He wasn't kidding. Withers, you mad bastard, you brought me back!" Karlach's infectious smile flashes and she lunges for me, lifting me into an embrace. "I've missed you, you old Bhaalspawn." She laughs, swinging me around. "Oh - do you not want me to call you the B-word anymore?"

"Technically not a Bhaalspawn any longer." I smile as she puts me down. At least, none of his blood flowed within my veins, none of his life was within my life. "In fact, I have been studying Bhaal, so I can fight him, if his cult ever strikes again."

"You're too good, buddy. Well, you did save the world despite getting repeatedly possessed by the spirit of murder, so technically, you're the best. I'm just so glad you're doing all right. I've thought of you often, whenever I could spare half a thought. Surviving Avernus doesn't leave you much time to think."

"Or eat..." Wyll muses, bundled up in Gale's arms as he throws a whistful glance toward the set table.

"But having Wyll around has been incredible!" Karlach continues her tirade, slapping Wyll on the back before going on to hug Gale. "Fucker's even better at killing devils than yours truly! We don't have much time to chat, but just knowing he's there makes all the difference."

"Should we partake in this lovely dinner? Or should we wait for Astarion?" Wyll asks, eyeing the table hungrily once more.

"Fucker doesn't eat, does he?" Karlach muses, landing a quick kiss on Wyll's cheek as she heads past him toward the table.

"No, but he does hear."

Astarion's sneer brings another round of happy greetings to the group, delaying Wyll's hunger just a bit further.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to travel when you can't cross running water?"

Before long we've all taken a seat and started filling our plates from the rich assortment before us. Seems that for all of Wither's planning, filling the table with everything from rothé ribs to fragrant stews, no blood has been provided. Astarion lounges by the table as the rest of us eat, gathering around with us to speak and jest the like. Halsin even goes for a pint of honey mead, whispering to me to haul him away should I find him bare-chested and singing the songs of his ancestors.

There's barely time to eat as everyone is too eager to reconnect, but I manage a bite here and there. After having filled his plate and downed half a bottle of wine, Wyll lets out a content sigh. He leans back, closing his eyes.

"Breathe deep. Can you smell it?" He muses.

"That disgusting sulfur? Yes, unfortunately." Astarion jests, earning himself a sly smile. I take a deep breath, searching for whatever scent Wyll found so appealing. It smells like a forest, inviting and distinctively alive.

I would've hated it a few months ago.

Now, it smells comforting. Like Halsin.

I poke my druid, urging him to aid my search. He draws a deep breath, searching for the notes I can't identify.

"Sweet honeysuckle, tender violets and forest trees draped in moss."

Wyll opens his eyes, an almost dopey smile coming over his lips.

"Ah, yes. Bittersweet, smoky - and that faintest hint of vanilla. A far cry from the rancid Avernus heat that's been clogging my lungs. I swear, Karlach and I have felled enough cambions to build a fortress with their horns. Who would have thought that just one of those fiends held the key to escaping Avernus for good?"

"Oh? Pray tell, what have you discovered?" Halsin asks as I lean closer, enticed by their prospect.

"One of them sported a map and some blueprints. If you want all the gory details, Karlach can fill you in. But get this: If those blueprints work, I could reverse engineer my stone eye. Instead of Mizora tracking me, I could track her."

"Hah! You don't make such a bad ranger after all!" I laugh, drawing the attention of the tiefling beside Wyll. "But that doesn't sound like a way of leaving the Hells."

"Oh, I'll take this one babe!" Karlach interjects, leaning on Wyll's shoulder to get further across the table. Judging by his expression, he really doesn't mind. "Cambion also dropped a map with directions and blueprints for Zariel's own,
private forge. A fucking forge! Our current plan is to get in, grab a smith, and force him to fix old rusty" She bangs a fist against her infernal engine," - or maybe give me a brand new heart that can live outside Avernus! You haven't seen the last of ol' Karlach yet, soldier."

"If anyone can survive Avernus twice, it's you."

"Couldn't have said it better myself. Keep a bottle of something good in the ice box for me, huh? Mama K's coming home before too long. Can I look you up, when I'm out?"

"You had better, or I'll hunt you down myself." I smirk, lacing my arms over my chest and leaning back in my seat. Playful competitiveness sparks in her eyes, and she gets a challenging look about her.

"Hey, that would be kinda fun, no? High-stakes hide and seek. Honestly, I'd be curious to see if you could land a blow or two."

"Or, you could always come visit us in Reithwin. Our hearth is yours." Halsin offers, de-escalating the playful brawl that was brewing.

"Oh, right! What's with the shadow curse now? All gone, I hope?"

"Life has reclaimed the lands, and nature has returned."

"Wow! So you're like, arch druid of Reithwin?"

"Ah, no. I couldn't escape becoming appointed alderman of the reclaimed lands, though. Being elected for leadership was not what I had envisioned for myself, but then again, neither was settling down."

"I'm glad to hear it. In all honesty, I could scarcely imagine it for myself. Don't you miss wandering?" Wyll asks, swirling his wine. I perk my ears, listening keenly to Halsin's answer.

"I thought I would... but in truth, no. Roaming has lost its lustre now that I have somewhere I truly belong. Perhaps my true nature was waiting to reveal itself."

"Aw, daddy Halsin!" Karlach coos, leaning her head on Wyll's shoulder. "Bear daddy!" She then gasps, pointing eagerly at him. I can't suppress my smile as Halsin chuckles, going on to explain how he spent half his days in ursine form.

"I am glad the children are so comfortable with the Oak Father's creations, but they must learn that not all are as amiable as I am. A lesson for another time though; they deserve some joy."

"Once I would have called you foolish. Now, I only admire your conviction." Lae'zel's hissed words startle the table as a purple hologram appears, sporting her appearance.

"Lae'zel! By the gods, you terrified me!" Gale huffs, earning himself a click of the tongue and a cocked head followed by a smirk.

"Seems your lack of vigilance is to blame." The gith retorts. Karlach stands and waves a hand through Lae'zel's form, frowning when it goes right through.

"I was hoping for a bit more... solid?"

"While my body resides in the cold expanses of the Astral Sea, a projected likeness of myself is here for the evening. It has taken all of Orpheus' efforts to conjure my projection - and all of mine to convince him to let me come. Worth it, I'd say. I missed this place. This - ahem - 'Fay-run'."

I expect Gale to correct her pronunciation, but the wizard only curiously drags his hand through the cerulean shimmer that made up her form.

"Where are you now, that you couldn't be here in the flesh?" Wyll asks, drawing the gith's attention. Karlach meets his gaze behind Lae'zel's back, lifting her eyebrows and shrugging before making her way over to Wyll's side.

"Shra'kt'lor."

I tilt my head at Lae'zel's hissed answer, awaiting an elaboration that, of course, isn't offered.

"Sounds... foreboding. I presume you're there on business, not pleasure?"

"Let's say 'both'. I can't imagine a greater pleasure than Vlaakith's unmaking. Shra'kt'lor is the capital of the githzerai - an exiled people, once kin with mine until the madness of civil war ripped our one sky into two. Our gish sent word of the rebellion to their god-king Zaerith Menyar-Ag-Gith through the cosmos. He's agreed to parley. It's fallen to me to secure an alliance."

Karlach chuckles from the table, using the rib she was gnawing on to point toward Lae'zel.

"Hold on. The great warrior Lae'zel on a diplomatic mission?"

"Heh. I was as surprised as anyone when Orpheus spoke the order." She agrees, a smirk gracing her face. "My blade is keen as ever. But it was you who showed me that a proper victory doesn't always require a razor-sharp edge." She adds, making a sweeping gesture over the table. I assume she referencing some more than others, though.

"Sometimes, a sincere plea is more persuasive than a dagger against the neck." Wyll agrees, nodding thoughtfully. "When will we see you proper?"

"Soon - when the Comet has risen, when the lich queen has crumbled to dust!"

Lae'zel's warrior's cry carries her pride, making her appear majestic as the projection shimmers against the black of the night.

"You'll let us know if you need a hand, right? I've always wanted to see the Astral Plane." Shadowheart offers.

Oh, how far we'd come, that she'd look upon the gith with soft eyes and aid in her heart.

"You will not be needed, but the offer is appreciated nonetheless." Lae'zel answers, offering her a nod of thanks. A moment of silence passes as the projection wavers, starting to taper off.

"I missed this place." She silently muses, watching the tress sway in the gentle evening breeze. "More to the point, I missed you. I wouldn't even deny it with Vlaakith's vorpal blade at my neck. Though I'd rather it not come to that. I'll be back one day. The Overgod himself couldn't keep me away."

Chapter Text

The bear stumbles, wavering on its paws by the forest line. Shaking its head, it sneezes, tumbling to the ground.

"You're drunk." I laugh, nearing the bear slowly as he tries to sit on his haunches. The chocolatey brown fur moves in the light breeze, illuminated by the tender moon high above.

The bear sways once more, putting a front paw to the ground so as to not fall. Once steadied, a golden glow envelops its skin, and in a flash of magic, Halsin takes his true form.

"I am not normally given to imbibing, but this is a special occasion, and I believe our dear Withers procured a fine honey mead as part of the celebratory victuals..." He groans, grasping his head. I give a wider smile, sitting down next to him.

"I don't think I've ever seen you drink."

"Even the most ascetic of nature's servants would be tempted by such an elixir. Even if your company is what truly drew me."

He leans on me heavily, his warmth flooding my body as he sacks against my smaller form.

"Honey, maybe we go lay down for a bit? Yeah?" I try, steadying him with a hand on his chest as he sways.

"Yes, perhaps that is for the best..."

With a lot of effort I get him up on his feet, letting his arm rest over my shoulders so he can lean on me as we make the walk toward the pitched tents on the outskirts of camp.

Hardly reminiscent of our camping days, it has four walls and a spacious floor covered with throws and pillows alike. Halsin lets out a relieved sigh at the sight and tumbles down into the tent, dragging me down with him.

"Ouf!"

"Sorry, my heart."

Luckily, his chest broke my fall. Halsin's dreamy smile and lofty gaze lure a giggle out of me as I scoot up to face him better, bracing myself on top of him with my lower arms elevating my upper body.

"You alright there?"

"Yes."

"No nausea?"

"No."

"You should drink some wat-"

My words are interrupted by his lips on mine, and the humming noise of contentment vibrating from his chest as he tastes me. I'm lightheaded when our lips part, my query forgotten.

"You are deep in your cups." I smile instead, affectionately stroking a finger down his cheek.

"You are more intoxicating than any fare this gathering has to offer." He grins back, making me unsteady within.

My cheeks heat and I break eye contact as I stumble for words. They escape me, as they so often do in his presence.

"I was eager to attend tonight... yet I cannot help but fear that it may be a mistake. Do you know what I speak of?" He asks, carding a hand through my hair.

"We're right where we ought to be - amongst old friends." I reassure him. Of course, the ever responsible, loyal father felt unsure about leaving home.

"Of course. I have just become unaccustomed to free time, perhaps. I feel like I am neglecting something."

"I can think of something for you to do..." I hum, kissing him again. Our lips meet and intermingle, sending tingles down my spine for a minute before he speaks again.

"All these months, and I haven't been away from Reithwin. There's a whole community out in Thaniel's realm that has never known a day without my presence. Being away from it... I cannot help but worry how they will fare in my absence."

"You cannot be there all the time. Besides, they are very well protected by Thaniel and Oliver both. You're worrying for naught, my heart." I comfort. It is astounding how laying like this, speaking calmly, has the added effect of calming myself.

"Then I shall take courage from your example." He mumbles. I tilt my head, sensing that there's more to it. My absence is almost a constant, but after all, I'd agreed to follow him home after this.

"What ails you, my love?" I ask, keeping my eyes trained on him.

"Tell me... are you happy with the path we tread together? I took you from a life of high adventure to one that can be described as anything but. Is that why you leave?" He croaks after a moment. The cheerful spark has left his voice, and when I look up at his eyes they are burdened. As if his company, his life, was not exciting enough for me.

"Is this because of what Wyll said? About favoring the nomad life?"

Halsin sighs, sinking into the pillows.

"Perhaps that planted the thought this evening. But I cannot deny it is a notion that has plagued me for longer still."

I sink under his gaze, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

"You know why I leave. It is no reflection on your company. Quite the opposite, in fact." I mumble, training my eyes on his slowly expanding chest.

"You could have done anything, gone with anyone... forgive an old fool for wondering why you chose me, only to leave."

The sound of cheers from the feast interrupts the silence that settles after his proclamation. When it settles, and the creaking of cicadas is all that can be heard, my voice resurfaces again.

"I told you. It is guilt, my heart. It eats me alive."

"Yes, yes, so you said. But things are never so simple. Not with you. You are... far too complex, too multifaceted for me to comprehend. I can't understand you, and when you speak it's as if you force the words out. I... I feel like I'm lost at sea."

His vulnerability beneath me sobers me as his voice cracks and his eyes water. I stroke his cheek, feeling the answering weight in my chest.

"We each used to know the other's heart to the fullest. I am ashamed to have made you doubt yourself." I admit, shuffling on top of him. His eyes stay trained on me, watching me with rapture. "I forget my sins when I'm with you. You bring me happiness like no other. That drowns me in guilt. To have for myself what I robbed countless victims of... what I robbed Samyte of… I can’t stand it.”

My voice breaks when I at last admit it, eyes watering. Halsin's hand cradles my cheek softly, and I lean into his support.

"My heart..."

His words are heavy, sighed instead of spoken as he holds me to him. Keeping me safe and warm in a way I did not deserve.

"It's not you that makes me leave. It is never you."

"It's the guilt."

"Yes."

"And you would favor a sedentary life, still? A steadfast, boring, small life?"

"You could never be boring or small." I whisper into the crook of his neck, holding him tighter to me.

Halsin embraces me wordlessly, staying with me through the guilt. When his arms around me eventually relax, and his breaths slow and even out, I slip out of the tent.

What do you say to comfort a murderer? What do you say to soothe a mother who brought death upon her own child?

My sweet, sweet druid. Plagued by his past for so many years, only to finally have found his place. How fortunate was I to have been allowed to partake in his liberation, and how foolish was I to have caused a stain on his joy? To muddy his victory by being so lost myself.

He was my home. Is my home. But the shards within me dig deep, pressing into bleeding wounds.

He is my home, but I'm not in a place where I am his. Of course he can't settle into safety with a constant, dependable partner, not if I was always moving. No matter how far I go, I always know where he is. I could set a compass after him to guide me home. And in return, I had made myself an unreliable orbiter of his life, rather than a pillar of it.

Curse it!

For months, I've wandered alone with my thoughts. Ruminating on my life, my heritage, my deeds. Never once on his new life, only missing his company selfishly, or flagellating myself for not fitting into it well enough. All I know is to kill, after all. I am frighteningly good at it. Blades, fists, whichever implement is within reach if the situation is dire.

But I do not want to be a scion of murder anymore. I’ve greeted death as an old friend,  followed my oath of vengeance, but murder no longer brings me even a moment of ecstasy. Still, it is a part of me. An undeniable, ever-present part of me.

I know death, and death knows me. I've been running from it for so long, hating who I was, who I am, instead of finding myself in the fog.

I have to know death, to find it, in order to find peace. Running from it, and my past, allows me no peace with the present.

I can not be Halsin's before I am my own.

The razed chapel nearby calls to me. Not far from the feast, close enough to the festive camp that the torches cast a golden light over the aged walls. Stones piled on stones, weathered and torn after years and years by the riverbank. Barely a roof and four walls.

Death calls, and I answer.

I finally find Withers.

After so many months, there he is. Writing away in that impossibly large book he always kept on hand. He holds it with such ease, yet it is far too large for his frail form to reasonably be able to do so.

His writing never stopped, not through all our adventures, and seemingly not in the months since.

"This one night is like any other... And yet... Different." He muses, scribbling in his tome with his back to me. "Thou walkest alone. On all these harsh nights, thou hast sought to escape the company of your beloved."

"Have I disappointed you?"

"Love is no domain of mine. But it is often cited as the purpose of mortal life. Wherefore turnst thou from it?"

I shuffle in place, drawing a labored breath as the words refuse to come to me. To speak before him held greater magnitude than I remembered, and I feel ashamed to have thought it so trivial.

My lack of reply brings another question.

"Thou art the Saviour of Baldur's Gate... until such time it requires saving again. How dost thou feel?"

"I only protected the city from myself. And my Father."

Withers tuts and turns around, throwing me a disinterested glance.

"In the tally of lives, the number of souls saved exceeds the number of those taken. The duty borne by you was great - you could have well shirked. The realm continues for your
sacrifices."

I clench my fists at my sides, averting my gaze. Not all sacrifices of mine have been noble, or at the cost of only myself.

"My old memories... I can never get them back?"

The sound of dusty pages snapping together echoes in the room, and when I look up the book and its quill has floated from Withers hands to a nearby bench. Withers's eyes rest on me as he turns, taking a step in my direction.

"If thou couldst recall in full every barbarity thou hadst committed, every tragedy thou hadst authored... wouldst thou truly want to?"

"It is a dishonor to my victims to not recall their names."

Withers watches me keenly, and the ancient magic I'd felt so many months before swirls around him. The divine aspect that served as a reflection of death itself. Eternal, and inescapable.

"All their names are written. One day, if thou truly wishest, I will show thee, and we shall remember them together. As for now... thou art recently cured of one form of madness - let us not exchange it for another."

The stone chapel is silent. Still, in the wake of his words. It is as if time itself stutters.

"I... I can't help but feel some things have been left undone."

"If thou could only see the paths of fate untaken, thy mind would surely break. Be glad of thy chosen path. It is, after all, thine."

His golden headpiece catches the light, glinting in the night like a forgotten star. His greyed skin appears as thin as the parchment that fills his tome, the gleaming black eyes reflecting the very fabric of death.

"When we met, you asked me the worth of a single mortal life." I speak, holding his gaze. Death gazes back, but not the death I know from my old life. Withers is comforting, almost. Certain and inescapable, respect inducing, but different...

Different how?

Withers tilts his head, murmuring a 'yes' that echoes around me, swirling through the air in a mixture of dust and power.

"Why did you ask me?"

"To know thine answer."

"But you already knew the answer."

"I do not claim to be all-knowing. No matter how many aeons I have roamed this world and beyond, I am ever-surprised by mysteries new and old." He answers, studying me with something akin to a curious look.

"I found a crumbling journal, in an ancient mausoleum, back in the city. The lord of the End of Everything posed the same question to one of his supplicants."

"Yes."

The answer hangs in the air. Not a confirmation, nor a denial.

Not offering knowledge, but urging trust.

He wants to see if I will reach for him in the dark, as he had once reached for me.

I hold his gaze, feeling something shift inside me and click in place. My heart trembles as I realize what I must do.

My fate is mine. Belonging to me, mine to shape, to mold, to form in the image of whomever I wished. It's a swindling sensation, as if Toril itself has tilted on its axis.

My unsteady hands tremble as I grasp the hilt of my sword, pulling it over my head and placing its tip to the ground. My blade is my crutch as I divert my gaze, kneeling down in front of him. I fold my hands around the handle, resting my forehead against it as I train my eyes on Wither's bandaged feet.

"When you raised me, you called me 'child of none'." The words echo in the silence, stuck in the still air. Their weight is unmistakable. "I will not be a child of none. I honor thee, Father. I will be a child of Jergal. Your child."

My oath is met with silence as I stay kneeling. It tapers off into nothingness. But it is blessed nothingness.

It is peace.

It is finding your place.

A new way of death, and a new way of life.

"Rise, child of Jergal. Greet the bloodless dawn once more, daughter of mine."

Chapter Text

A few months later

I had my fair share of paranoia in my days. It was natural, considering the life I had led.

But this?

Had someone told me Halsin would be avoiding me upon my return, I would've called them mad. Our reunions were always salacious, sweet, or both, depending on how long I'd been gone.

But now, I'd been back almost for an entire day and he'd scarcely looked at me!

It all started yesterday evening, when I got back after traveling for a ten day to acquire some old documents about an unholy cistern.

I'd ceased traveling at the frequency I had before, and my journeys had a purpose other than running these days. Halsin hadn't expressed upset over my leaving - only understanding, and a longing for me to return.

Which was why the current change of events had me on edge. Upon my return, I'd been greeted with news that Astarion was visiting, and that there was a private celebration in Last Light. My pale friend looked dashing as always, happily speaking and jesting with those he got to know from the community over the past year. He had a friend with him too, a seldarine drow whom I was skeptical of.

Nevertheless, Thaniel and Oliver wouldn't have let him past our borders if he was a threat.

Halsin was at the inn, leaning by the bar. His body froze and his smile turned stale when I entered. He remained standing in his place, giving me a curt smile before returning to his conversation. No greeting, no embrace.
No nothing.

What added to my worries was the pint he held in his hand. He never drank, unless something was very good or very bad.

I'm swept up in the company of my old friend, and then the entire tavern as the night progresses. Halsin never meets my gaze, but I can feel him looking at me when I avert my gaze.

The drow, Chas, is perhaps the friendliest drow I've met. He's honest, kind, and cares for Astarion a great deal. I don't inquire about their relationship, at least not in front of my friend. I had a suspicion it would come up between Astarion and me before their departure.

For now, I hold my tongue as Chas engages us and one of our rangers in a game of cards. The patrons slowly start to filter out as the night falls, and the music quiets to a soothing tune as the drinks taper off.

"You're free to take the guest room, as always." I gesture to the room to the right of the bar, which was Astarion whenever he visited. "There are beds upstairs for you Chas, should you need it."

Chas searches for Astarion's eyes, but the vampire promptly ignores him as he fixes his cards.

"Thank you. It is most generous of you." Chas nods to me. I lower my head in acceptance, deciding not to press the issue. It would be for them to decide. "You don't stay at the inn?" Chas asks, directing the question toward me.

"No. Halsin and I have a house, just across the river. It connects to the inn through the basement, so Astarion can visit without crossing running water."

Astarion rolls his eyes. His opinion of the small stone house wasn't favorable to say the least, but it suited Halsin and me well.

A bedroom alcove, a small kitchen and a table to sit at. It was remote from the town centre, which Halsin hadn't wanted at the start, but I had demanded. Everyone needed him all the time, and if he always made himself available, he'd never rest. This way, people only showed up at our door in the night if it was absolutely necessary.

It had required some work, getting the house fixed up. The remains of the spouses who died in each other's arms had been buried next to the building, and the hole in the floor had been patched up and covered by a hatch. Everything had been cleaned, and a lot of the furniture had to be replaced.

The ruined statue outside, with its small shrine, we had left untouched. It was likely a sculpture of Selune, but as nature slowly overtook the grounds, a monument to an unnamed god was growing forth around the razed stone.

It was a perfect home, just for the two of us.

One he had returned to in silence, leaving me alone in the inn without a greeting or goodbye.

"If you'll excuse me, I think it's time for me to retire." I say, laying my cards down in defeat as I bid the remaining people goodnight.

I prefer the trek across the courtyard and over our little natural bridge over walking through the caves below. It allows me to gaze at the inky black night sky, and the glinting stars above. The full moon illuminates the courtyard in a milky white light. As I walk across the lawn, breathing in the chilled air, I check my weapons are still on me. Habit, but with Halsin's strange behavior, I worry.

Not that he'd hurt me. Never that. Rather that something was going on, and I hated to be unprepared.

The wooden door creaks as I open it slowly, peeking around the small room bathed in golden light. The hearth crackles in our fireplace, urging my body to relax with its familiar sound. Halsin sits on the floor in front of it, staring at the embers that color him a golden hue.

Everything looks as it should. The kitchen is clean, the furniture where it should be. The curtain to the alcove where we slept is half closed, but the bed behind it seems to be made.

"Hi." I greet him as I enter, closing the door softly behind me. I take a step closer to him, gauging his reaction. He only grunts an answer. "What is going on?" I then prompt, nearing him. I keep one hand on the hilt of the dagger in my belt, in case there was a looming threat nearby, and that was what was causing this.

Halsin closes his eyes, grinding his teeth as he turns his head away from me, concealing his expression.

"Halsin. Talk to me." I beg of him, keeping my voice soft as to convey my care for him. I take another tentative step forward, and when he doesn't react I take another, and another, eventually taking a knee by his side so our heads are leveled. Halsin's silence makes the fire seem impossibly loud, and the tension in my chest grows unbearable as I wait for him to answer.

"You should take the bed tonight. I'll... I'll sleep outside."

It's like a kick to my chest, and my vigilance is replaced by despair in an instant as I shrug my armor off, sitting down fully next to him. I place a hand on his, only for him to pull away. I try to turn his head toward me, only for him to turn further.

"I... I know you don't like it when I travel. I thought it would work this time, because I wasn't running. I'm sorry. I'll do better. I'll stay, I promise-"

Halsin's jaws are tense and his eyes are closed. His inaction hollows me out.

"Please, don't do this to me." I whisper, unable to keep the tears from my voice. He swallows hard, tilting his head to me while keeping his eyes closed.

"Forgive me. I should've paced my words better. I am not rejecting you. The opposite, really. But it is safer if we spend the night apart."

Confusion sets in, and with it, a twinge of anger that he would let me believe his longing for me had fizzled out. Why would we be apart if it hadn't?

"What, have you turned a werewolf in the last ten day?" I attempt to joke, my worry and ire making it fall flat. My voice reveals my vulnerability and the mix of sorrow and hurt at his request. Halsin shakes his head slowly, as if his every movement was held back with tension.

"I am one with the bear. I have its sense of smell, and more besides. The time I've spent in wildshape the past few months has allowed new... features, to flourish."

I run my eyes over his body, looking for anything out of order. His leather vest looks as usual, as does his trousers. I can see no sign of injury, or changes to his body.

"Speak plainly." I beg, grasping for his hand once more. He lets me feel it, and with it the heat radiating from his skin.

"I worry you will find it shameful. Or that it would stir old wounds."

When I don't answer, he sighs.

"Never before has it happened. But Silvanus has granted me another of nature's... blessings." He grimaces, as if it isn’t an appreciated blessing at all. "I believe I am experiencing a mating draw." He admits, finally opening his eyes. My breath stutters as the shimmering gold within them glitters at me, the desire in them so blatant and wild.

"This is what you worried about? You still do not wish to fuck me as a bear, right?" Halsin drops his eyes, shaking his head. "Then what is the matter?"

His finger strokes across the back of my hand, sending shivers up my arm. He seems almost entranced by the small movement, by the softness of my skin under his.

"I fear it will be untamed and... large." He grimaces, as if I wasn't used to taking his size. "The bear in me longs to mate. In addition to bruising your body, I worry I will..."

His sentence tapers off, leaving the end unspoken.

The twinge of Samyte, the bleeding wound on my heart, makes itself known once more. But it's a subtler ache, lesser than it was a few months ago.

I don't think it's something I can ever fully heal from. But perhaps the wound could become a scar, one day. A new way of death.

"Oh." I swallow, searching Halsin's gaze. He refuses to meet my eyes as he keeps his trained on our joint hands. "Have you changed your mind? Regarding children, I mean."

Halsin grinds his jaws, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he grimaces.

"No. I am fulfilled by the fatherhood granted to me by our charges, under nature's watch. And it drives me to madness, this ticking arousal within me. I truly do not wish for you to carry my child. But all my body wants is to fill you, to breed you and keep you stuck on it."

Desire sweeps over me from his admission, making my breath come faster. His voice is rough, his words bitten out as he fights his desire and the blossoming embarrassment.

"Stuck on it?"

Color rises to his cheeks, and I delight in the rare sight that is Halsin blushing.

"I was trying to alleviate the symptoms, before your return. It seems I have been granted a knot. It... swells, when pleasure washes over me."

"Oh."

The very thought makes my body heat, and my fingers itch to undress him.

"Is it sensitive?" I ask, leaning closer. Halsin nods, keeping his head bent. I place a finger under his chin, lifting his head so his eyes can look into mine. The moment our eyes meet, he lets out a shaky breath. "Then we better take care of it."

I lean up to kiss him, and the moment our lips meet the tight leash on his control snaps. I'm grateful for the sheepskin rug beneath as he pushes me back, dominating my mouth as his body covers mine. The rumble within his chest is hungry and greedy, and the twitching of his hips against my crotch maddening.

He kisses me like a man starved, letting his large hands scour my body as he tears impatiently at the clothes covering it. They have committed a personal offense, he decides, growling when the blouse refuses to come off.

"Bed?" I pant between kisses, receiving an impatient whine in response. His clothed hardness grinds against my underwear, making me moan loudly. The only offending garment left is torn off, and I'm left naked beneath his clothed form as he squeezes and grasps every bare bit of skin he can reach.

My hands work on his shirt, managing to get it off soon. He growls as it gets stuck over his head, keeping his mouth from mine for the moment it takes to tear it off. My hands get stuck between our stomachs as I try to open his pants, unable to as he pushes our bodies close. His frustration grows as he remains restrained until he loses it and reclines to tear his pants off too.

I raise on my elbows, panting on the floor as I watch his glorious form standing in the low light of the fire. His sculpted chest and rippling arms entice me as always, and his hard, dripping cock makes my mouth water. But something is... different.

The heaviness of his manhood never allowed it to stand tall, even at his most aroused when he was hard as a granite. As it dips now, I spot the bulb of stretched skin at the base of his cock. I'd worshipped it enough times, had it in me enough times, to recognize it wasn't there before.

"I like it." I pant, watching as his barely held back yearning snaps as his eyes burn golden. My legs are lifted over his lap as he leans forward over my body. His fingers grasp my chin to direct me as he kisses me deeply, making me sigh as his tongue caresses my mouth.

"Can I?" He mumbles, checking even as the head of his aching hardness bumps against the soft skin of my bare thigh.

"Please."

The growl he lets out as he enters me borders on feral as he slides in. My body reacts to his and I arch, moaning as he steels himself above me. His body called, and it seems mine answered, for I have never been as wet before. The slide is aching, tight, filthy and reckless as he bottoms out, groaning deep from within his chest.

Normally, after a few days on the road, I needed a moment to get used to his size again. This time, the stretch makes my mouth water, craving him more.

"You feel like silk. Heat and heaven." He groans, leaning on his elbow while his hand strokes down my cheek.

"Take me." I beg, tilting my head for a kiss he denies.

"I'll hurt you."

"Not in a way I won't enjoy."

His hips twitch, canting closer and forcing a pitched moan from my lips.

"I won't harm you." He bites out, even as he trembles against me.

"You won't."

"I will."

"Fuck me."

He tilts his head, clenching his jaws shut. I trail my lips across the tense muscle, letting my breath fan across his face.

"Fuck me." I whisper again, placing a kiss on his cheek before trailing to his ear. "Fill me. Breed me."

The effect is instantaneous as he thrusts, pulling back to bury himself deep. The moan I let out borders on a scream as he hits just right, the throbbing of him inside of me delicious. He sets a punishing pace, groaning and growling against my mouth as he ravages me, plunging deep and withdrawing with dizzying speed.

He is ravenous, and his hunger is delicious.

"Fuck-" I moan, the wetness in my voice seeming only to spur him on as he grasps my thigh, lifting it higher around his torso to thrust deeper. He moans as he buries himself deep, the stretch of his knot catching on my rim for the first time.

"You bewitch me." He groans, the pleasure of his voice far overshadowing the bemoaned contemplation as he moves in me, grasping for the other thigh to lift it too. He hits me deep and hard, and his size grinds against my insides in a way that makes me spark with pleasure. Every thrust, every movement brings more, filling me until I writhed.

"Your legs tremble in my hold." He moans, canting them back to fold them to my body. He leans over me, pushing them back with his weight until he had me stuck, shaking and moaning beneath him.

I recognize it, for it is something we have done many times before. The dominating want of caging me, of thrusting deep and long to make wetness spill across his thighs every time he plunged deep. My legs fold back and back, forced until my feet bounce by my head as he groans into our kiss.

Packaged up into the perfect little mating press, just for him.

My moan borders on a scream as I break our kiss, throwing my head back as he feeds me his cock. The slide is tight, so tight, and the unwavering strength of his arms keeping me in place kept me on it, making my head spin.

"Love your hole." He moans, a dark, greedy twinge coloring his tone. "You squeeze me so well. So tight, just for me."

I cry out in pleasure as his unusual possessive streak shines through. The moan he lets out as his hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise makes my eyes roll.

"Love, yes-!" I cry, twitching and arching beneath him as he keeps me in place, fucking me deeper and harder the more I moved.

"Want to fill you. Want to fuck you again, and again and again. To keep you on it always."

"Ah!"

His thrusts drive me into the floor as he puts his weight on me, hips slamming back and forth with maddening speed.

"Want to cum in you."

"Please! I want it!"

His frown is feral and his hands unforgiving as he cants me up, bending me until my back lifts to angle me for his cock.

"Come in me. I want it." I beg, feeling my pleasure near its peak as his cock throbs, begging to plant its seed inside of me. His eyes are pure gold as I meet them, staring at me with wanton need.

"I'll fuck you every time it goes down."

"Mhm, yes!"

"I'll keep you on it, squeezing it so tight for me."

"Aaah! Yes, yes!"

"I'll breed you over and over. Keep you in bed, wet with my seed."

My eyes roll and my body seizes as I scream, cumming around him. I hear him swear somewhere far off, distant, but all I can feel is the punishing pace of his manhood inside me as he gets larger. He mutters and swears, punching deep, withdrawing almost as soon as he's in as my hole constricts and twitches around him.

"Ah, ah, ah!"

My screams rise to something high and frantic as my labored breath fights to sustain itself when something twitches within me, a pleasure I hadn't felt before. It's something deep in my stomach, contracting and tingling, grasping and empty when he pulls out.

The feral growl as he bottoms out with a hard thrust sends me spiraling. His cock hits that spot perfectly and my hole tightens around him, keeping him there as he twitches and trembles. It's as if his body thrusts without him moving, pushing him deeper when it is not possible.

Something clicks within me and I lock down, clamping down on his cock as he lets out a roar. The knot at the base of his cock pulls at my hole as it grows, growing and growing until my hips groan. The first rope of cum is like pleasure incarnate as he cums inside of me, forcing his hips closer to mine as he rocks even with us stuck together. The rhythmic closing of my hole around him drives him mad, making my head swim. It's as if my whole body welcomes him in, drawing him deep to care for his aching cock.

He cums and cums, and every rope of cum fills me more and more. It ravages my insides, painting me and filling me until I twitched and moaned. Every time my body squees around him my eyes roll with pleasure, making his knot pulse within me with another stream of cum.

He stays in me until I think I can't take any more, can't possibly be filled and wider, and then he stays even longer. His knot is hard and delicious on my rim, and the shudders of pleasure racking his body make me twitch with remnants of pleasure. The head of his dripping cock has stuck to that contracting place within me, and every burst of cum makes me see stars.

He stays that way for long, twitching every few minutes as he fills me more and more. The tingling of pleasure refuses to refute, washing me in waves of pleasure anew every time he moves.

Sooner or later, his knot would deflate and allow us to separate. But all I can think of is how wet it would be next time he fucked me.

Chapter Text

Halsin's ravenous lust came in waves, allowing for grace periods of rest in between. I'd fallen asleep on his knot several times throughout the night, only to be awoken again as his cock stirred within me. The night hadn't offered much sleep, and only in the morning had Halsin passed out.

He was rather cute, sleeping on his stomach, sprawled out in bed. His hair was a mess and his body revealed the activities of the hours passed in a way that would've been incredibly arousing had he not fucked me full already.

It's with a mixture of contentment and abashment I limp over to Last Light after having searched our empty cupboards for healing potions, thanking the faint stars above light hadn't awoken everyone quite yet.

Astarion would never cease his teasing should he see me now.

The inn is quiet as I enter, the doors to the dormitories closed. I wince in pain as the soreness of my hips catapults when I try to bend behind the bar to look through the bottles. I have to steel myself on the bartop, pausing for a breather as the pain radiates down my legs and up my back.

But of course, the door to the guest room creaks open behind me.

"You can tease me all you want if you help me get that bottle." I speak without turning around.

"I won't tease you regardless." Chas's deep voice startles me as I had expected Astarion. So, they do share a room after all.

The drow approaches me slowly, and I shuffle over to give him room to search for the potion.

He's well built, not too muscled but clearly physically inclined. A bit taller than Astarion, with fine features and white hair to complement his indigo skin. Against the dark color of his throat, I can barely make out two red teeth marks.

He rights himself up, holding out a bottle to me. I smile and nod, opening the cork and swallowing down the liquid as he bends for another bottle. He uncorks it, tilting his head to take a sip.

"That won't help you." I say, gesturing to the potion in his hand. "I recommend Lesser Restoration for blood loss of that character."

Chas's shock is evident as he looks between the bottle and myself, frozen in movement.

"It's not a disease, poison, paralysis, or blindness...?" He counters, making me shrug.

"I know. It just works better, somehow."

He watches me curiously before putting the bottle back, moving a few paces to the right to cast the spell on himself. He stretches his fingers, taking a moment to feel the effects before throwing me an appreciative look.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Cleric, perhaps?" I ask, gesturing toward him. Druids were not common among the drow as far as I knew, and he didn't strike me as a bard.

"Yes. I am in service of Corellon Larethian."

"How very Seldarine of you." I smile, earning myself a similar expression as he walks around the bar to take a seat opposite me. I remain standing, sipping my potion as my body slowly recuperates.

"I can't say you're wrong. And on behalf of the Coronal of Arvandor, I should also thank you for dispelling the shadow curse. Corellon considers the shadow weave corrupt as it defiles the dead."

"I'll be sure to let Halsin know." I nod. Many turned their thanks to me, as if there hadn't been many who contributed to Ketheric's fall. It irked me when Halsin's vital part of finding Thaniel and convincing Oliver was forgotten among their praises. "How long have you known Astarion?"

"Four months, give or take. He saved my life."
I raise my eyebrows, urging him to continue.
"I'd been captured and sold to a noble house. My manual labor was of lesser interest to the eldest daughter than my body."

So that was where Astarion's defeat had sprung from so many months ago. He'd told me, of course, of the scene he'd encountered. Perhaps that had been enough to remind him of his own scars, or perhaps his connection with Chas caused unexpected compassion.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Chas puts on a brief smile, shuffling some coins on the bar desk as he watches them slide under his fingers.

"I'll heal. I always do."

"Halsin went through what you describe as well. If you wish to speak with someone, I'm sure he'd be willing to exchange words with you."

"Ah, your druid." Chas smiles, lifting his gaze to me. "For all of Astarion's complaints, I expected Halsin to be a lovely man. He was a tad more... reserved, than I expected."

I feel myself blush, taking another swig of my potion.

"He wasn't his usual self last night." I mutter, leaving it at that. "I'm certain that once his head clears, he'd be happy to make your acquaintance anew."

Chas smiles, nodding.

"Astarion spoke at great length of your friendship."

His statement hangs in the air, confusing me.

"Yes?"

"You are precious to him, so I wish to be a friend of yours."

After all his troubles, Astarion finally seems to have found someone worthwhile.

"And why is that, exactly? What are your intentions with him?"

Chas opens his mouth as if to respond, but the words escape him. He shakes his head, trying again.

"We are close. Neither of us is capable of being physical right now, but ours is the most intimate relationship I've ever had. Our souls know each other, as do our minds. Wherever it leads, I'll lose him only in death."

I nod, taking his words seriously by the honesty in his eyes.

"If you harm him, I'll cut you. No, better yet - I'll hold you down while he cuts you."

"I'd expect nothing less."

Chas's calm demeanor in the face of my stone-faced threat is perhaps more assuring than his admission of love.

"Of course, the same goes for Astarion. Let me know should he act poorly, and I'll punch him again." I reassure Chas, taking another sip of the bottle.

"Again?"

"Ah, well. He deserved it." I smile, not spending too much time thinking of why Astarion left out that story in particular. I'm about to start it as the front door opens, washing the floor with sunlight and the long shadow of a barely-clad Halsin.

"Edie?" He mumbles, rubbing his face as if he had just awoken.

"I'm here, honey."

"You disappeared."

"Only to get a healing potion."

"I hurt you?" His voice is pained as he stumbles toward me, barely noticing the drow between us.

"Nothing bad, my love."

Chas sends me a worried glance, checking to see if I spoke truthfully. His genuine worry for my well-being, even in the face of this much larger elf who held the authority to throw him out, makes the drow rise in my ranks even further.

Yes, I liked Chas better and better. I certainly understood Astarion's affection for him.

Halsin comes around the bar, grasping my body and hugging me from behind. He nestles his head in my neck, rubbing against it and smelling my hair.

"Forgive me, my heart."

"Already forgiven." I assure him, dragging a hand through his hair. A rumble rises from deep within his chest and his cock stirs against my back. "But I do think our audience would prefer not to be made an observer. Should we return home?"

"Yes." Halsin grunts, hugging me closer. I throw Chas an apologetic look, putting down the healing potion. "His body and mind is affected by nature to an unusual extent right now. I'm afraid we'll have to leave you to your own company for a bit longer."

"Of course. Have a... a good day?"

I exhale a laugh, one that turns into a high squeal as Halsin turns impatient and bends to hook an arm under my knees, lifting me to his chest.

"I most certainly will."

•••

I wasn't sure how long mating season was supposed to last, but my poor hole is rather grateful once Halsin's head starts clearing at the end of the third day.

"Embarrassment is not a yolk I usually carry, but I admit that this new development will take some time getting used to." He grumbles, hugging me close.

"We can handle it." I smile, stroking down his hair as he rests on top of my naked chest. "Are you sore too?"

Halsin groans, burying his head in my sternum and making me chuckle.

"My whole body aches, and I worry my knot has chafed. Don't misunderstand me - your hole milking it is perhaps the greatest pleasure I've felt. But three days of it is pushing the limits of even my stamina."

Even as we rise, unsteady and off-center, his thoughts wander. I can see it in his eyes when his gaze sweeps over my bare skin. The hunger, the need. But more evident is the adoring love and venerate longing, the immeasurable devotion and care that makes me lose my breath.

We wash and dress in a small, private, stream, not far from the house. Loving, caring touches wash away the perils of the night. I stay in for a bit longer, in order to care for my hair, as Halsin takes to the riverbank to dress.

It's strange, seeing him move about like this.

The soreness of his muscles makes him grimace, moving stalely. It is the first time he's appeared older to me. Not that my body is any better - the tension of my back, stomach and legs scream at me with every movement.

It's with a few spells and a lot of trouble we emerge from our cottage a few hours later. Halsin is headed for the centre of Reithwin, to reacquaint himself with civilization and greet our peers after our impromptu leave. I can't muster up the energy to follow, and end up walking the short distance to Last Light in the hopes of procuring a meal.

I should've expected Astarion's smug look. He and Chas are sat by a small table which I join them at after ordering, wincing as my bottom hits the hard wooden seat.

"I hear things got wild between you two. I hope no one was too badly mauled." He smirks, leaning back to take a look at my worn self.

"Heard from who, may I ask?" I mumble, rubbing my eyes.

"My ears, darling. You were... quite expressive."

"How wonderful of you to do the considerate thing and cast a soundproof barrier around the house, then." I mutter sarcastically.

"I did that." Chas blushes, raising his hand slightly.

"Yes, he was no fun! But, I did do my part. Who do you think kept those little pests away?" Astarion drawls, referring to the children that surely missed their bear.

"Thank you." I nod curtly.

"Of course, my darling! Couldn't let the children interrupt the making of their sibling." He winks, just as the barmaid places my plate of roast beef joint in front of me. I can feel myself shutting down as I pick up my cutlery, reacting to his statement.

"I'm not having children."

"Really? That's not what it sounded like at all, darling."

"Drop it, Astarion."

My voice is harsh enough to stump him, making him lean back in his chair with a perplexed expression. He doesn't speak, and neither do I as the tension unfolds.

"We were wondering if you'd like to have dinner with us before we depart." Chas asks after a bout of silence, attempting to break the standstill.

"Oh? When do you leave?"

"The day after tomorrow. Aethen beckons."

"What say you to tomorrow night, then? I'll see how Halsin fares, and perhaps we can even invite you into our home rather than to one of the taverns."

There were a few textiles that needed washed, and a general disarray that needed put together if we were to host company.

"I think that sounds wonderful."

Astarion pushes the discomfort to the back of his mind, regaining his charm effortlessly for the remainder of the evening. I catch a glint of uncertainty in his expression when he thinks I'm not looking, but quite frankly, I'm too tired and unwilling to engage in conversation again.

The next morning my body is slightly less sore than the day before. Halsin is... awake, and after some soothing activities that involve a wayward hand or two, we actually manage to make it out of bed.

Squeezing his knot with my hand was an exhilarating experience in of itself. Seeing him keel over, moan and tremble as I hold him tight, squeezing and milking him before letting up, doing it over and over again as he spilled more and more over my bare stomach was a memory I would treasure.

Gods, he could cum a lot.

I'm tasked with hunting for the evening, whilst Halsin cares for our home, trying to make it ready for visitors. By the time I make it back, two pheasants in hand, the scent of our coupling is just a faint tone among the smells of the hearth, fragrant herbs and boiling tea.

I drain the pheasants, preparing a chalice for Astarion, before handing the meat to my druid. Halsin's homemaker skills are far better than my own, but with a lot of guidance, I manage to contribute incrementally to the delicious meal he presents just in time for nightfall.

"Hello, darling!" Astarion sweeps in, enjoying the standing invitation fully as he flings the front door open. Chas hangs back a bit more timidly, nodding to me in greeting before extending a clutched bottle.

"We thought some wine to go with dinner would be cordial."

"Thank you." I smile, taking the bottle from him and setting it on the table. Our kitchen isn't large, and by extension, neither is our dining table. Usually it housed only two chairs, but two more have been pulled up, and with the plates and bottle on top there's barely any room left.

Astarion leers about the modest living quarters throughout dinner, making poor Chas tense up in wait for a reaction each time. As the night progresses and spirits grow he slowly becomes more and more comfortable, smiling and commenting himself.

It's pleasant, to small talk with friends, even though I feel gauche at times. Lucky for me, Astarion's charm flows freely, and Halsin is curious enough about Chas to urge the drow into conversation more than once.

But for all the pleasantries, it's not conversation I'm likely to remember. It's after dinner, when Chas offers to help Halsin clean, that Astarion and I take a wander outside and get a moment to talk without an audience.

The night is chilly, in a way that reveals the beckoning autumn. The open sky is pitch black, the stars glinting down at us. The patch of grass by the house is a good place to sit, and my feet lead me there with Astarion on my tail. I take a seat on the ground, watching him slink around the area, pick at his nails, looking anywhere but me before speaking.

"So, what do you think of Chas?"

"What do you think of Chas?"

"I asked first."

"You did."

"So, you answer first." He hisses, keeping his voice soft as satin in that degrading, noble fashion I knew so well. I roll my eyes, leaning back on my palms as he hovers a few feet away from me.

"He's sweet. Cautious. Caring." My statement is met by silence as Astarion picks at his nails."I like him." I clarify, twisting to sit with my legs folded as I turn toward him. "Don't you?"

"Of course I do." He answers indignantly, eyes boring into mine. "He's... him. Different. Good."

"So, what's the problem?"

"The problem, dear, is that I'm anything but!" He sneers, gesticulating to his own chest.

"You feel inadequate?"

The fury in his eyes reveals his hatred of the word, but his own comments only reinforce my belief.

"Excuse you! I'm perfectly adequate!"

Astarion's hackles raise, and I realize with an eye roll that I've walked the conversation into a corner. He wouldn't be willing to speak of his real emotions if he was busy feeling undignified. I smile, tilting my head at him and patting the ground before me. He huffs and paces, throwing me a few glances the coming minute before deciding to sit.

"What's the matter?" I ask again, keeping my voice softer.

"He's a good person. Innocent, protecting those weaker than himself. Self-sacrificial, stupidly altruistic." He sighs, lightly pounding a clenched fist against his forehead as his eyes crinkle shut. "He was a slave, kept in a matron's bedchamber when I found him. It broke me. But not for his sake, no! For mine. Because instead of feeling sorry for him, I felt sorry for me! For having to remember my own experiences being whored off."

"But you've grown to care now...?"

"Yes! And not even for him trying, no! I tried avoiding him in Aethen, to suppress my past. Chas just started helping the other spawn out, doing chores and whatnot. Not on our request, but to be nice! It got impossible to avoid him, and being around him makes my blasted dead heart quake in my chest."

His pale face reflects the moonlight, illuminated by torment. I always had a soft spot for him, and I'm reminded of it once again as he looks upon me in anguish.

"Halsin is my better part, too."

"If I wanted healthy advice, I'd have gone to the druid."

"So what kind of advice do you want?"

"I don't know! Something that makes this horribly chafing anxiety go away!"

"Have you spoken to Chas about it?"

Astarion sends me a death glare, answering my question without words. I ponder how to go about this, how to aid him without making him recoil.

"When I rejected my Father-"

"Yes, yes, we know. You bested Bhaal and all that. It was very twee. I'm not really looking to upset a deity, though."

It's my turn to send him a death glare, earning myself an eye roll in return.

"I'm trying to explain that sometimes doing the hard thing is what allows you to grow into someone better."

"I don't want to do his hard thing, darling." Astarion sighs, rubbing his palms against his eyes. "Or maybe I do. I can't- ugh! It's all so horribly, horribly vexing!"

"I'm not saying you have to sleep with him! I'm saying that having a conversation with him regarding your feelings, while hard, will result in something different. In turn, you will outgrow what this is, and become something slightly different. You hate how things are now, so change won't be bad."

"I wouldn't even know what to say to him! That I like him or I love him, or that I feel crowded by his presence, or that he makes me feel warm in a pleasant but sort of unsettling way, or that I fall asleep and wake to thoughts of him!"

"Say that!" I whisper, holding my arms out toward him.

"And then what? It's not like there's a plan in there!"

"Who says there has to be a plan?"

"I want a plan!"

"No you don't! You just said you don't know what you want! But communicating with him will result in you feeling safer, because hopefully, you'll know where he stands. If he dismisses you, you'll have that answer and you'll be able to move on."

Astarion bites his lip, sighing heavily, his gaze a million miles away.

"I don't want to lose him." He admits, whispering into the night.

"I don't think you will. But if you do, you'll always have me. Us. You won't be alone again. You have family now, from Reithwin, to Waterdeep, all the way to Avernus. We'll be here for you."

Astarion lets out a heavy exhale, lifting his head to meet my eyes.

"You're horribly druidified, you know that? Halsin has rubbed off on you."

"If you only knew how much." I smile, granting him a wink.