missfortunetherogue

[missfortunetherogue]

“Sooo, I hear congratulations are in order,” Astarion drawled as he slipped into Miss Fortune’s tent after supper, the usual bottle of wine and pair of goblets gripped in his hands. “You’ve got a Githyanki wife now; does that make me the mistress?”

Writers, reblog with your favorite sentence from your last fic

[missfortunetherogue]

the thing about astarion is that i do think that he is COMICALLY his own worst enemy but i also recognize that the reason for that is that he hit a sharp genre shift at 100000 mph. one second you're the hot and kinda tragic but expendable minion of a d&d boss and the next you're the romancable companion in the party. this little man was built to have his lore discovered in a notebook while looting his corpse after you've killed cazador and all the sudden everyone's like hey astarion. do you want to sit by the fire and tell us about yourself :) we all like you and want you happy :) and he's like what the fuuuuck. what the fuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkk????

however i do still find him funny about it, sorry man

[missfortunetherogue]

Seen - II

[missfortunetherogue]

The Embrace of Love and Death, Chapter 22: Lost in the Underdark, Part 2

Chapter Summary: “Of course you’re still the bright spot. You’re a whole constellation. But the sky has gotten so dark I can’t see the stars.”

Characters: Astarion/Miss Fortune (nonbinary named Tav), Gale, Shadowheart, Karlach, Halsin

Chapter Content Warnings: Self-harm, suicidal ideation

Read from the fic's beginning on AO3

Excerpt, under the cut due to CW:

Miss Fortune was mesmerized by the sound of their blood falling onto the stone. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The hot, stinging sensation in their palm made them feel more alive, even as the crimson life force flowed down and away from them. They realized, too late, that they hadn’t needed to cut themselves that deeply. A little would’ve done, but they’d overdone it. 

The companions found a longsword stuck in a stone slab like something out of a children’s fables book in an unassuming pocket of the Underdark. After some inspection, Shadowheart suggested that a blood offering should free it; Miss Fortune readily volunteered, both for the sword and the pain. 

Even after waking up in Astarion’s arms that morning shocked to realize they’d slept at all, their mind remained mired in depressive thoughts. Some part of them realized they were veering into dangerous territory by seeking to hurt themselves, but the instinct to self-punish prevailed over their better senses. 

Just behind them to the left, Miss Fortune felt Astarion tense up and grow deathly still. He was probably contending with his bloodlust; it did feel like a shame to let the extra blood go to waste, although their companions probably wouldn’t appreciate them dripping the rest directly into the vampire’s mouth.

A hand clapped onto their shoulder. “That’s enough, Miss Fortune,” Shadowheart pressed. “Look, the sword’s free. Te curo!”

The wound closed, but the blood remained pooled in their palm. They debated whether to offer it to Astarion but realized it would be demeaning so they wiped it up with a rag. 

“Ugh, what a waste!” the vampire lamented, the hunger plain in his voice. It had been several days since he’d had an opportunity to feed on an enemy; the Drow they encountered yesterday had smelled “off” to him and he didn’t want to risk it.

“You doing all right, Lady Luck?” Karlach asked, her voice low and gaze boring into them. “That was a little intense, yeah?”

“You don’t need to worry, Karlach,” they replied without holding eye contact.

“Okay soldier, whatever you say. Fangs, a quick word?” 

The other companions hopped down from the ledge on which they’d found the sword, leaving Miss Fortune alone to inspect it. Normally a longsword would be too heavy for them to wield effectively but this one was of an exceptionally light make. The steel was thin and there were intentional hollow points that made it sound like it was either shrieking or singing when swung just right. The gold inlay on the hilt also suggested magical capabilities; they’d have to examine it further back at camp. 

Miss Fortune gave it a few more test jabs and slashes; it was too long for the close, personal death they preferred to dole out, but they supposed it was good to have options. Nobody else would want it, they reasoned, so they strapped it across their back with the sheath that laid nearby the stone. 

“…going on with you two?! What did you do, Fangs?” Karlach’s shout-whisper carried up to where Miss Fortune stood. They crouched down and snuck closer on quiet feet, hoping no one would notice they’d moved. 

“Why do you automatically assume I did something?” Astarion hissed quietly. “Things were going dashingly well!”

“Well you’d better figure out how to fix it before they completely unravel,” Shadowheart threatened. 

“Wha—why is it my responsibility to fix them?” Astarion scoffed. 

They heard Gale clear his throat. “If I could just point out a couple things. First, people with afflictions of the mind such as they have often cannot help falling into such a state; it’s how their minds are wired. And while I’m fortunate to not know firsthand, I have read that people who have experienced a heavy dose of trauma will often fall into a dark place precisely because things are going well. Good things can be scary if you’re not used to them.

“Second, while it’s nobody’s responsibility to ‘fix’ them, our friend needs a little extra help from all of us right now. This isn’t just Astarion’s burden to bear.”

“Thank you, Gale,” Astarion said with a lilt of surprise in his tone. 

Gods, how awkward, being talked about like that. Miss Fortune wondered if they could sink themselves into that slab of rock and disappear from sheer embarrassment. Their friends’ concern was painful to overhear; their episodes had largely gone ignored at the brothel. They’d been left to decompose during their off hours and nobody said a word so long as it didn’t impact their ability to perform or tend to customers. The only times anyone intervened were immediately following their flirtations with poisons, and even then the interventions were to take away more freedoms and submit to being under watch. They couldn’t begin to imagine what Gale’s idea of “help” might entail, but they’d heard more than they wanted to. 

Miss Fortune cleared their throat and scuffed their boot on the rock, abruptly killing the conversation. 

“Neat little sword, lighter than I’d expect,” they said casually. “Shall we move on?”

Read the full chapter on AO3

[missfortunetherogue]

WIP Wednesday

After writing all the angst at the end of Act 1 chapters of “The Embrace of Love and Death” I needed a palate cleanser. I skipped ahead and started working on chapter 11-ish of Act 2 because it’s been rolling around in my head for months. It’s pure fluff and I am feral for it!

So here’s a sneak peak of my WIP for mid-Act 2, shortly after Miss Fortune and Astarion become exclusive. They’ve been spending more time around the fire spinning up different “what-if” scenarios to keep their anxieties at bay in the shadow-cursed lands, and this is one scenario. Miss Fortune’s real name ***ed out since it’s a plot point/reveal we haven’t gotten to yet 😉

[missfortunetherogue]

The Embrace of Love and Death, Chapter 22: Lost in the Underdark, Part 2

Chapter Summary: “Of course you’re still the bright spot. You’re a whole constellation. But the sky has gotten so dark I can’t see the stars.”

Characters: Astarion/Miss Fortune (nonbinary named Tav), Gale, Shadowheart, Karlach, Halsin

Chapter Content Warnings: Self-harm, suicidal ideation

Read from the fic's beginning on AO3

Excerpt, under the cut due to CW:

Miss Fortune was mesmerized by the sound of their blood falling onto the stone. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The hot, stinging sensation in their palm made them feel more alive, even as the crimson life force flowed down and away from them. They realized, too late, that they hadn’t needed to cut themselves that deeply. A little would’ve done, but they’d overdone it. 

The companions found a longsword stuck in a stone slab like something out of a children’s fables book in an unassuming pocket of the Underdark. After some inspection, Shadowheart suggested that a blood offering should free it; Miss Fortune readily volunteered, both for the sword and the pain. 

Even after waking up in Astarion’s arms that morning shocked to realize they’d slept at all, their mind remained mired in depressive thoughts. Some part of them realized they were veering into dangerous territory by seeking to hurt themselves, but the instinct to self-punish prevailed over their better senses. 

Just behind them to the left, Miss Fortune felt Astarion tense up and grow deathly still. He was probably contending with his bloodlust; it did feel like a shame to let the extra blood go to waste, although their companions probably wouldn’t appreciate them dripping the rest directly into the vampire’s mouth.

A hand clapped onto their shoulder. “That’s enough, Miss Fortune,” Shadowheart pressed. “Look, the sword’s free. Te curo!”

The wound closed, but the blood remained pooled in their palm. They debated whether to offer it to Astarion but realized it would be demeaning so they wiped it up with a rag. 

“Ugh, what a waste!” the vampire lamented, the hunger plain in his voice. It had been several days since he’d had an opportunity to feed on an enemy; the Drow they encountered yesterday had smelled “off” to him and he didn’t want to risk it.

“You doing all right, Lady Luck?” Karlach asked, her voice low and gaze boring into them. “That was a little intense, yeah?”

“You don’t need to worry, Karlach,” they replied without holding eye contact.

“Okay soldier, whatever you say. Fangs, a quick word?” 

The other companions hopped down from the ledge on which they’d found the sword, leaving Miss Fortune alone to inspect it. Normally a longsword would be too heavy for them to wield effectively but this one was of an exceptionally light make. The steel was thin and there were intentional hollow points that made it sound like it was either shrieking or singing when swung just right. The gold inlay on the hilt also suggested magical capabilities; they’d have to examine it further back at camp. 

Miss Fortune gave it a few more test jabs and slashes; it was too long for the close, personal death they preferred to dole out, but they supposed it was good to have options. Nobody else would want it, they reasoned, so they strapped it across their back with the sheath that laid nearby the stone. 

“…going on with you two?! What did you do, Fangs?” Karlach’s shout-whisper carried up to where Miss Fortune stood. They crouched down and snuck closer on quiet feet, hoping no one would notice they’d moved. 

“Why do you automatically assume I did something?” Astarion hissed quietly. “Things were going dashingly well!”

“Well you’d better figure out how to fix it before they completely unravel,” Shadowheart threatened. 

“Wha—why is it my responsibility to fix them?” Astarion scoffed. 

They heard Gale clear his throat. “If I could just point out a couple things. First, people with afflictions of the mind such as they have often cannot help falling into such a state; it’s how their minds are wired. And while I’m fortunate to not know firsthand, I have read that people who have experienced a heavy dose of trauma will often fall into a dark place precisely because things are going well. Good things can be scary if you’re not used to them.

“Second, while it’s nobody’s responsibility to ‘fix’ them, our friend needs a little extra help from all of us right now. This isn’t just Astarion’s burden to bear.”

“Thank you, Gale,” Astarion said with a lilt of surprise in his tone. 

Gods, how awkward, being talked about like that. Miss Fortune wondered if they could sink themselves into that slab of rock and disappear from sheer embarrassment. Their friends’ concern was painful to overhear; their episodes had largely gone ignored at the brothel. They’d been left to decompose during their off hours and nobody said a word so long as it didn’t impact their ability to perform or tend to customers. The only times anyone intervened were immediately following their flirtations with poisons, and even then the interventions were to take away more freedoms and submit to being under watch. They couldn’t begin to imagine what Gale’s idea of “help” might entail, but they’d heard more than they wanted to. 

Miss Fortune cleared their throat and scuffed their boot on the rock, abruptly killing the conversation. 

“Neat little sword, lighter than I’d expect,” they said casually. “Shall we move on?”

Read the full chapter on AO3

[missfortunetherogue]

These are great points. Maybe it's also because I'm an abuse survivor and jaded as hell/morally grey, but on my playthroughs I've often felt Astarion's reactions to many of these situations are the most reasonable/realistic of the companions. I've been out of my abusive environment for ~20 years now and I STILL have moments where I regress back to the wounded animal I was back then. To expect Astarion to turn into a heroic, gentle kitten overnight after 200 years is wild. (Side note, Loki is probably my second favorite fictional character so I am also drawn to this character type beyond Astarion.)

As a "yes, and" to the OP I have an addendum headcanon that his attitude towards helping others also ties into his perceptions of his own strength. In the beginning those Cazador tapes are playing so loud I imagine he fully believes he's the weak, pathetic "little boy" Cazadork's been telling him is for literal centuries. So who is he to help others when he couldn't even help himself? And if he's as weak as he fears, then helping others just puts him in more danger, which he simply isn't going to do.

But the more battle wins he and his companions get under their belts, the more hope begins to bloom that maybe he'll be strong enough to defeat Cazador after all, I think he gets a little more willing to help others. Especially if they're looking to throw off similar chains to his own. The risk factor doesn't look as steep because he has experiences to look back on where he came out on top in a similar situation. (Plus the experience of seeing that helping others often results in rewards rather than punishment like he faced in captivity.)

Anyway I'm not very good at writing up discourse but this resonated with me so I did my best. Hopefully I made at least some sense 😅

Astarion discourse i guess??

Good morning!

I'd like to preface this by saying this is all based on what I remember, I've only scoured Astarions lore a few times, so if I get anything wrong you are more than welcome to correct me politely.

I've been trying to think more critically about my favorite fictional characters recently. More specifically why I'm so drawn to the morally-grey-borderline-evil-but-secretly-misunderstood type of character. Who in the end, most of the time tries to do the right thing. Whether its by their nature or by a learned behavior later in the story. It's like I've always played the devils advocate for them, and I'm not sure if that would totally change if they where real, either. I think it's because I, too, had a villain arc of sorts. Not nearly as flashy as say Loki or even Astarion, but I understand in part why they are the way they are. I relate, in a way. Specifically I've been thinking about why Astarion disapproves when you help others near the beginning of the game. [[GIANT RANT INCOMING]]

I was reading up about a couple of different areas you can get some extra points with him for fun, and I just saw a lot of hate. "Why would he be so awful? How could he not want you to help (insert person here)!" And I took a second to sit with that. Because yeah, shit, after all that he had been through, wouldn't he want to be the person to help others out of that same situation?

And to that question, I ask you this. Can you really even fathom how long 200 years is?

People always respond to that with "Oh well he was a corrupt magistrate and the gur beat him to death." First of all, yeah, he could've been a bit of a dick, but holy shit the gur have always been temperamental pricks. We don't know what ruling led to that, so its purely up to interpretation. 

The worst part is, if he really was an out of touch magistrate, even then, he couldn't have been nearly as bad as everyone makes him out to be, but then being turned into a vampire sex slave for nearly the average of 3 human lifespans didn't fucking help! As someone who has experienced trauma her whole life, especially the worst of it as a kid, closely thematically matching the type of things he went through, holy shit. Yeah. After that type of thing happens to you, and you have nothing you can do about it, after crying and screaming on the floor for days on end to whomever god might be listening and still not being released from something like that, you become fucking jaded. I'm still struggling through my trauma, and I've been in therapy for 3 years going on 4 for things that happened to me when I was a kid.

When the only way to escape from a bad situation is to get into another, almost equally bad situation, you do not want to help anyone. Its only with time to reflect, move past, and heal from the things you've experienced, that you can move past the more self-centered feelings trauma besets upon you and want to help others. It comes easier to some than others, and this switch flipped in me at about 12 years old. But then it got so bad that I didn't start helping myself until I was 18. Two sides of the same coin I suppose. I don't know, maybe I play the devils advocate because I too, am a devil. Maybe I'm not a good person. I try to be, though, even if I wasn't a long time ago, and I think thats what counts.

[missfortunetherogue]

Chapter two updates

Chapter two is now updated to reflect my new beta reader's feedback! The bulk of updates were formatting but I also embellished a few sections.

Read Chapter 2 again

Chapter 2: A Reluctant Leader

Read from the beginning on AO3

Summary: Gale and Lae’zel join the party, and Lae’zel has choice criticisms about Miss Fortune’s battle prowess. Miss Fortune continues to unravel at night, and Astarion catches them mid-pity party. The pair discuss the gift of freedom.

Excerpt:

Two fresh faces sat around the campfire tonight, their unfamiliar features illuminated by its orange glow as the stars above yawned and stretched awake. Miss Fortune was exhausted from all the walking, from having to play the leader - now with more people to herd around. Gale of Waterdeep, a wizard, seemed pleasant enough, if a bit long-winded and over-confident. Miss Fortune found it amusing that he claimed prodigy status in nearly the same breath as he’d needed to be pulled out of a waypoint he’d trapped himself in with a wayward spell. But the rogue liked the kind twinkle in his eyes, his gentle demeanor; and they certainly couldn’t complain about the delicious stew he’d stirred up from their foraging today.

They’d also found the green woman again - Lae’zel was her name. A Githyanki warrior. Miss Fortune had never met a Githyanki before, and from the little glimpse of the culture they’d gotten so far, they were glad they’d been spared this long. They didn’t care for her brusque attitude or her threatening glare. Rescuing her from the rickety cage those tieflings had trapped her in also introduced additional tension into their group as Shadowheart and Lae’zel quickly displayed a festering enmity towards one another. Miss Fortune didn’t envy their future self if they had to eventually choose between the two.

It was just Miss Fortune and the new additions sitting around the fire for supper. Shadowheart had made it clear she did not wish to break bread with a Githyanki, and Astarion had made some excuse about being eager to get back to an exciting part of his book while he ate.

“Thanks for cooking, Gale,” Miss Fortune said to the wizard. “This was delicious.”

“My pleasure, Miss Fortune,” Gale replied. “Can’t say I’m much of a hunter, but I’m happy to do my part around the hearth.”

“Serve yourself another helping,” Lae’zel commanded, staring the half-elf down. Her disdain for them was clearly visible even from the other side of the fire.

“Excuse me?” Miss Fortune replied.

“You are underfed,” the warrior insisted. “Scrawny. Weak. If you don’t gather your strength, you won’t last a tenday.” She stood, stalking around the fire to where Miss Fortune sat. “Stand. Let me show you.”

The half-elf looked to Gale for help, but the wizard was avoiding eye contact and looking deeply uncomfortable. Perhaps hearing a shift in the tone of their banter, Astarion had come out of his tent, leaning casually against the pole of the canopy with his arms crossed over his chest. Miss Fortune realized they were on their own. Humoring Lae’zel, they stood sullenly, setting their bowl down by the log they’d been sitting on.

Lae’zel circled them like a hyena sniffing out carrion, her long, sharp fingers poking and prodding as she went. “I feel sharp rib bones where there should be muscle. A hollow stomach, weak arms. How do you expect to fight like this? Tsk’va, can you even bear the weight of a sword?”

“Three days ago I wasn’t expected to fight at all,” Miss Fortune said, staring her down.

“Circumstances have changed, istik. You’re pathetic. If we had been raised together at my crèche, you would have been such a liability that I would have killed you at the first opportunity, if the sa’varsh didn’t cull you first.”

Miss Fortune’s mind reeled at the abusive words being spat at them. The insults burrowed into their mind deeper than the tadpole; the half-elf could feel them taking root, spreading the rot of self-loathing further still. Just what I needed, they thought. More ways to be insecure. Lae’zel’s criticisms were a sharp contrast to everything they’d grown up hearing, when they were denied food for not being thin enough. This was a new chapter in a long saga of always being too much and not enough all at once. And yet, with both Astarion and Gale bearing witness to their humiliation, a small voice in the back of their mind urged them to resist.

“Do you hear me?” Lae’zel hissed. Her hand shot out to grab at Miss Fortune’s chin. Panic clawed at them in that instant as flashbacks played through their mind of so many different hands wrapping themselves around their neck; crushed windpipes, ugly purple bruises, coming to with a healer’s face looming over them, gasping for breath even as the air felt like fire in their lungs. Pure instinct kicked in as they evaded lightning fast and elbowed her in the stomach, stepping out of range before she could react.

“Touch me again without my permission and you’ll find out firsthand how deadly I can be,” they threatened. Miss Fortune donned a mask of steely resolve that they hoped would look more believable than it felt. “There are more ways to be lethal than brute strength, Gith, and you’d do well to remember that next time you wish to humiliate me in front of our companions.”

Lae’zel remained doubled over while she fought to regain her breath. Once she did, she smiled cruelly. “Good. So he does have a spine in there somewhere.” Did Miss Fortune detect a hint of respect in her tone? Probably not.

“‘They.’ My pronouns are they/them.”

“Chk. Your pronouns will be was/were if you don’t bulk up. My warning stands.”

“Lae’zel, down girl,” Astarion cut in at last, remaining well outside her reach. “I think you’ve made your point.”

Miss Fortune let out a huge sigh of relief as they watched the warrior stomp off to her tent and immediately begin sparring with the air. They picked their bowl back up and took a second helping, sitting back down next to Gale.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” they said to the wizard.

“I’m sorry I didn’t step in,” he replied, bashful. “Truth be told, that one intimidates me.”

“Ha! You’re in good company then,” Astarion drawled as he sauntered back over to the fire, taking a seat on the other side of Miss Fortune. “You did well standing up to her, though if I were you I’d sleep lightly tonight.”

“Thanks, Astarion. So comforting. Anyway…Gale, what’s Waterdeep like? I’d never left Baldur’s Gate before my abduction.”

Gale was more than happy to regale them with extensive stories on the history and landmarks of Waterdeep as well as his personal fond memories while Miss Fortune finished eating. The half-elf made a point to nod along and voice noncommittal approval every now and again, but they noticed Astarion made no such effort. He instead chose to slouch back and inspect his nails, which he kept filed in neat points.

“Astarion, you’ve got cleanup duty tonight,” Miss Fortune stated once Gale’s story had petered out.

“And break a nail? I think not,” the pale elf retorted haughtily.

“Everyone does their part, your honor,” Miss Fortune warned as they slapped their knees and stood up. “There’s no servants out here. I’m going to go check on Shadowheart. Later, gentlemen.”

“Ugh, fine,” they heard Astarion complain as they walked away.

Read the rest here

[missfortunetherogue]

The Embrace of Love and Death, Chapter 21: Lost in the Underdark, Part 1

Chapter Summary: The companions descend into the Underdark, and the loss of the sun plunges Miss Fortune into darkness in more than one way. Memories long suppressed begin to bubble up, overwhelming them without warning. Miss Fortune is getting lost. Too lost to even recognize how far gone they are.

Chapter Warnings: This is a pretty dark chapter that drops a lot of lore on Miss Fortune's backstory. With the exception of the stolen gift Astarion gives to them there is no critical plot you will miss by skipping this chapter, which I have done deliberately. I'll summarize the gift in next chapter's chapter notes.

- Depression - Child neglect - Child exploitation - Childhood emotional abuse - Forced starvation/extreme dieting - Transphobia (deliberate misgendering and internalized)

Read from the beginning on AO3

Excerpt:

Miss Fortune and their companions had left the surface behind, and with it the sun. It was hard to tell how long ago exactly; an hour, a day, a tenday? In the unfamiliar terrain of the Underdark’s wilderness time ceased to exist unless measured by the steady drip of cave water from stalactites so far above them in the seemingly endless caverns that only the oldest ones were visible. 

None of them knew how long their stay here would be, either. The companions knew only that the path would somehow lead them to the shadow-cursed lands within which Moonrise Tower loomed, dark and imposing. Where hopefully they would find a cure to their tadpole problem, or at least some more solid leads.

A heavy uneasiness settled over the group as they descended the ladder within the ancient, abandoned Selûnite temple. With each rung they traveled deeper into the yawning abyss until they eventually emerged into a damp world of darkness, illuminated only by the bioluminescent fungi and other plant life. 

The loss of the sun plunged Miss Fortune into darkness in more than one way; following their conversation with Astarion about how they would only share their true name with someone who would be a long-term partner, the half-elf had begun slipping back into the ugliest recesses of their mind. The conversation hadn’t ended well. It wasn’t until he’d slipped out of their grasp that they realized they had missed the chance to tell Astarion they would be open to more with him. That they felt a deeper bond. 

But Astarion also hadn’t volunteered to be that partner, nor made any comments that he might like to be someday, which sowed seeds of doubt in their mind that his desires were still purely physical. Miss Fortune didn’t have the tools to navigate how to remedy the situation, so instead they had pulled back, wallowing in insecurity. 

They knew a moon was a short time to know someone, but hadn’t they shared an extraordinary amount of experiences—and time—together in that period? It was at least long enough to feel something for each other if feelings were going to develop at all. And seeing as he’d declined all opportunities to verbally express even the buds of tenderness, they feared all hope was lost. 

In the wake of their desolation, memories long suppressed were beginning to bubble up like the pressurized jets of boiling water that occasionally shot up through fissures in the rock down here, overwhelming them without warning. Miss Fortune was getting lost. Too lost to even recognize how far gone they were. 

As the gloom settled heavier upon them it warped until it became bigger than just the conversation gone wrong with Astarion. They couldn’t help but feel that they didn’t belong here with these people. They’d never belonged anywhere. They never would. It’d been fun to try on the leader mask and pretend like they had something of value to contribute to the world, but their time was up. And soon everyone would know it. 

Read the full chapter on AO3

[missfortunetherogue]

writing is like group therapy except you're every person in the room and no one brought snacks

[missfortunetherogue]

The Embrace of Love and Death Playlist

I put together a Spotify playlist for all the songs that inspire me when writing The Embrace of Love and Death for anyone who’s interested! I’ve got songs added in through the end of Act 1 chapters. It’s mostly a lot of industrial, goth, and metal bands with the occasional pop singer thrown in to mix things up.

I’m such a sucker for sadboi music, always have been. I guess for me there’s something really comfortable about the emotions it invokes having grown up with depression, anxiety, and gender dysphoria (even though I didn’t recognize the dysphoria for what it was until much later). Probably why I am drawn to write and consume stories of struggle and strife, too. I just can’t relate to anything too happy 😅

[missfortunetherogue]

[missfortunetherogue]

The Embrace of Love and Death, Chapter 21: Lost in the Underdark, Part 1

Chapter Summary: The companions descend into the Underdark, and the loss of the sun plunges Miss Fortune into darkness in more than one way. Memories long suppressed begin to bubble up, overwhelming them without warning. Miss Fortune is getting lost. Too lost to even recognize how far gone they are.

Chapter Warnings: This is a pretty dark chapter that drops a lot of lore on Miss Fortune's backstory. With the exception of the stolen gift Astarion gives to them there is no critical plot you will miss by skipping this chapter, which I have done deliberately. I'll summarize the gift in next chapter's chapter notes.

- Depression - Child neglect - Child exploitation - Childhood emotional abuse - Forced starvation/extreme dieting - Transphobia (deliberate misgendering and internalized)

Read from the beginning on AO3

Excerpt:

Miss Fortune and their companions had left the surface behind, and with it the sun. It was hard to tell how long ago exactly; an hour, a day, a tenday? In the unfamiliar terrain of the Underdark’s wilderness time ceased to exist unless measured by the steady drip of cave water from stalactites so far above them in the seemingly endless caverns that only the oldest ones were visible. 

None of them knew how long their stay here would be, either. The companions knew only that the path would somehow lead them to the shadow-cursed lands within which Moonrise Tower loomed, dark and imposing. Where hopefully they would find a cure to their tadpole problem, or at least some more solid leads.

A heavy uneasiness settled over the group as they descended the ladder within the ancient, abandoned Selûnite temple. With each rung they traveled deeper into the yawning abyss until they eventually emerged into a damp world of darkness, illuminated only by the bioluminescent fungi and other plant life. 

The loss of the sun plunged Miss Fortune into darkness in more than one way; following their conversation with Astarion about how they would only share their true name with someone who would be a long-term partner, the half-elf had begun slipping back into the ugliest recesses of their mind. The conversation hadn’t ended well. It wasn’t until he’d slipped out of their grasp that they realized they had missed the chance to tell Astarion they would be open to more with him. That they felt a deeper bond. 

But Astarion also hadn’t volunteered to be that partner, nor made any comments that he might like to be someday, which sowed seeds of doubt in their mind that his desires were still purely physical. Miss Fortune didn’t have the tools to navigate how to remedy the situation, so instead they had pulled back, wallowing in insecurity. 

They knew a moon was a short time to know someone, but hadn’t they shared an extraordinary amount of experiences—and time—together in that period? It was at least long enough to feel something for each other if feelings were going to develop at all. And seeing as he’d declined all opportunities to verbally express even the buds of tenderness, they feared all hope was lost. 

In the wake of their desolation, memories long suppressed were beginning to bubble up like the pressurized jets of boiling water that occasionally shot up through fissures in the rock down here, overwhelming them without warning. Miss Fortune was getting lost. Too lost to even recognize how far gone they were. 

As the gloom settled heavier upon them it warped until it became bigger than just the conversation gone wrong with Astarion. They couldn’t help but feel that they didn’t belong here with these people. They’d never belonged anywhere. They never would. It’d been fun to try on the leader mask and pretend like they had something of value to contribute to the world, but their time was up. And soon everyone would know it. 

Read the full chapter on AO3

[missfortunetherogue]

Chapter 1 updates

I picked up a new beta reader who's making their way through the chapters and I've made some minor updates to chapter 1 based on feedback (mostly around the pacing of Miss Fortune's panic attack)! I'll slowly be working through the other early chapters as well so stay tuned.

Start over from the beginning

The Embrace of Love and Death

Welcome to the first chapter of my fanfic, “The Embrace of Love and Death”! When rogues Astarion and Miss Fortune (OC) get abducted from Baldur’s Gate and infected with mind flayer tadpoles, they both become “conveniently lost” from their troubled homes. As they grapple with their past traumas they find companionship, healing, and eventually love and renewed purpose in each other. Will getting a mind flayer parasite inserted into their eyes wind up being the best thing that ever happened to them? This slow burn tale of romance, sex, and healing will reveal the answer to that in due time.

Prefer to read on AO3? Gotchu covered right here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298#main

Chapter 1: Fresh off the Nautiloid

The sun was beginning to set on a day so bad that calling it a nightmare would be about as euphemistic as calling a raging owlbear a hungry house cat. One moment Miss Fortune had been trailing their mark through an alley in the slums of Baldur’s Gate, and the next they were abducted into a nautiloid, strapped in a mind flayer pod with a tadpole burrowing into their brain. They’d met that green woman, rescued a cleric named Shadowheart from her mind flayer pod, fought screeching imps, and then crashed the whole damned ship into who-knows-where. They had no idea how they survived the ordeal, but the screaming pain in their head didn’t give them much hope that their luck would last.

They’d never even been outside of Baldur’s Gate before, and now they were lost in the wilderness with two strangers. They’d lost sight of the green woman after the crash, found Shadowheart outside, and met a handsome, effeminate high elf with blindingly pale skin who’d tried to slit their throat on sight. The elf’s name was Astarion, and while they’d talked him down from violence and convinced him their odds of survival were better together, the half-elf rogue resolved to keep an eye on him. Not that they could fully blame him for the attempted murder; had the roles been reversed, they probably would have done the same. But still, they much preferred their blood inside their body.

Miss Fortune couldn’t for the life of them understand why their new companions were already looking to them like some kind of leader. While they were used to people gravitating to them in more mundane settings due to their good looks and charismatic persona, those skills hardly felt useful out here. What the hells did they know about anything real? They’d have to fake it, they realized.

“Sun’s going down, and this spot looks as safe as any to set up camp,” they said with feigned confidence. The companions nodded, set down their packs. Still they looked at Miss Fortune, waiting for instructions. “Err…do either of you know how to start a fire?”

“Gods, this is hopeless!” cried Shadowheart. “Have you never camped before?! No matter, I’ve done it plenty. Watch and learn, gentlemen, because I won’t be doing this by myself every night. I’m not your camp mother.”

Shadowheart walked the others through the process of setting up camp, showed them how to catch fish from the river and impale them on sticks to cook over the fire she started. Miss Fortune stumbled over their actions, and Astarion was even more helpless - but they managed, and they had places to sleep and food to eat by the time the sun winked out of the sky.

“So, Miss Fortune is an interesting name,” Shadowheart said cautiously between bites of fish and the other rations in their packs. “Did you come up with that on your own?”

“I did,” they replied. “I don’t like to take myself too seriously.”

Astarion snorted. “Really? I never would have guessed.”

“Why ‘Miss Fortune’ if you’re…well, you know,” Shadowheart pressed, gesturing to their masculine body.

The half-elf was about 185 centimeters tall and lanky to the point of looking underfed, but their lean frame had the buds of muscles beginning to form from the last couple moons they’d spent running with the city’s thieves guild. Their tan skin was sprinkled with freckles over the slight bent of their nose and high, prominent cheekbones. They had raven-black hair with violet highlights that was shaved at the sides while the long top was pulled into a tight bun at the back of their head. A purple-inked tattoo of three swallows swooped out of their hairline, fluttering across their left temple, and despite the harrowing day they’d had, the berry-colored lip stain and angled purple eyeshadow they donned each morning remained fairly well intact.

Miss Fortune worked hard to cut a visage that danced the line between masculine and feminine, though they often found themselves shackled with the ill-fitting label of ‘man’ by strangers who could only see the world in terms of this or that. All of which was more than the rogue was willing to explain to someone they’d just met.

“It suits me,” they said instead. “To my foes, an encounter with me spells their misfortune. And to my friends, well…I can only hope they feel fortunate to know me. And besides, everyone knows luck is a lady.”

“I can go with that,” Shadowheart agreed. “If not for you, I would have had the misfortune of staying stuck in that mind flayer pod. Though I hope you and our pale friend here will be able to hold your own out here. You both strike me as pampered city boys, judging by your lack of survival skills and soft hands.”

“I’m a city person, yes, but I would hardly consider myself pampered,” Miss Fortune replied. “Not everyone works with their hands, you know.”

“Yes, some of us work with our minds,” Astarion chimed in. “I’m a magistrate back in the city. All terribly boring work I assure you, though I can handle myself with a dagger.”

Having finished their fish and rations, Miss Fortune looked over at Astarion as he spoke and noticed him slowly pushing his food around the plate without eating.

“Food not up to your standards, your honor?” Miss Fortune jabbed. “I’ll take whatever you don’t want.”

“Oh, by all means enjoy,” Astarion said, handing the plate over. “This is hardly the fare I’m used to.”

“So, how about you, Shadowheart?” Miss Fortune changed the subject while shoveling Astarion’s food into their mouth. “You mentioned you’re a cleric - you from The Gate?”

“I am, and I’ll be headed back not a moment after we find a cure. I’ve something very important waiting for me back home.” Shadowheart’s facial expression darkened; Miss Fortune sensed it was a touchy subject and wondered if it had anything to do with that strange artifact she carried. She’d been dodgy when they asked her about it after they reunited on land.

“Impatient to get back to a lover, perhaps?” they jested.

“I don’t see how that’s your business, but no, and we’ll leave it at that” she replied.

“All right, all right, we girls all have our secrets,” they said, crossing their legs and miming tucking an invisible strand of hair behind their ear. “Anyway, thanks for showing us how to set up camp. I’ve got cleanup.”

The trio each went their separate ways after dinner; Shadowheart and Astarion heading to their respective tents, Miss Fortune down to the river bank with the dirty dishes and a rag. As the half-elf knelt by the river scrubbing away, their senses were assaulted by all the unusual sounds and smells surrounding them. They were used to the din of pedestrians day and night, the hawking of vendors and clopping of horse hooves on cobblestones. There were always sounds and scents in the city, and even when they were unpleasant their presence was oddly comforting. Out here in the dark with all these new sensations, they found themselves feeling utterly alone and insignificant.

Another familiar and unwelcome sensation began to coalesce at the edges of their consciousness, as if their head were filling up with a swarm of angry bees. It happened often enough that the half-elf knew they didn’t have long before their mind assaulted them and robbed them of rational thought. They quickly finished their cleanup duties and rushed back to camp, placing everything in a neat stack by their packs. By this point, Miss Fortune’s lips and the tip of their nose had started to tingle, their chest felt tight, and the buzzing feeling in their head had intensified to a dull roar.

This can’t be happening right now, they thought to themselves. Please, please not now. For a devout person this would have been the time to begin praying, but Miss Fortune knew it was pointless; no god had ever deigned to answer before.

Perceived danger lurked in every corner, every shadow of the camp. Frantic and woozy, the half-elf began to search for a place that would be out of both Astarion and Shadowheart’s line of sight. They ducked behind a large rock that seemed to fit the bill and let their trembling legs give out beneath them. Crumpled into a ball, their breath grew shallow and ragged as a world of nightmares clawed into their thoughts.

Everything is terrible. I’m going to die out here, Miss Fortune’s thoughts screamed at them. I can’t do this, I can’t survive whatever those monsters did to me on the ship. We’ll never find a cure. I’m going to turn into a grotesque mind flayer, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. My life is over. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die! And I can’t do anything to stop it…I’m too weak…I’m going to die all alone. Utterly unloved. And nobody will miss me. Worst of all, I deserve this. I’ve never done anything worthwhile with this pathetic life of mine, not once in these miserable 28 years.

Tears rushed out and streamed down their face in an ugly, snotty mess as the panic fully gripped their mind. A gulping cry escaped their lips in defiance of their efforts to fall apart quietly, which only made them wish to hide somewhere further away from their new acquaintances.

“Is…something the matter?” they barely heard a cautious man’s voice call out. “Why, you’re positively shaking!”

Miss Fortune buried their face in their knees. “Please, don’t look at me,” they sobbed.

“I…should I leave?” Astarion asked.

“Go ahead. I’m…fine,” the half-elf lied.

“I’m not stupid, you are clearly not fine.”

“The Ma—my old boss always told me I’m just overly dramatic. I’m having a dramatic episode, as she used to call it.”

He’s going to hate you now too, the negative thoughts intruded. Not even a full day in and you’ve shown just how weak and pathetic you are.

Astarion stood there in dumbfounded silence as he watched Miss Fortune gulp for air, seemingly unsure whether to approach or wipe his hands of the whole situation and return to his tent.

“You should try this thing called breathing,” he called out eventually. “In, out…in, out…surely you know how it works.”

While the tone was condescending, it struck a cord. Miss Fortune focused on their breath between sobs, inhaling slowly through their nose and exhaling through their mouth. It took several long moments, but the angry bees began to fade and the maelstrom of negative thoughts receded along with them. Their chest still felt tight, their eyes ached, and as the last of the panic ebbed they were left with the usual crushing exhaustion; the usual collateral damage when they lost a war with their mind. Their body posture slackened as they heaved a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” they mumbled into their knees. “I’m not usually this weak, I swear. It’s just been a hell of a day.”

“…you should get some rest,” Astarion replied, his voice deadpan and unreadable. “I’m not feeling tired just yet, so I’ll keep watch over you and the camp.”

Miss Fortune rose unsteadily to their feet, lurching to the side as their knees threatened to buckle. They recalled the flash of steel against their throat hours earlier; were they less drained from their mind’s attack they would have laughed at the irony of his offer.

“Thank you, I’ll feel better knowing you’re watching over us,” they lied instead. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight, Miss Fortune,” he replied coolly.

It was all the half-elf could do to keep from hurting themselves as they collapsed onto their bedroll. Despite their misgivings about Astarion, they were too tired to keep their eyes open. And if he slit their throat in the night, well, they probably deserved it anyway.

[missfortunetherogue]

The Embrace of Love and Death Playlist

I put together a Spotify playlist for all the songs that inspire me when writing The Embrace of Love and Death for anyone who’s interested! I’ve got songs added in through the end of Act 1 chapters. It’s mostly a lot of industrial, goth, and metal bands with the occasional pop singer thrown in to mix things up.

I’m such a sucker for sadboi music, always have been. I guess for me there’s something really comfortable about the emotions it invokes having grown up with depression, anxiety, and gender dysphoria (even though I didn’t recognize the dysphoria for what it was until much later). Probably why I am drawn to write and consume stories of struggle and strife, too. I just can’t relate to anything too happy 😅

[missfortunetherogue]

writing is playing emotional jenga with words. except every piece is labeled “childhood issues” and the table is on fire

[missfortunetherogue]

❤️