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succubusdaydream · 9 months

Text

By The Grace of The Moon || Astarion x Werewolf!Selunite!Reader

Masterlist || Words: 2865

Started on 10/14/23- Finished on 1/6/24

AN: Dialogue later on may seem a bit ooc, as well as characters themselves. I had to look up and go back through dialogue to get lines right. I am also trying to keep the reader gender neutral and I will be referring to them as Tav later on. Enjoy my second writing and my first BG3 fic, more is defiantly on it's way. This is also only the FIRST part. I wrote more than I thought I would so I've decided to split them into parts. I'm writing more onto the second part so I'll try to have it up soon <3

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Why would your goddess do this to you? Had you done something to anger your Silver Lady? No. You worshipped her beneath every beautiful moon she would raise. The twinkling of her stars were music to your ears. So why. Why did your heart stop when you met his piercing red eyes? Why did you get so scared when he would get injured? And why did you seek and crave his presence? A vampire. Your natural enemy.

You had been cursed with Lycanthropy from a young age. Your parents had gone to any cleric or healer they could find. But none could help you condition. So they turned to Selune. Goddess of the moon. The very thing you would stare at every night. Waiting. Waiting to turn into a beast once its full beauty would light up the village you lived in. They started praying to her, crying out for help. And help she did.

Your goddess sent down a light. It helped control you condition, keeping your beast from rampaging every month. You still had your enhanced abilities. Sight, smell, hearing, agility. And with research, your parents helped you though your young years with the continued worship of Selune.

With that research, came a longing. Every young child dreams of love. And with your sickness, your Goddess promised you a love. A soulmate. One every Lycan is blessed with. You would dream of them every night as a child. How much they would love you, and you them. How you wedding would be like that of a fairytale read to little ones before bed. A large white dress, a beautiful train and the most hypnotizing of melodies playing as you danced the night away.

But those dreams were halted that night. The night the Illithids appeared over your village. And you were forced to wake up. The tadpole that now squirmed in your head made you powers unpredictable. You feared how following nights would be.

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You had awoken on a beach, surrounded by the crashed ship that once held you prisoner. You couldn’t recall everything that happened, but you do remember fighting devils and imps with a Githyanki. ‘Lae’zel’, you recalled. You didn’t see her around anywhere, but also no body. ‘Hopefully she’s alive, she was strong so I doubt she got taken out by anything close by.’

Not too far in front of you lied a woman. Long dark hair held by chains, a dark circlet decorating her forehead. Slowly approaching, you could both hear her breath and see her chest heaving. In her hand was an oddly shaped…thing. Choosing to ignore is in favor of her wellbeing, you reached forward. Grasping her shoulders and shaking her awake.

“Wha- I’m alive? You’re alive.” Helping her to her feet, she looked around at the wreck that surrounded you. “How is this possible.”

“I’m not sure. Are you hurt? I don’t remember seeing you on the ship.” The Githyanki was the only person you came across. You had assumed there were others, but with the ship crashing and buring, you were in a bit of a rush to escape.

“Not that I know of. I remember being stuck in that pod. I think I saw you running away with another person. And then the ship crashed.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to check for others. I wouldn’t have tried to help you.” You wrung your fingers together and looked down the beach, examining the path that stretched on. “What now?”

“I suppose we find a healer. What ever those monsters put into out heads can’t be good.”

After making sure neither of you were injured and making proper introductions, learning her name was Shadowheart, you set forward and came across three of the brain creatures you had seen wandering the ship. They weren’t too tough to handle, but after getting rid of them your hearing picked up a static to your right.

It was coming from a rune. An out of control looking rune, it’s magic swirling violently. As you reach out to touch the rune, a hand suddenly emerge from it and a voice immediately follows. “A hand? Anyone?” It was a male’s voice. Your senses hadn’t alerted you to any danger, so you reach to intertwine your hand with his, you other hand on his wrist.

And with a strong pull, a body dawned in purple robes flew out from it. You stood and brushed your clothes off as he spoke his thanks. “Hello. I’m Gale, of Waterdeep.” He reaches forward to shake your hand. “Apologies, I’m normally better at these sorts of things.”

“At introductions?” You shook is hand in return, a smirk passing your lips as you tried to lightly joke with him. It seemed to work, as he let out a small chuckle.

“At magic. Say, but I know you, don’t I? I saw you, upon the nautilloid.” Gods, just how many people did you run past? With all the chaos happening you suppose your senses couldn’t keep up. But you didn’t realize just how many people were stuck in pods on the same ship.

“I was, I guess I missed more people than I thought, had I seen you I assure you I would have done my best to help.” You looked him over for injuries but didn’t catch any scents of blood.

“No worries. But I suppose it’s safe to say you were a victim too. On the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region?” He tapped the side of his head, right next to his eye no doubt referring to the worm that now infected your brain.

“I suppose that’s one way to put it. Not the most pleasant experience I’ve dealt with in my life.” You crossed your arms and tilted your head, able to tell he wasn’t done talking yet.

“Yes well, no use sugar coating it. This parasite we carry, are you aware that after a few days of extrusion gestation, it will turn us into mindflayers?” His pitched was raised in a slight panic. Understandable, you had a worm in your brain that’s going to turn you into tentacle monsters within a certain number of very painful days. “You don’t happen to be a cleric by any chance, do you?”

It was at this point that Shadowheart spoke up from behind you. “It seems you know enough about out condition to know that this is far beyond a cleric’s skill.”

“Most, but I hope to be in the presence of the few who are able to help. You don’t happen to be one of them?” He eyed between you two.

“No, I can treat most injuries and sicknesses, but I am no cleric.” You weren’t wrong. While you worshipped Selune and did almost everything in her name, you were not a cleric. More of a hunter who was able to make remedies and teas with herbs that you would scavenge for.

“Well then, we’re most going to need a healer, and quite soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for one together?” He gestures between himself and you, raising a brow in anticipation. And with a shrug, Gale of Waterdeep was following your two man, now three man, party as you turned back to the direction you came from.

Although, as you turned, a strong gust of wind brought you a wonderful smell. That of Rosemary, bergamot, and…brandy? Either way, it made you heart flutter and your feet move faster. You swiftly walked passed the creatures you had taken out, you thoughts running as the scent got stronger.

‘Is this it? This sweet scent, my aching and racing heart all point to it. My mate. They smell amazing. Nothing has smelt like this to me before. Selune, my lady of silver, if you have blessed with my mate after this tragedy I thank you.’

Rounding over a small hill, you saw the source of the scent. A white-haired elf dressed in elegant purple clothing. Your body froze at the sight of him. It looked as if the heavens shown behind him as he turned to beckon you closer. And when he spoke, he sounded like an angel singing praise. “Hurry! I’ve cornered one of those brain things. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others?”

Snapping back to reality, you cleared your throat and nearly jumped at the chance to protect him. “Easily, step back.” You stepped forward, a slight pungent smell hit your nose. A boar shot out of the bushes as you jumped, the noise startling you. And from the corner of you eye, you noticed a glint. Spinning around you came face to face with your mate, holding a knife up at you in a defensive position.

“I saw you on the ship, strutting about while I was trapped in that pod!” His knife raised higher as you shuffled away, holding your hands up in defense. “What did you and those tentacled freaks do to me?” His voice was low as his red eyes glared into yours.

“No! I was taken to! I had nothing to do with them.”

“I’m not an idiot! I saw-agh!” He cried out as your minds merged. You were looking through his eyes and out to dark street. Lurking as people passed. But before you could look further, the image faded. “What was that? What’s going on?”

You breath heaved as you looked deeper into his eyes, a small smile appearing as his knife lowered. “I-I don’t know, but something connected us.” Something other than my goddess.

“It’s those monsters. Whatever they did you us caused that link. They took you too. I saw it.” He sighed and put away his weapon. “Ands to think I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies.” His voice truly was like music.

“Apology accepted. I might have done the same if the roles were reversed.” I wouldn’t.

“Ah~ A kindred spirit. My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.” Astarion? Even his name is angelic. No wonder it’s taken so long for you to meet him. Your village was located a few days away from the big city. You never made trips there, only your father and hunting parties would make the travel. Selling crops, clothing and any other good your village made.

“From the city? I lived quite a ways away. I was taken while hunting. I’m not sure how long it’s been.” It wasn’t entirely wrong. You were hunting but not the type people would assume. It was late when you were snatched. A beautiful moon guided your path as you ran after a deer, your paws silently hitting the ground as your muzzle snapped for its tail.

“Oh? A hunter? That could be useful. So, do you know anything about these worms?” He placed his hands on his hips and raised a brow.

“Yes. Unfortunately, they’ll turn us into mind flayers.” As if I couldn’t become more of a beast. Your thoughts though were swiftly cut by his scoff of disbelief.

“Turn us into-ha…haha! Of course it’ll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?” His words trailed off as he looked to the dirt road beneath you. “Although…it hasn’t happened yet. If we find an expert, someone that can control these things- there still might be time.” He raised his hand to his chin in thought.

If we find someone? He wanted to travel together? With you? “Y-you could come along with us. Our odds are better if we travel together.” Gods, do I sound desperate? Please take my offer.

His eyes met yours again as a smirk formed on his face. “You know, I was ready to go this alone, but…maybe sticking with you isn’t such a bad idea.” Yes! A perfect idea. “You seem like a useful person to know.” His words seemed like they held something behind them, but you didn’t much care. As long as your mate followed. “Alright! I accept, lead on.”

You could barely suppress the smile that tried to cross your face. “Ahem, alright. Let’s move then.” You cleared your throat and finally broke eye contact, looking further down the road and heading that direction. “I hear something ahead, we’ll start there.” As you walked passed him, his scent filled your nose once more. He truly did smell heavenly. I’ll keep him safe.

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Further down the trail, you had encountered a group of refugees begging at a gate. At the top were tieflings, refusing to open until their supposed leader showed up, demanding the gates be open as a pack of goblins appeared to attack. It didn’t take long for you to help defeat them and you quickly slipped through the gate with everyone, making sure your group was okay and mostly uninjured.

You found yourselves in a Druid’s Grove. Although with their issues, you weren’t sure how long you were going to last. It was to be closed off soon and everyone but the druids themselves were to be kicked out. After communing with the leader of the tieflings, you had decided your day had been busy enough and had led your group to a clear spot deeper into the grove.

You had all set up tents around a fire and laid out bedrolls for when you were all ready to sleep. As you finished setting out supplies and changing out of you day clothes, your gaze drifted over to your silver haired mate. He sat outside his tent, a thick book in his hands and his eyes lazily drifting over its contents. You quickly took a deep breath, muttering a quick ‘you got this’ before making your way over to his figure.

Hearing your approach, he glanced up. “Yes?” Ouch, not the greeting I was hoping for. Did he not feel the connection you goddess had blessed you with? Even non-Lycans were rumored to feel something.

You let out an embarrassing laugh and cleared your throat. “I uh- I was just wanting to check on you. What do you think about our journey so far?” You could tell me anything and I’d listen, please just talk to me.

“Well, not much has happened. We’re in a grove that’s close to impending doom and we have worms in our brain. Pretty shit journey so far, wouldn’t you say.” Ok, so he’s not having a very good time right now, but who would? Defiantly not you.

“That’s true. I’m sure we can find a healer here, they’re druids after all. Perhaps we’ll be rewarded if we help out with their little issue.” You let out a short chuckle but quickly closed you lips as a sneer appeared on his.

“Help out? It’s not our issue. I say we find a healer and move on. No need to get caught up in fights that aren’t ours.” Okay, a little self-centered but it’s not the first time I’ve dealt with someone like him. And he’s pretty, so it’s ok.

“You don’t think we, should help out? Even for a reward?” He shook his head, and stood, setting his book down to give you his full attention.

“The reward better be big if we stick around to help a little war. Either way, I still don’t like it.” His eyes met yours. “Was there anything else?” Let’s turn to other matters.

“Uuuhh, tell me a bit about yourself. It’s good to get to know each other if we’ll be traveling closely. What did you use to do in the city? I’ve never been so I want to know all about it.” I want to know all about you.

He scoffed. “Oh what’s to tell? I’m a magistrate back in the city, it’s all rather tedious.” A magistrate? I should have guessed he was in a position of high power; his clothes look like it.

“A magistrate? That sounds cool. What’s the city like?” Don’t stop talking. I still want to know more about you.

You couldn’t quite tell, but his eyes seemed to hold that of annoyance. You’re lucky that your ears and tails weren’t visible unless you were shifted. If they were, your laid-back ears and tucked tail would give away your worry to this. That’s possibly the last thing that you want right now, to upset your mate and annoy him.

“Depends on the area I suppose. The main upper city is quite busy. Especially at night, people out and about, drinking and…well the whole city is busy. I don’t normally get out much though.” His sentence trailed off, a smirk crossing his face before it quickly vanished. “Now was there something else you wanted to talk about.”

“Oh, umm, no. No I suppose that’s really it. Goodnight, Astarion, sleep well. I’ll be keeping watch so, you don’t have to worry about anything attacking.” I would gladly give up any sleep to make sure you’re protected.

“Why thank you, Darling. I’ll surely sleep better knowing you’re watching.” And with his words, you would spend the night walking the perimeter of your camp with your heart racing and thoughts spinning out of control.

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Masterlist || Part 2

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 x tav #tav reader

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wasteful-sam · 2 months

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Worthy [Part 1]

Synopsis:

While on their way to Baldur's Gate, Rolan and his siblings have to settle in Emerald Grove, as the lands are overrun with goblins and mysterious cultists. It is here that he meets a peculiar drow, and the story of their unlikely relationship starts to unfold.

Tags:

Slow burn, romantic, ongoing, F/M, Rolan/female drow.

Disclaimer:

This will be a long one, covering the overall BG3 story and storyline of some of the origin characters. Thus, spoilers ahead for anyone who hasn't completed the game.

The story is a slow burn that is bound to end up explicit, so, yeah. (~‾⌣‾)~

Also, English is not my first language, and I apologize in advance if the wording may sound odd somewhere in the text.

All in all, I wrote this to relax a cluttered mind, but I genuinely hope that the fic will be enjoyable for you! Yours truly, Sam.

[AO3 Link]

+++

Worthy

Part 1 | Chapter 1

The strangers

The day they arrived - chaos erupted in the Emerald Grove and, subsequently, his life. That bunch of self-important, nosy do-gooders. And to think, by this time, Lia, Cal, and he could have been halfway to Baldur's Gate. Of course, deep down, Rolan chastised himself – he should have been firmer with his siblings. After all, when did the authority of strangers become more important to them than their brother? Was he that pathetic?

"No," Rolan's ego violently interrupted his ever-emerging self-doubt, at least for now. His mind returned to earlier today when it all started.

+++

The reverberating roar of a horn was the first sign of trouble. The three tieflings were chatting by the beach when the sound startled them.

"What in the hells!?" Cal exclaimed, frantically turning his head around.

"Something's at the gate, come quick," Lia cried out, rushing up the hill.

"Stop!" Rolan hissed angrily, trying to catch up with his sister. He finally grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt near the Sacred Pool. Cal joined them shortly, breathing heavily.

"Are you out of your mind? Where do you think you are going? You two – get back to the beach and hide somewhere among the cliffs," the tiefling wizard whispered angrily.

She pulled her hand from Rolan. "We can help protect the grove. We must at least warn the others!"

"I think they already know," her younger brother mumbled. Other tieflings around them were visibly nervous, trying to figure out what was happening. Even the druids stopped their ritual, looking up toward the grove gates.

For a couple of minutes, the siblings were silent, listening carefully. Lia was the one to break the silence.

"Let's at least come closer, can't hear much from here. I promise we will run to the beach as fast as possible at the first sign of trouble," she added, noticing Rolan's growing frustration.

"Fine," he sounded defeated. "I'll go first. If I say run – don't you dare disobey."

At this point, Rolan figured that whoever attacked the grove would have broken through already if they had sufficient manpower.

After all, scouts who kept watch on the grove's walls could be barely considered fighters. Likely, just a couple of goblins stumbled upon their hideout.

He signaled Cal and Lia to stop as they passed Aaron's make-shift merchant post. From there, they could somewhat see the commotion on the bridge and hear the tinkling of swords and spells being cast. The siblings didn't dare to speak or move – all froze in anticipation.

The wait felt like an eternity. Finally, they heard Zevlor's command to open the gates. Rolan relaxed his posture. The usual smirk graced his face as he saw Aradin and his thugs running through the entrance. "Of course, these idiots have something to do with this," he concluded.

To his surprise, a group of strangers sneaked into the grove shortly after Aradin. Well, he knew at least one of them – that pompous Blade of Frontiers. Wyll, was it? He stumbled upon the grove a couple of days ago and has become somewhat of a local fencing teacher. And most tieflings found his company quite enjoyable. "No wonder these simpletons hang onto his every word – all they need is just a couple of embellished fairytales to deem someone a hero," Rolan scoffed to himself.

But no matter. He didn't intend on making new acquaintances. It was time for a serious talk with his family.

+++

The outsiders intervened just as he was arguing with Lia. The group was passing by when Rolan tried to convince his siblings to leave the grove as soon as possible.

"What's the point in blades and spells if we don't bloody use them?! We should stay. These people aren't fighters, we can help!" she exclaimed angrily.

The group stopped and exchanged glances. Rolan had no doubt they had heard most of the arguing.

"You should all stay. A single blade could make a difference," said the silver-haired drow. She glanced confidently at Lia.

Satisfied, Lia turned her head to Rolan. At this point, he knew the battle was lost - once Lia sets her mind on something, it's impossible to get through to her.

"Fine, we will stay! If we survive, it will make for a good story, I suppose," he growled, intentionally paying no attention to five prying strangers.

"We were told you have a healer. Do you know where she might be?" inquired another woman with black braided hair. Her tone was colder and tired.

"I think she will be in the chambers by the pool. It's where most druids spend their days. Just head down the stairs, you'll see," wedged in Cal.

"Please, you think the druids will have time for strangers that appeared on their doorstep out of thin air?" Rolan finally graced the group with an arrogant stare. "They are one ritual away from exiling us all from this gods-damned place. What makes you so special?"

"I don't know, maybe the fact that we slaughtered a bunch of goblins outside the gate will play a role?" replied a pale elf, injecting as much arrogance into his words.

"Alright, calm down. We will deal with all that one step at a time," the drow spoke again, placing a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Thank you for your help! I'm Nimriel, and these are Shadowheart, Gale, Lae'zel, and Astarion." She pointed at each of them individually, branding an enthusiastic smile. The others, however, weren't as excited.

The tiefling woman couldn't help but smile in response, "I'm Lia, this one's Cal, and the grumpy one is Rolan."

"Nice to meet you," Cal cautiously said, while Rolan rolled his eyes and murmured, "Pleasure."

"The fight was intense, I see," Lia noted, looking at the group's dirty, bloodied clothes.

"You can say that again," the drow chuckled. "One of the bastards has thrown a bottle of grease at me, and I tumbled down the hill like the most graceful sack of turnips! Then a worg charged straight at me…"

"Nimriel, we don't have time to chat right now," the black-haired woman interrupted.

"Right… Sorry, we really got to go," the drow nodded apologetically. "Thanks for the directions."

And with that, the group bid their hasty farewells and sprinted towards the druids' chambers. The tieflings could hear how the green-skinned woman – Rolan, although surprised, was sure it was a githyanki – was scolding the drow for being too open with the "horned ones."

"What an odd bunch," Cal said quietly, watching them leave.

"They certainly are. We should keep away from them."

"What? Why? They've slayed the goblins! Who knows if Zevlor and Aradin would've managed on their own," Lia raised her tone again, her annoyance growing. "They can help us fend off the next assault!".

"Don't be ridiculous. Their arrival at the grove at the right time was either a strange coincidence or a malicious plan. Think, Lia. When was the last time you saw a friendly drow? Hells, druids killed a drow who was snooping around just last week! Not to mention a githyanki amid them," Rolan sounded firm and confident.

"If we go by your logic, all tieflings are just wretched, evil fiends," his sister paused, taking a deep breath, "I'll talk to whomever I want; it is not for you to decide."

Rolan scoffed. Arguing with Lia felt exhausting at this point. He thought she was still young and naïve, not used to being approached with anything other than concerned stares and rudeness from non-tieflings.

"I'm… I'm with Lia here," Cal gently broke the silence. "Let's just see what happens."

"Of course you are. Two troglodyte peas in a pod. Do whatever you want," Rolan turned away from his siblings, pondering.

He couldn't let anything happen to them, not when their future was at stake. At that moment, he decided to watch the strangers closely. He was determined to confirm they were no threat.

+++

Rolan saw the despised group of outsiders a couple more times that day. They were walking around the grove, talking to tieflings and druids. At one point, they approached the Blade of Frontiers, who was training kids in fencing. Judging by their body language, they have reached some kind of agreement.

Later, the tiefling wizard noticed the strangers walking into Zevlor's chambers. They left the grove shortly after, taking Wyll with them. "Maybe this is the end of the unfortunate encounter," Rolan thought, relief washing over him. Still, he wasn't convinced.

+++

He approached Zevlor later that evening. The older tiefling was just leaving his chambers to get some fresh air.

“Good evening, Zevlor. Although it could have been better if not for the goblins' stench outside the gate," Rolan said casually, a note of arrogance still evident in his voice.

"True. What Aradin did was reckless. What's more infuriating is he left Halsin behind. Who knows what's become of the druid."

This revelation startled Rolan. Indeed, with all these worries about strangers, he didn't even realize that the bear druid didn't return. More bad news – Halsin was a competent warrior and one of this grove's most significant tiefling allies. The other druids had even more incentive to kick them out without him.

"We were lucky that Wyll and those travelers helped us out. Although our position at the grove gets shakier," Zevlor continued.

"Oh yes, I saw them getting a private audience with you," the wizard tiefling responded sarcastically. "Mind sharing what they wanted?"

Zevlor glanced at Rolan’s face, trying to find the source of his concern. He smiled gently: “I know the drow’s presence may worry you. I was surprised as well at first. All you need to know is that they are not a threat to us. In fact, they can prove quite helpful in the future.”

“Riiiight,” Rolan crossed his arms. “And you know that after talking to them, what, half an hour at most? You are not being rational about this!”

Zevlor wasn’t perplexed by Rolan’s reaction. He’s grown accustomed to the tiefling’s fiery temperament. “I know enough to place my trust in them. They didn’t have to help us fight goblins. And they surely had nothing to gain from saving Komira and Locke’s daughter from Kagha’s wrath,” he concluded calmly.

The sly fox must’ve had some kind of a deal with strangers. He wasn’t shy of sweet-talking people into doing what’s best for his tiefling tribe. Although Rolan was fond of this quality of Zevlor’s, he still thought the old paladin’s judgment was clouded.

With that, he left Zevlor be. He needed to process all the new information.

+++

"Hello! Apologies, do you maybe have hyena ears stashed somewhere? I'd gladly buy, seeing as none of the merchants here are in possession of those," a cheerful male voice interrupted Rolan's concentration.

Annoyed, he looked up to see who had disturbed his reading. Of course, those pesky outsiders returned! One of them – a human, most certainly – was talking to Cal while Lia stood near, puzzled. The other two – githyanki and drow – were buying something from Dammon, whose "forge" was nearby.

"Hyena ears?" Cal was confused. "What for?"

"Why, for a potion of speed, of course!" the man stated as if it was common knowledge. "My supplies are humiliatingly sparse at the moment."

"Oh, um…, no, sorry."

"Well, it never hurts to ask," the man shrugged, his voice still friendly and pleasant.

"Any luck, Gale?" his two companions were approaching as they finished their business with Dammon.

"I have asked around, and no one seems to have what we need," he replied.

"No matter. We have no use for your magical trinkets. My sword alone will be enough to cut through weaklings of this plane," githyanki replied confidently.

"Lae'zel. Calm down a bit, will you?" the drow hissed, looking at her companion with a plea. She then turned to tieflings, her tone rapidly shifting to cheerful. "Don't mind that, please, she's just tired… Soooo, what's…new?"

"Oh, nothing much," Lia said cautiously, yet a faint smile appeared on her face. She clearly liked talking to the drow, Rolan thought to himself.

"Not that we have much to do here, just chatting, trying to make ourselves useful. Say, but you've been busy! I heard you've helped Arabella yesterday," she continued. "I knew you could turn things around here."

"Oh, you mean the little girl? The whole situation was disgusting. That Kagha is one nasty toad," the drow answered, "I thought druids would be more understanding and peaceful. What's their deal?"

"The same "deal" that everybody has with tieflings," Rolan finally had enough of this whole conversation, longing for peace and quiet. He looked directly at her, smirking. "You should know, Underdark dweller. And if you don't - ask around your Menzoberranzan cronies."

The drow looked hurt for a moment, returning his glance. Rolan's comment definitely struck a nerve. However, she promptly recovered, saying, "Yes, I know, although I'm not from the Underdark. I'm sorry I offended you."

Her response made Rolan think. It was not a reaction he expected from a drow.

"No, you didn't!" Lia exclaimed quickly. "Rolan's just an old grump. Don't mind him."

"I'm not grumpy! And not that old either!" the tiefling wizard heard himself exclaiming. He could rarely leave the teasing of his siblings unanswered. He noticed the drow giggled, reacting to his outburst. "What's so funny?!"

"Just didn't expect such a serious-looking man to react so childishly. You really are not that old," Nimriel giggled again.

"Sounds about right," Cal pointed out cheerfully, and he and Lia were now grinning.

"Anyway," Gale interjected, trying to change the topic. "Why are you in such a hurry to reach Baldur's Gate?"

After the brief episode of humiliation, Rolan felt an urgent need to brag. "My apprenticeship with Lorroakan begins shortly, I cannot be late. Yes, that Lorroakan, the greatest wizard in Baldur's Gate," he said arrogantly.

"I've heard the name before! Young man, yes? Lives in the Ramazith's Tower in the lower city?" Gale sounded excited.

"The very same."

"I heard he's a bit of a cad, but you say he's a powerful wizard?"

"Of course he is! The greatest spellcaster along the Sword Coast! As if I'd settle for a lesser mentor."

"In that case, I would very much appreciate it if you could arrange an introduction should we reach the city," Gale suggested, turning his head to Nim.

"So you are a wizard?" Nimriel wondered, staring Rolan up and down. "Should've figured by the way you seem to enjoy the sound of your own voice."

"I'm... what!?" the tiefling tensed up.

"Sorry, sorry, I had to get even," the drow raised her hands lively. All this sounds fine to me. Could you?" She looked at Rolan, smiling gently. Something about her expression made his heart skip a beat, but he chose to ignore the feeling.

"If it is powerful acquaintanceships you are after, look no further than yours truly. Few can match me in either magic or talent. In years to come you will boast of this meeting. I can assure you," he bowed his head slightly, breaking their short eye contact.

"Enough chatter already, we don't have all day," githyanki intervened.

"Right, we'd better go. Sorry, it was nice talking to you all. Will definitely see you again," with her last sentence, she squeezed Lia's shoulder a little, making her giggle.

"That was quite embarrassing," Cal nudged the tiefling wizard as they watched the trio leave.

"It would be if I cared," Rolan nonchalantly opened his book.

"Tell me, when did you become like this? So I know the exact age when I turn into a joy-sucking prick." "You live and learn, brother."

Chapter 2

Mistrust

It has been a week. Rolan still struggled to figure out what made this group of seven blockheads join forces. Yes, seven! On day three, they showed up at the grove with a tiefling, who was even more loud and obnoxious than the drow. And the Blade of Frontiers now had a set of horns growing out of his head for some reason!

Although they were sparse on details of their alliance, the group certainly loved bragging about their adventures. At least, Rolan saw it that way. All it took was for tiefling children to take a liking to strangers after those saved a boy from harpies.

Word of the rescue spread fast, and soon, the whole grove knew what had transpired. Tieflings warmed up to the outsiders, wanting to learn more about their new-found idols.

Rolan also listened to the strangers' stories, but not because he was fascinated by them, like others. He analyzed and pondered their motives, making mental notes on each. Some remained a complete mystery to him, like the silent half-elf and irritable githyanki, who barely interacted with the grove's dwellers.

Others, however, were either loud, chaotic, or pompous. The wizard named Gale was, perhaps, the most tolerable of the bunch. As a man of considerable intelligence, he was grounded enough to keep his companions from being too ignorant or obnoxious. Although, his constant monologues of self-importance grew old very fast.

But by far, the two outsiders he involuntarily interacted with the most were tiefling and drow. They talked frequently with Lia, perhaps due to similarities in character.

That drow, Nimriel, was especially odd. Whenever visiting the grove, it seemed like her mission was to come up and talk to every person she could see. It was as if she was afraid to be forgotten about. Or was sniffing out information.

Once, after Lia's friendly chatter with the two, Rolan swallowed his pride and asked directly what they were talking about.

"You're not subtle at all," his sister replied condescendingly.

"Maybe I'm just curious, ever considered that?" Rolan shrugged.

"Oh, sod off. You're using "the parenting tone." It's like Elturel all over again. Your paranoia is getting annoying. They are regular travelers."

"Travelers?"

"Well, yeah, met up on the road to Baldur's Gate and decided to travel together for safety. Like we did with Zevlor's group."

"It's not comparable," the wizard shook his head.

"Why?"

"Alright, let me spell it out to you: an aggressive githyanki, a monster hunter, a suspicious drow, and a runaway from the hells – all in one group. And the other three are quite shady, too, if you ask me."

"You know about Karlach?" Lia asked, surprised.

"It's easy to get Dammon yapping after a couple of beers," Rolan replied nonchalantly, checking his well-manicured claws, "But you're missing my point here. They are all very different, some are natural enemies, in fact. Yet, they travel together? All of them need to get to Baldur's Gate and they just met on the road like that? There's something behind all of this."

Lia sighed. She knew Rolan all too well, and such outbursts were expected. Her brother was living in a mind-made cage, keeping her and Cal locked as well. Lia knew he was trying to protect them, but treating his siblings like children was getting out of hand.

"I don't know what to tell you. They're just going around, clearing their way to the city, killing monsters, looting…. We could've learned something from them."

"Like what?" Rolan rolled his eyes, "Living as mercenaries?"

"How about just "living" for starters? We'd be better off with money if we'd take a risk once in a while," Lia insisted.

"Why risk if we're already on the way to our future home?" Rolan softened up a little. "I promise you, Lia, once I'm the apprentice, you can forget all these constant worries."

"I know, I know," she looked at him, calming down. "And you promise to relax a little, too?"

"I won't be relaxing. Wizardry is hard work, you know."

"I meant your attitude."

"The attitude is what kept us going for so long," he replied smugly. "But yes, I'll definitely be more… "relaxed," as you say."

"And you won't mind me joining the Flaming Fist then?"

The wizard bit his tongue. It was a sore topic for them. "We'll see," he replied.

+++

"Hey, Rolan!" the drow approached him nonchalantly the very next afternoon.

"Mhhm."

"Reading as always?"

"How observant."

"Seems like your favorite book! What's it about?"

"Nothing that would be of interest to you."

"You know me well, I see?" There was no malice in Nim's voice, only teasing.

He finally looked at her, "You don't strike me as someone who practices magic. I see you more as an expert magpie."

"I am interested, actually. The more we travel, the more I learn that swords and cantrips don't always quite do it in fights. I even asked Gale to teach me some of the simpler spells. But to no avail. I just don't have a talent for it like you two."

Nimriel sounded sincere, which took Rolan aback. Was she trying to sweet-talk him, or did she genuinely believe his prowess without needing any proof? He simply didn't know what to reply.

"Can I take a look at your book? I'm just curious," she smiled, breaking the silence. The drow turned her charm to the maximum, looking straight at him. Nim couldn't help it - she wanted desperately to be liked by everyone around, even this irritable tiefling.

"Suit yourself," the wizard passed his book without much regret.

Now that the spells grabbed the drow's attention, he could take a closer look at her without being discreet. Her armor was ripped in several places, blood stains adding colors of terror to an otherwise dull leather outfit. Fresh cuts could be seen where her lilac-grey skin wasn't covered by clothes. The drow was still smiling as she read his book, her pretty, animated face dissonating with the disheveled attire.

"What happened to your ear?" the worrying tone of Rolan's voice surprised him.

"Oh," she automatically reached to her left ear, "Nasty burn, huh? Luckily, it was the only one. We got to the mercenaries' hideout yesterday, and those weasels had their lair stuffed with explosive barrels. Long story short – a fight ensued, things got fireballed, and – here's the result," Nimriel told the story so nonchalantly as if describing her favorite recipe.

"Looked even worse yesterday, but Shadowheart fixed me up well. With her skills, it will subside soon, but until then – I own of the ugliest ear in the grove," she giggled, but her expression betrayed her, showing how conscious she was about the burn.

"It's not that bad," Rolan replied, but he quickly realized how it sounded. "I mean, it doesn't flaw your face much. It still looks…presentable," he added apologetically, forgetting how to speak normally.

"Aha, I see the mighty wizard is also very skilled in reassuring," Nim laughed. She resumed reading, not noticing Rolan's embarrassed scowl.

They've spent some time in silence. While Nimriel was looking through pages, he continued unwittingly studying her face. Slender, blessed with elegant features, she would look like those literary portrayals of royalty if not for her big light-violet eyes, ragged shoulder-length haircut, and battle cuts.

"Too difficult for me still," Nimriel's voice yanked Rolan out of his intense contemplations. "I think I need to learn to work with scrolls first," she closed the book, reaching to give it back, but froze. Rolan was looking at her intently, his arms crossed.

"Why are you nosing round the grove?" he asked with authority.

"What do you mean?" Nim tried to master an innocent smile, but the wizard caught her off-guard.

"Your pleasantries won't work on me. You know exactly what I mean."

"Didn't realize that people must only be cordial for a reason. But then again, the cordiality expert knows best," she sighed. "What's your problem?"

"There are talks about strange cultists roaming around, goblins taking captives to their camps… And in the midst of this all, you appear here, out of nowhere. Snooping around, making friends left and right. It is… peculiar."

"You know a lot for someone closed off in the grove."

Rolan smirked, "Unlike you, I don't have to stick my nose into every conversation to learn what I need."

"This is exactly what you do now," Nim's tone became tense. "I don't think we've given you any reason to mistrust us," she shoved the book into his arm and turned around, "Sorry for distracting you. It won't happen again."

As he watched the drow walking away, Rolan shook his head. He rarely felt bad about giving someone a piece of his mind. Why now, all of a sudden?

+++

It all ended before anyone in the grove even realized something was happening. The adventurers have taken down Kagha. Apparently, they found proof of her conspiring with Shadow Druids and confronted her in the druids’ chambers. As a result, Kagha and other Shadow Druids that sneaked into the grove laid cold on the stone floor. The ritual was swiftly stopped, putting the worries of refugees to an end.

“Serves her right,” Rolan heard his brother talking excitedly to Danis and Bex. “That witch would rather cut all our throats than let us stay!”

“We are lucky that other druids came to their senses,” Bex replied. “Maybe they will even help us next time goblins come here!”

“Now, now, don’t hex it,” Danis gently squeezed her hand.

“Let me dream a little,” she kissed her husband’s cheek.

“Hey, Lia! What’s the news? Have you seen them yet?” Cal exclaimed, seeing his sister approaching.

“We exchanged a few words, but they were in a hurry. Looked pretty tired,” she sighed.

“Pity. I’d love to thank them personally. Maybe even bake something to celebrate,” Bex glanced at Lia. “You think they’ll come back?”

“Karlach definitely will once she hears you promised a hot meal,” Lia snickered.

Rolan listened to their conversation, his face emotionless. But deep within, a shift had occurred. Perhaps he was glad to be wrong about someone’s intentions for the first time in his life.

+++

No one heard from the group for the next few days before their sudden return. They came through the grove's gates nonchalantly, as if they were regular residents. Of course, nobody in the grove knew the burden the adventurers had carried for two weeks. For how much some of them talked and interacted with refugees, they remained a mysterious seven.

The group made their regular rounds, eventually coming to Dammon for supplies. It didn't take long for a friendly conversation to start, with all the regulars among tieflings joining in.

Rolan was there as well, his usual silent self. He would sometimes look at Nim while she chatted lively with the others. The tiefling wizard still didn't figure out what he would tell her. He will not be apologizing, of course not! But he didn't want to end it all on a sour note.

She finally caught the tiefling's glance and smirked, nodding. A wave of panic hit Rolan, but he tried keeping his composure. The wizard gestured Nimriel to come aside for a talk, to which she agreed.

"Hey there," Nim said casually, her brow raised.

"Listen. The last time we spoke…"

"No-no-no," she interrupted quickly. "The last time we spoke, you glared straight at me. I believe I deserve the same treatment now".

"Alright," he straightened his pose, looking into her eyes. "I was harsh. I had my reasons to distrust you. But my concerns proved unfair," Rolan paused, trying to find the right words. It was hard looking at Nim. The tiefling could see that she was quite enjoying his vain attempts at explaining himself. A large black eye she got was quite distracting as well.

"You did well for the grove, and I was unjust."

"What an intricate way to say you are sorry," her tone was soft with a smudge of teasing, "Don't worry about it."

"Just like that?"

Nim shrugged, "It's not a first for me. I'm a drow, remember? You should know."

The tiefling felt embarrassed. She even remembered the exact words he threw at her back then. And Nimriel noticed that.

"Hey," she said softly, "Can't we just forget it and start getting along? I hate making people feel all bad."

"I can assure you, it's nothing of that sort," Rolan blabbered, averting his eyes.

"Let's be frank, it's written all over your face," Nim giggled, "You are redder than usual."

"This is just fantastic," the tiefling sounded defeated. However, a feeling of relief began to settle inside: "For your information, it's just hot in here, hence the color change."

"Suuuure, keep telling yourself that."

They chatted for a little while before Nimriel left for her camp. Some of her companions, however, stayed.

The group's elf and tiefling were talking with others by the Dammon's "forge." Rolan joined in on their conversation soon after.

"The swamps were awful," Astarion complained. "The smells, the bugs, the dirt! I'll need a full wardrobe change once we reach any half-decent townlet!"

"Oh, come on! You are so dramatic. The nature was still beautiful there!" Karlach said gleefully. "Anything's better than hells!".

"Lucky for me, I won't be comparing anytime soon," the elf replied, supporting an innocent banter.

"How are things at the camp?" Dammon interrupted. Has my old workbench found a use?"

"Yes, thank you! Things are fine, more or less." Karlach sounded a bit apologetic. "We had a small setback, but overall…"

"I wouldn't call the brawl a small setback," Astarion interrupted playfully. "It was glorious!"

"What are you two talking about?" Lia wondered.

"Lae'zel and Nim got in a fistfight, and…"

“Astarion!” Karlach grunted.

"What? It's all fine now, anyway. Let me enjoy my "socializing-outside-the-camp" time!" Astarion shrugged, putting on the theatrics. "Anyway, you know how Lae'zel can be, with all her "I'll cut you down-s and slash you in-s." Well, she didn't quite like one of our plans, and she wanted to leave. Nimriel, predictably, started to talk her out of it. And the gith had it – ripped her armor off and took a fighting position. "A weakling such as yourself won't be able to land a single hit on me!" Astarion tried to imitate Lae'zel's crude delivery, "You want me to stay? Prove your worth!". Oh, how we all gasped when Nim threw her armor to the ground, too!"

"Oh, gods," Lia interrupted, worry growing in her voice. "Why didn't you stop them?"

"And miss the show?" the elf glanced at her like the tiefling was mad. "Honestly, the only thing that could've made it better is mud brawl. But, alas..."

"Cut it out," Karlach rolled her eyes.

"Alright, alright! So, fists started swinging left and right. Screaming, arguing, the spectacle! To my surprise, Nim even managed to land a few hits on the green devil! But the results were obvious from the start – Lae'zel knocked her out – straight in the eye!" he froze in a dramatic pose.

"Aaand?!" even Dammon was invested at this point, dropping the short sword he worked on. "Did githyanki leave?"

"No," Karlach replied calmly. "In the end, Lae'zel admitted that Nim was stubborn enough to make her stay. Although, I had to knock her out and tie her to a tree first," she grinned bashfully. "They made peace for now."

"You are one twisted group of individuals," that's all Rolan could say.

"Believe me, you don't know the half of it," Astarion shook his head, simpering.

Chapter 3

The night at the Sacred Pool

The moon was full and inviting that night, laying its silver light on the grove. Shadows danced among the trees, creating a tapestry of light and dark on the forest floor. A soft breeze whispered through the branches, carrying the earthy scent of moss and pine.

If only Rolan could enjoy it. He hadn’t slept properly since the whole debacle at the druids’ chambers. The anxiety of not making it to Lorroakan on time laid heavy on him. The future at Baldur’s Gate is what his family deserves. He couldn’t afford to let them down. He sat near the Sacred Pool for the last few nights, working tirelessly on his spells. “Why waste time laying on a bedroll if I can’t sleep anyway,” he thought.

The dawn was close, and the tiefling heard the sound of bushes whirling somewhere nearby. It startled his sleep-deprived mind, and he called, “Who’s there?”

“Huh? Rolan, is that you?”

The tiefling squinted, looking in the direction the voice was coming from. He stood up, his yellow eyes piercing the dark. Someone’s figure was emerging from around the trees. At this point, Rolan thought the lack of sleep had driven him insane. It was Nim walking towards him. The drow was also squinting, holding a batch of apples in her arms.

“Nimriel?” he asked in disbelief with a hint of annoyance. “What…what are you doing here? And what’s with the apples?”

“Um…it is a little embarrassing,” she smiled confusedly. “Can I come closer?”

“Can you?” now his voice sounded almost mockingly. “Well, why not?”

As she approached, Rolan realized something dreadful and swiftly turned his head away.

“Why in the hells are you walking around here in your undergarments?” he hissed.

“Shit! I’m… well, I didn’t expect anyone to be up this early. I got hungry and thought I could quickly sneak in here for some apples,” she gabbled, walking towards him.

Nim stopped near the tiefling, close enough to see his face in the light of a small lantern the wizard brought. She didn’t quite know what she was doing – frankly, a night stroll for apples was just an excuse to clear her head. No matter how positive she tried to be, the inner worry that her new-found exciting life could end as promptly grew stronger day by day. The worst part was that she forbade herself from sharing her fears with the group. They were, after all, Nimriel’s first semblance of friends. And losing them was even scarier than dying to a tadpole.

And now, here she was – staring at the half-turned face of a tiefling whom she found pretty extraordinary. To her, interactions with Rolan mostly felt amusing – the serious, snobby demeanor contrasted too much with his short-tempered behavior. Why not use this distraction right now, Nim thought.

The situation they found themselves in started to feel very comical. Nimriel snickered, biting into one of the apples. “Did your head stuck?”

“It’s called having manners, being appropriate. Such concepts might be foreign to you, of course,” Rolan sounded irate, his head still turned away from her. He then looked around, searching for something. Getting no results, he lowered his voice as if embarrassed. “I… can offer you my shirt if you don’t mind.”

“I see you take this “having manners” thing seriously,” Nimriel shook her head playfully. However, she felt intrigued – she was sure the tiefling would just shoo her away from there. This was quite a nice gesture, “Alright, I will entertain it. Take it off.”

Rolan felt his skin tingling as he undressed his shirt. “Did she have to phrase it like that?” he thought.

Nim slipped into it with no issue, the white shirt barely covering her upper thighs. She quickly plopped onto the stone bench near the pool, chewing on the apple. Rolan sat on the opposite side of the bench, keeping the distance.

“Well, you seem quite nonchalant,” he broke the silence awkwardly.

“Why shouldn’t I be? It’s just you,” Nim mumbled without bothering to swallow her food first. “Or what, you want to scold me for stealing apples or something?”

“Never mind.”

“Oh, it’s about this?” the drow gestured her chin down to her body. “As I said, I didn’t expect anyone to be awake. Why bother dressing? Besides, I can take on anyone in the grove,” she paused, thinking. “Or scream for Karlach to help, this works too.”

“Sure,” he replied calmly, rolling his eyes slightly. “Are night apple runs a usual occurrence or…?”

“Nope, just couldn’t sleep,” Nim shrugged. “Am I distracting you?”

In truth, she was. But for some reason, Rolan didn’t really want her to leave. There was something soothing in talking with Nimriel like that when no one was around. It was as if they were sharing a special moment only they would know about. He quite liked this feeling.

“Nothing important,” he replied after a short pause.

“Would you mind keeping me company for a bit, then? I don’t want to go to sleep just yet.”

Rolan felt relieved. He may be able to entertain this peculiar situation for a little longer. “Why, nobody among your companions wants to listen to your apple-munching at the dawn’s break?”

“Back to your usual “pleasant self”, I see,” she threw back at him. Although, the wizard could tell that Nim enjoyed his little jab.

“Learnt any new spells since we last spoke?”

“Nah, we were way busy these days.”

“Busy brawling with your githyanki friend?” Rolan pointed at her black eye.

“Oh,” she giggled uncomfortably. “I see my supreme leadership skills are talked about far and wide. What do you think? Does my face still look presentable?”

Nimriel didn’t expect the tiefling to consider her question seriously. He looked closely as if calculating every proportion and curve. She now had a chance to take a better look at his face, too. Surrounded by darkness, his features seemed as sharp as ever, with deep yellow eyes – dangerous but alluring. Her cheeks started to blush.

“I can’t think of anything that could spoil a face like yours,” Rolan replied quietly. But his condescending tone made a swift comeback. “Was getting punched worth it?”

“It was,” Nim was confident in her words. “I won the argument and kept her from making bad decisions.”

The wizard lifted his brow, considering her response. “Interesting perspective. So, you are a leader?”

“Apparently,” Nim chuckled. “Why? Don’t I look like one?”

“I can’t judge that, haven’t seen you in action,” the tiefling replied.

“Wow, no sarcasm or a snarky remark?” Nimriel said, tilting her head. “I mean, I wouldn’t call myself one. Sometimes, I think they’ve chosen me because they wouldn’t talk to each other otherwise.”

“At least you’re honest with yourself,” Rolan smirked.

“Ha-ha.”

“You wanted a snarky remark, didn’t you?”

“Anyway, why aren’t you sleeping?” the drow asked lightheartedly, changing the subject. She was munching on another apple.

“Well, I…,” he stumbled a little, “Just too excited about my apprenticeship. Such a powerful wizard as Lorroakan expects a lot from me. I have been working on composing my own spells and…”

While Rolan was blabbering on, Nim seized the opportunity to look him over. For a wizard, he was very well-built. The drow was particularly interested in the ridges covering his chest and torso. She has never seen anything like it up close. A hot, pulling feeling began to form in her stomach.

Rolan noticed her staring and stopped talking immediately. “What?” he asked in a cold tone.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, trying to look as uninterested as possible. “I was just curious. These protruding bones look so interesting, almost like an elaborate carving.”

“Whatever you say,” Rolan said, unimpressed. He turned his body sideways to escape the drow’s eyes. To him, any such glances from non-tieflings felt like mockery.

“I mean it,” Nim said seriously, looking into his eyes.

Rolan returned her glance, trying to figure out if the drow was trying to save face. He finally mellowed down, believing Nimriel. “It is a reminder, you know,” his voice now sounded grim. “Sins of our ancestors we are bound to carry with us forever. Marks of deformity and ugliness to instill fear and disgust into anyone that encounters us.”

“I’m sorry I disappointed you,” she paused. “It may not mean much coming from me, but I don’t see tieflings that way. And… I think I understand how you feel.”

Rolan considered her words. "Suppose you are," he nodded, remembering how he called her the Underdark dweller.

"Although," Nimriel hesitated, "It's not the same. The hate towards us is justified."

"It is," the tiefling replied quietly.

Nim shrugged, "It's the same everywhere. I appreciate your honesty, at least. Do you... does everyone else in the grove share this belief?"

"The fear of drow comes to tieflings as naturally as the fear of plague to any mortal man," Rolan looked at her, sighing, "But you don't have to worry."

"What do you mean?"

"It's obvious that they don't hate you."

Nimriel appeared relieved, "You think so?"

"It's pretty obvious that they grew to trust and like you. Many of them, at least," Rolan chuckled, "Gods, you're so shaken about this, it's quite something."

"It just... doesn't happen much," she smiled, "But I'm glad that somebody sees me just as a person."

The topic started to intrigue Rolan. Nimriel seemed as far from her kin as one could imagine. "I remember you mentioning not being from the Underdark?"

"The locals found me in the Forest of Mir. I might've been born in the Underdark, but I wouldn't remember – I was practically a newborn then."

"Hm. You were raised by humans, then?"

"Raised is a strong word," Nim mumbled uncomfortably. "But yes, I lived among humans for a little while. As you can imagine, they weren't fond of drow either."

Rolan decided not to ask further – the past clearly made Nimriel uneasy.

"And now, when it seems that I have found people who look past my heritage, it is too late," Nimriel quickly stopped talking, understanding she had already said too much.

"How come?"

"I…," she faltered. I don't really know. I can't tell these days when the time is up." She glanced at him, and Rolan saw deep sadness in his eyes for the first time. "Life has suddenly become very complicated."

At that moment, the tiefling finally recognized Nimriel for what she was – unsure and anxious, just like him. She didn't find the strength to hide it behind the usual chattiness and smile. This is probably the reason she's not sleeping tonight.

"Life has always been complicated," Rolan responded calmly. "And it will become harder," he saw her eyes starting to glisten and couldn't help but put a hand on her shoulder. "But, as I discovered for myself, if you work and believe hard enough that you deserve something, you can find happiness in your struggles, even if for a short while."

"You are harsh, Rolan," Nimriel squeezed his hand. A feeble smile returned to her face.

"I speak only of what I know. You seem capable enough to withstand the treachery life presents."

Nim's brows furrowed as she studied his expression. "Well, if you speak of what you know…It explains a lot about your behavior."

Rolan smirked. "My behavior is not of your concern."

She didn't respond, but the wizard knew, judging by her expression, that Nimriel was onto him. She saw a breach in the walls of coldness and waspishness Rolan had been building all these years. The thought of her peeking through these walls terrified him.

Still, the tiefling couldn't look away from her, nor could she. Something happened between them tonight, something they both feared and wanted.

"It was nice talking to you, but I think it's time for me to get back to camp," it seemed Nim returned to her usual, cheerful self.

She stood up, taking his shirt off. Rolan didn't make an effort to turn away this time. Their conversation made him see Nimriel in a different light. She amazed him in a confusing way: both strong and vulnerable, open but full of mysteries still. Just like that, he fell for Nim. Maybe it happened even earlier, but Rolan wasn't interested in details.

"Have a good rest of the night," Nimriel returned his shirt, smiling. She pretended not to notice how Rolan looked her over. Her drow nature immensely enjoyed that.

"You too," he muttered, watching her leave. The tiefling wouldn't see Nim for a couple of days after this night. Her return, however, would bring about a change.

Chapter 4

The paths split

He found himself standing amid a party, quite content. The outsiders, impressively so, managed to destroy the goblin camp – the final obstacle between tieflings and the road to Baldur’s Gate. And the party was, of course, in their honor.

Rolan now began to understand why Zevlor put such immense trust in them – they must’ve had an agreement all along. And so, does it mean that the adventurers were swords for hire? What a simple conclusion to a mystery he was pondering all these weeks.

The cheap wine relaxed Rolan’s mind. His annoyance subsided, and the tiefling wizard didn’t mind talking to his kin and even once-dreaded outsiders. He was chatting in the company of Wyll, Lakrissa, Shadowheart, and Astarion.

Although, Rolan was quite in and out of it, chasing Nimriel with his eyes. He didn’t have a chance to talk to her yet – the drow was prancing all over the place, talking, laughing, and hugging the temporary grove inhabitants she grew close to so quickly. Rolan was glad to see her this way. What the group achieved was well deserved.

“Say,” Wyll turned to Lakrissa, “We’ve got so many weapons from our goblin raid. I think it would be great if we leave you some, for your journey.”

“The heroic Blade of Frontiers strikes again,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “How are we supposed to get money for new armor?”

“So, you are saying that you don’t mind carrying a dozen short swords?” Wyll replied cheekily.

“Well…I was counting on my good friend Karlach…”

“How gallant of you,” Shadowheart remarked sarcastically.

“Oh, come on. We all know she is the might of the group”.

“Which makes you…?” Shadowheart raised a brow.

“Why, the charm, of course,” the pale elf said, elegantly fixing his hair.

“Bhaa,” the Blade burst out laughing. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“It’s not my fault that the truth hurts, darling,” Astarion smirked.

“So, what do you think of my offer, Lakrissa?” Wyll broke a short silence.

“Oh, right! Let’s see what you’ve got,” the tiefling replied. Shortly, the two departed to the west side of the camp to see the group’s loot stock.

“By the way,” Astarion turned to Rolan. “You are pretty well-versed in magic?”

“Of course. Why do you inquire?”

“How about necromancy?”

“Well,” Rolan paused. “I try to indulge in learning about all wizardry schools… Depends on what you want to know.”

“Interesting,” a foxlike smile graced the elf’s face. “You see, my friend, I’ve got this book…”

“Stop nagging the man with your stupid book,” Shadowheart interrupted. “Nothing good will come of it.”

“Don’t you have another three bottles to devour? Don’t interfere while grownups are talking,” Astarion replied condescendingly.

“We should’ve left you on the swamps,” the cleric gurgled.

“What’s the issue with the book?” Rolan asked. The prospect of showing off his knowledge entertained him quite a bit.

“I think it contains some powerful necromancy spells, but the book won’t let me read them. And it also toys with your mind somehow once you open it.”

“Hm… a cursed necromancy book, how original,” Rolan contemplated for a moment. “Your best bet is to find a skilled necromancer who will recognize what curses were bestowed upon it. Until then – DO NOT open the book and don’t cast any spells onto it, the attempts of purifying it will only backfire.”

“Well, that’s… something, at least,” Astarion sighed.

“Having fun?” Nimriel sneaked in on them, her face beaming.

“As much fun as this cheap wine can afford us to,” Shadowheart replied.

“Ah, niben Nim! Maybe you will be reasonable enough to talk Wyll out of gifting around our weapons?” the elf pouted at her.

“You volunteer to carry it all up the mountain pass, then?” she smirked.

“…I hate you people,” Astarion growled in defeat.

“And you make no effort to hide it,” the cleric added calmly.

��Look who’s talking!” the elf reacted. “For your information, I…”

“Come on, Rolan,” the tiefling was swiftly taken out of the argument as Nimriel grabbed his hand. “This will take them a while. Do you mind a short stroll?”

“Not at all.”

+++

She quickly led him down to the beach, so quickly, in fact, that Rolan didn’t have much time to protest. Not that he wanted to – her delicate hand, curled carelessly around his fingers, felt so nice. Nimriel finally stopped near the water, turning to him. She had the widest smile – Rolan wasn’t sure if wine was the reason.

“Didn’t expect you to come to the party, thought you’d be halfway to Baldur’s Gate by now,” the drow lifted her brow.

“I would’ve been if not for Cal and Lia. They desperately wanted to chat with their favorite hero,” that was a lie he came up with beforehand. Of course, the tiefling would not admit he also wanted to see her.

“And you didn’t?” Nim asked playfully. She definitely was inebriated.

“Oh, please. I nearly dispatched those goblins myself, but it seems you’ve managed well enough,” even in moments like this, Rolan’s arrogance took the better of him. And the wine didn’t do any favors either. “And why wield a masterwork where a butcher’s blade will do?”

“I certainly will not miss those nasty jabs of yours,” she replied, smirking.

“It’s sad to hear that you take reasonable remarks as jabs,” the tiefling swayed his head left, keeping eye contact. “I thought you thoroughly enjoyed them, given you came back for more on the daily.”

“You are insufferable,” Nimriel rolled her eyes. “But you were helpful…”

“Helpful?” she caught him off-guard.

“Well, yes, that’s what I wanted to tell you. But let’s sit; I feel like I’m about to fall over.”

She plunged unceremoniously onto the sandy shore. Rolan followed hesitantly.

“I feel a bit foolish,” Nimriel finally said, looking at the water.

“Why?”

“I’m… I don’t have much experience talking to people. Or being sociable, for that matter,” she replied sheepishly.

“You must be joking. I doubt there is a single person at the grove you didn’t bombard with your chatter,” Rolan kept his smug tone.

“No, I mean, in general,” her tone sounded apologetic and a bit annoyed. I… At first, I thought you absolutely hated my guts. And, honestly, I’m still not quite sure if you don’t,” she giggled nervously. But I’m grateful for your advice the other night and that you spent time with me. I really needed to talk to someone then. It was a lucky coincidence that you were awake, really.”

Rolan didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t a norm for someone to thank him. And it came from Nimriel – a person he was so rude and unpleasant to. The sinking feeling started pulling on his chest. The tiefling glanced at her quickly and, to his terror, realized that Nim was also looking at him.

“You really are easy to impress if me talking does it for you,” Rolan heard himself replying. “And, just so we are clear. I don’t hate your guts. Your company is perfectly serviceable.”

“That’s nice to hear,” the tiefling saw a modest smile returning to her face, feeling relieved. “Then can I ask you to give me your hand? Like this, palm facing me?”

Confused, Rolan obliged. Nim then lightly pressed her palm against his, comparing something. “Mm, that’s about right,” she mumbled and swiftly reached into her pocket, producing a small silver ring.

“I thought you may put this to good use. It allows casting the dimension door. At first, I wanted to give it to Lia but figured – you are the wizard of the family, so it’s only logical,” Nimriel explained.

“I won’t take it,” Rolan replied adamantly.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t take handouts from anybody. All I need I always get myself.”

“But it’s not a handout… Just something that can help you on the road. I also gave Cal and Lia some supplies, and they didn’t mind.”

“You are not responsible for my family’s safety. I am. And I’m capable enough to provide it,” Rolan sounded calm but determined. His pride took the better of him.

“Guess I’ll be giving it to Lia then.”

“Oh, you are stubborn,” Rolan shook his head. “She wouldn’t even know how to use it.”

“Well, she wouldn’t need to. Her magnificent brother will cast 20 dimension doors for her at once, straight from here to Baldur’s Gate! Will be a pretty accessory, though.”

“Bitterness doesn’t suit you,” the wizard smirked.

“That’s right, bitterness is your most attractive feature, on par with arrogance, of course.”

Rolan began to understand why the group chose Nimriel as their leader. Something in the way she looks at you makes you feel and do as she pleases, as if she bewitches you with her genuineness and determination.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Maybe I am somewhat unreasonable here. If you still want to, I will take it.”

Nim’s features softened. Arguing with Rolan always felt like a small battle – frustrating but weirdly satisfying once it’s over. This tiefling was, in a way, special to her. Brutally direct but still closed off. Harsh but nice at times. Smart. Observant. Leary.

The worst part is that Rolan was right to be suspicious. She and her new-found friends were a danger to the grove, risking turning into mind flayers any minute. What would happen if the refugees, in whom she found so much comfort and joy, learned of this? Nimriel couldn’t bear to think of it. She was perceived as a monster all her life, only to be turned into another one.

“Give me your hand,” she said quietly. As Rolan obliged, Nim carefully placed the ring onto his pinky. The ring was relatively small and stuck right in the middle of the finger, where the bone protruded. The wizard looked at his hand, examining it.

“Fits well enough,” he muttered.

“Well, I’m glad we can end our little acquaintanceship on a positive note,” the drow said, relaxing.

“Are you also leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes, heading for the mountain pass. And then Underdark, perhaps. Will be interesting to see the ancestral homeland for the first time, so to speak.”

“Hm. Take more food with you. The Underdark’s flora and fauna aren’t what you are used to eating here,” Rolan responded knowingly.

“Thanks, will keep that in mind. I was also thinking… AUGH!” she exclaimed suddenly, clutching her head.

“Nim? What’s wrong?”

“Just migraine,” she burbled apologetically, although Rolan could see an immense amount of pain in her expression.

“Can I help somehow?” he asked, worry in his tone.

“No, it’s fine. Can I just lean on you for a moment?”

“Sure.”

Nimriel leaned against the wizard’s shoulder, her eyes closed in pain.

“Has something similar happened before?”

“Yes, it will pass soon, don’t worry. Give me a couple of minutes. In the meantime, you can tell me something interesting, it will help”.

“Alright. What would you like to know?”

“Mm, I don’t know…what do you like to do for fun?”

Rolan thought for a minute. He genuinely couldn’t remember when was the last time he did something most people considered “fun activities”.

“Studying magic is fun for me,” he concluded, watching her, trying to figure out how she feels. “Don’t get me wrong, it is hard work, but once you learn a new spell, it is a divine experience. You can’t fathom how body and mind so generic can create these extraordinary things. And you only grow more eager, can’t stop wondering how far your potential can reach. I hope to unlock it fully one day.”

“You describe it so lovely,” Nimriel beamed through ache, her eyes still closed. “Please, continue.”

Rolan couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Once I get to Baldur’s Gate and settle down, I’d also like to study stars.”

“Study stars?”

“Yes, they fascinate me truly. A perfect amalgamation of power and beauty. I have never felt such calmness as I saw them after leaving Elturel,” he looked at the sky to remind himself, if only just for a moment. “It would be nice to have a telescope and watch them after my study sessions with Lorroakan are over. How is your headache?”.

“Much better,” Nim replied. The tiefling felt she was drifting into sleep. “I wish I got to know this version of Rolan sooner,” she whispered.

His heart skipped a beat. A wave of bittersweet sadness covered Rolan’s mind.

“You still have time,” the tiefling murmured, pressing his tail gently against Nimriel’s back to keep her from falling. “You can visit me in Baldur’s Gate…I could…tell you more about the stars.”

“I’d love that,” was Nim’s last words before falling asleep.

Rolan sat in silence, looking at the sky. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her as if the mere act would cause her to vanish. Yet, Nimriel was still there – her form leaning against his shoulder, her breath a soft lullaby in the stillness of the night.

If only they’d met another time, another place, the tiefling thought. Not at the most turbulent point of his life, when he has nothing to show for himself, nothing to be proud of. She is so kind to him. But then again, she is like that with all the tieflings. To her, he must be just another face in the crowd. A bitter, arrogant face at that. He is a fool – to fall for someone that easily. Pathetic. But it will be over tomorrow – they will go their separate ways, and he will likely never see Nim again. Good. Time shall pass, washing away the regrets of what could have been. He must take care of the family at all costs. He can think of his own wants and desires after. It is decided.

…But the dreaded tomorrow hasn’t come yet. He can stay here, with her, just for a little longer. There is no harm in pretending they are watching stars together, happy in each other’s company.

Rolan carefully turned his head towards Nimriel. Her expression was peaceful, the migraine must have stopped. There was so much he wanted to ask her. To hear her talk to him and smile again. But he missed his opportunity, deservingly so.

Enough of this nonsensical moping. He is a grown, rational tiefling. Living inside your head gets you nowhere in life. Only a cold, emotionless mind and determination.

With that, Rolan removed the ring Nim gifted him and put it into his bag. The book on spells he showed her once was in there, too. The tiefling pondered a bit and took it out together with an ink pot and quill.

+++

Wyll was slowly going around the campfire, gathering empty bottles of wine. The party ended not so long ago, but the campsite quickly went quiet – most of his companions were plastered, snoring in their tents. But the Blade didn’t want to sleep just yet – it was a delightful, warm night, particularly in the face of what to come next for him and the group. He didn’t want it to end just yet. Wyll was thinking about taking Lae’zel’s offer. She was rough, sure, but wouldn’t it be nice to spend the night with someone, especially if it could be his last time. Besides, you have to give it to the gith – for all her aggression, she was strong-willed and direct, which are very attractive traits in Blade’s book.

The sound of movement interrupted Wyll’s trail of thought. He lifted his head and saw Rolan coming towards him. Interestingly, he was carrying Nim in his arms. The drow was deep in her sleep, wheezing comically, probably drunk.

“Hey, Rolan. Thought you all left already,” the Blade said quietly, pointing to Nimriel. “And what’s with this blazed potato?”

“She fell asleep while we were talking.” the tiefling replied, his voice sounding tired. “Can you take her to her tent?”

“Sure.”

Rolan took a fast final look at Nimriel and passed her body to Wyll. “Also, can you give her this? She will understand.”

+++

“Soooldier, rise and shine! Breakfast time!”

Nimriel slowly cracked her eyes open, reacting to Karlach’s delightful voice. The menace of Avernus was lightly pulling off her bedcover.

“Urgh-eh,” the cacophony of sounds was the first thing the drow could master after the night of heavy drinking. “Is it late?”

“Nah, Halsin’s still at the grove. So we have time for Gale’s special treat!”

“Thank gods for that man. Mystra’s a fool for throwing away someone with such passion for cooking.”

“Maybe the broad doesn’t eat normal food,” Karlach giggled. “Come on!”

As they approached a makeshift table, the other group members were lazily stuffing their faces. The hangover has been their unwelcome guest this morning. But even in times like these, they maintained their tradition of eating together.

“If it weren’t for yesterday, I’d thought you were all turning,” Nim joked, landing next to Lae’zel.

“Haven’t looked in the mirror today yet?” Shadowheart sneered.

“Nah, I’m not prepared for new nightmares,” the drow replied. “Thanks for breakfast, Gale!”

“At your service,” the wizard tried to bow gracefully, dropping his fork to the ground.

“I wonder how many bottles we emptied last night,” Karlach said, chewing ravenously.

“I stopped counting at fifth, but you lot outdid yourselves,” Gale noticed.

“What else were we supposed to do?” Astarion nagged. “I was bored out of my mind. All this hero life is not for me. I ended up wandering the woods, but that demented bard’s music must have scared off all the animals”. He grinned curiously. “Please tell me at least someone got busy last night. I want to know all the gritty details!”.

“Ha, I wish!” Karlach responded. But in my case, it would be a veeeeeery steamy sex.”

“You have no shame,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes at them.

“You too, darling, judging by your blood-shot eyes.”

“No arguing at my breakfast table!” Gale declared. “Besides, I don’t think our condition is particularly ingratiatory towards intimacy.”

Wyll remained silent, chuckling on the inside. He briefly glanced at Lae’zel, who didn’t seem to pay attention to the conversation at all.

“You are just a prude,” Astarion grimaced at the wizard. “How about our dearest drow?”

“I was way too drunk for that,” Nimriel replied, pondering. “I don’t even remember how I got to my tent.”

“That’s because you didn’t,” Wyll interjected casually. It was a good opportunity to distract Astarion from asking about the Blade’s night adventures. “Rolan carried you in.”

“Huuuh?” Karlach’s face beamed with intrigue.

Nim stumbled for a moment, trying desperately to remember. “Oh… Right, I remember chatting with him on the beach. Did he tell you something, Wyll?”

“That you fell asleep.”

“Ha, ha-hah,” The elf roared with laughter. “The man is so stuffy that even sex with him puts women to sleep!”

“Cut it out, we just talked. You think I wouldn’t know if I slept with someone?” The drow interrupted, annoyed.

“So defensive we are! Something’s definitely going on between you two lovebirds,” Astarion responded cockily.

“Wish you could fight as well as you joke,” Nim scowled back at her companion. She now could remember what they were talking about, feeling embarrassed that she nodded off during the conversation. She greatly enjoyed Rolan’s company when he was calm and open, like last night. To fall asleep in the middle of it was disrespectful. And Nimriel didn’t even say a proper goodbye.

“At least that explains why you disappeared last night,” Karlach replied. She turned her head to the elf. “Drop it already.”

“You all such bores, even you, Karlach,” Astarion pouted.

“I almost forgot!” Wyll got up, still a little disoriented from the night of drinking. The Blade swiftly entered his tent and returned to the table, carrying something in his hands. “Rolan asked to give this to you. Said you will understand,” he passed a medium-sized red book to Nimriel.

“A book?” the confused drow took it off Wyll’s hands. It was the same tome of spells she once asked the tiefling to look through. The pages were a bit shabby, riddled with Rolan’s remarks written along the pages.

“Hmm, a “Weave of Life?” Haven’t seen these series of tomes for ages, I don’t think they get printed anymore,” Gale looked at the pages over the Nim’s shoulder. “Quite outdated for my taste. But I see Rolan came to the same conclusions, judging by his markings.”

“What do you mean?”

“He tried improving the spells, figuring out how to get the most use. I’d say some solutions are pretty adequate,” the wizard nodded in approval. “Why did he leave it behind?”

“Well, I once mentioned that I tried learning some spells,” Nim smiled. “Perhaps it was his way of saying thank you.”

“Try it if you want; I can help decipher some of the writing,” Gale clapped her on the shoulder, returning to his plate.

Nimriel continued flipping through the pages, participating in conversations now and again. She paused at the last page of the book, realizing that Rolan had left her a message:

For the ring. Practice at least once a day. Hope the spells from the book will help on your journey. - R.

Short and scrupulous writing, just as she would expect from him. Still, the tiefling’s gest felt so warm and personal that Nim could not help but smile. The hot, tickling feeling rushed through her chest. She wanted to see Rolan again.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 rolan #rolan x tav #rolan bg3

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