tabitha42

[tabitha42]

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 84

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Previous chapter Next chapter

She hadn’t expected the newest member of their group to be able to lift her spirits quite as much as he did after all that had happened with Aryn, but there was something about Minsc that meant she couldn’t keep the smile from her lips. Maybe it was his endless optimism, his unique way of phrasing things, or perhaps it was the excitement of meeting a hero that so thoroughly lived up to the legends.

He’d gone off with the others that morning, eager to hunt down the villains that had infected him, while she headed off with Gale on a mission of her own. 

It had been too long since she’d visited, and she hoped they didn’t hold that against her. In her defence, she had been kidnapped by a Nautiloid, and that made visiting family rather difficult. 

She smiled at the familiar streets and alleyways as she led Gale through the part of the city she’d called home for the first 18 years of her life. Finally they rounded a corner and found themselves stood in front of their destination. 

The building sat separate from its neighbours either side, a rare sight in the densely populated city. Ivy wound up the ancient walls, distracting from the worn bricks and smattering of cracked windows. A weathered sign reading “St Natan’s Orphanage” sat above the wooden entrance doors - doors that 26 years ago a baby wrapped in blankets had been left in front of in a box labelled ‘Saffron’. 

“So this is where you grew up,” Gale remarked, looking up at the building. 

“Yeah! Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone,” she replied eagerly, squeezing his hand in excitement and heading up to the doors. 

The entrance hall always felt like a welcome home whenever she stepped into it. A staircase up one side of the room led to the living areas, the corridor straight ahead led to the dining room and kitchen, a door to the left led through to the teaching areas, and just to the side of the corridor was a small desk, behind which a familiar face looked up from her paperwork at them. 

“Saff!” She gasped, her face lighting up with a smile as she rose from her chair. 

“Matron Calper!” 

She hurried round the desk and embraced the woman in a warm hug. Gale waited politely, smiling as he watched the two of them. The matron was an older woman with a kindly smile, her greying hair swept back in a bun, the symbol of Ilmater on her robes. 

“It’s so good to see you again dear! It’s been a while.” “You would not believe what I’ve been up to the last couple of months,” Saff laughed, then turned to Gale. “But before we get into that, let me introduce Gale - my partner.” 

“A pleasure to meet you,” he greeted with practiced charm, holding his hand out to her. 

“Oh my, a pleasure indeed,” she replied with a smile as she shook his hand, then looked at Saff with wide eyes. 

“Does this mean you’re here to adopt?” She asked hopefully, a noticeable disappointment on her face when Saff shook her head. 

“I’m afraid not. Perhaps one day, but not today. I do bring some news though that I hope you will be happy to hear,” she said, smiling for a moment, before looking more serious and dropping her voice slightly. 

“I know what the Guild has been doing. I’ve paid all the orphanage’s debts, and some extra for any future payments.”

“Saff…” the matron whispered, disbelief etched across her face. “How did you get involved with the Guild??”

“Don’t worry about that. Just know that they won’t be a problem anymore. And if they are - I’m staying at the Elfsong, come tell me and I’ll deal with it.” 

Tears welled in her eyes as her disbelief turned to relief. 

“Oh, Saff, honey… thank you…” 

The two pulled each other into a hug once more, the matron struggling to hold back her tears.

“I have no idea what the Guild would have done if we hadn’t been able to pay. You don’t know how much you’ve done for the kids,” she whispered. A slight chill went down Saff’s spine - she knew exactly what the Guild would have done. 

“Well now we’ll never have to find out,” she said, giving her a reassuring smile as they parted. “Oh! And I also have a donation.” 

She took a pouch of coins from her pocket and handed it to the matron, whose eyes widened once more as she opened the pouch and looked in. 

“Saff, how in the name of Ilmater did you get all this??”

“I’m not sure you’d believe me even if I told you,” she answered with a laugh. 

“Is that so?” The matron asked, giving her a look. 

“I stole it from a devil, then killed him in his own house.”

The matron laughed at what she assumed was a joke, then knelt down behind the desk to safely secure it while Saff and Gale glanced at each other with knowing smiles. 

There was a crash from behind them as one of the doors flew open and two boys came running out of it, both skidding to a halt when they saw her. 

“Saff!!” They both cried out in unison, running towards her. 

“Mikay! Jonny!” Saff greeted happily, scooping the smaller boy up into her arms in a hug while kneeling down to hug the other. 

“I need you two to go gather everyone up for me, ok? Bring everyone to the garden, I’ve got presents!”

The two of them eagerly went charging off, and she smiled at Gale and held out her hand for him to join him. 

She led him through the building and told him of her time there, going through stories of childhood mischief and fond memories as they walked across the dining room, through the corridors, then finally out into the garden. 

“This was always my favourite place,” she said, looking around at the old toys that scattered the play areas, the trees that lined the edges and flowers that dotted the grass. “Except, perhaps, for the attic,” she added, nodding up to the highest window of the building, a small circular pane of stained glass within a dormer of the roof. “I would sneak books up there and read them while I was supposed to be in bed. Especially during thunderstorms. It was up there I practiced magic and learnt to cast my first spell. In the evenings, the sun would always cast the most amazing colours through the window.” 

“It looks beautiful,” he mused, feeling a sense of whimsy as he looked up at the window, imagining Saff reading her fairytales while staring out over the garden. 

“It was. Well… sort of. It was also a dusty old attic with floorboards so rotted that you had to step on the right ones or you’d fall right through the ceiling. Luckily I only did that once.”

He looked at her in disbelief, and she chuckled.

“I broke my arm. After that I was forbidden to go up there anymore. But I couldn’t help myself… I just made sure to be more careful which floorboards I stood on.” 

“And you had the audacity to look at me with such scandal when I snuck us into those gardens,” Gale teased, a hint of pride at the edges of his mischievous smile. 

She had only time to smile back before the children began gathering around them. 

Gale sincerely hoped she wasn’t expecting him to remember the name of every single child she introduced him to. He prided himself on having a good memory, but that was testing the limits of even his ability. Once every child was present, he joined the matrons gathered at the edge of the playground and watched as Saff took centre stage and gathered the children’s attention. 

“Now, I’m sure you’ve all heard there’s presents available. So…”

She reached into the Bag of Holding she had slung round her shoulder and pulled out a large bag of sweets, eliciting a loud round of gasps and excited squeals from the kids, with many of the younger ones running up to try to grab the bag. 

“Be nice, don’t snatch,” she said firmly, holding the bag up out of their reach for a moment, before reaching into the Bag of Holding with her other hand. “After all…” she pulled out another bag of sweets, one that quite clearly had no way of fitting into such a small bag, drawing another round of amazed gasps from her audience, “... there’s plenty to go round!”

She handed out the bags to the kids and watched as they began passing them around, making sure everyone got a sweet. 

“Now, who wants to see some magic?” 

The kids eagerly cheered in excitement, watching in anticipation. She glanced at Gale with a small smile for a moment, before looking upwards and raising her arms. 

With a flourish and an incantation, she threw her arms up and the children gasped as a shower of sparkles flew up from her fingers, and with them a wave of magic washed over the area. The trees and plants around them bloomed into bright, fantastical flowers, birds and butterflies danced around them and a floral scent filled the air.

“She couldn’t do that last time…” Gale heard one of the matrons whisper in awe to another, and he found himself smiling with pride at the wonder Saff commanded from her audience. 

“I’ve been on quite an adventure recently,” Saff continued, everyone in the garden now watching her with rapt attention. “Would you all like to see some of the things I’ve seen on my journeys?” 

Gale watched proudly as she sent the kids running around the playground, laughing and squealing, away from an illusory displacer beast. They fawned over an owlbear cub, fought with sticks against goblins and gnolls, and gasped in amazement at a pack of dinosaurs. 

“Did you see any dragons?!” One particularly enthusiastic child asked, followed by a wave of excited looks from the other children. 

“Ah… I did, though I might need a bit of help to bring that one to life,” she said, looking over at Gale. The kids all followed her gaze, watching him with eager expectations. He smiled at their excitement, and stood up from the wall he’d been leant against and walked over to her. 

The two of them raised their arms in perfect unison, and with a synchronised gesture and incantation, magic pulsed at their fingertips and the shadow of a wing cast over the playground. 

The children gasped and looked up to see a great dragon landing on the roof of the orphanage, growling as it looked down at them. Even the older members of the audience - the matrons and the teenagers who had previously been harder to impress than the children - were now gasping in shock as they stared up at the illusion. 

Gale couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and warmth welling within him as they dismissed the illusion and the children looked up at them both in awe and excitement. 

He returned to his spot at the side of the playground and watched Saff play with the kids, summoning small illusions for them while answering their questions about all their adventures. 

“So you’re a wizard, too?” 

He looked over to the source of the voice and saw Matron Calper looking at him with a smile.

“Indeed I am. Gale of Waterdeep, at your service,” he said with a bow. 

“My my, Saff has done well for herself, hasn’t she?” She laughed. “Thank you for coming with her today, the children have loved it. They always look forward to her visits. She usually entertains them with magic - a small light show or little animal illusions. I’ve never seen her be able to do something like this before. So did you meet her on these adventures she’s talking about?”

“I did, yes. We bonded over our love of magic, and I offered to teach her. From those lessons blossomed a friendship, and from that, love.” He watched her fondly for a moment, smiling to see her enjoying herself so much with the kids. “She has always spoken highly of the orphanage she grew up in and the people that raised her. She thinks of you all as family.”

“I am glad to hear that,” the matron said happily. “Every child deserves a loving family. We give them what we can.” 

He was quiet for a moment, deep in thought as he watched her coo to a baby bought out by one of the other matrons.

“Every child deserves a loving family,” he echoed. “I couldn’t agree more.” 

When they finally had to leave the kids gathered at the door to say their goodbyes, waving to them as they headed down the street. 

“I hope you didn’t find that too overwhelming,” Saff said, taking his hand in hers.

“Not at all! I quite enjoyed myself. One of the more unusual experiences I’ve had meeting my partner’s family for the first time, though also probably the least stressful,” he joked. 

“Heh, no overly protective father saying ‘what are your intentions with my daughter?’,” she laughed, putting on a deep voice to imitate the father. 

“Ah, well, Malitas filled that role quite thoroughly,” he pointed out, casting his mind back to one of their early conversations. 

“Oh, yes, I suppose he did,” he realised. She hadn’t witnessed the conversation herself as Malitas had sent everyone else to sleep, but Gale had told her about it afterwards. “I guess it fits… at first he was so strict about the boundaries between master and apprentice, but after what happened with Aryn, he was so caring as he looked after me… I ended up kinda seeing him as the father I never had,” she said softly, smiling to herself at the thought, before quickly looking up at Gale. “Don’t tell him I said that though!” 

“My lips are sealed,” he promised her. “Though, I suspect he wouldn’t be entirely upset to hear you think that of him. Despite his insistence on proper boundaries between master and apprentice, he cares about you a great deal. More than most masters care for their apprentice, I’d wager. Do you know what he said to me, when he sent the rest of you to sleep? ‘She deserves the world, Gale. Can you give that to her?’ I think most master wizards I know would sooner say their apprentices deserve to fall off a cliff.”

She burst out laughing and playfully pushed him away in disbelief, before softening once more at the thought of what Malitas had said. 

“He really said that?” 

“He did. Which is why I think he’d be happy to hear you think that of him, but I won’t tell him if you wish me not to. Though he may catch on if you ask him to walk you down the aisle,” he said teasingly. 

“I am not asking him to walk me down the aisle!” She laughed, shaking her head. “And you’d better not ask him for permission to marry me.” 

“Oh, can you imagine the look on his face? I might have to ask him just so I can see it,” he joked, considering the idea probably more seriously than he should do. 

“Don’t you dare,” she insisted, narrowing her eyes at him. “Or if you do, make sure you do it while I’m there, I want to see his reaction too.”

He chuckled, then sighed contently as the two fell into a comfortable silence. His mind wandered to thoughts of the future, of the life they might spend together, until he decided to voice his thoughts.

“I must admit - perhaps this was your intention, and if it was, well done - this whole visit has got me thinking about our conversation the other day. About children and adoption.” 

She stopped walking and turned to face him, realising how important this conversation was to be. 

“I have been thinking it over,” he continued, “and, combined with today, I have come to the conclusion that it is what I want. A family. With you.”

A wide smile spread across her lips and she threw her arms around him in a hug, before quickly pulling away for a moment and looking at him seriously. 

“You’re sure? You’re not just saying this cause it’s what I want? If you don’t want kids, that’s perfectly fine too-”

“I’m sure,” he interrupted, pulling her closer in his arms. “My only caveat is that we do not do so immediately after the Absolute is vanquished. I would like some time to have you all to myself first.”

She smiled as she leant into him. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[tabitha42]

If You Were A Fictional Character

Tagged by @deerancha!

* Make this picrew of yourself * Take this uquiz (How Fandom Would See You If You Were A Fictional Character)

I'd like to go to my own universe now please!

I actually feel like I'm doing pretty well in this one. I got a comment on my fanfic yesterday, what more could anyone want in life?

I tag @thelittlesorceressbg3 and @parkouringrabbit!

[tabitha42]

I commissioned @redreart for this YCH of Gale and Saff, I love it so much!! It's the first time I've commissioned art of the two of them, I hope to commission much more!

[tabitha42]

A midnight dance under the moonlight ❤️

[tabitha42]

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 83

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Previous chapter Next chapter

CW: themes of domestic abuse

The sound of merriment from the tavern below felt like a distant dream as Saff stared at herself in the mirror, absent-mindedly pulling a brush through her hair. It was clean now at least, if a bit damaged by the oil. But it wasn’t the state of her hair that took up her thoughts. 

Below her fringe lay healthy skin for the first time in two years. She hadn’t looked yet, she was almost hesitant to. She wondered if she’d made the right choice. It was true that she’d felt no fear when she’d faced him, yet she certainly hadn’t put it behind her. He hung over her in other ways now. 

She was snapped out of her thoughts as the door opened and Gale entered with a tray of food. 

“Did you tell them?” She asked, standing up from the dressing table. 

“I did, yes,” he answered as he placed the tray down on the room’s two-person table. 

“How did they react?”

He looked at her for a moment, then walked over and gently placed his hand on her shoulder, looking at her in concern. 

“They’re worried about you, Saff.” 

Her eyes cast down in a guilty wince.

“I’ll go see them tomorrow. Tonight I… I just…” 

Her voice cracked as she tried to put her feelings into words, but she soon knew she didn’t need to as Gale took her into his arms. He understood. For now, that was enough. 

“I brought you some dinner,” he offered, gesturing to the table. She gave a grateful nod and sat down with him, but when she lifted her fork, she found the thought of eating turned her stomach. She prodded at her food and pushed it around her plate, trying to will herself to eat, but couldn’t couldn’t even bring herself to lift it to her mouth. 

“Saff…” 

She looked up to see Gale watching her in concern.

“Please, I know it’s difficult, but try to eat something.”

She looked back down at her food, stomach roiling at the thought. Luckily, she was rescued by a knock at the door. 

She stayed in her chair, out of sight from the hallway as Gale went to the door. When he opened it, she heard Malitas’s voice.

“I need to speak to you both.” His tone was serious - serious enough that Gale didn’t dismiss him immediately. “About what?” “Aryn.”

Her eyes flicked up from her food to find Gale looking at her, an unspoken question in his gaze. She nodded and stood, stepping away from the table. Gale stepped back, allowing Malitas into the room. He looked at her, a soft look of concern on his face as Gale closed the door behind him. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“What did you want to talk about?” She answered, telling Malitas all he needed to know about what the answer to his question was. He took the hint and got straight to the point.

“Aryn is no longer a threat.”

Her eyes widened. Gale, too, looked at Malitas in similar shock. 

“You…?” She whispered, barely able to believe it.

“I spoke to Nine Fingers. She didn’t want people like that in her Guild. I offered to take care of the problem for her.” 

She covered her mouth and looked away. Every emotion went through her mind at once, all shouting to be heard until none of them could be over the deafening clamour. Gale’s and Malitas’s voices seemed distant and muffled as they spoke.

“How did you do it?”

“Fire.”

“Just Aryn?” “All three of them.”

“You should have spoken to us first. To Saff.”

“I didn’t want to risk letting them go free.”

She looked back at them again, and they both went quiet as they looked at her, awaiting her response. She’d so rarely seen Malitas look nervous, but now there was a hint of it in his eyes as he waited to see how she’d react.

Slowly, the emotions that filled her head began to die down, and when her mind was quiet once more, she found only one emotion remained - relief. 

Wordlessly she walked over to Malitas and hugged him. After a moment of surprise, he returned the hug, gently wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back. As she leant her head on his chest she could hear how fast his heart was beating, and she realised he’d been more nervous about this than he was letting on. Well, he needn’t be nervous. She was more grateful than she could say.

She stayed like that for a long moment, letting it fully sink in. It wouldn’t solve everything immediately, she knew, yet it finally felt like the shadow that had been hanging over her was beginning to dissipate, and the food on the table was suddenly a lot more appetising. 

They stayed in the private room that night, and sleep came to Saff a lot easier than she’d expected it to.

Sleep, however, did not come to Gale. 

He paced restlessly across the roof of the Elfsong. He’d been hesitant about leaving Saff on her own, but he would only be out here a few minutes, just to get some fresh air. He’d been with her all evening and just needed a moment alone.

At least, he thought he was alone. 

“Where’s an elf supposed to go these days to get a moment of quiet?”

He gasped and spun round to see Astarion sitting on one of the nearby benches, previously completely invisible to him in the darkness. 

“Gods, do you have to do that?” Gale snapped in annoyance. 

“Do what? Sit quietly? It isn’t my fault if you can’t see me,” he responded with a shrug. “Come on then, what’s wrong?”

Gale seethed. Normally he wouldn’t want to get into this conversation, especially not with Astarion of all people, yet right now his emotions outweighed that logic.

“Aryn is dead.”

Astarion’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, then furrowed in confusion. 

“And that’s a bad thing because…?”

“Because I wasn’t the one to kill him.” His expression shifted now to an understanding smile. 

“Ahh… yes, I can understand that. Killing Cazador may not have been the life-changing moment I had hoped it would be, but it did give me something. I don’t think I’d be very happy if someone else had robbed me of that moment. So who was it that got the honour?” 

Gale wouldn’t admit it, but he was somewhat relieved to find Astarion understood his frustrations. 

“Malitas,” he answered, beginning to pace again. “He went down to the dungeons and set them alight in their cell. I don’t entirely blame Malitas for killing him - it needed to be done. But going behind our backs to do it? Not only did he have no idea how Saff would react to that, we’ll also now never have a chance to find out if Aryn is responsible for her curse!” 

“Ah yes, the dreams,” Astarion nodded. “Malitas really didn’t think to question him about it before killing him? That seems unlike him.”

“I don’t think he knows about the dreams,” Gale explained with a sigh as he leant against a wall. “To my knowledge she never told him. It’s not exactly a subject she enjoys talking about. If Malitas had been less rash and spoken to us first, we could have told him our suspicions. But now…”

He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair in frustration, not noticing the small smile that began to creep across Astarion’s lips. 

“Perhaps there’s a solution to this.”

Gale lifted his head and turned to him, eyebrow raising in confusion and intrigue.

“And what solution do you propose?”

“Come with me, darling.”

Astarion jumped up from the bench and headed back into the building. Gale followed him curiously back into the shared bedroom, staying quiet as Astarion went to his bed and began silently rummaging through his belongings. He knew Saff lay asleep in the private room, exhausted from the events of the day. He hoped that whatever Astarion had planned wasn’t going to take long.

Astarion turned round and gestured for Gale to follow as he left the room. 

“Where exactly are we going?” Gale asked as Astarion led them through the Elfsong to the exit. 

“You’ll see,” was the only answer he received. 

The streets were quiet as they left the tavern, so late now that even the drunkards of the city were asleep, or passed out. Gale grew increasingly agitated as he followed Astarion through winding alleys and dimly lit backstreets, each step taking him further away from Saff.

“Astarion, I really must insist you tell me where we’re going!”

“Hush!” 

Gale nearly walked into him as Astarion stopped and turned around to shush him, before he turned and charged off down the alley again. With an annoyed grunt, Gale reluctantly continued to follow.

Finally they reached their destination, and as he looked up at the door Astarion approached, he suddenly realised where they were. 

“The Guildhall?” 

“Yes, now do try to look a bit more like you belong here than last time,” Astarion advised, then turned and spoke to the guards. Gale didn’t hear exactly what he said, but whatever it was it worked, and they were allowed in.

Unlike the rest of the city, the Guildhall was just as bustling at night as it was during the day, perhaps even more so. At first Gale had feared that would mean a higher likelihood of running into trouble, but it soon became clear that the crowded chaos worked in their favour as Astarion effortlessly led him across the gangways and into a small corridor leading off the main hall.

“Dungeons are likely downstairs…” Astarion murmured, mostly to himself, and headed down a flight of stairs.

“Wait, you don’t even know where you’re going?!” Gale snapped as he followed him down. 

“Of course not,” Astarion replied, far too casually for Gale’s liking. He seethed in anger as they continued down the stairs.

“What exactly are you planning? You are aware he’s dead, yes?” Gale questioned, hurrying after him. 

“There are ways to speak to the dead.” 

Gale groaned and rolled his eyes. 

“If you’re thinking of using the spell Speak With Dead, need I remind you that you need a body for that and Malitas set him on fire? He’ll be nothing but a pile of ash.”

“You might need a body.” 

Gale hated to admit it, but that piqued his interest, and he made no more objections as he followed Astarion down to the dungeons. 

It didn’t take them long to find the cell. The smell of burning flesh still hung in the air, an acrid stench that wrinkled Gale’s nose as they entered the darkened room. Shadows danced around them from the dim flames of the wall torches, an ominous foreboding hanging in the air as they approached the piles of ash and charred bones behind the bars. 

The two of them stood in front of the cell for a moment, looking at the blackened remains, until Astarion spoke. 

“Ready?”

“Ready for what, exactly?” 

Astarion was smiling when Gale looked over at him.

“You’ll see,” he said with a playful smirk, pulling something out of his bag. Gale’s eyes widened when he saw the book Astarion produced. A screaming face, carved out of leather - or was that actual human flesh? - stared into the abyss with amethyst eyes, and the large gemstone in its mouth shone as Astarion opened the book and began to flick through the pages. 

“What is that?” Gale whispered in reverence, able to feel the powerful pulse of the Weave from the book even without holding it. 

“You keep the questions for him, darling,” Astarion replied, nodding to the pile of ash and bone in front of them. “I assume Aryn is the one at the front?” 

Gale looked down at the three heaps of ash in the cell.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I suppose we shall find out, then.”

Astarion raised his hand and the book began to glow, with a pulse of gold from the ancient words that swirled around Astarion and lit up his eyes. 

“Cum mortuis in lingua mortua,” he incanted, his words echoing. Gale recognised the spell of course, but this was something more. Something deeper. Whatever that book was, it held secrets far beyond the levels of necromancy he’d seen before. 

A wind tugged at their clothes, swirling around the room until the pile of ash in front of them began to rise up in an arcane cyclone, the charred bones swirling in the wind until they snapped together. Ash fell into place around the remains of the newly forming skeleton, creating an illusion of flesh. The blackened skull rose up into place and the ash gathered to form a neck, a jaw, a mouth, a nose, cheeks, hair… and finally eyes that snapped open with an ethereal green glow. 

Gale had no doubts about it as he looked into the dead eyes of the man floating ahead of him. This was the one from Saff’s memories. This was Aryn. 

He felt anger bubbling up inside him at the sight of the man. Every ounce of pain he’d felt from her when she’d shared her memories with him, every tear she’d shed in his arms that night, left him wanting to reach out and grab the figure by his ashen neck and wring it until he died again. This was pointless, he knew - Aryn was already dead, this spell didn’t change that. But that didn’t abate the anger that burnt inside him. 

“So here I find myself, face to face with a monster,” he growled, glaring at him, trying to subdue his anger and instead focus on the questions he was going to ask.

Aryn’s undead eyes bore into him, unnatural, judgemental… curious. 

“You…” the corpse spoke, his voice an ethereal rasp. “Who… are you?”

Gale froze, his anger momentarily replaced by confusion. He’d seen this spell cast plenty of times. He’d never seen a corpse ask a question back. That wasn’t supposed to be possible…

His eyes flicked to the book in Astarion’s hands. Power emanated from it, ancient and forbidden. Power enough perhaps to reach beyond the body, past the material plane and into the Fugue plane, enough to connect to the soul itself. 

“My name is Gale,” he answered, putting his questions about the book aside for now. There were more important matters to settle. “I’m Saff’s partner. And I’m here for answers.”

The laughter that came from the corpse’s mouth sent a chill down his spine.

“Her partner? She didn’t mention you.”

“Very wise of her. I dread to think what you’d have done to her if you’d known she was with someone else.”

Aryn’s head tilted curiously to the side.

“She will ruin your life, like she ruined mine.”

“You ruined your own life.” 

He couldn’t keep bickering with him like this. The book was powerful, but Gale still didn’t know how long the spell would hold. He had to get to the point.

“Did you curse her?” 

The look of surprise on the charred illusion of Aryn’s face was not the reaction Gale had been expecting. 

“She’s cursed, is she? Good. I hope it destroys her.” 

Gale’s fists clenched with an anger he struggled to control.

“It truly wasn’t you, then?”

“No. I told the cleric to kill her, not to curse her.”

Gale’s eyes widened. 

“...What?”

Another look of surprise from Aryn, followed by a sinister laugh.

“Oh, they really never figured it out? Or maybe she simply never told you…” 

There was a smugness in his look as he drew out the moment. 

“Malitas hired clerics to heal her… so I bribed one of them to do the opposite. Took every coin I had left, but I knew it would be worth it. I wasn’t going to let her get away with what she’d done.”

Gale’s mind raced as so many questions suddenly began to make sense.

“I told him to drag it out, make her suffer,” Aryn continued. “So he did. He was a cleric of Ilmater, after all. The god of suffering. It was glorious… until the moment finally came to kill her, and he chickened out. Said he couldn’t let an innocent die. Still took my fucking money though. So I took his life.” 

“You killed him??” Gale asked in surprise, and Aryn nodded.

“I did. I was going to kill her next, but by then she was back home, with Malitas watching over her day and night. I knew I couldn’t get past a wizard like him, so I bided my time. Joined the Guild, learnt their craft… then next thing I heard, she was taken by the Nautiloid. I figured she must be dead. I was thrilled when she turned up in the Guildhall.”

The spell began to waver. He looked over to see Astarion struggling to maintain it, gritting his teeth as the book flared. Not much time left. 

“What was the cleric’s name?” He asked quickly.

The ash began to fall from Aryn’s face, making the smile that came to his lips all the more sinister.

“Now why would I tell you that?”

His voice echoed into the ether as the illusion of his face fell away to just a blackened skull, the arcane light disappearing from its eyes before it fell to the ground with the rest of his remains, returned back to a lifeless pile of ash and bone. 

Astarion gasped as he finally let go of the spell, the book snapping shut, leaving them with just the flicker of dim firelight from the torches.

“He tried to have her killed…” Gale whispered, his disbelief quickly turning to rage. “He tried to have her killed! That’s why her scar healed so badly, that’s why she suddenly recovered so quickly - because that cleric stopped channeling whatever magic he was using to keep her at death’s door. But what magic was it? Perhaps it is related to the curse…”

“Well all we need to do is find out where that cleric is buried and ask him,” Astarion said casually, nodding to the book in his hands. 

“Aryn mentioned he was a cleric of Ilmater… which means we know exactly where he’ll be buried,” Gale realised, then dashed out of the room. 

It was Astarion’s turn now to run after Gale asking where they were going as they left the Guildhall and ran through the city streets. 

“For someone that seemed terribly agitated to leave the Elfsong,” Astarion breathlessly called after him as they entered Wyrm’s Crossing, “we’re getting awfully far away from it!”

“Nearly there now!” Gale called back in response. 

The Open Hand Temple was quiet as they entered, which made sneaking down into the cellar quick and easy.

“I forgot this was a temple of Ilmater,” Astarion commented as they headed through the empty cellar. “Aren’t Ilmater’s clerics supposed to prevent suffering, rather than inflict it?”

“I don’t think any cleric that takes a bribe to harm his patient is one that takes his vows particularly seriously,” Gale reasoned, leading them into the crypt. “Now, try to find a sarcophagus for someone that died in 1490.”

The two of them set to work, dusting off the plaques that lined the room. 

“Here,” Astarion’s voice cut through the silence. “Ardan Vonanto, born 1432 DR, died 1490 DR.” 

Gale headed over, and together they heaved the stone cover of the sarcophagus away, revealing the corpse beneath. Gale stepped back as Astarion channeled the spell once more, the corpse rising from its grave in a swirl of magic. With a flash its eyes snapped open and fell on Gale. 

“Did you accept a bribe to harm a patient of yours named Saffron?” Gale asked. 

There was a pause, a look of distant sorrow in the corpse’s eyes. 

“I did… and I died for it.” 

Gale had no sympathy for the fallen cleric. 

“What exactly did you do to her?”

“...One spell… Harm…” 

Gale knew the spell. It could inflict terrible damage upon the target, but would never kill them. He’d seen people afflicted by the spell before, riddled with a necrotic aura that left their body frail and weak. It was a terrible thing to suffer… but it was no curse.

“Did you curse her?” 

“No,” the corpse answered, a look of sadness crossing its face. “She is cursed? The poor girl…”

Gale sighed in defeat. He’d hoped they might have found their answer, but clearly that was not to be the case.

“Was she cursed when you met her?” He asked, hoping they might be able to find something useful from this.

“I did not check for curses.”

The spell began to falter again. One more question.

“Did you, or any of the other clerics, ever try to cast Greater Restoration on her?”

The corpse shook its head.

“That spell heals charms, petrification and curses… she suffered none of these. Or so we believed. If she was cursed, nobody knew.” 

With that the spell faded once more and the corpse fell back into the sarcophagus. 

There was a moment of quiet between them, until Astarion spoke.

“Now what?”

Gale’s eyes didn’t leave the sarcophagus as he ran through all the new information in his mind, searching for other options. In the end, he found no other options available to them.

“Back to the Elfsong.”

Saff was still asleep when he returned, much to his relief. He began to get undressed, trying not to wake her, though his efforts were in vain when he sat on the side of the bed to remove his shoes and she began to stir.

“Gale?” She murmured, rubbing her eyes as she turned over and looked at him. “Where are you going?” 

He sighed. He’d been hoping to wait until morning to tell her this, but he could hardly hide it from her now. 

“I’m not going, I’m returning. There is something you must know.” 

She sat up and shifted closer to him, watching nervously as he took her hands in his. 

“I went to the roof for some air. I was concerned about the fact that, with Aryn’s death, we may never be able to find out if he was responsible for the curse. Astarion was there, and I voiced my concerns to him. He then revealed he is in possession of a book that allows him to cast Speak With Dead, without the requirement of a corpse.” 

Her eyes widened as she realised what this meant.

“Did you speak to him??” 

“I did, with Astarion’s help. He confirmed he is not responsible for the curse - he didn’t even know there was a curse on you. But… in the process he revealed something else.” 

He paused, squeezing her hands, unsure how she would react to this information. 

“He bribed one of the clerics healing you to kill you instead. The cleric used the spell Harm to keep you at death’s door while the others tried to heal you. It is the reason your scar healed the way it did. The necrosis wasn’t from an infection, it was from the spell.” 

She was stunned into silence. At first she could hardly believe it… but then again, maybe it wasn’t so surprising. He’d tried to kill her today, after all. She just hadn’t expected to find out he’d gone down that route so quickly. 

“That cleric was supposed to kill you, but in the end he couldn’t do it,” Gale continued. “Aryn killed him for this, and had been planning to kill you. When he saw you in the Guildhall, he took his chance.” 

It sent a chill down her spine to know that Aryn had been planning that for so long, to know she’d never truly been safe from him. Part of her felt guilty for indirectly causing the death of the cleric, even though it was a cleric that would accept a bribe to kill someone. It was a lot to take in, yet there was also a relief in finally knowing exactly what had happened. 

“Harm…” she whispered, shaking her head. “I… I didn’t realise… it had been so bad…” 

“Malitas mentioned this,” Gale said quietly. “I spoke to him about it all the other day, after your flashback. He said that he wasn’t sure how much of the whole ordeal you remembered - you were not lucid most of the time.”

She looked at Gale in surprise. 

“He never mentioned this…” she said, feeling a slight annoyance at him for keeping it from her. “What exactly did he say happened?”

“He said the clerics came daily to heal you, until eventually your condition grew so bad you were taken to the temple for constant care. You were there for a tenday, during which time… they believed you would die.” 

This shocked her even more than the revelations about Aryn. She knew it had been bad, of course. But she didn’t realise she’d been so close to death. The whole thing was just a blur… and now she understood why.

“Why did he never tell me…” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.

“He said he didn’t feel it was his place to talk to you about this. And… well, he didn’t say it, but I think it is difficult for him to talk about. The way he spoke about it, I have never seen him look quite so… haunted. He said he worked day and night to find a way to save you. But nothing he tried worked. Then when their healing suddenly started working, he suspected there was more happening to you than just an infection, but couldn’t figure out what. Now we know.” 

Saff thought about it all for a moment, before shifting off the bed and standing up.

“Then we should go tell him.” 

“What? Now?” Gale asked in surprise, watching as she started getting dressed. 

“Yes. I’d want to know straight away, and so would he,” she said, a slight hint of bitterness in her voice that both Malitas and Gale hadn’t told her the extent of her condition earlier. “And if Astarion hasn’t started trancing yet, then he won’t have either.”

Gale sighed slightly, then looked down at his half-undone bootlaces and leant down to lace them up again. 

***

It was late by the time Malitas returned. Late enough that she’d normally be in bed by this time, but in the weeks Malitas had spent away her sleeping schedule had become rather haphazard. Increasingly she spent time napping during the day and staring at the stars at night, which is what she was doing when he saw him walking up the street. 

“Hey,” she greeted with a smile when she met him in the entrance hall, but frowned when he gave her little response. His demeanor was… odd. Distant. Pained, even. “Are you ok?” 

He paused, quiet for a long moment before he finally spoke.

“Aryn is dead.” 

The words sucked the breath from her lungs and left her speechless. Her mouth opened and closed in an attempt to form a reply, but no words came. 

The name alone brought memories flooding back to her. Memories of nights spent staring out the window towards the temple, wondering if Saff was still alive. Memories of watching Malitas run himself into the ground trying to find a way to save her. Memories of comforting each other through the pain, forbidden words and forgotten promises…

“What will happen to me? You don’t need me anymore.”

“I need you more than you know…” 

She blinked, taking a deep breath to try to keep herself in the present. 

“What happened?” 

“He lured her into a trap and tried to kill her. She escaped and trapped him, but couldn’t bring herself to kill him. So I did.” 

His fists clenched.

“I should have done it a long time ago. But it’s done now. He’s nothing but ash and bones.” 

A moment of silence fell over them. 

“Good.” 

He looked at her, and this time, he wasn’t surprised by the vengeful look she gave him. 

“I hope he suffered.” 

“He did,” Malitas assured her. “I made sure of it.” 

She nodded, allowing herself a second to process it all. 

“How is she?” 

“Struggling, but she’ll overcome this. She’s glad he’s dead.” 

Another nod. She was relieved to hear that Saff approved of Aryn being killed - she suspected Saff would do, but couldn’t be sure. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself and try to silence the memories pressing at the edges of her mind. 

“How can you need me so? I am not even-”

“I don’t care what you are or what you’re not. I care only what you mean to me… and you mean everything to me. I love you.” 

Her eyes snapped open, back in the present once more as she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“You should get some rest. You look tired.” 

He wasn’t wrong. 

She responded only with a nod as he took her hand and the two of them headed to the stairs that swept up the entrance hall. Her mind was a roil of emotions as they ascended, until they reached the top and her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. 

They both looked back down, surprised to have visitors so late at night. Malitas glanced at her, then turned and headed back downstairs. Curiosity got the better of her and she pressed herself against the wall of the hallway, out of sight of the door, but still in earshot. 

“Saff? Gale?” Malitas asked in surprise when he opened the door. “What’s wrong?” 

“There’s something you need to know,” came Saff’s answer. 

She listened as the two of them explained what Aryn had done, and she had to clasp her hand to her mouth to stop herself audibly gasping. Malitas had been right - he’d always said he suspected there was something more, something both he and the clerics weren’t seeing, but he could never prove it. 

“Gale told me what you'd said about how bad the infection was, how you tried to save me… I didn't realise how difficult it had been for you. I'm sorry. I wish you'd told me.” 

There was a pause. 

“Saff… please don't apologise. You're right, I should have told you. We should talk about this, but perhaps when we all have less to deal with.”

There was an almost imperceptible waver in his voice as she spoke. She wondered if Saff and Gale noticed. Probably not… but she did. He was reliving the same memories as her, she knew, but he hid it so much better than she ever could.

“Thank you for telling me. Now, you both should get some rest, it is late. Let me get you back to the Elfsong.”

There was the woosh of a portal opening, footsteps, another woosh, and then silence. 

The tower suddenly felt so much lonelier than it ever had done before, even in Malitas's absence. 

She turned and headed down the corridor, memories clouding her mind. 

“Truly?”

“Truly. I cannot be without you.”

“Then you won’t be.”

She paused outside the library. Perhaps she shouldn't go in there, not now… yet she could hardly stop herself as she reached for the door handle and opened it. 

When she walked in, it wasn't today's library that she saw. Not the perfectly organised books, not the neatly arranged chairs around the centre table, not the grand curtains that opened up over the city below. 

She saw it as it was, two years ago. 

The haze of magic in the air, the crackle of Weave on her skin. The haphazard items that scattered the room - books and spell scrolls, diamonds and gemstones, tear-stained pages and empty wine bottles. 

Sometimes she'd find him in here at his desk, desperately scribbling a new spell. Sometimes he'd be in the centre of the room, testing whatever his latest attempt was. And sometimes she'd find him slumped on the floor at the side of the room, head in his hands, exhausted and defeated. Sometimes she'd sit next to him, and they'd dry each other’s tears. 

Another pang of loneliness hit her. How had things changed so much since then? 

She held her arms as she looked around herself for some crumb of comfort, and found only the fragments of her memories around her. 

Nothing but a room full of failed experiments. 

[tabitha42]

How to Write a One-Shot that Punches You in the Dick like Chuck Norris

This post is entirely motivated by spite

Hello. This is a piece of writing by an actual human and not ChatGPT doing an impression of a human (do not look beneath the trench coat). There's been a post circulating on how to write a one-shot that is basically just c&p from ChatGPT so in the spirit of being a petty motherfucker I got annoyed and started typing and this is what came out. My qualifications to give this advice are: 1. Not a robot (that I know of) 2. I've written a bunch of porn.

A one shot is a short story. However, short stories, as a form, are incredibly varied and malleable. Some of them, like flash fiction, are around 500 words, and I've seen one-shots that have managed to sustain themselves up to 20k words and didn't feel like they needed a chapter break! That's basically a novella. Impressive! Advice for flash fiction is highly unlikely - though not completely impossible - to translate over to a novella, so trying to give pat advice that suits both forms is going to be difficult and pretty futile. But I'll do it anyway because this is the internet and no one can stop me.

Maybe that's the first step?

Do a vibe check on your piece (aka form... ish) Feel out how long you want your one-shot to be. Mine usually land between 4-7k words which is about average for a short story and I'm a yapper. And if you're anything like me I don't mean plan the word count to the single digits, but have a vague idea somewhere in your mind if it's going to be a tiny little snapshot of an intense moment, in which case you probably want to go with flash fiction, or if it feels like you need more words to say what you want to say. Then once you start writing throw that idea out of the window because it's going to come out however it comes out and suddenly what you thought was only going to be 1000 words has ballooned into a 15k monstrosity and... you get the picture. Right?

Steal stuff* Not actual plagiarism!!! What the fuck is wrong with you??? I mean go back to your favourite one-shots by other authors (or maybe yourself, no shaming narcissism here I love my work) (that's a lie I am cripplingly insecure about my writing please validate me) and work out what you like about them. Is it the language? Characterisation? Structure? Theme? Really really hot smut that made your insides go 'ghdslsndjknsdfhhhh'? Chances are you're drawn to a specific technique or element of the craft and don't even know it. If you don't know force your fellow writer friends to read them and then grill them relentlessly about what they liked and then violently disagree with their obviously wrong tastes. Best way to work out what you like, imo. Then once you've done that you'll have an idea about what works for you, so you can do it your way. NOT COPYING.

Pick a theme or two Alright alright it's probably a decent idea to narrow down what you're writing about to a theme or set of central ideas of some kind. For me this is usually 'pegging' or 'face sitting' or 'spanking' or 'tentacles', but you go nuts with whatever inspires you. Then, for funsies, layer another theme on top. Like 'shame', or 'rebellion' or 'grief' or 'the auto-cannibalistic features of late-stage capitalism'. Even better if it's a theme that's a core feature of one or more of your characters. Example: first theme 'werewolf sex', second theme 'boredom'. Maybe one of the characters is really boring and beige and meeting and fucking a werewolf is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to them. Or maybe it's not and it happens all the time and they need to do something to break out of the rut? (heh, rut) (iykyk) Or MAYBE the werewolf is the boring one and the MC can only stand being around them because the sex is so good and it's the only time they stop talking about crypto?! See, three different short stories already waiting to be written for you right there. Have these prompts. They're for you. Enjoy them.

You don't need to explain everything, or actually anything at all The great thing about a one-shot is you don't have to explain shit to anybody. You're already in the Situation, and your readers are just going to have to deal.

"I can't believe you're horny right now!" Verbenia yelled, clawing at her leg. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you missed that trap on purpose!" Arblerboth sighed, sheepishly adjusting his unfortunate erection. With hindsight, the bear trap had been pretty obvious. He wasn't sure how either of them hadn't noticed the moment they stepped into the cave.

See what I did there? No explanation for why they're in a cave, why they're travelling together, what they're up to, or about Arblerboth's secret bear-trap fetish (it's about the trap not the blood it's a pretty unusual fetish but hey rule 34). But you were invested, right? All the world-building and intricate dynamics and stuff are for you and with a short story they stay as inside thoughts, to be expressed through character action and interaction with the setting - which you also don't have to explain because they're already there. This goes double for fanfiction because everyone reading it will already know the world and setting and characters and you don't need to rehash it.

Now here's where I told a big lie about that last piece of advice because I once spent 2k words explaining how my MC created a magical strap-on before I even got to her pegging anyone with it. But I guess I didn't explain the magic system she was using to make it? Idk.

Google 'how to write a short story' I'm actually serious with this one, there's a ton of excellent articles and resources out there by some brilliant published writers who have written some fantastic short stories. If you're too lazy to type out that sentence c&p it from this post. Take the advice you like and leave the rest.

and finally... WRITE IT.

Soz. You have to do writing to be good at the writing. Sucks, doesn't it?

So there it is, take it or leave it, I'm just someone on tumblr with a keyboard and way too much time on my hands. I'm sorry this post isn't full of easy to action but ultimately meaningless unhelpful clickbait points like "limit the timeline" (you can write an amazing one-shot that spans decades) or "choose one emotion" (we contain multitudes, apparently, have you heard of meta-emotions? Get ready to have your feelings blown out your ass baby), or "use a 3-part/act structure" (there are many different structures to drama - what about 5 parts? or 2? Go check out Aristophanes he's got some wild shit to show you, what a madlad), or "write like it's the last thing you'll ever write" (if this is the last thing I ever write then I hope whatever kills me is fucking awesome like teaching a shark to jet ski while wielding a longsword or something because no way this was worth it) (actually the salt water of the ocean would be really bad for a longsword that's a horrible idea).

Oh and use em-dashes. Every - where. All - over the place - if you like them - maybe you hate them - whatever use them anyway. I fucking love an em-dash. ✌️

[tabitha42]

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 82

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Previous chapter Next chapter

CW: themes of domestic abuse

The world spun around her as the thugs grabbed her and dragged her towards the cell once more. She tried to shout, to scream, to plead, anything, but could draw forth only coughs and blood from her lips. Aryn looked down at her, bloodied dagger in his hand, before turning away. She didn’t see where he went as she was thrown into the cell, hitting the ground hard, a shot of pain wracking her already trembling body. 

Her hands slipped in the blood that pooled beneath her as she tried to sit up. The pain was overwhelming, debilitating, incapacitating. Her vision blurred as she looked up and saw Aryn above her once more. He held what looked like a jug above her, and tipped. 

Thick, black oil poured over her, seeping into her clothes and hair, pooling beneath her. The stench was suffocating, taking over her every sense as it dripped over her eyes and down her cheeks. Finally he dropped the jug in front of her, the shatter splitting her addled mind and splattering oil across the cell. 

There was the clang of a cell door closing, followed by the loud click of a lock. 

“Thank you for the healing, babe,” Aryn said as he stepped back from the cell and pulled something from his pocket. “But I still think you deserve to know how it feels.” 

He struck a match. 

Her eyes widened and she frantically tried to scramble backwards as the terrifying realisation of what he was doing dawned on her. She barely had time to think before he flicked the match into the cell. 

Adrenaline silenced the pain as she raised her hands, and her incantation was lost in the roar of the fire that erupted around her.

Aryn and his friends watched as the flames filled the cell, almost blinding in the darkness of the dungeon, a macabre dance of light and shadow painted onto the walls. But as the flames died down, they saw not the charred remains they expected. 

Saff looked up at them through the shimmering field of Otiluke's Resilient Sphere. Their eyes widened as she rose from the pool of unignited oil beneath her, protected from the flames by the sphere, and raised her arms. 

“Vis medicatrix!”

Healing magic washed over her as she clapped her hands together, closing the stab wound Aryn had left in her back, healing the bruises and the cuts, and sealing shut the scar beneath her fringe. 

Aryn frantically grabbed a new match while his accomplices panicked, and as he raised his hands to light it, so too did she.

“Voco vinea!” Vines burst from the ground beneath them and snapped around their bodies, rooting them in place. They struggled desperately, but the vines held strong, allowing not an inch of movement.

“Pulso.”

A wave of her hand, and the cell door unlocked and swung open at her command. 

Even through the sphere she could feel the heat of the dwindling flames around, drying the tears in her eyes. The pain of betrayal turned to anger, a deep fury that flared inside her, burning away any good will she had left towards him.

With another wave the sphere disappeared and the fires parted in front of her. She could see the fear in their eyes as she walked forward… the same fear she’d felt just now. 

“Let us go!” Aryn shouted, trying to hide his fear behind his anger. “Let us go or you’ll fucking regret it!”

You’ll regret it…

He’d said that to her so many times over the course of their relationship. Once, those words struck fear into her heart. But now, she felt no fear at all. 

“You think those words will still work on me?” 

A flash of doubt and fear crossed his face, a deeply satisfying retribution. 

“I have faced things you wouldn’t believe since we last saw each other. I have seen the Hells and the Astral Sea. Gods and devils have fallen by my hand. And you think you can scare me?”

She took a step forward, watching him flinch in his restraints. 

“You are nothing more than a shadow in my past. And that is all you will ever be.”

At her command the roots shifted around Aryn’s body until she could retrieve two things. First, her staff, the vines now loosened just enough to allow her to pull it from him and stow it on her back. Second, the cell key, which she plucked from his pocket before stepping back. 

With another wave the roots rumbled beneath the stone slabs and began to move the three of them across the floor and into the cell, the fires now all burnt out. Still they tried to struggle, and still the vines did not relent. Once in the cell she closed the door, and again the loud click of the lock echoed around them. 

The vines finally released them and retreated back into the ground, submerging beneath the stones. 

Aryn ran for the door and slammed his hands against it, trying and failing to force it open. When the door didn’t budge, his eyes flicked angrily towards her. 

“You didn’t learn to do all this in just two years,” he spat, shaking his head. “You’ve always been able to do it, haven’t you? You just liked to play the helpless apprentice, struggling to learn cantrips!”

“Is that how you justify it?” 

Her question caught him off guard, his anger momentarily fading to confusion as she continued. 

“You twist the truth, lie to everyone, to yourself, so much so that even you start to believe it? Because you’d rather believe the lies than face the truth.”

“Fuck you,” was his only response. 

She clenched her fists. 

“I gave you a chance. It didn’t have to be this way. I thought everyone deserves a second chance… but clearly I was wrong.” 

She glared at him through the bars, her anger only rising as a smug grin came to his lips.

“What are you gonna do, little Saff?” He goaded, leaning forward against the bars. “You gonna lock us in here and go? Leave us to starve to death? Or you gonna do what we did to you, set us on fire and watch as we burn?” 

She could. It would be so easy, a flick of her wrist and they’d suffer the fate they tried to bestow on her. They would know the fear that had coursed through her, suffocated her. They’d regret everything they’d done here, in their last moments they’d see how wrong they’d been, how cruel they’d been, how much they’d underestimated her… 

“You want to, don’t you? I can see it, that anger in your eyes. Go on then. Do it. DO IT!!”

His shouts echoed off the stone walls, the venom in his voice so thick she could almost feel it. Her heart raced, a thousand thoughts flooding through her mind, a dark temptation she didn’t recognise in herself, one she wasn’t sure she could fight.

“You can’t, can you?” He taunted, shaking his head. “Sweet, innocent, naive, stupid little Saff. Too nice for her own good. Can’t even get revenge on someone who tried to kill her.” 

Tears pricked her eyes, hot rage building until it threatened to choke her. Rage at him… at herself…

“Oh, but you want to… so much. Come on then, Saff. Do it. Do it you FUCKING COWARD!!” 

She almost couldn’t stop her arm from snapping upwards, her hand shaking as tears rolled down her oil-stained cheeks. Her fingers twitched, aching to summon a flame and shut him up, to silence his voice from both his mouth and her mind, to make them feel all the pain she did, the pain that drowned and suffocated her, the pain they all deserved… 

Do it, coward. Do it. Do it do it doitdoitdoitDOITDOITDOITDOIT…

She dropped her arm, letting out the breath she’d been holding as she shook her head. 

“No. I will not burn someone alive while they’re defenceless. I’m not a monster.”

She walked up to him, glaring at him inches from the bars.

“I’m not you.”

Finally she turned and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Her mind was a roaring tornado of emotions. Anger carried her up the stairs two at a time, trying to drown out the screaming sorrow that rattled at the bars of her mind and brought tears to her eyes. She focused on only one thing first, forcing the rage and the pain to stay quiet just long enough for her to do what needed to be done. 

When she burst back out into the Guildhall every pair of eyes in the room was on her, but she didn’t care this time. It didn’t even begin to penetrate the maelstrom of her mind. Even when she passed the others and saw the look of shock on their faces, even as Gale gasped her name and reached out to her, she didn���t pause or deviate from her path. 

The guards outside Nine Fingers’ office made no attempt to stop her as she stormed through the doors, and even Nine Fingers herself looked surprised when she looked up from her work as Saff marched up to her desk. 

“Three of your thugs just lured me down into a dungeon, stabbed me, doused me in oil, locked me in a cell and tried to set fire to me!” She spat, letting the anger bubble to the surface now to steady her shaking voice. “Jaheira tells me you don’t condone mindless violence. Maybe you should be more careful who you recruit.” 

She pulled the key from her pocket, threw it onto the table, then turned and left. Again she walked straight past Gale when he tried to talk to her. She didn’t even hear his voice through the ringing in her ears. Her mind felt like it was cracking, and all she knew was she had to get out of there. Away from this place, away from these people, away from it all, she couldn’t stand to be here even one second longer. 

She was practically running by the time she reached the exit. The sunlight felt like a welcome reprieve when she emerged out of the sewers, a reassurance she’d escaped, she’d survived. 

She let her feet carry her away from it all. She didn’t know where to, just away. 

The oil still clung to her clothes, her hair, her skin, an unforgiving reminder of what they’d done. Raising her hands she cast Prestidigitation on herself, but the spell fizzled and failed. Was it too much for the simple cantrip, or did her shaking hands and wavering voice betray her? 

She had to get it off. If she could just get rid of the oil, then there’d be nothing left of what they’d done, and it would be gone, in the past, forgotten. She tried to wipe her clothes, but the oil was soaked in. She tried to flick it off her hands, but it clung to her like a stench that couldn’t be hidden, like a deep-seated memory that wouldn’t fade. Her tears turned to sobs as she tried desperately to clean it away, but found that all she was doing was rubbing it in deeper. 

Her mind raced to find a solution as her eyes frantically darted around her in search of salvation. She had to get it out, get it out…

Her gaze fell to the sea in the distance, and she ran. Stunned townsfolk gaped at her as she dashed past, but she cared no more about their stares than she had those in the Guild. She barely even noticed them. 

Sand clung to her oil-soaked boots as she ran across the beach, then to her robes as she fell to her knees in front of the water and began splashing it over herself. She tried to wipe her face, wincing as the salt water stung her eyes but desperate to be rid of the oil. As she did so she could feel it in her hair, thick and congealing, turning her ginger locks black. She tugged at the hairband that secured one of her plaits and tried to run her fingers through her hair, struggling against the matted tangles until she was almost pulling the hair from her head and was left sobbing in desperation and frustration…

“Saff!” 

She looked up and saw Gale as he ran towards her and fell to his knees by her side. Her eyes met his, those familiar pools of deep brown, so full of love and concern, her safe haven that could chase away the horrors of the world. Finally she let the emotions free now as she fell into his arms, the internal maelstrom sending thick sobs wracking her body as she clung to his robes and buried her face in his chest. His arms were round her instantly, holding her tight. Soft murmurs of love and assurance were barely heard over her sobs, but still they made their way into her mind, whispered words trying to calm a storm. 

She didn’t know how long it had been when she finally pulled away and wiped her eyes. She knew she had to explain to him what had happened, but didn’t even know where to start. Eventually she said the only words that came to her mind.

“It was Aryn…” 

Her voice was hoarse, but now that she’d started, the floodgates opened. 

“There were two others with him. One of them said he had information about the Stone Lord and told me to follow… and I did, like the idiot I am!” 

Her sudden anger and self-deprecation took him by surprise, but he didn’t have time to object as she continued. 

“He took me down to a dungeon where Aryn was waiting. Then they both held my arms while he took my staff and began beating me with it…” her voice cracked, tears welling in her eyes once more. 

“He was convinced I’d cheated on him with Malitas, convinced that was why Malitas had given me that staff and that was why he’d paid so much for clerics to heal me. But that’s not even why he was most angry. He was angry about his burns. I didn’t realise how bad they were… he was almost unrecognisable… and he said he lost his whole life, lost everything, because of them. Said it was my fault… and I… I…” 

Her face contorted in disgust, her voice cracking so much now she could barely get the words out.

“I managed to break free for just a moment, and… I could have cast anything. I could have escaped. I could have attacked them. I could have gone invisible. But I… I healed him. I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want it to be like that. He was so angry, so hurt, and when I told him I could heal him, he looked so hopeful, just for a second… I thought, he’s been in the Guild for a year, he’s not had anyone show him love or sympathy or kindness… maybe if someone did… maybe he’d realise it didn’t have to be like this… maybe it could all be better…” 

She closed her eyes, her voice now thick with anger and pain.

“And then he stabbed me in the back, threw me in a cell, doused me in oil and tried to set me on fire! What is wrong with me?! Why did I try to help him, why did I trust him? Why?? Sweet, innocent, naive, stupid, stupid, stupid…” 

She curled up and clawed at her hair as she recounted Aryn’s words, hearing them echo in her mind, banging her hands against her head with every repetition. 

“Saff, stop!” 

She felt Gale take her hands in his, and she had to remind herself that it was Gale, not someone trying to restrain her. Her eyes were frantic as he tried to meet her gaze, tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“Take a deep breath for me, ok? In… and out…” 

He breathed deeply and she followed suit, slowly feeling her panic begin to die down. 

“Now, tell me what happened. How did you escape? Are they looking for you?” He asked, and somewhere in her mind she realised he was trying to assess if there was any danger. Numbly, she shook her head. 

“I put them in the cell instead… they’re still down there…” she whispered, and the thought of them still being there sent a chill down her spine. “I… I didn’t want to decide what to do with them, so I left it with Nine Fingers… she can decide…” 

She went quiet again, her mind racing with emotions, before going back to the task of washing the oil away. Once more she began trying to wash it from her hair, though achieved little more than pulling her hair out.

“Saff, don’t,” he said softly, putting his hands on hers to try to stop her when he saw the clumps of hair around her fingers.

“I need to get it out…” she whispered shakily, focusing intently on her hands as she tried to clean the oil from her hair. “but I-I… I can’t… it won’t come out… it won’t come out… it won’t come out…” 

He took her hands in his in an attempt to comfort and calm her.

“It’s too much just for Prestidigitation, but we’ll go back to the Elfsong and get you cleaned up, ok?” He offered, but she hesitated.

“I… I don’t want the others… to see me like this…” she stuttered, looking away. 

“We’ll rent out the private suite, you won’t have to see anyone else until you’re ready,” he assured her. “And until then…” 

He lifted a hand, spoke an incantation, and in a shimmer of magic the oil disappeared. At least, it looked like it disappeared. She could still feel it on her skin, in her hair, on her clothes, but the illusion spell would at least stop the stares as they walked back through the city. 

He offered her a hand, and when she took it, he helped her to her feet. She remained quiet as they headed back, letting him lead the way, his arm around her as she leant into him. Alan asked her if she was ok when they spoke to him about hiring the private suite, and she was grateful when Gale deflected the question. The two of them headed upstairs and into the room at the end of the corridor. It had long since been cleaned up after Stelmane’s murder, and now there was no sign of the violence this room had once seen. 

She instinctively wanted to flop down on the bed, but knew that doing so would spread oil over the covers, so instead walked to the window and looked out over the street as Gale started to run a bath. 

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes,” he said, then quickly took off his now oil-stained robes to avoid contaminating the clothes he planned to bring back and hurried out of the room towards their shared accommodation, not wanting to leave her alone for too long. 

He hadn’t expected anyone to be in there. 

Lae’zel, Wyll, Karlach and Malitas were looking over maps and notes spread out over the table, discussing the murders they’d all spent the day investigating. Gale waved them a quick hello before heading over to his and Saff’s bed, hoping none of them would find this behaviour suspicious. Lae’zel certainly didn’t as she immediately went back to what she’d been saying before, but Malitas eyed him as he hurriedly gathered a change of clothes for them both. 

He headed back out into the hallway and was about to enter their room when he heard a voice behind him.

“Gale.” He turned to see Malitas emerging from the shared rooms, having followed him out. “What’s going on?” 

He sighed deeply. 

“Saff was… attacked, while we were with the Guild,” he answered. A flash of concern crossed Malitas’s face before he narrowed his eyes, clearly recognising there was more to this story. 

“Is she ok? What happened?” He asked. Gale considered his answer for a moment, then figured they were all going to find out at some point anyway. 

“It was Aryn.” 

Malitas’s expression turned to shock as his eyes widened. 

“What did he do?” He demanded, his voice turning dark with anger. 

“He, and two of his friends, lured her down into the dungeons, where they doused her in oil and attempted to set her on fire, as revenge for the burns she gave him.” 

Malitas was rarely a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but now the rage that filled him was clear as day. Gale very much sympathised with his anger - it was a rage he shared, a desire for revenge tempered only by his greater desire to comfort Saff. He’d had half a mind to storm back up to the Guildhall after she’d told him what had happened, but would never leave her alone in the state she was in.

“She turned the tables on them, and locked them in a cell in the dungeons beneath the Guild,” He continued. “She left the cell key with Nine Fingers. She didn’t want to be the one to decide their fates.” 

He could see Malitas’s fists clenched as he tried to control his emotions. 

“How is she?” He asked eventually. 

“Struggling, but she’s strong, we both know this. She’ll recover, but for now, she needs time.” 

Malitas nodded in understanding. 

“Then don’t let me keep you from her any longer,” he said, stepping back. Gale nodded his thanks, then turned and headed back into the private suite. 

Saff was still staring out the window when he entered, and looked relieved to see him. He gently shut the door behind him, placed the clothes on the bed and walked over to her. Wordlessly she leant into him, grateful as he wrapped his arms around her and the two stood in silence for a moment, just the sound of the running water behind them. 

“Saff,” he started quietly, “you should know - I told Malitas. He was in the other room, he noticed something was wrong.” 

She nodded silently, not disapproving of his decision. He was going to find out soon or later.

She remained quiet as Gale helped her out of her clothes and dismissed the illusion to better see what they were dealing with. When the bath was ready he took her hand and led her over to it, and when she hesitated, he knew her well enough to understand what she wanted. Quickly he removed his own clothes, stepped into the bath and held his hand out for her. Together they sat down in the warm water, though even now, surrounded by suds and bubbles, the stench of the oil still drowned out the scent of the soap. 

She didn’t speak as he picked up a sponge and carefully began scrubbing her back. The feeling of his fingers against her skin, the comforting warmth of the water that caressed her, the soft murmurs of his voice as he channelled what magic he could into removing the oil, all helped slowly melt away the pain until she could finally begin to process everything that had happened.

They were still down there, still wanting revenge. The thought sent a chill down her spine. Did she need to constantly watch her back now, in case he was following her, waiting for his moment to strike? Did the others need to do that, too? Had she endangered everyone? She knew that, in a way, he was little threat compared to everything else they’d all faced. Yet, one lucky arrow or one swift strike with a dagger was all it took… 

So, should she have killed him? She remembered back in the Emerald Grove how she and Gale had lamented the death of a goblin in a cage, killed by a tiefling taking vengeance for her brother. They’d understood her desire for revenge, they understood the threat the goblins posed, yet neither felt comfortable about the thought of killing a prisoner that posed no further threat. Would it have been the same, killing Aryn and his thugs while they were defenceless? 

These thoughts filled her mind as Gale shifted in front of her after he’d finished cleaning her back. She closed her eyes as he carefully started washing the oil from her face, his gentle touches feeling like a gentle, loving massage that slowly washed the pain away. 

Then he paused. She opened her eyes and saw his eyebrows raised in surprise, his hand lingering where he’d been washing the oil out of her fringe. Suddenly she realised what it was that had surprised him so much.

“I healed it,” she said after a moment. “I said I would heal it when I was no longer afraid of him. And in that moment I wasn’t afraid. I was just… angry.” 

He lowered his hands and remained quiet, seeing the doubt on her face. 

“I… I almost didn’t recognise myself. All I could think of was how much I wanted to make them feel how I felt. And I could have done, so easily. Just one spell. But in the end I couldn’t bring myself to do it…”

She looked downwards, her voice starting to waver with emotion.

“Am I a monster for wanting to kill them? Or am I a coward for sparing them?” 

“Oh, Saff…” he whispered, pulling her into a hug. 

“Saff my love, you are neither. It does not make us monsters to want revenge on those who have hurt us, that is only human. And it doesn’t make you a coward to spare them. It makes you merciful. A mercy they don’t deserve, and that makes you all the stronger for having given it to them,” he whispered softly as he held her close.

“I feel like a coward,” she murmured, not completely convinced yet. “I left it up to Nine Fingers to decide what to do with them cause I didn’t want to decide myself. Is that right, to just fob it off on someone else? And was Nine Fingers the right person? Don’t they deserve a proper trial, not the non-existent mercy of a crime lord?” 

“They chose to forgo their rights to a proper trial when they signed up to the Guild,” Gale said firmly. “Their fates are now, rightfully, in her hands.” 

“And what will she do? Will she kill them because she has no mercy? Or will she release them because she has no sense of justice? Have I still decided their fate by handing them over to her, knowing she will kill them, and simply chickened out of doing it myself? Or have I put all of us in danger by allowing them to be released, knowing they will seek revenge?” 

She looked down and buried her head in her hands.

“Either way, it’s wrong…” 

“Saff, look at me,” he said, lifting her chin to meet her gaze. “You did not do the wrong thing. It is not your responsibility to decide their fates. If Nine Fingers has them killed or otherwise punished, it is a fate they have brought upon themselves. And if she releases them and they come for us, we will be ready. Do not blame yourself or question yourself.”

Slowly, she began to feel the doubts starting to subside. She nodded, then leant her head against his chest, closing her eyes as she felt his arms around her. 

She considered Gale’s words. Either they would die at Nine Fingers’s command, or they would likely try to attack the group, and would definitely get killed trying to do so. Either way, they were dead.

She’d never admit it aloud, but deep down, she realised that bought her some comfort. 

---

“D’ya think she’s just gonna leave us down ‘ere?”

“Naah, Nine Fingers ain’t like that. Is she?” “I dunno, I heard you don’t wanna get on the wrong side of her.”

“Yeah but we didn’t do nothin’ wrong to her.”

“Will you two shut up?”

Aryn looked up at them in annoyance from where he was knelt on the ground. 

“She’d better not fucking leave us down here, cause I am not spending my last days listening to you two prattle on,” he said, turning his attention back to getting the small shard of metal that sat outside the cage, just out of his reach. 

“You sure that chick is gonna tell Nine Fingers we’re down ‘ere? I mean, she could just-”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snapped. “She won’t just leave us, she doesn’t have it in her.” 

And more’s the pity, he thought to himself. If she did have it in her, maybe she’d have taken the bait and tried to set them on fire. She was so out of it, so emotional, so focused on whether or not she should take revenge that it was clear she didn’t even consider the practicalities behind it. How glorious it would have been, to watch her summon a flame in her hand, only for it to catch on the oil that coated her. How he’d have loved to watch it spread up her arm and engulf her. How’d he’d have savoured the sounds of her screams, her final cries before she fell to the ground. How easy it would then have been to reach through the bars and pluck the key from her corpse. 

Instead now he was trying to pluck a scrap of metal from the ground in the hopes he could use it as a lockpick, and it was infuriatingly millimetres out of his reach. 

“You sure about that? I mean, you said she can’t use much magic, but she still-”

“It’s that fucking master of hers,” he snapped angrily. “He’s the one that taught her all this shit. And he’s the one she was fucking sleeping with. Once we’re outta here, after we kill her, he’s next on the list.” 

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. 

“...A master wizard?” One of them asked nervously. “You, uh, sure you wanna try that, boss?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Wizards think they’re so high and mighty, but stop them casting and they can’t do shit. Plus, you know how much loot there is in a wizard’s tower? Especially one like his. He lives in the fucking Upper City. We empty that place, we’ll all be set for life.” 

He heard excited sniggers from them and knew that was enough to convince them. 

“First though, we gotta get outta here, so if you two could shut up and actually help, that would be-”

He froze as a hand appeared out of the darkness and picked up the metal shard he was reaching for. Quickly he jumped to his feet and stepped back from the door. It took a moment to make out the figure that stood ahead of them in the darkness, lit only by the dim flickering light of the torches at the far wall, and when he realised who it was, his eyes widened. 

“Malitas…?” 

A smile played on their visitor’s lips. 

“So nice to see you again, Aryn.” 

He tensed up, realising now how dire their situation was. 

“How long have you been there?” 

“Long enough. I don’t know which is more delusional - your belief that Saff is the kind of person that would lie to and cheat on her partner, or your belief that you would have any chance of killing me.” 

Aryn clenched his fists, glaring at Malitas through the bars. 

“If you can’t cast spells, you’ll go down just as quick as anyone else,” he spat, which Malitas seemed to be amused by. 

“And you think restraining me would be enough?” 

There was the briefest pause as they stared each other down, before Aryn’s two friends suddenly flew back against the wall, choking and clutching at their necks, held there by an invisible force. Aryn gasped as he spun to look at them, then turned back to Malitas and saw he hadn’t moved a muscle. 

“How…?” He whispered in disbelief. 

“If you were even slightly capable of proving a match for me, you would know the answer to that.” 

A flash of anger rushed through him. 

“When Nine Fingers finds out about this, you’ll have the whole Guild after you! They’ll tear you apart!” He shouted, but Malitas was unphased by his threats. 

“I have spoken to Nine Fingers. She doesn’t want people like you in her Guild.” 

“Bullshit! Nine Fingers wouldn’t give a shit what we did to that little whore!” 

“Oh, that isn’t why she doesn’t want you in the Guild.” 

Aryn looked at him in surprise as he stepped forward, his expression darkening. 

“She doesn’t want people in the Guild who would so carelessly make such powerful enemies.” 

The others dropped to the ground behind Aryn, gasping and spluttering as they were released from his spell. He turned to see them, feeling his anxiety rise, then turning back as Malitas spoke once more.

“She gave you a chance. She gave you everything. And you threw it away.” 

He took a step forward again, closing the gap between them. 

“How terrified she must have been, trapped in that cell, no hope of escape…” 

They followed his gaze as his eyes went to the locked cell door in front of them. 

“...covered in oil…”

His eyes flicked down to the black smears over their clothes left by the vines that had burst through the pool of oil and dragged them into the cell. 

“...watching you light that match…”

He held out a hand, and with a twitch of his fingers a flame sparked in his palm, a dim flicker of foreboding light in the darkness. 

“...knowing her fate lies in your hands.” 

The tension was thick in the air, their fear palpable as Malitas looked down at the flame in his hand, toying with it in his fingers.

“I have always had a great admiration for Saff’s seemingly endless capacity for love, empathy, compassion… forgiveness,” he mused, the light of the flame dancing in his ice blue eyes that held a darkness in them as his gaze turned from the flame to Aryn. 

“It is not a trait I can say I share with her.” 

Aryn’s mind raced to think of a way out, and he tried to hide the way his hands trembled. 

“This… this isn’t what Saff would want! She didn’t want us dead!” He argued, his wavering voice betraying his fear. 

“Saff wants nothing more to do with you,” Malitas explained calmly. “She does not want to be the one to decide your fate. So she shalln’t be.” 

His gaze went back to the flame at his fingertips as he drew out the moment, letting them writhe in their fear. 

“Regular fire, when combined with oil, burns through flesh so very fast. But arcane fire, controlled by a practiced mind…” 

His lips curled into a sinister smile.

“I can assure you, this will not be quick.” 

One final jolt of terror shot through Aryn’s mind as he realised exactly what fate awaited them, then all he knew was pain as the ground erupted into fire. Lashing flames climbed up their bodies, searing their skin till their flesh bubbled and their eyes boiled, filling the air with the stench of burning flesh. 

Screams echoed through the dungeons, and Malitas was true to his word.

[tabitha42]

How about the perfect night in Waterdeep, yes? Let's imagine how it would be...

[tabitha42]

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 81

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Previous chapter Next chapter

CW: themes of domestic abuse

Saff was not happy about working with the Guild. 

Thieves, mercenaries, criminals… it made her sick to think about. She could feel their eyes on her as the group made their way through the Guildhall, sneering at the newcomers that didn’t belong there. She’d hoped at first that finding Mol there might have made the whole thing worthwhile, but when Mol angrily turned them away at the news of Raphael’s death, she found herself in even lower spirits than she thought possible. Yet she continued on, trusting Jaheira’s judgement of the people here. She’d read stories of honourable thieves, those forced to turn to a life of crime by the corrupt authorities. Maybe the people here were like that… though, somehow, she doubted it. 

Any goodwill she had towards the Guild was shattered when she heard what Nine-Fingers was saying to a subordinate as they entered her office. 

“It’s an orphanage, Uktar. What would you have me do, seize their toys as payment?”

“They failed to pay tribute. We should withdraw our protection, at the very least.”

“And cede more ground to the Stone Lord? You’re not suggesting that I yield a single inch of the city - my city - to this cult?”

“I… we already look weak. If you’re seen to be forgiving debts-”

“I didn’t say ‘forgive’. Seize the building. Arm any children old enough. If they protect what’s mine, we’ll consider it a start on what’s owed.”

“Arm the children!?” 

Saff couldn’t stop the angry outburst that fell from her lips, and through the outrage she barely even noticed everyone turn to look at her. 

“You’re extorting an orphanage and when they can’t pay you’re going to make the children fight??” 

Nine-Fingers sighed impatiently. 

“A new recruit, Jaheira? I thought you’d died out in the wilderness, but maybe you were just out there recruiting Harpers that don’t understand city business.” 

Saff’s hands trembled as she balled her fists, and when Jaheira tried to calm her, she strode forward. 

“How much do they owe you?”

Nine-Fingers looked at her with a smirk when she realised where this was going. 

“500 gold,” she answered. 

Saff grabbed the coinpurse from her belt, knowing there was more than enough in it, and threw it onto the desk. 

“Consider that their future payments, too,” she spat, then turned and stormed to the exit, but paused at the door. 

“Which orphanage is it?” She asked, lingering on the threshold. 

“St Natan’s,” Nine-Fingers answered. 

Another jolt of anger shot through her at hearing the familiar name, and she slammed the door behind her. 

Her heart raced as she strode through the bar and found a quiet corner, away from the judging eyes of the Guild members. She leant into the corner and buried her face in her shaking hands, a thousand thoughts rushing through her head, until a voice brought her back to reality. 

“Saff?”

She lowered her hands and looked up to see Gale in front of her, looking at her in concern. Gratefully she leaned into him, accepting his comfort as he wrapped his arms around her. 

“How could she…” she whispered, her tone deeply bitter.

“It takes a ruthless person to run a guild like this. She likely thought she was being-”

“Not her,” she interrupted, standing up and leaning back from him to meet his eyes. “Jaheira. This is exactly the sort of thing the Harpers are supposed to fight against! Yet she works with them?! How can she do that? How can she claim to lead a group that’s supposed to protect the innocent, then work with someone that wants to send children to war?!”

Tears were gathering in her eyes, tears of heartbreak and frustration. 

“I’ve heard what they say about the Stone Lord and his thugs. How brutal they are, how they leave no survivors. And she wants to send children against them!”

The tears now ran down her cheeks as she blinked, her lip trembling.

“St Natan’s. That’s my orphanage. Where I grew up. If this had happened 15 years ago that would have been me, just a kid reading fairy tales and playing games in the garden, suddenly having a sword thrust into her hands and being told to fight bloodthirsty thugs. Being told to die to them. Hells, I know most of the kids there! I grew up with them, they’re like my little brothers and sisters! They would have been sent to die if we hadn’t walked in at just the right moment. And to know Jaheira is ok with this…” 

She squeezed her eyes shut and hung her head.

“It’s true what they say. You should never meet your heroes.” 

Gale’s heart broke for her at those words. He knew how much meeting Jaheira had meant to Saff, and how much Jaheira had helped her through recent events. 

“Speak to her about this, Saff. Give her a chance to explain,” he said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

Part of her didn’t believe this could be justified, but eventually she nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Where is she?” 

“Still talking to Nine-Fingers, I believe. Let us hope something good can come of it, and this whole trip hasn’t been a waste of time.” 

“Mmm,” she murmured in agreement. “I hate it here. I feel like everyone’s watching me,” she said, glancing over to see a guild member watching them both, who quickly looked away and walked off when their eyes met. 

“Hardly surprising, given the nature of these sorts of guilds,” Gale reasoned. “Cutthroats and spies working for rival gangs are likely a common sight here.” 

“As are Harpers, apparently…” Saff murmured despondently. 

Her eyes flicked up when she saw Jaheria walking up to them. Gale noticed the look on her face and turned to see her too, stepping back slightly as Jaheira began speaking. 

“Nine-Fingers is planning to have Minsc killed. We must find him before she does that. No doubt someone here knows where he is. The others are already getting to know the local wildlife - Gale, perhaps you could help them?”

The implication in her words was clear enough - she wanted to talk to Saff. 

Gale nodded, giving Saff a reassuring look before heading off to complete his task. Saff watched him leave, then turned to Jaheira. 

“I am impressed,” Jaheira complimented. “Not many will stand up to Nine-Fingers like that.”

“Including you?” Saff challenged, trying to keep her emotions in check. “How can you work with someone like her?” 

“Believe me, it isn’t something I do eagerly. But sometimes, we must put aside our differences, if we face a common enemy.”

“But there is a limit, isn’t there??” She gasped, looking at her almost pleadingly. “I get it, sometimes you have to team up with people you might not have expected to. I mean, Astarion tried to drink my blood and I wasn’t exactly thrilled when we found out Shadowheart was a Sharren, yet we stayed with them because we needed them. But someone who’s extorting orphanages and making child soldiers?!” 

Jaheira sighed deeply, a pained look crossing her features. 

“This isn’t something Nine-Fingers would normally do, I assure you. She may be a ruthless leader at times, but she does not condone mindless violence, nor needless suffering. It is only because of the situation with the Absolute that she has been driven to this. I don’t agree with her doing it, but if we want to change it, we need to find Minsc and put an end to this.”

Saff sighed and looked downwards, holding her arms as she considered Jaheria’s words. “Saff,” Jaheira said softly, taking a step towards her. “I, too, once saw the world the way you do. But the years have taught me the world is not so black and white. There is good in evil, and evil in good. It may feel like compromising your morals. Perhaps it is. But sometimes we are left with no choice. And right now, our only choice if we want to stop both the Guild’s extortion and the Absolute, is to find Minsc.” 

Saff took a deep breath, then finally nodded.

“Alright… alright. How do we find him?” She asked, deciding to focus on a practical solution rather than the doubts that lingered in her mind.

“We ask around. Someone here will know where they’ve got their ambush planned. We need to find out, and get there before the Guild does.” 

“Ok,” she said, glancing around them. She could see Gale in the distance stiffly talking to a Guild member, evidently not happy about his current task, while across from him Astarion mingled like he belonged here. She had a feeling she was going to feel just as awkward as Gale, if not more so, but tried to swallow that doubt. “We’d best get started then.” 

Wandering the Guildhall was difficult enough for her, but trying to strike up conversation felt impossible. No one seemed to want to give her the time of day. She began to wish Malitas had come with them, given he could have read everyone’s minds in a matter of seconds. Jaheira had warned that, due to being a wealthy Upper City resident that may well be known to the Guild as a potential target, it would be best for all of them if he didn’t come. He hadn’t been keen on this recommendation, but had followed it nonetheless and headed off with the others to continue the murder investigations. She hoped they were having more luck than she was here.

“Psst!”

She paused and looked behind her to the source of the noise, and saw a man in a hooded cloak looking at her from the shadows of one of the many alleys leading off from the main hall. He seemed to be wearily looking round as she approached him. 

“You looking for the Stone Lord?” He asked when she got close, keeping his voice down. 

“Yeah, can you help?” She asked. He glanced at her for a moment, then nodded, and waved for her to follow as he headed off down the alley. Quickly, she followed. 

The alley came out to a flight of stone steps that descended into the depths of the hideout. She followed him down the first flight, and when that led to a second flight, she paused. 

“How far are we goi-”

“Shh,” he hissed, turning back to her only briefly to wave her forward, before continuing on. She hesitated, wondering if she should follow him down… but if this was their only chance to save Minsc and put a stop to the gang warfare happening across the city, what choice did she have? 

When they finally left the stairs he took her through a stone door into what appeared to be a dungeon. Barred cells lined the walls of the dark room, lit only by the dim flicker of a handful of wall torches. Another man waited for them down there, also clad in a hooded clock, and the two of them looked at her as she entered the room. 

Then the door slammed shut behind her. 

She gasped in shock and spun around, and when she saw who stood at the door, her heart stopped.

He was almost unrecognisable through the burns that covered his face. The scarred flesh on his head left only thin white strands where once his thick blonde hair had been. But she knew those eyes instantly, the eyes that had haunted her so much over the last two years.

“Aryn…” she whispered in horror.

“It’s been too long, babe,” he greeted with a sinister grin.

Suddenly she felt her arms pulled back by the other two men and held firmly in place. She yelped and desperately tried to break free, her feet scraping against the ground as she tried to pull away, but she stood no chance against the far stronger men. They even held her hands still with such crushing tightness that she could barely move her fingers, and she realised with a looming dread that Aryn had told them exactly how to incapacitate her. 

“Let me go!” She shouted, still trying to break free despite the helplessness of the situation. “Let me go!!”

By the time she finally stopped struggling, Aryn was stood in front of her, a smug smirk on his lips. 

“You’ve gotten feisty, haven’t you?” He said in a sickeningly playful manner. Her heart raced and her ears rang, the rising panic almost suffocating her. 

Jaheira’s words came back to her. The demons on the outside? Hah, they are easy. For so long, Aryn had haunted her, the demon inside her mind. But now? Now, he was a demon on the outside.

“I’ve got friends upstairs. Let me go or they’ll kill you all!” She threatened, trying to let her anger drown out her fear.

“Oh, I don’t think so. They’ll never know we were even involved,” he said confidently. He then walked forward and plucked the staff from her back, admiring it as he held it out in front of him. 

“Wow, this is quite something isn’t it, little Saff?” He said, running his fingers over the engraved runes. “Where’d you get this?” 

“Malitas gave it to me, and if you don’t let me go he’ll-” “Malitas?!” He shouted, his eyes instantly darkening with rage. “Of course he fucking did. Bet he gave you something else with it too, huh? I knew you were sleeping with him!” “I wasn’t!!” She insisted, almost pleadingly. “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with this idea!”

“Bullshit! He was always sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong, demanding to know where you were, if you’re ok, and then I heard he paid for the most expensive healthcare money can buy! Fucking clerics healing you day in, day out. So don’t bullshit me you weren’t fucking sleeping with him!” 

“You’re deluded!” She shouted in exasperation. 

She barely noticed him lift the staff till it came crashing down on her face. 

For a moment she went limp from the impact, left held up by her captors. Blood dripped from her nose and lip and the world swayed around her. There was another blurred movement in front of her, followed by a wave of pain as he slammed the end of the staff into her stomach. 

“Ohh, I have waited so long for this,” he said smugly, twirling the staff in his hand as he began to circle her. Another shot of pain jolted through her as he brought the staff down on her back, forcing a pained cry from her lips. 

“Why…” she gasped, struggling to get the words out through the pain. “You’re doing all this… just because… you think… I cheated on you?”

“Oh, my darling Saff, no,” he said sarcastically, stopping in front of her as he stowed the staff on his back. “I am doing this, because you did THIS to me!” He shouted, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back to look at him as he pointed to the burns that covered and disfigured his face. 

“I lost my job because of you. No one wants to buy food from someone that looks like this. Nowhere would hire me… except the Guild. Turns out, they quite like someone with a knack for intimidating people, and I’m told I’m very intimidating now, thanks to your handiwork.” 

“You… you’re blaming me?? I was defending myself! You were choking me! You would have killed me!” 

“Oh grow the FUCK UP!” He shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “You seriously think I would have killed you? Bullshit! You took any opportunity you could to get rid of me. I know you. You pretend to be sweet and innocent, but behind the mask, you’re just a lying whore!” 

Her eyes widened in shock at the accusations, but she had no time to respond as he nodded to the two thugs that held her arms, and they began to drag her backwards towards one of the cells. 

“Wait, wait, no!!” She screamed, struggling against them, desperately trying to pull herself free. She didn’t know exactly what they were planning to do, and she had no intentions to find out. 

“Let me go and I can heal your burns!” 

Aryn held out his hand, and the thugs stopped. There was a tension in the air as he looked at her, a slither of hope behind the scepticism in his eyes. 

“No you can’t. You’ve never been able to cast magic like that.” 

“I’ve learnt a lot since we knew each other. I can heal scars, burns, anything. Just let me go and I’ll show you!” 

“Hah! How stupid do you think I am? We let you go and you’re gonna burn us all! Not a chance.” 

“Do you really want to give up this opportunity?” She pleaded, desperately trying to convince him. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Aryn! I know you’re hurting, but we can change that. You can have your life back. Just let me heal you!” 

He watched her for a long moment, the conflict written over his face. He walked forward until he was standing in front of her, trying to read her… then raised his hand and pulled her fringe back. 

“If you can heal scars, why haven’t you healed your own?” He challenged, before stepping back from her. “You’re lying, just like you always did. I’m not falling for it again.” 

He stepped back and waved for them to continue once more. 

“No! No!!” She screamed, tugging against them as they pulled her arms behind her back to tie her hands together. She could feel rope wrapping round her wrists, being pulled tight as they forced her arms into place… and then, for just a second, her hands were close enough for her to cast a spell. 

A flash of light filled the room as she cried out an incantation and the illusion flared out above them. The two thugs stumbled back and covered their eyes, letting the rope fall from her hands. Aryn stood ahead of her, wincing against the light, and their eyes met. The flash lasted only an instant, and in that moment she had a choice to make as she brought her hands forward and had just enough time to cast a single spell.

She could flee. She could Misty Step to the door, or cast Invisibility on herself, run up to the others and return to the fight with back up. 

She could incapacitate them. She could send them to sleep, or hold them down with vines and confront them while they were defenceless. 

She could attack them. She could launch a Fireball at her feet and engulf the room in flames, leaving nothing but burnt corpses behind. 

Or… there was one other option. 

There is good in evil.

Aryn had been forced into the Guild after being turned away from everywhere else. He’d known nothing but rejection and cruelty for two years. He’s not had anyone show him love or sympathy or kindness. Maybe if someone did, he’d see it wouldn’t have to be like this…

I hope the echoes of pain will fade, and memories of sorrow will die. I hope that, for once, love can win the day.

Surely this didn’t have to end in bloodshed. Surely there must be a better way…

Do you know what I think of, when I think of your successes? I think of your kindness when cruelty or apathy would be the easier choice.

She raised her hands and made her choice. 

“Vis medicatrix!” 

She was grabbed again by the thugs, her arms pulled roughly behind her back. They looked forward at Aryn as the golden hue of healing magic faded around him, and when he looked back at them, he looked a different man. 

Gone were the burns that covered his face and neck, the once scarred and melted skin now fresh and healthy. He looked at his hands that too were once burnt, now healthy and healed. Slowly, in disbelief, he raised his hands to his face and ran his fingers over his cheeks, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingertips. 

The two thugs looked at each other in surprise, then slowly, hesitantly, released her arms. A moment of hushed disbelief fell over them, until Aryn finally spoke. 

“You… healed me…” he whispered, prying his eyes from his hands and looking at her. “Why would you do this?” 

“Cause, like I said, it doesn’t have to be this way. There’s a better way. For all of us. It doesn’t all have to come down to violence and vengeance.” 

She took a small step towards him, gauging his reaction, seeing the confusion in his eyes. The idea that she would help him after all he’d done, the concepts of forgiveness and mercy… these were things he’d never considered possible. 

“You asked me why I hadn’t healed my scar. The answer is because I was still coming to terms with it all, still healing. I didn’t know if I was ready to end that chapter of my life yet. You and I will never have what we once had, but perhaps we can end that chapter of our lives now, together.” 

She held her hand out to him, an offer of help, understanding… and perhaps even forgiveness. 

There was a moment of hesitancy, an uncertainty that hung in the air, until finally he took her hand. 

She pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms round him. At first he stood frozen in place, too shocked to move, then finally wrapped his arms around her too. 

For just a moment, she felt at peace with it all, feeling for the first time since it happened that she could finally move on from it. 

Then she felt the plunge of a dagger in her back.

“You know, little Saff,” Aryn whispered into her ear as she felt the strength leave her and went limp in his arms, “you always were too trusting.” 

[tabitha42]

Saff Core

Tagged by @deerancha!

The rules are simple: go to pinterest, search your OC's name + core, post six pictures. Then tag six people!

Well this was super easy, cause if you search anything with the word 'core' it seems to always show cottage core stuff, which is very Saff! And I have a Pinterest board called Saff, which I think it took into account too.

I tag @thelittlesorceressbg3!

[tabitha42]

Some pics of my girl Saff 🦋

[tabitha42]

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 80

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Previous chapter Next chapter

It was amazing how different the house felt with Raphael’s demise. 

Where once Saff had felt a lingering sense of dread within its walls, now she felt a warm sense of hope. A sense that, even in Hell, pain and misery were not the only possibilities. 

Being thanked by an orthon was a strange experience, but one she was glad for. She wasn’t sure they’d have succeeded without Yurgir’s help. She hadn’t been expecting him to offer to help them when the final battle came, but an ally was an ally, no matter how unexpected they may be.

Hope was humming happily to herself as she tended to her unconscious sister, and looked up with a bright smile when she saw Saff approaching. 

“Oh wonderful, jubilant, glorious day!” She celebrated happily, throwing her arms out. “Raphael is dead and my beautiful sister is mostly intact! You could have broken her in half like a breadstick, but you didn’t. I’m sorry she fought you, and glad she survived.”

Saff smiled softly as she sat down with her. 

“Do you forgive her, then? Even after everything she did to you?” She asked, surprised to see the way Hope was acting. She’d been told enough times over her life she was too forgiving, yet even she wasn’t sure she could forgive someone if they’d done to her what Korilla had done to Hope. 

“If she apologises, then yes, I will forgive her. And if she doesn’t, I’ll do everything I can to change her mind. I know the old Korilla is still in there somewhere. The old Korilla who would always keep the last pastry for me when we were kids, and bloodied the nose of the bullies who pulled my hair. She’s my sister. I love her.”

Saff was touched by her words, a heartwarming show of such pure love and forgiveness that she saw so rarely. If more people had such an outlook, if more people could approach the world with love instead of fear or hate, then maybe the world would be a different place. 

“Then I hope you can both reconcile, and she can see that she loves you too,” she offered with a heartfelt smile. 

“Thank you,” Hope said sincerely, a rare moment of calm in her voice as she spoke. “I hope that, for once, love can win the day. And, despite all the years I’ve lost, I’ve enough love left for you as well. I hope it guides you home.” 

She could almost feel tears welling in her eyes hearing those words, and the emotion in Hope’s voice as she spoke them. 

“Come with us,” she said quickly, not wanting to leave her here on her own. “We’ll help you. Both of you.”

“And go where? I don’t think I quite know how to be anywhere else but here anymore,” she answered, shaking her head slightly as she glanced around the room. “With a lick of paint and a thorough cleaning, this could be a lovely little house. And I can hardly leave - after all, who would ever want to think of Hell without Hope?”

As disappointed as she was that Hope wouldn’t be going with them, Saff found herself again inspired by Hope’s unwavering optimism, and gave her an understanding nod before she continued.

“I hope that when Korilla wakes, she’ll say she’s sorry, and I’ll tell her she’s forgiven. I hope I’ll find all the pieces of my mind that fell out of my head after all those years, and that I’ll be able to put myself back together again. I hope the echoes of pain will fade, and memories of sorrow will die, and that you’ll visit me here some day. And I hope that you have a happy ending of your own.”

Saff couldn’t stop the tears that now rolled down her cheeks as she nodded.

“We’ll definitely come visit you,” she promised, wiping her eyes. “In fact…”

She quickly jumped to her feet and ran over to Malitas, who was sitting on one of the ledges with Gale. 

“Do you still have that sending stone you used to contact me with?” She asked him quickly. He looked confused by the request for a moment, then reached into his pocket and took it out. “Thank you!” She said quickly, immediately taking it from his hand and running back over to Hope. 

“Here, take this.” She leant down as she held the stone out for her. “It��s a sending stone. Let me know how it goes here, and when you’re ready for visitors!”

Hope smiled widely to herself as she looked down at the stone, then up at Saff. 

“I will. Just wait til you see what I can do with this place!”

Saff grinned in excitement, and the two of them came together in a tight hug. Sadly the hug didn’t last long as Saff winced in pain and quickly pulled back. 

“Oh, the cut?” Hope asked, looking at the large gash on Saff’s chest where one of Raphael’s cambions had attacked her. She’d managed to heal it enough at the time to keep fighting, but now without the rush of adrenaline through her veins, the pain of her injuries was starting to be felt. “You should try the pool in the boudoir. I’ve heard the waters can be very soothing.” 

Saff nodded her thanks, then headed over to Gale and Malitas, who were both being healed by Jaheira. 

“That’ll have to do,” Jaheira said, lowering her hands from Malitas after healing his burns and injuries as best she could with the limited magic she had left. He wasn’t fully healed, but looked better than before. He nodded his thanks, and she turned to Gale. 

“This one looks like he was hardly in the fight!” She complained, gesturing to him in disbelief. It was true - the others aptly looked like they’d been in a fight with a devil. Gale looked like he’d spent slightly too long in the sun. 

“Ah, that would be thanks to Saff,” Gale said, looking at Saff with a grateful smile as she approached. “I fear I would be nothing more than charred remains right now, had it not been for her healing.” 

“Is this why you have no magic left, cub? You used all your spells on him?” Jaheira asked Saff with a raised eyebrow.

“No! I used a different spell on Gale. It healed him almost completely after he got caught in one of those fireballs. Though I’m not sure which spell it was,” she explained quickly. 

“Hmm…” Jaheira hummed in thought, turning to Gale to examine him. “I think you may have learnt to cast Heal.”

“Ah, I have read about this spell!” Gale enthused, excited as ever to talk about magic. “A powerful spell hidden behind a less-than-imaginative name. Unlike most healing magic, it can heal old wounds as well as new. Which means… it can heal scars,” he said, his voice taking on a softer tone as he looked at Saff. 

Her breath caught as she realised what that meant.

“You mean I can…?” She whispered, lifting her hand to her fringe. The scar Aryn had left her with, the scar that had hung over her so much and been a constant reminder of what had happened… she could finally be rid of it for good. No illusions, no hiding it behind a fringe. It would truly be gone. 

“Should you wish it, you could,” Jaheira confirmed. “The spell can be cast to heal all wounds, or only fresh wounds. You should be careful how you cast it on others - some do not wish for their scars to be healed.” 

Saff looked at her in surprise. 

“Why wouldn’t you want to heal a scar??” 

“Perhaps you should ask Halsin,” Jaheira suggested, nodding over to the other druid across the room from them, who was using the last of his magic to heal Astarion. “I’m sure he can cast this spell too, yet he chooses to keep the scars on his face.” 

Saff nodded in agreement and quickly headed over to him. 

“Halsin?” She asked after waiting for a moment when he was no longer focused on healing. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” “Of course,” he said, nodding to Astarion that he’d done all he could do. Astarion said a quick thanks and left them both alone. “What can I do for you?” 

“Well… are you able to cast the spell Heal?” She asked, taking a moment to decide how to approach this conversation. 

“I can, yes,” he answered, wondering where this was going. 

“And you can heal scars with it?” 

Halsin looked somewhat hesitant. 

“Are you going to ask me to heal your scar?” He asked, sounding a bit reluctant about the idea.

“No… I was going to ask why you haven’t healed yours.” 

He looked quite relieved by that, a smile coming to his face.

“Ah, well, you know the story of these scars, yes? A she-bear who didn’t take kindly to being spurned. I acquired these scars long before I was able to cast the spell, and by the time I could heal them, I’d grown quite fond of them. They had become not only a part of how I saw myself, but were also a good reminder that for all its beauty, nature too can be dangerous. Why do you ask?” 

Saff was quiet for a moment, taking in what he said, before she answered.

“Because I can cast it myself now. So I was excited to heal my scar. Then Jaheira said I should talk to you first about why you haven’t healed yours.” 

“You can cast Heal? That is quite a feat. Your skills improve every day,” he congratulated with a smile, before looking more serious again. “I have always been hesitant to heal old scars, on myself or others. I think it is important to remember our pasts, where we’ve come from, what we’ve overcome. Our experiences make us who we are, and scars can reflect that.” 

He paused, deep in thought. 

“But…” he continued after a moment, “so too can it be important to move on from the past and look to the future. The story behind my scars is very different to the story behind yours, and while I can look back at mine and smile, I understand that is very different for you. What works for me will not work for everyone, so please - do not feel that because I choose not to heal mine, you should do the same. If healing the scar can bring you any measure of peace or closure, then you should do it. Some things are best left in the past.” 

She nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. 

“Thank you, Halsin.” 

He smiled and put his hand on her shoulder for a moment, then headed off and left her to her thoughts. 

“So, you can heal scars?” 

She almost yelped in surprise and jumped back from the sound of Astarion’s unexpected voice in her ear. He was smiling when he turned to her, and her eyes narrowed in disapproval at the realisation he’d been eavesdropping on their conversation. 

“Oh don’t look at me like that, darling,” he scoffed with a dismissive wave. “You were having a conversation within 10 feet of me, what do you expect?” 

She rolled her eyes, then suddenly realised why he was asking. 

“Wait, do you want me to heal your scars?” She asked, and he smiled.

“Well, I’m not sure yet, but always good to know it’s an option,” he answered, which surprised her.

“You might want to keep them?” 

“Perhaps. Like Halsin said, a reminder of what I’ve overcome. A reminder of my victory over Cazador. Though, my scars are on my back of course, I don’t need to see them if I don’t want to. Well, I can’t see them even if I did want to. You, on the other hand…” 

His eyes wandered up to her forehead. Even with the fringe, sometimes if you looked closely enough, you could still see the scar behind the hair. 

“I think if my scars were on my face and I could use mirrors, I might see it differently.”

She nodded in agreement. It was one thing to have a reminder there when you wanted to think about it, but to see it every morning in the mirror was a different matter. 

“So, what are you thinking?” Astarion asked. “Keep it as a reminder of what you overcame, or heal it and leave it in the past?” 

“I… don’t know,” she answered after a long moment. “I need to think about it.” 

“I’ll leave you to think about it then.”

He headed off, leaving her alone once more. She was deep in thought as she wandered back to Gale and Malitas, who both watched as she sat on the ledge between them and leant against Gale. 

“What did Halsin say?” Gale asked as he put his arm around her shoulders. 

“He sees his scars as a reminder of what he’s overcome, the experiences that make him who he is. That’s why he doesn’t heal them.” 

“You don’t sound convinced by this approach,” Gale correctly observed. 

“I… guess I can see why he’d think that. But I’ve wanted this scar gone for so long. I’m not sure I could ever look at it as a good thing. It doesn’t feel like a reminder of what I’ve overcome… it just feels like a reminder of the pain.”

“Then heal it,” Malitas urged. “I can see the merit of Halsin’s argument, but if it doesn’t work for you then don’t follow it. Our experiences make us who we are, yes, but they need not define us. Plus, I recall you once complaining about how much upkeep it took to maintain a fringe. Think how much free time you’d have no longer needing to do that.”

Saff chuckled, welcoming the moment of humour. 

“True, a whole world of new hairstyles would be open to me,” she joked, her mind lingering on that thought for a moment before she looked up at Gale. “What do you think?” 

He watched her for a long moment, lifting his fingers and gently running them across her fringe down to her cheek with a tenderness that almost took her breath away. 

“I think it is important to commemorate our achievements and successes… and I think what he did to you is nothing worth commemorating or remembering. Your successes are not tied to his failings. And do you know what I think of, when I think of your successes? I think of the hours we spent training together. I think of your determination to survive this situation we’ve been thrust into. I think of your strength when faced with the impossible. I think of your kindness when cruelty or apathy would be the easier choice. I think of how far you’ve come since I met you. I could measure your successes in so many ways, but I would never tie it to him. So if you want to commemorate your success, then do so with one of your achievements - your ability to heal. Let that be the reminder of everything you’ve overcome.” 

A wide smile came to her lips, a feeling of warmth and reassurance flooding through her. Whenever she felt lost, he was always there. She leant into him and hugged him tightly, smiling as she felt him hug her back. 

When they parted, the rest of the group were converging in the centre of the room.

“Can we go already?” Karlach moaned, shifting on the spot. “I don’t wanna spend a single second longer here than I have to.” 

“Then go,” Astarion said with a shrug. “As for me, I think I’d like another look round. We were in a bit of a hurry before. I’m sure there’s all sorts of little trinkets hidden around here that we missed.” 

“We do need to find those gauntlets Helsik wanted,” Shadowheart reminded them. 

“Then let’s find them,” Astarion decided. 

The two of them headed back into the house while Karlach, joined by a handful of others, began to leave. Saff looked to Gale and Malitas to see what their opinions were.

“It’s not often you get the chance to explore a devil’s house uninhibited,” Malitas commented with a curious smile, looking towards the door. 

“Then I say we take our opportunity,” Gale agreed, standing up off the ledge they were sat on. 

It didn’t take the three of them long to find an arcane seal guarding a hidden door in the hallway, nor long to get it open.

Saff’s eyes widened at the piles of gold they found on the other side. She was very glad Malitas hadn’t decided to take his Bag of Holding back from her yet, and began scraping the endless piles of coins into it while the other two started looking at what else the vault had to offer. 

“What was that tiefling girl’s name we were looking for in Moonrise?” Malitas asked, snapping Saff out of her thoughts of what the group might spend all the gold on. “The one you asked me to scry on.”

“Mol. Why?” She asked, turning to look up at him and seeing him reading an infernal contract.

“I think we may have our answer as to how she escaped those dungeons.” 

“Oh, don’t tell me that’s her contract…” Saff said sadly as she stood up. 

“I’m not fluent in Infernal, but I know enough to read the name at the top here. I don’t imagine she’ll be thrilled to know her patron won’t be helping her anymore.”

“Perhaps not right now,” Gale commented, “but hopefully in time, she will see we’ve done her a favour.”

“Hopefully…” Saff murmured, moving next to Malitas to look over the contract. “We should give this to her when we find her.” 

Malitas nodded in agreement and handed her the contract, which she rolled up and slipped into the bag. 

“What have you got there?” Malitas asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow as he looked at the new staff stowed on Gale’s back. 

“A Staff of Spellpower,” Gale explained, retrieving the staff and holding it proudly. “Quite the find.”

“And you’ve decided it’s yours, have you?” Malitas challenged, folding his arms.

“Oh my gods…” Saff half-groaned half-laughed as she headed for the door. “I’m going to leave you both to argue it out. I’ll be waiting in the boudoir.” 

She left and walked down the hallway, and couldn’t help but chuckle to herself when she heard Malitas’s fading voice say from behind, “‘I’ll be waiting in the boudoir.’ Not a sentence I ever thought I’d hear her say to me.” 

Like the rest of the house, the boudoir seemed to take on a different energy with Raphael dead. With the lingering unease gone, she could fully appreciate the beauty of the room now. The water seemed to sparkle in the warm light through the windows, and the candles that surrounded it created a cosy, almost romantic atmosphere. 

She knelt down by the side of the water and dipped her fingers in. Hope was right - the burns that covered her fingers immediately felt soothed at the water’s touch. She could feel some sort of magic radiating off it and realised this must be healing magic. Usually in a devil’s home she might suspect any number of other unpleasant side effects to the enchantment, but Astarion didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects after having fallen into it earlier. 

She dipped her whole hand in, sighing in relief as the pain subsided, and decided she could wait no longer to heal the rest of her injuries. Quickly she removed her belt and outer robes, kicked off her shoes and stepped in. 

The water was like a lover’s embrace, enveloping her into its healing depths as she waded further in. It came up to her waist at the deepest point, and she couldn’t resist the urge to hold her breath and plunge underwater. For just a moment she felt as if she were floating in the astral sea, held aloft by the soothing currents of the water, nourishing and healing her, until she stood up and burst from the surface once more. The coolness of the water tempered the heat of the Avernus air, gently healing her wounds as it ran down her body. The braids that had been left matted and tangled after the fight now easily fell undone as she ran her fingers through her hair, washing away the dirt and the blood. 

She heard a noise from across the room and quickly turned to see Gale standing in the doorway, looking quite mesmerised as he stared at her. She glanced down and realised the pale pink undershirt she wore now clung to her body, semi-translucent, leaving very little to the imagination. She was quite glad Malitas didn’t appear to be with him. 

“You got to keep the staff, then?” She asked, noticing the staff on his back as she glanced up at him. 

“I- ahem, yes, Malitas relinquished it to me,” he answered, noticeably flustered. 

“Where is he?” 

“He decided to see what else there was in the archive.” 

A cheeky smile came to her lips. 

“A pity for him… the water’s lovely, just like Astarion said. Did you know it could heal? I didn’t know until Hope told me. You should come see,” she said playfully, trailing her fingers over the surface of the pool. 

Gale slowly approached her, his eyes running up and down what he could see of her body. 

“Are you sure that pool doesn’t have any other questionable enchantments, thematic to the room perhaps?” 

She chuckled as she moved a bit closer, looking at him with an innocent smile. 

“Why do you ask? You’re not having any… inappropriate thoughts, are you?” 

“Are you?” Gale countered, a smile of his own now curling on his lips. 

“Certainly not!” She objected with mock outrage. “Now, come over here and get those burns healed.” 

Gale finally obliged, removing this belt and singed outer robe, kicking his boots off, and joining her in the pool. 

For just a moment as he entered the water, he found his earlier thoughts leaving his head at the feeling of the healing waters enveloping and soothing his burns.

“Wow, that…” he stuttered, looking down at the water. “That is impressive.” “It’s good, isn’t it?” She said, walking over to meet him. His thoughts returned once again to her as he looked back up at her. 

“Very good,” he agreed, his eyes wandering. She smiled, enjoying the attention, then lifted her hand and held it out to him. 

“Let’s get you healed.”

He took her hand, then followed as she dived under the water. When they surfaced, he could hardly believe the feeling the water left him with as it ran over his body, washing away the pain of his burns. Saff, meanwhile, could hardly believe how good he looked, his now completely translucent white shirt clinging to every muscle on his body. 

“Feeling better?” She asked, taking a step towards him and lightly placing her hand on his chest. 

“Much better,” he confirmed, his voice deepening slightly as he looked down at her. He lifted a hand and began lightly running his fingers down her side, captivated by the sight in front of him. 

“Those inappropriate thoughts back?” She teased, raising both her arms and wrapping them around his shoulders. “Maybe there’s a second enchantment on this water, after all.”

“Perhaps… though I think you are the one enchanting me,” he whispered, before finally leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. She pulled him in tightly, her tongue slipping into his mouth as his fingers intertwined with her hair. Perhaps there was something in the water, perhaps it was the heat of battle, or perhaps it was simply their feelings for each other, but whatever it was, it left them flushed, breathless and with only one thing on their minds when they parted. 

With a knowing smile on his lips, Gale raised a hand and with a twitch of his fingers and a whispered incantation the door to the room closed, without him so much as taking his eyes off of hers. She mirrored his smile with one of her own, raising her hand with his. With a wave and whisper of her own, the sound of a lock clicking shut came from the door. 

Gale wasted no time now as their lips met again and his hands found the fastenings to her shirt. His touch was careful as he slipped it off her shoulders, his fingers lightly brushing over her skin so as not to agitate the slowly healing burns, and she was delighted to find that with the water on his fingertips, his touch actually helped soothe her injuries. 

With the shirt discarded, her bra was quick to follow, and soon his hands were finding their way to her bare chest, drawing soft sighs of pleasure from her lips. His mouth soon moved down her jaw to her neck, then across her collar bone until he was placing light kisses across the cut on her chest, taking away the pain with each soft press of his lips to her skin. 

By the time their lips met again they were both reaching for the lacing on each other’s trousers, and Saff could feel the extent of his arousal behind the fabric. Soon free of the last of their clothes they came together once more in a kiss, his moans vibrating against her lips from her underwater touches. Taking her turn now she trailed kisses down his neck and chest, and an idea came to her. 

He looked down upon hearing a whispered incantation, her voice too quiet for him to make out the spell. She glanced up, a playful smile on her lips as their eyes met, before she knelt down under the water. His eyes closed and his head leant back in pleasure as he felt her lips around him, the warmth of her mouth and the touch of her tongue running along him in practiced movements. He kept expecting her to pull back and surface for breath, and when she didn’t, he finally realised what the spell was - Water Breathing. 

He was only too happy to return the favour when she finally did surface, dipping below the water and lifting her leg slightly, resting it on his shoulder as he set to work. Her fingers curled in his hair, gripping tightly as his tongue explored her, the familiar taste of a wetness that came not from the water. When he surfaced, he found her flushed and wanting. With deft arms, aided by the buoyancy of the pool, he lifted her until her legs wrapped around his waist, and they each brought their bodies together with a pleasured moan against the other’s lips. 

Her legs squeezed tightly around him as they moved together, their gasps accompanied the slosh of the water against their bodies. Kisses pressed against necks then back to lips once more, whispered words of pleasure and love, hands in hair, tender strokes and breathless gasps. 

She didn’t even notice he had moved to the side of the pool until he sat down on the steps, the water now enveloping them both up to the neck. Her legs moved until she was kneeling over him, his hands still around her waist as she moved above him, riding him as pleasure built inside them both. His hand worked its way between her legs, gentle strokes that grew faster as her moans grew louder, pushing her further and further until she finally fell over the edge. He watched in reverie as her head fell back and her eyes closed in pleasure, her moans echoing off the walls. It wasn’t much longer until he reached that peak himself, pulling her in tightly and burying his face in her neck, muffling the deep groans that escaped his lips. 

She fell against him, leaning into his chest, safe in his arms that wrapped around and held her close as he leant back against the pillar behind him. She wasn’t sure exactly how long they stayed like that, wordless and breathless, just the gentle sound of the lapping water around them. 

By the time she finally sat up, the cut on her chest was all but gone. He smiled, running his fingers over the newly healed skin. 

“I’ll have to find out what enchantment is on this pool and how to cast it myself,” Gale commented. “And then I’ll have to buy a pool.”

“You’re telling me you don’t have a pool in your tower?” Saff teased with mock disappointment. “Ugh, why am I even moving in with you?”

He chuckled, peppering her neck in kisses. 

“I can think of a few reasons…”

She smiled, leaning into his kisses. Now that the high of their lovemaking was finally wearing off, she began to feel another sensation. 

“Gale… is it just me, or did this pool heal more than just wounds?”

“Magic?” He asked, leaning back from his kissing. “Yes, I feel it too. My magic restored, as good as a night’s rest.”

She shifted off him and sat down on one of the higher steps, the water lapping around her waist. He moved up next to her and watched as she channeled the beginnings of a healing spell in her hands, deep in thought as she watched the magic flickering over her fingers. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she started, not taking her eyes off her hands. “You’re right. I want to celebrate what I’ve achieved, and what better way to do that than to heal the scars of what I’ve overcome?” 

“You’ll heal the scar, then?”

“Yes… but not yet.” She turned to him and saw the confusion on his face. “If I want to heal the scars of what I’ve overcome, I need to overcome it first. And I haven’t done that. What happened the other day proves that. He’s still there… in the back of my mind. When I can think of him without feeling that dread in the pit of my stomach, when I’m not scared of the thought of facing him again… then I think I’ll be ready. But not until then.”

She lowered her hands, the magic fizzling away. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, rather surprised by this turn of events. 

“Yes. It’s like you, visiting Waterdeep. You want to visit it now, right? But you also don’t want to, not until you’ve overcome what happened to you. Not until you’ve rid yourself of the orb and the tadpole and you can go home as the person you want to be. We’ll both get there… it’s just neither of us are there yet.” 

He nodded in understanding, and took her hands in his. 

“Then we’ll get there together,” he promised, meeting her eyes. She smiled, squeezing his hands in a heartfelt promise. 

“Together.” 

[tabitha42]

I bought this amazing acrylic stand from @bara-izu and have been meaning to post it! All the companions were available, with the idea being you put a picture of your Tav in the frame. So I drew a lil pic of Saff, trying to match the art style as best I could, and this is the result! I'm super happy with it, it sits next to my desk so I can see it all the time. Thanks again to @bara-izu, such a cool idea, one of my favourite pieces of Gale merch!

[tabitha42]

Last Line Tag

Tagged by @parkouringrabbit!

The last line I wrote for The Wizard's Apprentice. Getting the angst in, of course.

He reached out for her but she was already gone, and the only response he heard was the echoes of her sobs as she disappeared down the hallway.

I tag @chaoswritesthemultiverse, @deerancha and @thelittlesorceressbg3!

[tabitha42]

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 79

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Previous chapter Next chapter

Saff had never before considered that Malitas might actually be Zariel’s High Inquisitor, but now as he effortlessly convinced Raphael’s archivist that he was Verillius Receptor and was here to inspect the archive, she found herself wondering if he’d fooled them all along. He didn’t even twitch when the archivist complimented him on how vile his mortal disguise was. 

Unfortunately, all his expertly-told lies earned them was an invite to the boudoir. 

“Never go to a devil’s boudoir,” Karlach warned with a grimace. 

“This is not what we’re here for!” Lae’zel agreed, hissing her disdain at the invite in Malitas’s hands. “We need to focus on finding a way to get the hammer!”

“Let’s at least see if we can find some clues somewhere else in this place before going to the boudoir?” Karlach suggested. It was a suggestion the group agreed with, but sadly they soon found themselves with nowhere left to search and reluctantly entered the boudoir. 

The room had an uncomfortable beauty about it. The running of water from the pool in the centre, the shine of light through the stained-glass windows, the elegance of the furniture that lined the walls - it all felt like the sort of luxury Saff would dream of as a child, yet there was something deeply unnerving about the place. She could see why Karlach had been so reluctant to return to Avernus - the air itself felt wrong. The sooner they returned home, the better… though the sights of the eternal debtors filled her mind, fueling her fears that they might join those debtors should Raphael discover them. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when they rounded a corner and found Raphael in bed, wearing considerably less than they’d been expecting. 

“A lost little mouse, running through the house. A thief in the night, greedy and here to take. Why are you here, little thief?”

Saff could hardly stop her eyes wandering as she stared in shock. 

“Raphael??” She gasped in utter disbelief. 

“Raphael? Ha! No. I am Haarlep, Raphael’s personal Incubus. And who are you?” 

He leaned forward, and she felt a chill down her spine as his eyes bored into her. 

“Such an innocent face… I wonder though, are you so innocent between the sheets?” 

Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and Gale took a protective step forward with a look of warning that Haarlep seemed to find amusing. 

“Aah, and what do we have here? The protective partner? Two wizards… tell me, do you both use magic in the bedroom?” 

She heard a familiar tittering behind her from Astarion, but Malitas interrupted before the conversation could go any further. 

“Can we please get back to the subject of why we’re here?” He insisted, clearly not wanting to hear any more about Saff and Gale’s bedroom habits. 

“Oh, not enjoying this conversation?” Haarlep teased, turning his gaze on Malitas. “I see through that little illusion of yours, you know. I know what you are, sorcerer, I see those scales. I wonder how far they go. I once knew a draconic sorcerer, many years ago. I wonder if you are like him. He liked to say that he was…” a smile curled up in Haarlep’s lips, “...ribbed for her pleasure.”

The conversation ended there as Haarlep was suddenly engulfed in flames.

Some of the group had been unsure that morning if everyone needed to go, but had ultimately agreed that when facing a devil they should take no chances. Saff was glad to have the combined strength of all 10 of them now, given Haarlep and his imps alone were enough of a challenge. If it did come to fighting Raphael, they’d need all the help they could get.

Lae’zel immediately returned to searching for information after the fight and soon was able to find Raphael’s journal, but Astarion’s tittering remained. 

“So, Malitas,” he drawled, leaning casually against one of the pillars by the pool, “we didn’t get to hear your answer to Haarlep’s question.” 

Malitas seethed and refused to dignify his question with an answer, instead focusing on following Lae’zel to the exit. 

“If it is true,” Astarion continued, undeterred, “then I think you should advertise it about yourself. It might help you get a-”

His sentence was interrupted by a puff of magic, followed by a splash as a cheesewheel fell into the pool. The others stifled their laughs as Astarion bobbed across the water in his new form, then followed as Malitas and Lae’zel left the room. 

Behind them, they heard another splash as the polymorph wore off and Astarion plunged into the water. 

“Oh very funny!” He shouted after them down the corridor. “Joke’s on you! The water’s lovely!”

The jovial mood dissipated with Hope’s warnings as they approached the archive. 

“Once you have the hammer, the fire will come. And from Raphael you must run, run, run!” 

The moment Lae’zel lifted the hammer from its pedestal, the air seemed to shift. The disguises Hope had given them disappeared, and they heard the laughter of Raphael’s debtors around them. 

“You just rang Raphael’s dinner bell, and you’re the entire menu.”

The archivist laughed maniacally at them as they ran past him to the exit. 

Hope met them once more and warned them that everything outside would be on fire once they left this room. When Lae’zel burst through the door, her words rang true. 

The air was unbreathably hot, stifling and suffocating as they poured out into the corridor and ran. Debtors around them burst into infernal creatures while huge balls of molten rock rolled after them, setting everything around them alight. Hope appeared to them every step of the way, encouraging them on as they fought their way through the house.

Saff hadn’t been sure what to expect of Hope’s jailor. Finding out there was not one, but two spectators, left her feeling a deep jolt of fear when she saw the petrified statues of ancient prisoners around them. 

Not again, she thought to herself as the spectators turned their gaze to the intruders. Not now, not here…

The others dived into battle, and she hoped the spectators’ focus would remain away from her. If any of the others were petrified, they could be cured. But if she was petrified, if the curse stopped them being able to cure her again… what choice would they have but to leave her here forever? 

Lae’zel’s psionics carried her to the first crystal rooting Hope’s chains in place and she smashed through it, releasing Hope’s wrist from the infernal manacles. The imps that swarmed her were quickly blasted away by the group’s combined attacks, but the spectators were not so easily defeated. 

Saff stayed back from the fight, attacking from a distance in the hopes she would remain out of the spectators’ sights. A bolt of lightning crashed down on one of them at her command, leaving waves of static rolling over the creature’s skin as the others continued to bear down on it with their attacks. Its pained screeches betrayed how close to death it was, just a bit more and they could focus on the other one…

Her feet stopped moving, suddenly rooted to the ground. Panic gripped her as she looked across and saw the other spectator looking directly at her, tentacles rising. The sensation spread up her body, freezing her muscles, a familiar paralysis before the final petrification spell…

“No…” she gasped, feeling her throat closing up. “No!!” 

A blinding flash of lightning tore through the air and smashed into the spectator, ripping through it and releasing her from its spell. She stumbled forward as the paralysis faded, looking down at her shaking hands and feeling an overwhelming relief to find soft flesh and not the creeping grey of stone. 

Footsteps echoed and she looked up to see Gale running towards her. He threw his arms around her when he reached her, then quickly pulled away and cupped her cheek in one hand and took her hand in the other. 

“Are you ok?!” He gasped, looking over her for any signs of petrification. 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she answered breathlessly, leaning into his touch. After a moment she realised the sounds of battle around them had died down, and turned to find both spectators now dead while Hope celebrated her freedom. 

“We’ll carve our way through the entrance hall and chop Raphael into messes!” She cheered, throwing her arms up in celebration. “That’s the hopeful version, of course. The more likely version is that WE ARE THE MESSES AND RAPHAEL IS THE CHOPPER!”

Gale and Saff looked at each other, nervously acknowledging Hope’s ominous prediction. 

The group ran for the exit, and Saff was glad for a moment to catch her breath as they waited at the bottom of the ladder for everyone to ascend. 

“How’s the ring?” She asked Malitas, glancing at the wings on his back. “Is it working?” 

“So far, yes,” he confirmed with a nod, looking up at the exit hatch above them as it neared their turn. 

“Do you really think we can do it?” She asked, a nervous tone to her voice now. “Can we defeat a devil?” 

Malitas looked at her with a smile. 

“I have no doubt,” he said confidently, then looked up at the exit as he approached the ladder, spread his wings and flew up. Saff took a deep breath, and followed him out.

“There’s three things you need to know about Raphael,” Hope said to them as they ran through the house. “One - he’s almost home now, closer than a kiss. Two - his favourite colour is blood. Three - He probably knows a thousand ways to kill us. This is going to hurt!”

Her words rang in their head as they reached the door to the foyer and burst through it, the portal so very close now…

Then, a flash of light. 

Time slowed for a moment, and the air became thicker. The master of the house was coming. 

Saff’s heart stopped as Raphael stepped out of the light. 

“You.”

His tone was furious, disgusted, vengeful. A click of his fingers, and Korilla joined him, glaring at them through narrowed eyes. Another click, and Yurgir joined at his other side, looking down at them. 

“There are many things in your world that I loathe. Litters of kittens, chattering children - the noise and chaos of it all. In my world - in my HOUSE - there is order, and there are rules. You have broken the most important rule of all, and committed cardinal sin. You came here uninvited, and you stole from me. In doing so, you have brought the chaos of your world into mine. I will not abide it!”

“Step aside, devil!” Lae’zel declared, stepping forward. “You will not stop me from freeing my prince. So stand down, or feel my wrath!” 

“You could have freed him easily. Could have avoided all of this, had you followed your instincts and accepted my deal. Instead, you followed your friends, and now your prince will suffer for it,” he said smugly to her, before turning his attention to all of them. “You would have been heroes if you’d only dealt fairly with me. Instead, you’re not so different from doomed Karsus, over-reaching your limits, burning your world to ash.” 

“WRONG WRONG WRONG!!” Hope shouted, throwing her arms up. “They will save their world and smash you to smithereens!” 

“It’s this charming naivety that makes your company such a joy to me, Hope. I’ll even forgive this little rebellion once you are suitably chastised.” 

Saff tensed up. The thought of sending Hope back to that prison made her sick. 

“Commander,” Raphael continued, looking up at Yurgir. “You can salvage a trophy from these insects once I’m done with them.” 

“These insects struck me down beneath the shadowlands,” Yurigir said, looking over them all. “They are worthy opponents.”

“Wait!” 

The group turned to Saff as she stepped forward and looked up at Yurgir. 

“I found out why you could never complete your contract. Raphael had turned the last Dark Justiciar into a swarm of rats. He did that so you could never succeed, so you had no choice but to fail your contract and become his slave!” 

Yurgir’s eyes widened in realisation, and Raphael’s narrowed in anger.

“Don’t fight for him,” she continued, choosing not to look at Raphael, not to let him have a chance at intimidating her back into silence. “Don’t fight for someone that would trick you into slavery!” 

There was a long pause, a thick tension in the air, until Yurgir finally spoke.

“To discover a devil’s secrets, then stand against him in his own home. That takes cunning and courage. I’m with you.”

Saff could hardly believe her ears, and by the looks of things, neither could Raphael. 

“Am I to understand that you wish to die with them?” He sneered, looking up at Yurgir. 

“I wish to fight with them,” Yurgir insisted, stepping across the room to join them against Raphael. 

“It’s all the same in the end.” Raphael was not deterred, as confident of victory as ever. “Whether it takes a hundred years or a thousand, the Crown will be mine eventually. My time will come. Your time is over, little mouse.” 

“You will never get the Crown,” Malitas said confidently, shaking his head. 

“Are you so sure?” Raphael chuckled in amusement as he turned to Malitas. “I know you. You think yourself superior, wiser than the others with so many more years’ experience than them. But you are little more than a child compared to me, mortal. I was there when Karsus doomed his kingdom, when cities fell and a civilisation perished. What was it you said last time we met? That I am not the only one with fire in my veins? That may be true, but let me remind you…” 

He stepped forward, a confident smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“...Hellfire burns hotter than dragonfire.” 

Heat flooded the room, and with it Rapheal’s army flashed into being. Cambions readied their weapons as Raphael spread his wings and took to the air. Another flash of fire from Malitas, and he too spread his wings and soared upwards in pursuit. 

Saff barely had a chance to see the battle above her as she grabbed her staff and dived into the fight. The heat was suffocating, and even seconds into the fight she could feel beads of sweat dripping down her neck. Chaos and clamour filled the air as cambions swooped through them, diving down like birds of prey picking off their targets. She dashed across the room, stumbling in the chaos as she tried to dodge their attacks while responding with spells of her own. 

With a Misty Step she managed to get to the edge of the room and survey the battlefield. She saw Gale on the other side, having also found a spot at the edge away from the pandemonium of battle. In her brief moment of respite she looked up and saw Malitas and Raphael in the air far above them. Her heart stopped for a moment as Raphael’s hellfire appeared to engulf Malitas in an attack that sent a wave of heat over the battlefield below, until she saw him soar out of the blast, the flickering remains of a shattered abjuration shield shimmering around him. 

That was when she noticed the streams of magic flying through the air to Raphael periodically. She followed the streams and found them coming from the four great pillars that sat in the corners of the room, towering above them. Magic pulsed from the pillars, infernal and powerful, and she realised what must be done.

Magic gathered at her fingers as she raised her hands, ready to send a flurry of Magic Missiles into the closest pillar, when a stream of Scorching Rays slammed into her side and sent her falling to the ground. She looked up to see Korilla looking down at her, readying another spell. As Korilla raised her hands so did she, managing to Misty Step away just as a spray of acid launched from Korilla’s hands and covered the ground where she’d been. A spark of static grew to a bolt in her fingers and she threw it at Korilla, the lightning splitting the heated air as it crashed against her and threw her against the wall, leaving her struggling with her spasming muscles. Saff took her opportunity, raising her hands once more in another spell to finish her off. 

“Wait!!” 

Saff froze mid-incantation and turned to see Hope across from her, holding her arms out to stop her. 

“Please don’t kill her! She’s my sister!” 

Saff looked back at Korilla, who was preparing a new spell of her own. She was surprised Hope would want to save her after all she’d done, but had no time to question it now. The static gathering at Saff’s fingers fizzled and turned to a new spell, a rush of druidic magic that pulsed around her as she spoke the incantation. 

“Voco Vinea!” 

Korrila’s spell fizzled as her hands were pulled down by vines that burst from the ground and snapped round her wrists. With carefully controlled precision, Saff grew the vines around her, winding up her body until they reached her mouth and closed around it. Carefully she concentrated, needing to hold her there just long enough for her to run out of air and pass out, but not long enough to suffocate her. Korilla’s muffled shouts eventually softened to pained whimpers, until finally she went limp, her eyes fluttering closed. With a quick wave of Saff’s hands the vines released her and lowered her to the ground, unconscious but alive. 

“Thank you!!” Hope called to her, before hastily turning back to the fight. Saff too returned to her task, looking up at the pillar that towered above her, pulsing with arcane energy. Another gesture, another incantation, and a flurry of Magic Missiles flew from her hands up towards the pillar. With each missile the pillar shook and cracked, until finally it crumbled under the force of her attack, crashing to the ground in a burst of ruptured magic. 

The others turned to look, realising what had just happened, and they weren’t the only ones that noticed. Raphael snapped his head towards her and their eyes met. Searing hatred burned within him as he glared down at her and raised his hands, fire and magic gathering at his fingertips… 

Then with a flash the spell fizzled, the familiar shimmers of a Counterspell rolling over his hands. Raphael looked across just in time to see Malitas dive towards him and smash his staff over his head in a sweeping attack before climbing back up above him again. Enraged, Raphael fell for the ploy and turned his attention back to Malitas, allowing Saff to move onto the next pillar. 

Across from her the second pillar fell to Gale’s attacks, and with another wave of Magic Missiles, the third pillar fell to hers. The others had caught onto what they were doing now, and with a dual casting of Guiding Bolt from the two clerics, the fourth and final pillar crumbled. 

A pulse of heat washed over them from above. Not just heat - anger. They looked up to see magic gathering around Raphael, a swirling vortex of power that infused into him until it began to change him, shards of jagged bone bursting from his clothes and enveloping him as his body became a being of pure fire. His wings grew, burning brightly as the magic coalesced, until with a final burst his head ruptured into an infernal crown atop an eyeless, three-faced head that screeched in fury. 

Saff clapped her hands to her ears and gasped in pain as Raphael’s scream pierced through them. Even Malitas saw he was out-matched trying to take on such a creature alone and turned to fly away, but Raphael had other ideas. Despite his size he was impossibly fast, snatching Malitas’s wing in his hand before he had a chance to get away. With a lunge Raphael swung Malitas around him and threw him to the ground, sending him plummeting downwards with such force that the ground shook with his impact and the stone floor tiles were left cracked beneath him. Even with the protection of his shields he was left barely conscious, groaning and struggling to move. 

Saff tried to cry out his name, but her voice was lost as screams filled the room. A necrotic vortex burst into being and spiraled around them, a clamour of lost souls screaming into the ether, and in the chaos the remaining cambions found themselves empowered and ascended.

She barely had a chance to register what was happening before Raphael began to rain hellfire down upon them. 

An explosion of fire next to her sent her falling to the ground, struggling to breathe in the wave of heat. She stumbled to her feet and ran as another ball of hellfire exploded behind her and sent her falling forward again. Smoke filled the air, an orange haze that left her barely able to see more than a few feet in front of her. The world seemed to slow as she tried to escape the carnage. Bright flashes of fire would appear in the smoke above them, heralding the coming of another ball of hellfire that would explode on impact and send anyone nearby flying, and anyone caught within the blast seared by the fires of the Hells. Amongst the heat she could feel pulses of healing magic from the clerics and druids of the group, sent out blindly to heal anyone they could reach. With a wave of her hands she joined them, her voice barely audible as she recited the incantation for Mass Healing Word and hoped that her magic would find the members of the group that needed it most. 

She skidded to a halt when a figure suddenly landed in front of her, its huge wings blocking out the light as it rose up to its full height. Before she could react, the cambion lashed out and brought its spear down on her, sending her falling back with a jolt of searing pain from the gash left by the blade across her chest. Blood seeped down her body and through her robes, but the adrenaline kept her focused and raised her hands in a retaliatory casting of Thunderwave that sent her attacker flying back. She had just enough time to cast a quick healing spell on herself before the cambion was running for her again, spear raised…

Then suddenly it froze, the familiar purple shimmer of ethereal chains wrapping around its limbs. She didn’t waste time looking around to see who had cast it, she instead took advantage of the moment and threw a bolt of lightning at it that landed square in its chest and left nothing more than blackened, sparking remains slumping to the floor. 

Behind it she saw a figure in the smoke, framed against the flames. Far enough away to be obscured by the smoke, but not so far that she couldn’t recognise who it was.

“Gale!”

She gritted her teeth through the pain of her injuries and forced herself to her feet as Gale ran forward towards her. Their eyes met through the smoke, a moment of hope as they ran for each other… then a flash of light just above him. 

The fireball hit so fast she couldn’t even try to avoid it. She was thrown off her feet and once again found herself on the ground, reeling from the attack. But it wasn’t the pain that consumed her mind. 

“Gale!” She shouted out in a panic, desperately looking for him after seeing him engulfed in the flames. Then she saw him… collapsed on the ground ahead of her, unmoving. 

In a panic she leapt to her feet and ran forward, falling to her knees by his side. Quickly she rolled him over, and when she saw the extent of his injuries her heart stopped. 

His blackened skin was left cracked and seared almost beyond recognition, his robes in burnt tatters. A sob left her lips to see him in such a state, and in a panic she raised her hands in a spell, but even as she placed her hands on his chest and the healing magic washed over him, it made little difference. With a dawning dread she realised his injuries were too extensive, too far for what she was capable of healing. He was still breathing, still alive, but only just…

She looked around through the smoke, desperate to find one of the other healers. 

“Shadowheart! Hope!” She called out, but her voice was lost in the chaos around her. “Halsin! Jaheira!” 

There was no response but the raging fire around her and the screaming souls that encircled the room. Then, she saw a flare of light above her.

She knew she should run. She knew there was nothing she could do for him. She knew she had no chance of dragging him away before the fireball landed. Yet there was nothing that could pry her from him in this moment, and as the fireball came down towards them, she threw herself over him in a hopeless attempt to protect him from the inevitable…

There was the sound of exploding flames around her, the shudder of the impact… but no pain. Slowly she opened her eyes to see the shimmering gold of a Globe of Invulnerability. She looked up and saw Malitas standing above them, one arm raised towards the centre of the globe. A wave of relief washed over her to know Malitas was alive, but the relief was short-lived as she looked back down at Gale, barely clinging to life. 

Again she tried another healing spell, but again it made little difference. Tears welled in her eyes and her voice shook as she tried once more, only to find the spell fizzling at her fingers. 

“No no no…” she whispered, her words turning to sobs as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “No!” 

“Saff!”

She looked up to see Malitas looking down at her, struggling to keep the Globe of Vulnerability stable against the fire that was raining down on it. 

“You can do this! You’ve always been able to do this! Focus!”

Focus.

He’d said that to her so many times over the years. Every time she’d struggled with a spell, every time her hands had shaken with frustration or she’d believed herself incapable, he’d said that. And every time she followed his instruction, she succeeded. 

She closed her eyes and raised her hands once more, emptying her mind of fear and doubt. Druidic magic functioned on emotion, so that was what she focused on. She thought only of her love for him, her desperation to save him, to hear his voice once more and feel his arms around her…

Warmth ran through her arms and pooled in her palms, and when she spoke, the incantation came without conscious thought. 

“Vis medicatrix!” 

She opened her eyes to an almost blinding swell of healing light, and when it faded, she found his eyes looking back at her. 

A cry of happiness fell from her lips as she threw her arms around him, and a warmth filled her to feel his arms around her once again. 

“Well done!” Malitas shouted down to them in exasperation. “Now can you help!?” 

They jumped to their feet and Gale threw his arms up with an incantation, helping reinforce the Globe that surrounded them. Saff’s eyes scanned the battlefield, the thick orange haze of smoke and flame still blinding them to anything more than a few feet ahead of them. She too threw her arms up with a chant of “sol invictus!” and created a bright orb of light above them, shining through the smoke. 

Follow the light! Find the Globe!

Shouting would have been hopeless against the chaos that surrounded them, but even the deafening roar of the inferno couldn’t silence the tadpole connection they all shared. She could only hope the uninfected among them would still find their way without her instruction.

Through the smoke she saw the first figure emerge - Karlach, carrying a barely conscious Hope in her arms. Then Jaheira, then Astarion, and soon the whole group were huddling together under the safety of the Globe, the healers scraping together what magic they had left to aid the fallen.

A spear came down on the arcane barrier, followed by a barrage of Scorching Rays, and from the smoke the remaining cambions descended on them. The Globe flared and shimmered with each attack, but held strong, reinforced by Malitas and Gale’s combined efforts. 

Back to back, battered, bruised, bleeding and burnt, the group rose to their feet to face their enemy. With spell and arrow, blade and bolt, they threw their attacks out, knowing that should the Globe shatter, they would be left surrounded and helpless. One by one the cambions fell, until all that was left was the raging fire around them, and Raphael looking down at them from above. 

They turned their attacks upwards, but at such a distance they struggled to hit their mark, and the few attacks that did land were easily shrugged off. As another ball of hellfire fell from the sky and smashed over them, Malitas and Gale were both left struggling against constant barrage. 

“We have to find another approach!” Gale shouted to them over the chaos. “We can’t keep this up forever!” “We gotta bring the bastard down!” Kalrach shouted, itching to plant her war axe deep into his chest. 

Bring him down…

Saff gasped in realisation and turned to Malitas, finding him already looking back at her, clearly having had the same idea. She gripped her staff tightly and nodded. He took a deep breath, looked up, then ran forward out of the Globe, spread his wings and took to the air. 

“What’s he doing?!” Gale shouted, his voice strained from the extra force now put on him as Malitas’s concentration on the Globe fell away. 

“Just keep the Globe up!” Saff shouted back, watching as Malitas rose to meet Raphael. 

Fire coalesced around him, flaring up into a great dragon that roared fiercely as he ascended. For just a second the two of them stared each other down, then dived for one another, dragonfire and hellfire clashing in an explosion of heat.

Saff watched closely, squinting through the flames to find her opportunity. She only had one chance. If she got it wrong, best case Raphael would realise what they were doing and the plan would fail, worst case she might kill Malitas instead. Gale strained next to her, struggling to maintain the Globe against the inferno that burned around them. Time was against them, but she needed to wait for the right moment…

The two circled one another, a spiral of fire and magic, lashing out with spell and claw. In a movement so quick Saff barely saw it, Raphael snatched Malitas from the air, having grown to such a size that he could hold Malitas around the chest with his hand alone. His claws dug in until Malitas cried out in pain, struggling in his grasp. With a gasped incantation before his chest was crushed in, Malitas escaped with a Misty Step, appearing in the air above Raphael and trying to fly away in retreat. 

Saff smiled as Raphael took the bait and pursued.

The two of them soared through the room, trailing fire in their wake. Saff had never seen Malitas move so fast, but even still Raphael was able to catch up, his attacks thwarted only by further Misty Steps every time he got close. This was her chance. 

She waited for his next Misty Step away from Raphael, putting enough of a gap between them for her to confidently place her spell, and when the time came she raised her staff. 

“Murus virium!”

An invisible Wall of Force appeared between Malitas and Raphael. The plan went perfectly as Raphael smashed into the wall at full speed, then plummeted in a daze to the ground, engulfed by his own hellfire.

With a battlecry, Karlach led the charge, holding her axe high as she ran for Raphael. The others charged with her, braving the flames one last time to bring their weapons down on him. Returned now to his regular form from the damage of the impact, Raphael tried to fly to safety, only to be dragged back as Yurgir emerged from the flames, grabbed his wing and slammed him back down to the ground. Somewhere, lost in the cacophony of shouts and slashing of swords, Raphael’s final cry left his lips and at last, the devil fell.

There was a hushed silence as the flames died down around them, the group almost not daring to believe they’d actually won. Finally, that silence was broken as Karlach cheered. 

Where once the room had been full of raging fire and battlecries, now cheers and whoops of celebration filled the air. Saff threw her arms around Gale and pulled him into a kiss, laughing against his lips as he lifted her off her feet. She knew that, soon enough, the pain of her wounds would come through, but for now the rush of adrenaline and the thrill of victory were all she felt as she celebrated with her friends.

[tabitha42]

Tagged by @thelittlesorceressbg3! I tag @chaoswritesthemultiverse and @deerancha :D

Fill out this quiz to see what sort of god your character would be!

Works pretty well for Saff, though there's a lot more confidence there than she actually has. Maybe she'll get there by the end of the story!

I also decided to try this out for Saff's master Malitas, and, well...

"You're temperamental and your emotions are on display for the world to see" doesn't really fit him at all, his whole thing is that most of the time he hides his emotions very well, but the rest is pretty accurate. He is not a forgiving guy at all, and "drown them in hysteria and watch them burn" is quite literally what he did to three people he wanted revenge on in a recent chapter. So... I guess it tracks 😅

[tabitha42]

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 78

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Chapter 1 Previous chapter Next chapter

Every time Saff came to the Shar temple with Malitas, it felt like he’d added more to it since she was last there. This time there were runes scattered across the floor of one of the chambers. 

“What do these all do?” She asked, eyeing the runes curiously as he led her past them. 

“Various things. I wouldn’t advise getting too close, some are area protection wards, designed to keep the rats out.” 

She nodded, recognising the arcane engravings of fire spells hidden among the runes. Many of the others weren’t designs she was able to understand from the brief glance she was getting of them as they walked past, though she did recognise one as a recreation of the rune that housed Aylin’s soul cage. Clearly Malitas was still developing that spell from Balthazar’s research, despite her protests. Her annoyance quickly subsided though when she recognised a particular style across another group of runes. 

“Are these ones Netherese?” She asked, stopping in front of them to get a better look. He paused and looked back at her, then walked over. 

“Yes, they are. The beginnings of an attempt at a spell to remove Gale’s orb, should Mystra decide not to do so. There’s still a lot of work to be done on these, though. Should I attempt to cast it now, it would likely result in not only Gale’s death, but the deaths of everyone in the vicinity, an outcome I’m sure you’d agree is quite undesirable.” 

She laughed and nodded in agreement. 

“Yes, that outcome is certainly closer to the undesirable end of the scale,” she joked, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at the rune. “Does Gale know about this?” 

“I’ve been discussing my theories with him for some time, though have only recently tried bringing those theories into reality. I need to stabilise it a bit more before showing him. I’m unsure how it would react when put into close proximity with the orb.”

She frowned slightly as her eyes scanned the intricate runes, realising just how much work must have gone into creating them.

“When have you had time to do all this? We’ve spent pretty much all day every day chasing down leads on Orin and Gortash.” 

“All day, yes. But I need something to occupy my time at night while you lot are asleep. For example…” He waved for her to follow and led her over to another rune. “This one is designed to replicate a spell. My hope is if you can cast the spell you use to heal me into it, then I can infuse this ward onto a ring and gain the benefits of the spell when wearing it. If it works, I can be less reliant on you to heal me while using my wings.”

She nodded as he explained, casting her eyes over the rune to understand how it worked, before looking back up at him. 

“I’m surprised you don’t already have a bunch of enchanted rings you wear,” she commented, realising she’d never seen him wear one before. He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers slightly. 

“I’ve never liked wearing rings. I find they interfere with spellcasting. But I will make an exception for this one.”

“What about your circlet?” She suggested, nodding towards the silver and jade circlet he always wore. “Could you enchant that?” 

“Ah, that already has an enchantment,” he said, raising a hand and lightly tapping the side of the circlet. “It is infused with Arcane Battery - it allows me to cast a spell without using my own magic.” 

She narrowed her eyes as she realised what this meant. 

“The same enchantment as the staff you were bickering with Gale over in Lorroakan’s tower?” She asked, folding her arms. “You’ve already got that enchantment, and a better staff, and you were still trying to get the staff from him?” 

Malitas paused, shifting slightly awkwardly on his heels. 

“I relinquished the staff to him, didn’t I?” 

She laughed and shook her head.

“You’re unbelievable,” she teased, raising her hands to cast the spell as requested. 

After infusing a healing spell into the rune she left him to complete the enchantment process. Usually she’d want to stay and watch, but her mind kept wandering back to the events of the previous day. In the end she’d decided to take a walk, hoping it would help clear her head. 

The temple had a strange sort of macabre beauty to it, a melancholy silence that she could only appreciate now that she wandered its halls in solitude. For the first time, she began to get a glimpse into why people turn to Shar, seeking the silent solace the Nightsinger’s darkness brings. 

She found a spot on a crumbling wall overlooking one of the many ravines of the temple and sat down. Thoughts filled her head, until an unfamiliar voice cut through them. 

“You! Leave!” 

She snapped her head to the side to follow the voice and saw a rat on the ground near her, back arched and teeth bared as it glared up at her.

“Intruder, invader, unworthy one! These halls are not for you!”

Her initial excitement at finding an animal to talk to was quickly scuppered by the rat’s demeanor. 

“Oh, don’t worry! I’m not here to hurt you!” She said, reaching out to try to appease the rat, then quickly pulling her hand back when the rat snapped its teeth at her. 

“Lies! The other one, the two legged one, the one you come to these halls with, he has killed so many of me, so many of us! But our time will come. We are small, but we are many. We will chew the flesh from his bones. Leave, or we will do the same to you!” 

“Wha- wait!” She gasped as the rat scurried off into the ravine in front of her, disappearing into the darkness. 

For a moment she stood to try to follow it, hoping to convince it not to try to take on Malitas and get its whole horde killed. Then as she looked down she spotted something in the darkness - a slight glimmer of light. Magical light. Curiosity got the better of her, and with a flick of the wrist, she cast Feather Fall and jumped down. 

The bottom of the ravine was almost eerily dark, enough to give her a sense of claustrophobia as she walked between the towering cavern walls towards the source of light. The light, she discovered, was a dimly glowing ritual circle, seemingly infernal in nature. Next to it lay a book. Swallowing the nerves that rose within her, she knelt down and picked up the book, flicking it open. Most of the pages were covered in infernal runes, except for the first, where she found a note written in Common. 

In each of us is more than what we are;

Parts and multitudes that form our thoughts, desires, nature itself. 

Manifold are the creatures inside you - and what you can become when you speak my words is all your parts made manifest. 

Your weakness can become strength if it is made legion: quaking hearts can find courage in their numbers, the lowliest vermin can humble a goliath if they stand as an army, and ruin can become a kingdom for one soul made many. 

Speak Itori mustag thrice.

Become your finest sell - all of them.

Raphael.

Slowly she began to hear noises around her. Scratching, squeaking, shifting, from all directions. Her eyes drifted up from the book and she could see them now - a hundred tiny eyes, staring at her from the darkness. 

Then, they pounced. 

She barely had a chance to scream as the swarm poured from the darkness, so many of them it looked like the ground itself was moving to engulf  her. They attacked as one, streaming up her legs and over her body. She had just enough time to yell “Detono!” with a panicked flurry of her hands and blast those in front of her back into the darkness, but the second she did that the rats behind her crawled around her sides, over her shoulders, up her neck, until she could not even scream for fear of them crawling down her throat and suffocating her. 

Panic gripped her as the rats engulfed her. Frantic and desperate she clawed at her face to pull them off, unable to see as she squeezed her eyes shut, gasping for breath in the fleeting moments her mouth was free before they closed the gap. The pain of a thousand tiny bites coursed through her, threatening to bring her to her knees, to drag her down to the ground…

She raised a hand, flames gathering at the tips of her trembling fingers, and as she swiped at her face with the other she took the risk of opening her mouth and yelling one final, desperate word.

“Arde!!” 

She threw the Fireball down at her feet, and in a blast of heat, it was over. 

As the light dissipated and left her in darkness once more, she opened her eyes to a hundred charred corpses around her. Some still clung to her, and in a final jittery panic she jumped back and clawed them off herself, her hands shaking as she gasped to catch her breath. Just as her racing heart began to calm, another flash of magic conjured a new figure in front of her, a man clad in Dark Justiciar armour. 

“These hands… too big…” he gasped in shock, looking down at his hands. “Where are the others? Where’s the rest of me?!” 

His gaze snapped to her, and he threw his hand up and pointed to her in accusation. 

“You! Why did you have to keep prying? Why couldn’t you just leave?!”

Saff was almost speechless, her mouth opening and closing for a moment before she finally managed to get a word out. 

“What… happened? Who are you?!” She gasped, her voice as shaky as her hands.

“Lyrthindor - last Dark Justiciar. I kept watch over Lady Shar’s temple. Kept the faith alive, after all the others were killed! But you ruined it. Trespassed. But you ruined our - my - secret. Now you’ll rot in the dark!” 

He drew his sword, and this time she left no time for panic. With one last Fireball, the last Dark Justiciar of Reithwin finally died. 

She wasted no time in flying back up out of the ravine, finding her spot on the stone wall once more.

“Saff?” She glanced over as Malitas called to her from across the hall and began walking over. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for-... are you ok?” 

Clearly her demeanor reflected her mood. 

“I found out why Yugir couldn’t fulfil his contract,” she said, almost numbly, looking forward over the ravine again. Malitas sat next to her, watching her curiously as he awaited an explanation. “There was one last Dark Justiciar that had been turned into a swarm of rats. The rats attacked me, so I killed them. Then he attacked me, so I killed him. Guess Yugir’s contract is complete now.” 

“A swarm of rats?” Malitas mused. “What curious magic…”

“Want to know the best bit?” Saff asked, her tone more annoyance than amusement as she looked over at him. “It was Raphael that did it, so that Yugir would never be able to complete his contract. As if we needed any more reason not to accept his deal.” 

Malitas’s surprise only lasted a moment. 

“A poisoned chalice indeed,” he agreed. Saff closed her eyes, tried to shake the final lingering feeling of tiny feet swarming across her body, then turned to him again. 

“Did the enchantment work?” She asked, deciding to change the subject. 

“It did, yes. Though more testing will be needed to see if it will successfully heal me,” he said, producing a ring from his pocket and holding it out for her to see. Gently she took it from his hands and looked at it, feeling the hint of Weave that emanated from it. Too bad she couldn’t make a ring to heal her own weaknesses, she thought to herself as she idly ran her fingers over the ring’s surface. 

“I sense there is more than just rats bothering you.”

She sighed deeply, then nodded as she handed the ring back to him. 

“I wanted to go for a walk to clear my head cause I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened yesterday. I… I thought I was past this, you know? I thought, after everything I’ve faced, he wouldn’t scare me anymore. But nothing’s changed.” 

She closed her eyes and held her arms, hanging her head in both defeat and frustration. 

“Trauma rarely follows logic nor reason,” Malitas mused, his tone matter-of-fact but the edges softened with sympathy. “I once knew a barbarian who had faced liches and dragons and demigods, yet he was terrified of mice. I’d wager you handled that swarm of rats better than he would have done.”

Despite her mood, that brought a smile to her lips. 

“Don’t hold yourself to impossible standards,” he continued, turning to meet her eyes. “You have overcome more than most people can even fathom. You will overcome this, too.” 

Her smile widened now, changing from one of amusement to appreciation. 

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, then both looked forward again, over the chasm that stretched out in front of them. 

“I know I shouldn’t,” she started after a few moments of silence, “but I keep wondering if I should have done anything to avoid it. And I don’t just mean the flashback. I feel awful for Halsin. I know how upset I’d be if I couldn’t be with Gale…” 

“Ah, well I don’t think you need to worry about that. Halsin’s feelings for you are not as strong as your feelings for Gale, nor Gale’s for you. He is attracted to you, yes, but he’s not in love with you,” he offered, a reassurance that helped ease her worry somewhat. 

“I hope so. I don’t think it would ever have worked between Halsin and me anyway, even if Gale hadn’t been there.”

Given the look on his face, this was clearly unexpected news for Malitas.

“Really? You surprise me. I would have thought he shared many of the traits you like in Gale.”

“Ah, well… yes, I suppose he does. But we both want completely different things. He prefers living in forests, roaming and wandering, having a more open view of love and relationships. That’s not what I want. I want to settle down somewhere, get married, have a family… plus, I don’t think I could ever have a relationship with an elf…”

She caught herself as she realised what she’d just said, and looked up at him to see a look of surprise on his face. 

“Not that I have anything against elves!” She said quickly. “I just… the difference in lifespan bothers me. It’s the same with any of the long-lived races. I… I want someone I can spend my life with. Someone I can grow old with, and we can look back at our lives together. But for someone who can live hundreds of years, I’d only ever be a brief moment in their lives. I want… I want a life partner, and to be that person’s life partner. I hope that makes sense, I didn’t mean to offend you.” 

“No offense taken, I assure you,” he said, holding his hands up in a gesture of honesty. “Though, if I might offer a different perspective?”

She nodded, curious to hear his side of things.

“It is true that a human’s lifespan is fleeting to us. But it is precisely because of this fact that we treasure every moment and take nothing for granted. We must love with an intensity that means even hundreds of years after they’re gone, we can still remember them, and keep their memory alive.” 

His words were spoken with a softness she’d never heard from him before, an emotion that lingered on his face as he stared into the distance for a long moment. He reached under the collar of his robes and pulled out a necklace - a delicate silver chain, hanging from which were two golden wedding rings. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him gently run his thumb over the surface of the rings, lost in thought. 

“Emily died 253 years ago. Yet I still remember the sound of her voice, the way she smiled, the feel of her hand in mine. In my darkest moments, I can still hear her whisper my name, telling me everything will be ok. She would always say, the sun shines brightest after the storm. We just need to weather this storm…”

His voice cracked as he trailed off, and her heart broke for him. She’d never seen him so emotional, so vulnerable, opening up to her in a way she’d never expected. 

“She told me not to wear my wedding ring after she died. She didn’t want me to spend the rest of my life alone, clinging to her memory. So I did as she asked, allowed myself to move on and find others. And find others I did. There’s been several that have captured my heart since her, and though those relationships didn’t work out, I still loved those partners dearly while it lasted with them. And yet…”

He turned to look at her, meeting her eyes now, eyes that welled with tears at his words. 

“...Even when I have loved another, even when my soul burned for them so intensely I could barely breathe in their presence, even when my every waking thought was consumed by them and I yearned for them so strongly I felt I might fall apart without their touch…”

He held her gaze, an emotion behind his eyes so deep she found she couldn’t look away, an intensity that stole her breath from her lungs and drowned out the world around her… then finally he pulled his gaze from her and looked back to the rings in his hand, turning them over in his fingers. 

“Even then, there has always been a part of my heart that belongs to her. Something that no one else can ever replace. And I can only love again because I know that she is smiling on me, safe in the knowledge that no matter what, there is a part of me that will always be hers…” 

He closed his eyes, and she felt the tears finally fall from hers. Gently he raised the rings and pressed them to his lips in a soft kiss, then pulled out his collar and dropped the chain back beneath his robes. 

“Malitas…” she started, her voice shaking from the unexpected emotion of the conversation. “That was… beautiful. I’d never thought of it that way…” 

She trailed off slightly, looking down at her hands as she processed it all. 

“How did you meet her?” She asked, looking up at him. “Balthazar mentioned saving her from a bugbear?”

He nodded, taking a breath to calm his emotions. 

“We were with a couple of other adventurers hired to investigate a series of crimes in the area. We discovered the culprits were a group of bugbears holed up in a cave. When we entered the cave we found not the bugbears, but a kidnapped civilian in a cage. That was Emily. She lived at a nearby farm and offered for us to all stay there for the night as thanks for rescuing her. She couldn’t sleep that night after all that happened to her, and it was early enough that I didn’t need to trance yet. We stayed up talking for hours, beneath the stars…” 

A small smile came to his lips, and she could tell he was lost in his memories.

“Balthazar said she was ‘an air-headed girl with her head in the clouds’. But she wasn’t. She was a dreamer. She’d never left her family’s farm, but she’d read every single book they owned and longed to see the world, to experience all the places she’d read about. I told her that once the bugbears were dealt with, I’d show her the world. And I did. For three years we travelled together, seeing the most beautiful sights Toril has to offer. We married at sunset in the Bay of Dancing Dolphins in Dambrath, while the dolphins danced behind us. She couldn’t take her eyes off the dolphins. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her…”

Saff’s heart swelled as she listened. It was like listening to a romance novel, and she realised just how little she knew about this side of him. 

“A year later, she gave birth to Aravissa. She had my confidence and Emily’s ability to see beauty in everything. Aravissa grew into a fierce young sorceress, determined to learn everything she could about the world. I was so very proud of her. I knew my parents thought little of her, being a half-elf. The irony is, had they set aside their prejudices and deigned to actually meet her rather than hearing of her existence only through my brother’s reports to them, they would have found a grandchild that embodied everything they wished for from me. She excelled with her powers of sorcery, eventually overtaking me with her skills. She faced none of the struggles with her wings that I do with mine. She lived a life of adventure and excitement, even well into old age.” 

His smile faltered a moment, sadness crossing his features. 

“It is difficult enough watching the love of your life grow old while you remain young. But watching it happen to your child… I knew it was coming, of course, but nothing can prepare you for it. We were both there when Emily died. I held her hand in mine as her last breath left her lungs. Two centuries later, I did the same for Aravissa. I… cannot even begin to describe the heartbreak. But I do not look back on their lives with sadness, nor do I regret my decision to marry Emily in the slightest. They both changed my life for the better. The memories I have with them are worth the heartbreak.”

Saff didn’t even try to stop the tears that ran down her cheeks now. Her heart ached for him. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she placed her hand on his. She could do little to ease the pain, but she hoped she might help bring him some small amount of comfort. His eyes flicked to her hand, then after a moment’s contemplation, he placed his other hand on hers, a gesture of silent gratitude for her support. For a long moment the two of them sat there together, hand in hand, in the silence of the Shar temple. 

“You’ll see them again one day, won’t you? In the afterlife?” She asked hopefully, but he winced and shook his head. 

“They both worshipped Mystra, and will be with her in Elysium now. At the time, I worshiped her too. Now, though… I doubt anything awaits me in the afterlife but the Wall of the Faithless. That was perhaps the most painful part of losing my faith - the knowledge that, by doing so, they were both well and truly lost to me.” 

That hit her hard. Knowing one’s family awaited them in the afterlife was one of the few respites from the pain of grief. To hear that even that was taken from him too truly left her heartbroken for him. 

“Come now, don’t cry for me,” Malitas said softly, seeing the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “I am at peace with it.”

She nodded and tried to wipe her tears, but still struggled to calm her emotions, something that eventually brought an amused smile to Malitas’s lips. 

“You’re getting more upset about this conversation than I am,” he commented with a chuckle, and finally she found herself able to laugh through the tears. 

“Well how can I not? After everything you just said… I’ve never seen this side of you before.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as her emotions calmed down. “I never knew you could be so… sentimental.” 

“Heh, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Only because you never talk about yourself! And before you say anything,” she interrupted as he opened his mouth, “I know you’re going to say it’s because it’s not appropriate for a master and apprentice to act like close friends. But I’m not your apprentice anymore. So I want to know you more as a friend. Not as this mysterious enigma who only ever tells us things about himself after he’s been forced to reveal them in a dramatic show of power because if he didn’t we’d all die.” 

He laughed and gave a small gesture to acknowledge that she wasn’t incorrect in her assessment. She chuckled too, before continuing. 

“What I’m saying is… thank you. For sharing all that. I know it can’t have been easy for you to talk about, and I really appreciate it.” 

She looked up at him with a grateful smile, one he gladly returned. 

“I should be thanking you, too. After Aravissa died I… well, I closed myself off, I suppose. I maintained many acquaintances, but had little in the way of close friends. You, Gale, the others… I haven’t had friends like you all in quite some time. So thank you. Sincerely.” 

Tears filled her eyes once more, and wordlessly she pulled him into a hug. He didn’t hesitate this time as he hugged her back. 

When they parted he took the newly enchanted ring out of his pocket and looked at it, turning it over in his fingers. 

“I must confess, I was not entirely honest with you earlier. The reason I chose not to wear rings wasn’t because it interferes with spell casting. It was because after I stopped wearing my wedding ring, I could not bring myself to wear any others. Illogical I know, but as we discussed earlier, logic and reason often hold little sway over emotions. However, one can respect the past while also looking to the future. I think it is time for a new ring.”

She watched with a smile as he slid the ring onto his finger, watching the slight pulse of Weave as the enchantment took effect. He looked at it for a long moment, flexing his finger, then turned to her.

“Shall we see if it works?”

“Yes!” She said happily, jumping to her feet and following him back through the temple with a renewed confidence.