#druid of the opera

[lilflowerpot]

Hello!! I’ve been reading Little Blade for around three years now—I think actually four?? Around the first couple of chapters at least and I just wanted to say: thank you so much for all the fun nights I’ve had reading your fic! I’ve re-read it to keep entertained on long flights and just for fun. Heck I even gush to my friends (who sadly aren’t in the fandom) about how much your writing style enamores me and the way you explore characters relationships! Especially the PLOT I am always here for the romance with plot ^^

Speaking of plot 👀 I also had a question about the Druid “Erik” from a couple of chapters ago! If it’s not going to be revealed later in the plot ofc. He was such a big part of the infiltration mission on Keith’s end (and honestly kinda cute, he’s just a lil guy who imprinted on Keith!) and the big mystery of how he functioned and all—but he disappeared and I don’t think he was ever mentioned again besides Lotor in a dialogue exchange in chapter 22 or 23?

Like, he’s so interesting?? I wanna know why he focused so much on Keith and called him Rhyal??? Was it because he was aware it was targeting Keith? Or is smth in Keith just Inherently “Rhyal” to other Galra? Is he self sufficient in anyway? Do people in his condition need to be cared for or can they survive without eating at all? He was described as “leaking” so can you somehow fix that and rebuild his quintence?? (I probably misspelled that) if so!!! Does he even remember himself or is it like being “born” again??? I just!! Have so many questions and wanna see him again!! He was given a name, so going by most rules of literature that means he’ll be returning no?

I’m sorry if I just missed a line that explained it or not i just thought to ask since I could. Thank you again so much for writing and sharing your fic with us!

😭😭😭😭 you're so very sweet and ilysm thank you!!

Erik was a beautiful accident for me—one I never explicitly planned for that came about as I was writing that chapter purely by chance—so I'm genuinely thrilled to know that you love them as I do! I had hoped that their reasoning behind repeating "rhyahl" would become clear after the resolution of that chapter, but I suppose I did leave it somewhat ambiguous: though Keith thought Erik was using Lotor's nickname for him, they were actually trying to warn him about the monster that lurked ahead! ...Though why they were warning Keith specifically is up to you to decide, as that's not something I'll be disclosing just yet ;)

Though initially Erik's purpose was solely confined to chapter 18, I grew unreasonably attached while writing, and given that they were largely so well-received I have since minorly tweaked to the plot to allow for them to make a reappearance in the (distant) future! I shan't say much more than that, but what I can tell you is that their quintessence was drained by the rhyahl to such a severe level (far beyond that which Keith himself suffered) that,,, the person they were before is essentially dead and gone, and that which Keith met was an entirely blank slate.

When Keith glances back a second time to gauge their reaction, Erik’s ears prick up slightly and they click their tongue with a fluttering trill that neither Matt nor Hunk seem to hear, and it’s so… it’s so sad, not just the sound but all of it, as if in bearing witness to this leaking vessel’s ethereal gait turned slurred and stumbling, Keith himself has been burdened by a hollow ache in his chest, because whoever this Druid was before—whatever terrible things they might have done in the name of Haggar or the Empire or even Sa itself—they simply aren’t anymore. They just don’t exist. Keith’s stomach takes a swooping, sickening swan-dive as the full force of what it means for a living being to suffer such a monumental loss of quintessence hits him; this Druid isn’t simply ‘leaking’ in the abstract, but rather comatose, and haunting their own corpse. - Little Blade, chapter 18

[moonlightblade91]

happy spooky month. here is the first of my halloween pictures. we have here my d&d character in they halloween costume. ivy (she/her)druid as Christine and Greenscale (she/them) artificer as the phantom from phantom of the opera.

[mikatdruid]

[mylordshesacactus]

Shoutout to Phyn the spore druid this week though, honestly. Phynn is good people. Mostly they're a mushroom but he's a good people mushroom.

Antoine is our monk and also the only aristocrat in the party so he took point while "chatting" with Strahd, while the rest of the party either dissociated from raw terror or barely contained their seething hatred or both. Antoine is, unfortunately, also a condescending prick most of the time (intentionally, to be clear; his player is a delight, doing it on purpose, and has complete buy-in from the rest of us to play Antoine as just kind of an ass.)

Anyway, when Strahd started going one by one giving the party Phantom of the Opera -style personal taunts, when he got to Antoine he just smiled and went "You must know that none of them like you."

to which Phyn, in a very sincere tiny little voice, goes, "I like you..!"

And then later, when he casually acknowledges that no, he doesn't plan to kill the party because he thinks watching us fumble around is funny, but asks why he should let us keep Ireena when she's already defied him once by leaving, etc.

Phyn, still in a very small nonconfrontational half-ditzy voice, goes, "Well...because then we're just back at the beginning, I think? If you try to take Ireena then we won't be entertaining anymore, because we'll all be dead."

Which was just a breathtakingly badass line to be delivered in Phyn's adorable little nonthreatening mushroom-friend voice.

[12dollarcupcake]

Ok folks, I’ve been looking at *a lot* of Halsin reference photos in his basic Druid armor and I’ve got very minor beef.

Where are the closures?!? How does he put it on???? There’s clearly not a center front closure, he’s got those little turquoise bear paw charms and the leather doesn’t have a seam there. There’s a cf seam in the collar of the gorget/throat piece (which does look like a separate piece from the lower one) but it doesn’t continue down the chest piece. (Breastplate? Cuirass? Not my area of special interest)

So we look at the back, and *also* don’t see a center back closure. Again, it would be obvious if there were a seam in the leather (like there’s one in the collar, but it’s stitched shut) and there isn’t. I suppose one could argue for a puzzle-piece type placket/overlap with those giant scale shapes but that seems a little far-fetched to me. There’s also enough going on in the back that a costumer/cosplayer could conceivably sneak one back there and it would be fine, but that’s not the answer I’m looking for.

Which leaves us with side closures, but I don’t see any clear indicators of those either from slight-side angle shots. Also the lower of the chest belts doesn’t appear to have either a closure or belt loops to keep it in place, so it stays up with the constant outward pressure of Halsin’s upper abs I guess??? How would he get out of it? Shimmy it down his hips like a hula hoop? The upper belts could have hidden closures under the insignia on the front or under the leaf pauldrons, and have belt loops on the back showing where they are anchored in place. But the lower one????? How???

I costume theater & opera people for a living so I’m looking at this from a construction perspective and let me tell you, I am perplexed.

As a side note, when I first saw the white suspenders/stole/skirt combo I would have sworn the hanging bits were just lapels with button holes or something for the straps to slide through, and even though I’ve seen enough stills to know that no, they’re like the hanging peaks of a stole or fichu situation, I still maintain that they’d look fuckin cool as lapels, particularly because lapels wouldn’t flop around in space the way I guarantee these bad boys would. Also, I did briefly wonder why anyone living in the woods would choose bright white fabric, but I figure there’s probably some laundry-version of create water that these folks know and stopped spending any brain power on that particular train of thought.

So yeah, what are folks’ thoughts on this one? How does that armor come on and off, besides expediently whenever Tav summons their beefy druid bae? I think my vote is side closure, and possibly shoulder seam closures hidden under the pauldrons, with similar shoulder-seam closures on the neck/gorget thingy.

[lucy-ghoul]

i was not expecting sapphic vibes in the Druid Medea opera ngl

[woodsnweaves]

Weave & Wood Chapter Two: Another Day, Another Goblin

Gale/Tav | Slow Burn | Read on AO3 | Chapter One

Summary:

Gale rediscovers his love of classical music in the middle of a swarm of angry goblins.

"He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way she moved during battle was hypnotizing, almost like watching one of his beloved operas at the Lightsinger Theater in Waterdeep. Every arrow singing as it sailed through the air toward its mark, the cries of the enemy an orchestra, the clank of steel the applause. She, the conductor. "

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way she moved during battle was hypnotizing, almost like watching one of his beloved operas at the Lightsinger Theater in Waterdeep. Every arrow singing as it sailed through the air toward its mark, the cries of the enemy an orchestra, the clank of steel the applause. She, the conductor. 

“IGNIS!” he bellowed, his voice taking on an echo as he fired off a basic spell at the goblin a few feet behind her, taking him down easily. She looked behind her shoulder, then at him and tipped her head in thanks before firing off another arrow into the courtyard. 

It felt like they’d been in this godsforsaken goblin camp for an infinite amount of time. How could so many goblins be in this one location? He had never seen so many in one place at one time at home, and never so many absolutely filthy ones - True Souls apparently didn’t require their followers to bathe. The only benefit to having a literal camp full of goblins, hobgoblins, drow, and ogres all intent on turning you into minced meat is that it allowed their group to become more cohesive in their fighting, like they’d been together on purpose and not solely thrust into each other’s lives. They weren’t quite a well-oiled machine, but they were getting there. Trust was forming. Especially for him. He’d taken the first step toward trusting Auroria after they left the grove on their mission to rescue the druid Halsin. After she stepped in to save a tiefling child from a power hungry, misguided druid intent on shutting out the world rather than protecting its most vulnerable. After he decided he was in enough peril to realize that he was vulnerable. 

That the group was vulnerable.

******

The group was taking a break in the shade on a rather warm afternoon as they embarked on their journey toward the blighted village between the grove and the goblin camp. He had been feeling the weight of his secret for some time since the crash landing of the nautiloid, and it was becoming unbearable - both the pain and the anxiety of his newfound group abandoning him. His intuition told him that the ranger would not judge him, so he found himself tapping on her shoulder as she took a drink of water from the barrel they had found in yet another busted cart on the road (Who was leaving all these supplies unattended in barrels and crates? He thought).

“I was wondering if I may have a word with you about something rather pressing…maybe a bit away from the group” He asked quietly, noticing a look of concern flash across Auroria’s face as the mask of his easy confidence and good humor showed a small crack. 

“Of course, Gale, what is it?” Auroria said, leading them a little further off the trail, so they could speak behind a tree. It did not pass by his awareness that she always seemed to seek out the comfort of the woods. The sun, dappling across her face as it made its way through the leaves, illuminated her features. The copper highlights in her hair, always twisted out of her face into a low tail at the nape of her neck, the golden flecks in those green eyes, the dotted tattoos on the high points of her face, the long scar down one cheek - the entire picture almost distracted him, catching himself staring. Perhaps one day she will trust him enough to share her past. 

Nerves he hadn’t felt in ages hit his stomach like five thousand butterflies. Vulnerability was not associated with as powerful a wizard as he was. This damned tadpole made him feel like his abilities were that of his 10 year-old self again, both magically and personally. Breathe.

“Right…well, you see, I have a…predicament..that has become rather urgent right now. The thing is, I need a magical artefact to consume,” he grimaced as a lance of pain went through his body,  “and I need one now.” He almost pleaded, hunching over and clutching his chest, beginning to pant as sweat beaded on his brow above his tightly closed eyes. He heard rustling, panic starting to worm its way into his chest.

Is she leaving? Please don’t leave.

He continued, “I know…it’s strange….but I — ” 

Silence.

I knew it. It was too much. It was too soon.

He opened his eyes, terrified to see nothing but empty space. A gold locket was in front of him, Auroria holding out the gift Arabella’s parents had given her for saving their daughter from the druid’s interrogation. 

“Will this work?” She asked. 

He nodded and took the necklace from her, gently as if it were a priceless gift. Indeed it was to him, a physical manifestation of gratitude and loss - the gratitude involved in both the tieflings and Auroria giving the locket away, the loss of its magical value, the implicit trust shown by not asking further questions, instantly looking for it in her pack - he would treasure this moment for the rest of his days, however many he had left.  As he held the locket up to his chest, the purple orb that was just barely visible above the lining of his robs starting to glow intensely. The locket started to shine, black tendrils of magic swirling around it, tighter and tighter until suddenly, they were gone and the locket was left dulled without it’s magical energy. He was able to breathe again, the sharp pain eased to a dull and manageable presence. The artefact worked. He felt her hand lightly touch his shoulder, and looked at her face, which was making that jokingly mocking expression that came so easily to her - mostly at his expense, he noted. 

“I don’t know what that was and while I hope you’ll share with me when you’re ready, I believe that’s now…” she held up two fingers on her free hand, “two favors you owe me now, right? You're really racking them up!” She laughed quietly, then took on a serious tone. “Take the time you need, though we should leave shortly. I hope this helps you feel better. If you need help again, please come to me. A magical item is not so irreplaceable as Gale of Waterdeep” she smiled and turned around, going back to the group, no questions asked. No prying. Just concern about him. The person, not the powers. 

An invisible weight lifted off his shoulders, one that he didn’t even realize he had placed there on his own accord during his year of solitude, his year of pushing everyone who may have wanted to help him away. 

He stood up straighter than he had in days and returned to the group.

******

Another arrow sang as it flew by, this time aimed toward a group of hostile goblins who were standing close together in a puddle of grease thanks to Astarion. The arrow turned into a volley of thorns, exploding, setting the grease on fire to deal additional damage. An aria of her own design, her personal cadenza - she could have chosen to simply cast Ignis to light up the grease, but a hail of thorns? That sends a message. A confident message. He could see her satisfied smirk as the shouts of surprise and anger joined her symphony for a brief while, then died out. Already she was moving on to the next target, the next movement - a rather large ogre Karlach was slowly whittling down. Gale followed, aiming his magic missiles at the heart of the ogre, adding to the coloratura of arrows, axes, swords, and curses (magical and vocal).

Gale of Waterdeep had lived in a world muted by his own doing for over a year. Now, he was beginning to hear music again. 

It was beautiful. 

Heavens help them all. 

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

WIP Wednesday

WIP from a piece I think I'm almost done with featuring Annie and Halsin. At the Last Light Inn, Annie finds a piano and insists on playing for her favorite druid. Veers into NSFW towards the end with some imagery.

When Halsin reached the room with the piano, he was not surprised to see Anais already there. She was the very picture of delight and excitement, and when her gaze met his, she beamed at him. Anais greeted him with a breathy “hello” and hugged Halsin. She loves not only receiving affection but giving it. How I yearn for the day when we may finally be alone for longer than a few hours at a time.

“Have you been waiting long, my heart?”

She shook her head. “Oh no! I only got here a few moments ago myself. Please, love.” Anais sat on the bench at the piano and gestured to Halsin to sit next to her. This is going to be a tight squeeze, but I’m not complaining. It was indeed a tight squeeze, but it seems Annie doesn’t mind either. Good, good. “I’m going to probably regret asking, but what do you know of dwarven opera?”

Halsin chuckled. “Nothing at all, I’m afraid.”

“That’s alright. Anyways, what I want to play for you is one of my favorite pieces from a dwarven opera.” Taking a deep breath, she focused on the piano and began to play. Halsin was enchanted by her, by the music, by the way her fingers danced on the keys. He was not sure how much time had passed before she did several flourishes at what he thought was the end of the song. “Did you like it?” she asked timidly, her cheeks a little flushed.

Cupping her face in his large, calloused hands, he kissed her gently. “Of course, I did! What a beautiful gift you have…thank you for sharing it with me.”

She smiled softly, clearly enjoying his touch. “You’re very welcome. Any requests before we possibly head to my tent for other activities?” Anais teased. How sweet she is.

He thought for a moment. “Something that brings you joy.” That was not an answer she expected. The way her nose scrunches as she thinks…she is more beautiful than nature itself. “I…oh, alright. Um, how about this?” She played a romantic, whimsical waltz, and Halsin easily imagined her dancing in a forest clearing, the sun kissing her hair and face to make her glow. Or better yet, dancing naked under the moonlight. What a sight that would be.

[lunartearrose]

Oc kiss week 2024 #2 - Rain

Ocs: Forage the Tiefling druid, Gwen the seamstress living doll.

Gwen belongs to Sammy, my DM! I don't think she has a public tumblr as i was not told it, but she is on discord. Didn't get permissions to tag or tell either way, just to use Gwen ^^;

World: DnD campaign(s) and maybe an extensive minecraft au i chuck a bunch of ocs into

Another drabble under the cut! Warning for typical dnd violence.

Whenever it rained, Gwen always thought of her boyfriend. And whenever he was away on hunter guild business, it always made her long for his return.

Tonight, it was one of those nights. The rain was pouring loudly against the walls of her boutique, a comforting and constant sound as she wrapped up her work for the night. In Particular, she had been commissioned for a beautiful wedding dress…

“Hey, so… I didn't want to bring this up earlier, but….” Harmony spoke up from the sidelines, using a pair of opera glasses to look at Gwen's tightly packed order list writing, “Didn't the client want a white dress? White with a dragon motif?”

Gwen paused, glancing at her work. “Well, they did. Did I make a mistake?”

“Well, for one, that's not pure white - it's an off-blue. But I guess it's subtle. The more interesting choices you have on that dress are the pearls and the coral. You're also definitely sewing eels instead of anything dragon-like.”

“I- well-” Gwen stammered, doing a once-over of the dress, “a subtle blue is often used to accent white and make it feel whiter - and I'm not done with what you're calling an eel! Just gotta add the scales and the. The head… and don't dragons like treasure?”

Harmony gazed at the dress through her pair of opera glasses. “Are Forage's shed coral antler-things a typical choice for dragons to hoard?”

Gwen sighed, shoulders slumping as she hid a blush. “...to me they are.” She muttered softly. “I'll fix it in the morning…”

“I'll get you up early so you can get it done without a rush.” Harmony replied.

Wrap-up continued, and Gwen inspected her spools of thread. The stuff she used for embroidering was almost out!

“Hey, do you think the supply shop is open still?” Gwen asked.

“Maybe the one in the hunter's guild.” Harmony answered, “If not that one, try to find Miranda's or something.”

Gwen frowned. “Miranda kinda scares me… I also don't think I want cursed thread, but I'll try the hunter's guild. Thank you.”

As Gwen put her coat on and grabbed an umbrella, Harmony called after her, “Keep to the populated streets. You know. The murders.”

“Y-yeah Harmony thank you Harmony”

With that, Gwen went to brave the storm. It was a heavier rainfall than she thought!

And with weather like that, barely anybody was on the streets. She was about half way to her destination when she realized this wasn't exactly safe. And the people that were there… weren't exactly minding their business.

She tried to pay it no mind, but more and more people were beginning to follow her. Take the same turns, move almost beside her… something was deeply wrong.

Seeing a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye, she quickly dodged out of the way of a dagger meant for her. She ran as fast as she could, as voices shout to each other, coordinating her downfall. She screams, but her voice is muffled by the rain.

She eventually slipped on the rainy ground, landing hard on the coral and rock cobbled ground. As blades of all kinds pointed her way, dripping with what was surely poison, she curled up, arms blocking her face in defense…

But then, strangely, she felt something. A dizzy sensation that messed with her sense of up and down, making her ears pop. As much as it made her hair stand on end, the sensation was familiar. She knew this power.

The blades never came down.

She found herself sitting on the surface of a puddle, now looking miles deep, to unknown depths. Several of the men carrying blades were entangled in tendrils that extended from the deep blue darkness, choking them even after their blades dropped, plunking into the darkness below. Soon to follow, the men were dragged down, a rush of bubbles the only signifiers of their screams for mercy.

One assailant had managed to avoid the deep pool, and attempted to string a bow as fast as their trembling hands should.

“WHERE ARE YOU, YOU MONSTER?!” the scared ranger shouted, “I SWEAR, IF YOU DON'T COME OUT, I'LL SHOOT HER!”

“Oh, but were you not planning to shoot anyway? Do not talk out of two sides of your mouth.” A sweetly cruel voice pierced the rainfall, clear as crystal waters.

The ranger spun while the druid talked, attempting their last-ditch effort - but in a blink, their body had been pierced by stalks of shimmering coral. There was no bloodfall - the stalks of coral greedily soaked up everything that was meant to fall, not a drop to spare for the ground.

“Watch your step. The coral still bites.” The druid giggled.

The ranger screamed in agony. Forage appeared from the stalks, his eyes cold as he surveyed his prey. In the heavy downpour, his hair wavered like tentacles, enjoying the soaking rain. Feeding off of it. His shark tail waved from side to side, and the fins beneath his ears perked at the sounds of fear.

“Now. Either you talk, or you die. What possible purpose could you have for attacking my dear Gwen? She'd never hurt a fly. Surely you were all about to strike the wrong person.” Forage asked.

“FUCK YOU!” the ranger screamed, pulling a leg off of a spike to kick Forage, “BOTH OF YOU GO TO HELL! DIE!”

Forage let their boot hit his wrist. In turn, the water clinging to it was heated to boiling by his Tiefling blood, cooking his enemy's injuries for good measure. He smiled, teeth pointy like a shark's.

“Die it is, then. I am certain the guild must've caught plenty of your ilk by now. Your sob story does not interest me in the slightest. You hurt Gwen, after all.”

With that, the coral grew wildly, engulfing the ranger, crushing, spearing, sucking the life from them until all that remained were the horribly beautiful stalks, glowing softly in the rain. Slowly, the coral began to grow down and away, flattening itself to seep back into the cracks of the cobblestone and filling any gaps.

“Forage…” Gwen spoke. She was shaking, wondering if this was real, or if she hit her head when she fell.

The purple tiefling spun around to face her, the coldness washing away with the heavy rain. “Gwen! Are you alright?! That cut was not deep, was it?”

He was quickly by her side, wrapping up her arm with some bandages. He's really, real… and… he really, really went crazy on those guys for trying to hurt her!

“I am sorry, I was not careful with my spell slots - I do not think I have the juice to do much healing. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I-I’m alright… j-just help me up…” Gwen replied.

Quickly, Forage did just that, hugging her tightly. At that time, she noticed the state of his clothes.

“Did a pack of wolves tear you up before you got into town?” Gwen asked.

“Well… I did end up having a… well… scylla moment again. Hence the quick cover up with my ripped coat. But it was only briefly! That's why I was able to grab all those jerks at once.” Forage explained, ears drooping a bit. “I-I didn't scare you, did I? I think my brain would explode if I hurt you…”

“Nono, you didn't attack me at all.” Gwen explained, “I'm just… gosh, it really is you. I really missed you.”

“Okay, I'm glad. I missed you too, Gwen…”

At this, she glanced up, still hugging him tight. Even after ten years, He still took her breath away… with his cute looks, and mesmerizing eyes… and oh, what a gleaming smile…

“Right! What am I thinking… I owe you one of these, right?” Forage smiled. He leaned in close and whispered, “A kiss has its own healing magic, right?”

Not even pausing to agree, Gwen quickly pulled him in for that kiss. They held each other closely for a long while, giggling and kissing, over and over. They were soaked by the end, but neither cared at this point.

Or well, Forage worried over Gwen's state! Her body was stitched, wasn't it?!

“Shoot! We should get home, shouldn't we? I do not want you to catch a cold or anything!” Forage said, glancing up at the sky. “The rain will not stop until tomorrow. The ground's been begging for it.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Uh, where did I put my umbrella…?” Gwen said, glancing around.

Forage perked up for a moment, running to grab his staff from where he had left it on the ground. From the orb in the middle, a tentacle emerged, offering up the missing umbrella.

“There it is!” Forage said with a smile.

Gwen gently took it. “Thank you, octopus.” She said.

With that, the two walked home together, Gwen under the umbrella while Forage held her hand, getting soaked without a care, as he liked to be. They got through the doorway and Forage took the time to help her dry off, joyously talking about his trip back home.

“Oh, hey.” Harmony greeted the two from by the stairwell. “You get your thread, Gwen?”

Gwen paused… and then facepalmed. Forage gently patted her shoulder, and promised he would get some for her early tomorrow.

[another-heroine]

The Good Comrades

A/N: A long time ago I've asked @dmagedgoods if I could write about the ~ frenemiehood ~ between Katya and Sal, and it is finally done. Thank you, it will probably happen again lol

All eyes were on him. Salvadore was presenting his plan like a conductor guiding an opera. His cadenced speech explained step by step how the army should approach the enemy camping in the narrow valley. That was a bold plan, but none of the presents have time to say otherwise. 

None, except for one woman. 

“Wait, the first line goes ahead and stands in front of the only gate by themselves, seriously?”

Some people glanced at the red-haired aasimar. It was almost impossible not to look at her: tall and with large shoulders like an Ulfen woman, but pale like only a child of Irrisen could be. A wandering dichotomy. 

Salvadore’s lips became a thin line for a moment. “By chance, do you have a better plan, Grushankaya?”

He always pronounced her surname with a tired tone. Like it was too laborious for him to care about an outlander ally. But she didn’t mind and stated, “It must have. Otherwise, we are sending them to a certain death.”

She looked around, seeking support among the crowd. A few agreed with her, shyly. Salvadore sighed and explained, “All of us  — at least, many of us — are soldiers here. Everybody knows the risks and the weight of the Crusades’ burden.”

The druid bit her tongue. Blind loyalty is folly. How could the Commander trust that army division on him? Like it was not enough bringing the Hellknights closer by.

“And as I have just said, we have to bait the demons, bringing them away from their hideout,” Salvadore recalled. “It's our only chance, and if everybody follows the plan, our losses will be low. Did I make myself clear?”

The majority agreed with him. Among the chattering, Ekaterina stared blankly at where he was sitting. Salvadore could feel the glowing irises over him, but pretended she wasn’t there. It was pointless to keep discussing. Time was their true enemy.

In the end, the druid gave a sharp exhale and left the tent. Absalom's people were definitely more stubborn than hers.

•••

It was difficult to tell day from night in those wastelands. The dark skies and constant howling coming from the horizon surrounded the crusaders all the time. Ekaterina would only know by the contagious yawning around her, and the shifting changes in the camp.

She wished to be asleep as well, after all they would march in the next day, but the woman was still feeling unsettling. Her body refused to relax under the blankets.

“You are doing that.”

“Doing what?” Katya frowned and looked at Count Arendae at the other side of the tent. He had a stupid grin on his face, and a hand holding his chin, pensive. 

“That thing when you are upset.”

She flustered slightly. He meant her halo flickering. Ekaterina turned her gaze and shrugged. “It's nothing.”

“Oh please, I can be your trusting confidant!” He turned his body to her direction, sitting on his expensive mattress. “I know that Salvadore and you are often stepping on each other's feet. To be honest, even a blind person can see it. Like our friend Storyteller,” Daeran chuckled.

He was an ass. Both of them.

The woman side eyed him and mocked, “Of course not. Talking to him is always a delight, how could you think of it?”

Nenio appeared abruptly, looking at the druid upside down. “But you don't look delighted.”

Ekaterina sighed. “Because I'm n— Uh, nevermind.”

Daeran was amused. “Who could tell that you would have hard feelings for someone.”

“You don't know me, Count.” She turned her back to him, and noticed the curious stare of Nenio still at her. “Can you please let me sl—”

Someone rang the camp alarm.

•••

He should be the best. No, he had to be the best. Salvadore couldn’t accept failure in either way, because both his reputation and the Commander's were at risk.

As the first line was about to arrive at the demons' main gate, the archers should be in their positions and start shooting when the first horned head popped up. But if any movements got delayed, it would be a problem. Sal had calculated that a thousand times, and there wasn't a way out. He could only pray for the gods of the Crusades to watch for them.

He wasn’t coping with the idea of the losses at all, despite his self confidence demeanor. It was a mask that he learned to wear a long time ago, when he had barely consciousness of… how the things were beyond the walls of the Arrigo Manor. And he gave up explaining himself for a long time as well. It was pointless.

Salvadore leaned the head on one of his hands and shut his eyes for a moment. He could still recall the glances that were accompanying him earlier. Even the judgemental ones.

Ekaterina was a good comrade-in-arms. She was useful and had exquisite skills, for killing or healing. But sometimes she sounded like she didn’t realize yet they were at a war.

And although Sal had the gift of speaking, he didn’t know how to address any kind of honest compliment without sounding sarcastic or worse.

A storm raged on outside, with bells tolling and yelling. Salvadore got up immediately and took a look. It was at the right moment when a huge rock fell from above, some feet ahead, and smashed a poor recruit, splitting his bones and guts everywhere.

They were being attacked by gargoyles.

The general huffed and drawed his rapier, giving orders around. “The catapults!”

The artillery division rushed up. The creatures kept tossing stones over them, destroying everything that they could. When some of them dived into the camp, the infantry struck back, and some soldiers were caught, being trapped among the iron claws, only to be released from the sky helplessly like ragdolls.

Sal spotted one of those moments, and managed to save one his subordinates though, slashing the base of the demon's wing, making it shriek and releasing the soldier. The nearby crusaders seized the moment to destroy the gargoyle, while the general helped the stunned one to stand up.

“Thank you, general!” The lad's voice cracked.

“Keep moving, boy!” Salvadore tapped his shoulder.

The catapults were fired up with flammable ammunition. The counterattack disturbed the gargoyles' aerial formation, spreading them. That action would oblige them to land, and it didn’t take much time.

Salvadore maneuvered the troops to gather at the central point of the camp. If everybody was close to each other, the creatures would have almost no chances to catch someone by surprise.

But it was unforeseen again.

“Help me!” a crusader cried under a pile of scrumbles. 

“Please! Someone!”

Salvadore stopped. Whoever was stuck, he was found by Ember first. Soot was flying in circles, agitated, while the girl tried unsuccessfully to get rid of the crumbles over the buried one.

The general spotted a shadow growing up over the girl, and Soot's cawing became louder.

“Leave her, you filth!” He yelled and darted to Ember.

Everything happened in a blink of an eye: the shadow approaching, Salvadore’s bravado, Ember looking upon and freezing, Soot flying against the gargoyle… and a mighty ox appearing from nowhere, headbutting the creature's flank and dragging it feet away.

“Katya!” the girl shouted.

Ox and gargoyle tripped on each other and rolled on the ground. The stone demon stood up first and shrieked. The druid came back to her true form, feeling dizzy. She felt like she was underwater, with the muffled sounds around her.

The gargoyle reached her with its iron fists. Ekaterina was tossed against the remains of a tent. Her halo flickered, and she gasped with the pain. The aasimar tried to get up, but her body was too heavy to obey her.

She waited for the last blow, but it didn’t come. Actually, something distracted the creature and it turned its back to her. Soot landed by her side, and soon Ember arrived with watering eyes.

“Katya! Are you ok? Let me help you!”

She was exhausted. That attack caught many of them with low guard. But with the healing powers of the young witch, her reason and strength came back.

In the camp, they could hear cheering and celebration. The battle were won.

“Do you need help?”

Salvadore approached, observing her. Katya leaned her upper body on her elbows and nodded. The general took her hand and helped her. She noticed the gargoyle's body behind him. He slashed that demon enough to sculpter another shape. Sosiel would be surprised.

Salvadore sheath his weapon and stepped away, with nonchalanty air. They were alive and that was what mattered. No need to say thank you or…

“Arrigo.”

He glanced at the woman. She was hugging Ember from behind, resting her chin over the girl's head.

“Thank you.”

For a moment, his expression softened, and Sal nodded silently.

[meilas]

help me find a book I will enjoy!

I used to read all the time. Now I don’t. I’m in the middle of Golden Compass, Once and Future King, Jewel of the Seven Stars, Hamlet, and The Time Machine because I lost interest in all of them. @brendadaaedestler suggested that I just need to find a book that I will enjoy. The trouble is, I don’t know what I like. Help a guy out? If you’d like, you can leave your suggestions in the comments.

loved:

Frankenstein

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea

The Hidden Cave (by Ruth Chew)

liked:

House on the Cerulean Sea

Treasure Island

Rats of Nimh series

The Tripods trilogy

Harry Potter (no longer interested in)

Count of Monte Cristo

Phantom of the Opera (this should be between loved and liked)

Iron Druid Chronicles (odd that I liked it considering it is first person POV)

All Creatures Great and Small series (by James Herriot, odd that I liked them considering they are basically autobiographies and in first person POV)

okay:

Lord of the Rings

Moby Dick

Dracula

Pride&Prejudice

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (this one is actually between okay and didn’t like)

Hunger Games trilogy (odd that I was okay with it considering it is first person POV)

Long Way to a Small Angry Planet

The Wishing Tree (by Ruth Chew)

didn’t like:

Hobbit

Peter Pan

Island of Doctor Moreau

Stranger in a Strange Land (my dad made me read this when I was 12 and it fucked me up for years)

Howl’s Moving Castle + its sequels

hated:

The Pearl

Catcher in the Rye

Golden Compass (I'm not even done reading it and I hate it)

Romeo&Juliet

I hope I will like:

Don Quixote (I like the movie)

automatic no/will not read:

anything written in first person (looking at you Catcher in the Rye)

anything where the narrator interrupts the story to give you information and reminds you that this is a story (looking at you Peter Pan)

anything with a trans character as the focus (I’m trans, I don’t want to read about someone with gender dysphoria, it will just make me more depressed)

anything with robots as a character

what I liked about the books I liked:

likeable multidimensional characters (House on the Cerulean Sea)

characters went on adventures! (Treasure Island, Hidden Cave, 20,000 Leagues)

human nature and humanity (Frankenstein, 20,000 Leagues, Count of Monte Cristo, Phantom of the Opera, Moby Dick)

[thebaffledcaptain]

Music of the Revolutionary Century: How Stands the Glass Around

The first tune in this series is possibly my favorite Revolutionary War tune (made known to me by Brandon F—he has a great video on it if you're interested), though to call it such would technically be a bit of a stretch. The song first appears, to our knowledge, in a 1729 opera called "The Patron," but earned the alternate name "General Wolfe's Song" when it was allegedly sung by General Wolfe the night before his death at the Plains of Abraham during the Seven Years' War. Now, he probably didn't sing it, all things considered, but it's no question why it would have been associated with so morbid an event—it's a remarkably morbid song in itself. I find the last stanza particularly haunting:

'Tis but in vain I mean not to upbraid you, boys 'Tis but in vain For soldiers to complain Should next campaign Send us to Him that made us, boys We’re free from pain But should we remain A bottle and kind landlady Cures all again

The Druids do a suitably haunting version (the entire album is excellent but unfortunately only available on Youtube), which I choose specifically because I feel it's the most faithful to the actual context in which it would have been sung (I'm fond of John Townley's version, as well, but it's a little more upbeat). Here, stripping it down to the vocals and the churchly four-part harmony (the phrases feel a little more isolated, perhaps resigned, because they each cadence into themselves, whereas in Townley's version they lead harmonically into one another), it feels eerily evocative: four soldiers sitting around a fire in the chill night air, knowing that in the cold brightness of the morning they will march into the valley of blood and death... any significance they've ascribed to their own lives has been chipped away over time by their impassive, grueling reality, leaving them with only the nihilistic freedom of knowing they have nothing left to lose.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi hi hi HI YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE!!! I just read a really really cute ficlet (Born Sweet on Valentine's Day by snarkatthemoon) and I was wondering if you had any fic suggestions with established pack where kids are being born and sterek faun over them and take care of them since they are the alpha couple or something? Just, PACK KIDS SJDJDBSJDJFJSHDN

Hi @serpensastrum! Here you go.

Born Sweet on Valentine's Day by snarkatthemoon

(1/1 I 752 I General)

He was aware that his heart was thumping in his chest; a mix of exertion, nerves and excitement as the likely cause. He neared room fourteen, and slowed slightly to straighten out his tie and unsuccessfully try to smooth the creases out of his shirt jacket because first impressions mattered.

***

I fell into you and back to me by OpheliaArkham

(7/? I 17,798 I Mature)

Being a single dad of two kids is hard, being a single dad of two werewolves is even harder. So when his four year old daughter wanders off in the mall while shopping for school clothes for Isaac and single handily drops Derek's mate into his lap he pretty much accepts his life is a soap opera he was never invited too.

ladybugs by thepsychicclam

(1/1 I 20,273 I Explicit)

It’s Saturday night, and Derek Hale is at Toys R Us. Shopping for Leapfrog games. If asked, it wasn’t exactly how he pictured his life. Or his Saturday nights.

In which Derek and Stiles have been married for ten years, have two kids, and are planning their five year old's birthday party.

The Art of the Pack by TheRowan

(23/? I 61,573 I Mature)

Derek and Stiles have begun a new chapter of their lives, married, raising their family,creating a pack when old troubles return and force them to make hard choices. It's a real bitch grocery shopping, getting kids back and forth to school while dealing with a deranged druid and some old nasties. Their children it seems have their dads knack for getting into mischief.

[opera-ghosts]

Fanny Moody – The Cornish Nightingale

Dame Fanny Moody (1864-1945) of Redruth was known as ‘The Cornish Nightingale’. Her father could, it was said, play any instrument he had ever seen. Her mother was a pianist, and their large family were exceptionally musical, in particular the daughters Fanny (Francis), Lily (1867-1950), Mabel (1874-1952) and Hilda (1876-1961). Newspaper reports show that all the sisters performed locally as young women. Fanny went on to become one of the great singing stars of her age. Hilda joined the D’Oyly Carte Opera Company in 1896, and later toured with her elder sister’s opera company. Lily, mezzo soprano, sang with J. W. Turner’s English Opera Company (1887-1902).

Fanny, allegedly seen dancing on a shop counter when young, became a pupil of Robert Heath of Redruth. Her first reported performance was in Ponsanooth on 26 March 1879 at the age of 14.  Later that year Fanny’s mother died and her father was left with seven children. Nevertheless, in the winter of 1879/80, Fanny performed over a dozen concerts, mostly in Redruth, but also in Penzance and Falmouth. This intensive pattern was repeated in the next two winters, during which she built a large local following.

Her talent was recognized by Lady Mary Basset of Tehidy, who in late 1881 paid for her to train in London at the Vocal Academy of the renowned Mme. C. H. Sainton-Dolby. Fanny made her London début at the Steinway Hall, Seymour Street in June 1883. In April 1884, with other students, she gave a concert in Newcastle. All was loyally reported in Cornish newspapers.

In Newcastle she was heard by Charles Hallé, who offered her a series of return bookings.  Through these she met Carl Rosa, manager of a prestigious opera company, and when asked by him to sing a ‘top C’ she gave him a ‘top D’. She made her début with the Carl Rosa Company in Liverpool on 15 January 1887, in The Bohemian Girl.  Later that year Fanny’s father James died, but having seen three of his daughters on their way to operatic success.  In 1889 Fanny, her fiancé, the noted bass, Charles Manners, and her sister Lily made a triumphant return to The Druid’s Hall, Redruth.  The packed event was a both a celebration of Fanny’s success and of her Cornish roots.

In 1892 Charles Manners and Fanny were married. Fanny went from success to success as an operatic soprano. In 1892 she and her sister Lily sang in the first English performance of Tchaikovsky’s Yevgeny Onegin. Fanny sang many roles, including Wagner, but she was most suited to those like Cio-Cio-san, the tragic heroine of Puccini’s Madam Butterfly. Later, she and her husband formed the Moody-Manners Opera Company which operated from 1898 to 1916.

Most of Fanny’s performing life was spent touring Britain but she also travelled abroad, notably to North America and South Africa. There in 1897, after a concert, expatriot Cornish admirers followed her back to her hotel. A newspaper reported ‘There was an assemblage of enthusiastic but strangely silent and peaceful Cornishmen; this congregation of robust Romeos waited for their Juliet to appear upon the balcony…To the silent she sang Cornish songs. And as she sang, these big men of Cornwall wept.’ She was presented with a tiara with the Cornish coat of arms picked out in diamonds, which was donated for auction in the Second World War with the proceeds going to the Red Cross.

Although she travelled the world Fanny was still seen as a ‘Cornish maid’ and regularly reported in a positive, almost avuncular way by Cornish papers. Her reputation, repertoire and audience were international, but her identity was Cornish, and her success, and that of  Lily and Hilda, grew from the Cornish musical environment.

Laura Alex Smith published an interview with Fanny Moody in the Cornish Magazine in 1898 which provides an insight into the singer and her world.

[blueiight]

logh leaning heavy on the melodramatics of space opera aside ur very right abt kinnaka and I always think about their brand of feminine interpersonal relationship when I remember one of logh’s earliest adaptions being a shoujo manga and it’s subsequent movie lol

omg yea they do lean on the melodramatics heavy.. it makes it a slog to recommend to people cuz after s1 that narrator wont stfu like stop with the demagogy in-universe historians/tanaka!! but thankfully, yang wenli exists, and hes at least like ‘idk about that narrator’ i like to think? passive lib-leftism meets revanchist demagogery. thank god for our good friend yang. but somehow multiple ppl ik r watching it cuz of my empty little blogging. 🤣 yo and the fact that the earliest lotgh adaptations was a shoujo manga and the mangaka who drew that also being most known for her role in drawing ai no kusabi (canon yaoi). good stuff man. & i know, they occupy suuuch a fascinating role in their interpersonal relationships! the fact that reinhard’s likened to the mythical druid brunhilde with the flagship name, and the fact that kircheis’s first name is the siegfried that died for brunhilde.. kircheis while living both the militaristic obligations with reinhard + this quasi feminized labor emotionally .. taking care of reinhard for annerose becomes taking care of reinhard bc he cares about him. him being the emotional loss in reinhard’s arc that motivates him to continue conquest isnt really ‘bury ur gay’ trope bc it perpetually darkens reinhard’s whole side of the conflict. like how the villain in most space shows has a dead wife that spurned him into darkness but this is lotgh so the villain in most stories is considered one ‘historical hero’. and the dead wife is his sic. how many times do we hear reinhard seeking to fulfill the ‘quench in his heart’ and failing to do so? bc nothing can replace kircheis to him. reinhard’s conclusion from kircheis’s death& its aftermath is that ‘kindness and good will is not enough for those i love [so i must conquer to fulfill our last promise]. and die. of special boy disease. reinhard keeps the locket of kircheis’s hair with annerose + kircheis bc they were all sisters. theres also this post about how kircheis’s dad grows flowers calls baldur’s orchids (fictional flower in lotgh verse) + theyre in the pov mental scene where annerose tries to imagine kircheis’s love and the imagination goes nowhere. theyre also in ep4 i think?. also not even 5 eps later from annerose’s mental scene that reinhard on his deathbed says ‘i return kircheis to you, sister’ nanna was baldur’s wife in the myths who sets herself aflame after losing baldur.. like. omg kircheis starts calling him lord reinhard so early on and thats their ‘private nobody’s around this is our best attempt at being equals’ name. theyre so insane.

[thebawdybaldurian]

BG3FicFeb Day 16

SFW: Inspired by your favorite song, poem, book.

I struggled a bit with this, as it is hard to pin down a specific media piece that I don’t just hyper fixate on for a while (Hi Baldur's Gate). By wonderful chance, one of my favorite full albums is The Hazards of Love by The Decemberists. It is a rock opera, that already tells a tragic story throughout the entire album, and the more I thought about it, the archetypes in it would fit very well into an AU story with characters from Baldur’s Gate 3.

This story is a tragedy, so beware that it is much different and darker than my usual angst and smut. I’ve cried like a baby in public listening to this album and cried writing the final song drabble. And sorry if this makes you hate Astarion a little. He is such a complex character, with a lot of potential to be good or evil.

Content Warnings: Sex, philandering, infanticide/filicide, kidnapping, attempted sexual assault, miscarriage, death/suicide. Nothing is written in graphic detail and is as concise as possible in its descriptions.

Prelude Margaret Tavish (AKA Tav) was promised to the Goddess Chauntea and lives in the cloister in Baldur’s Gate, as a young initiate. William Halsin was abandoned at birth by his impoverished wood elf parents and was discovered by the cruel Goddess Talona, who raised him as her child. She granted him Druidic powers as well as immortality.

The Prettiest Whistles Won’t Wrestle the Thistles Undone (The Hazards of Love Part 1)

Tav borrowed a horse from the cloister stables, intending to go for a short ride. She hated the coldness of the city, even though the cloister of Chauntea was covered in nature. She put a gray cloak over her white and green initiates robe, and sat side-saddle, riding at a soft gallop past the walls of the city, heading to the small forest nearby. She found a good spot to tie up her horse and went to explore the forest, hoping to bring back some medicinal plants for the Mother Superior.

As she gathered a handful of thistle, she saw a flash of white in her peripheral vision. She glanced over, seeing a pure white fawn struggling to walk, its hind leg maimed by a hunter’s trap. The fawn caught her glance, but did not run, staring back at her. “Don’t worry,” Tav put up her hands, setting her thistle down. “I won’t hurt you.”

The fawn’s ears twitched in response, as if it could understand her. “I know a healing spell,” she eased to her feet, hoping the creature would let her approach. “I can try to heal you.”

She approached it slowly, its eyes fixed on her with curiosity. It had laid down, its breath rapid from its struggle to walk. “It’s alright,” she knelt beside it, reaching her hands out to begin weaving the healing spell.

As the magic flowed around her hands, the fawn suddenly began to change, its white fur turning to golden brown skin and growing to the size of a man. He was handsome, with long brown hair that was half pulled up around his pointed ears. He had a sturdy frame and eyes that shone with kindness. Tav felt a heat growing over her as the man stared into her eyes. “Thank you,” he said, taking her hands gently in his.

“Are…are you a Druid?” She asked, feeling a blush across her face. Her life in the cloister was fairly sheltered, but he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen in all her time in the city.

“Something like that,” he nodded with a smile. “What is your name?”

“Margaret…but everyone calls me Tav.”

“You can call me Halsin,” he responded, her hands still held in his. They blushed at each other awkwardly, their eyes fixed on one another.

“Will you be alright?” she finally asked, looking down at his ankle, still red from the wound he’d sustained in his wild shape.

“I think so,” he tried to stand up with her help.

He stumbled a bit, pulling her close as he did. They looked into one another’s eyes again, both utterly and completely smitten. “I have never met anyone more beautiful in my entire life,” he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“You are the most handsome man I have ever seen,” she reached up to caress his cheek, already feeling her body collapsing against him. Their connection was magnetic and instant.

He bent down to kiss her, softly at first, but feeling an immediate ardor and lust for her, engulfing her in a long, slow kiss. When he was finally able to wrest his mouth from hers, she looked up at him with that same ardor, her heart racing along with his. He pulled her in for another kiss, their bodies melting into one. They found their way to the forest floor, slowly pulling their clothes off. They made love gently, under the canopy of the forest, their moans joined by birdsong and the soft whisper of the wind. At the end of their ecstatic joining, they lay nestled together on Tav’s grey cloak. “I’m sorry, Halsin, but I have to go,” Tav looked up at the fading daylight. The Mother Superior would already be upset that she’d been gone this long, if she didn’t make it home before dark, there would be greater consequences.

“I wish we could stay here forever,” he gazed into her eyes, but understood that she couldn’t just disappear.

“Will I ever see you again?” She asked as she reached for her clothes.

“I wander through these forests quite frequently. If you ever find yourself here again, just sing for me, and I will come,” he kissed her again.

They both dressed and shared one last kiss, promising each other they would meet again soon. He left her at the forest’s edge, watching her ride back towards the city. He felt the darkness of the forest creeping in on him, a waft of decay filling the air. His mother was calling for him to return. He shifted into his wild shape, ambling away as Tav’s figure grew even more distant.

A Bower Scene

When Tav returned to the cloister after dark, the Mother Superior gave her an earful, revoking her stable privileges for three months. Tav sulked back to her room, but as she lay down in bed, his warm seed still inside her, she felt it was worth it. She thought about him every day, clasping her hand to her thigh as she remembered the wonderful moment they shared.

When her bleeding didn’t come a month later, she felt both panic and elation. The Mother Superior would be livid to find her with child, but Tav didn’t care. She just hoped she could hide her pregnancy for the remaining two months and then she would just disappear with one of the horses.

Secrets weren’t easily kept in the cloister, and by the second month all the other initiates were gossiping behind Tav’s back. When word reached the Mother Superior, she called Tav into her chambers. “So, Margaret…I’ve heard talk that you’ve missed your bleeding two months in a row…I assume it was the wretch that kept you away until dark?”

“He’s not a wretch, Mother Superior! I love him,” Tav confessed.

“Love, my sweet child? Has he ever come to see you here? I know you haven’t had visitors in the past two months, unless you have been sneaking off. He bedded and forgot you and left you in a bad way. You will not be able to raise a child here. It will be put up for adoption as soon as you deliver it.”

“You can’t take my child away,” Tav clutched her stomach, her small bump just beginning to form.

“I can and I will,” the Mother insisted. “You were entrusted to my care, to shape you into a loyal servant of Chauntea. I will do just that.”

“Damn you!” Tav swore, running out of her chambers in tears.

She went to her dorm, crying on her bed, cradling her stomach in her hands. “I know Halsin loves me. I felt it in the way he looked at me, and the joy I felt with him,” she cried to herself. She brooded for a while, hatching a plan in her mind as her tears dried. She waited until dark, sneaking past the older clerics who kept an eye over the initiates and sneaked into the stables. She left everything behind in her room, aside from her robes and cloak. She didn’t even bother saddling the horse, riding it bareback out of the city and towards the forest.

Won’t Want for Love (Margaret in the Taiga)

Margaret left the horse, leaving it untied so it could wander its way back to the city. She conjured a simple Light spell and began to make her way into the forest. She had no idea if Halsin was near, but she was determined to keep walking until she could find him, singing a soft song to herself. Exhaustion eventually overtook her and she lay down in a patch of Columbine flowers, wrapping her cloak around her. When she awoke in the morning, greeted by the sweet song of a mistle thrush, she continued her journey.

Halsin had returned to the forest many times in the past two months, hoping to see Tav again. He also sang as he walked, hoping to call his true love to him. He couldn’t imagine what had kept her away, knowing in his heart that they were destined to be together. Just as he’d almost lost hope, he heard a quiet voice drift along the wind. He followed the sound, finding Tav wandering the forest, half-starved and weak from exhaustion.

He ran to her at once, lifting her off her feet with a happy shout. “Tav, my heart, I knew you would return,” he set her down, planting a kiss on her lips.

“Halsin,” she smiled up at him. “I’m so sorry it took me so long…the Mother Superior would let me…”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he kissed her again, holding her close. “You are here now…and…” He felt the slight roundness of her belly against his. “You are…pregnant?” He beamed.

“I am,” she smiled as he dropped to his knees and kissed her belly.

Wager All (The Hazards of Love Part 2)

Halsin whisked her away, finding her food and water and making a soft bed for them among the clover. They made love again, remaining in their lover’s repose until the birds called the dawn upon them. He weaved flowers into her hair as they walked among the trees, already making plans for themselves and their new child. They would somehow make a life for themselves among these woods, their love the only thing that mattered.

The Queen’s Approach

They had no idea they were being watched by dark and pestilent eyes.

Isn’t It A Lovely Night?

Tav and Halsin settled in for another night in the forest, a cloud of fireflies shining down as they lay nestled against one another on a thick carpet of thistledown. Halsin lay with his head resting on her stomach, singing softly to their unborn child. “I knew from that first moment, when we lay together, that I loved you,” he looked up at her, gently stroking her skin.

“And what a wonderful gift that moment gave us,” she smiled down at him, her fingers interwined in his hair.

“I hope to give you many more,” he found his way up to her lips, kissing her softly. They made love once again, oblivious to the dark shadows creeping around them.

The Wanting Comes in Waves/ Repaid

Halsin awoke in the middle of the night, the cold, cruel air disturbing his skin. He once again smelled decay and heard the quiet cracking of twigs underfoot, like bones snapping out of flesh. He got up carefully, wrapping Tav in her cloak so she would not wake. He walked towards the void in the forest, that was bereft of all sound and life. “Mother…I know you are here,” he spoke into the darkness.

The hiss in the wind answered him. “This is how I am repaid?”

“I owe you everything, Mother. My entire life and my powers. But…I love her.”

“I gave you everything, my son. I saved you from death, made you undying, let you wander at your will. But you find yourself wanting more. This is how I am repaid?”

“I did not mean for this to happen…but how can I turn my back on her now?”

“You would not exist without me. You would have died in your crib. It is you who have turned your back on me. This is how I am repaid?”

“Please,” Halsin begged. “Just allow me one more night with her. Let me take her to safety. I have served you for so long, you owe me a life. Just one night.”

“And if I grant this request? I will keep you forever afterwards, never to return to the mortal world.”

“Fine,” he nodded, knowing he would never return to her.

“Consider your debt repaid,” the wind howled, pulling his immortality and powers from him, the darkness seeping away.

An Interlude

Halsin returned to Tav, still sleeping peacefully. He lay down beside her, wondering how he could escape his mother. She might not even allow him to escape, her powers reaching far and wide. He would enjoy all the time left he had with his love, pulling her bundled frame close to him. He slipped an amber ring onto her finger, a trinket he’d found during his time wandering the forest. If his mother managed to take him, she would still have a small reminder of him.

The Rake’s Song

Astarion had been afforded every luxury in his life, the son of a noble Upper City family. He was already a magistrate at the young age of 21 and could have anything he wanted. One day his eyes set upon a beautiful woman and he married her at once, bedding her nightly, even when she became heavy with child. They named their firstborn Isaiah and soon enough, his wife found herself pregnant once again. He still enjoyed the fruits of other women, returning to berate his wife for losing her figure and otherwise ignoring his infant son.

When his wife gave birth to twin girls, Charlotte and a terribly colic Dawn, he felt himself suddenly trapped in his own personal Hell. His lust for his wife had been the only thing on his mind when they’d married and now he was stuck in a house full of screaming children. His wife grew frail and overwhelmed, him continuing to bed her as often as she had the energy for and even sometimes when she didn’t. She found herself once again pregnant with their fourth child.

By some miracle of a cruel God, or just his constant neglect and abuse, his wife passed in childbirth along with their unborn daughter, who he barely even bothered to name Myfanwy. Now a widower, he found himself caring for three unwanted children with an armful of servants to do what they could. It wasn’t enough and he began to plan for their untimely deaths. He poisoned one of his daughters with a sweet laced with foxglove. Dawn, who had developed asthma due to her colic, drowned easily when she was left in a bath unattended. Isaiah was the trickiest to get rid of, old enough to avoid his cruel father. He fought back when Astarion tried suffocating him with a pillow, managing to crack one of his ribs with a sharp kick, but still he passed and Astarion burned his body in the fireplace.

Astarion returned to his old life of philandering, bedding whoever he wished, without a second thought or regret about his dead children. His cruelty caught the eye of an equally cruel Goddess, who came to him one night with a proposition, which he accepted. He left his manor in Baldur’s Gate and rode towards the forest that lay outside the city.

The Abduction of Margaret

Halsin had left Tav to sleep some more, wandering the forest in search of food for her, still trying to figure out a way to escape from his mother’s clutches. Guided by the whispering voice of Talona, Astarion found his way to the sleeping woman. He seized her with a firm hand as she slept, clapping his hand over her mouth and pressing his body on top of her to bind her wrists and ankles. “What are you doing? Who are you?” She cried before he gagged her and slung her rudely across the back of his horse. Talona guided him again, this time towards the Chiontar River.

The Queen’s Rebuke/ The Crossing

Talona would see her son returned to her, no matter what. Margaret would be the one thing that could keep him from her, so she offered the woman’s life to Astarion to do as he pleased. There was little that could stop her powers, commanding all the cruelties of nature. When Astarion arrived to the raging river on horseback, with Tav bound and gagged, she parted the waters for him to cross safely. Halsin would never be able to follow them across the rapids and it would take more than a day for him to find a way around. By then, she would be able to reclaim him, as dawn came and his promised night of freedom was over.

Annan Water

Halsin had heard Margaret’s strangled cry and had run back to the glade he’d left in, only to see her being carried away by a white haired elf. He followed as quickly as his legs could carry him, managing to steal a pair of horses from a nearby homestead. He rode furiously in pursuit of the rake who had stolen his beloved, but found his path blocked by the raging river in front of him. He rode up and down the banks, looking for a safe place to cross but found none.

He tried to summon any residual magic, so he could wild shape into a bird, but his mother had taken everything but his life from him. “Margaret!” He screamed into the air, praying that some other deity might grant him the favor of seeing his beloved again. He swore he could hear her calling him, her voice strangled by some force. He collapsed onto the bank, beating his fists into the ground, his tears flowing into the river. “Please,” he begged. “I will offer you my life in return. Just let me cross and see her again.”

Margaret in Captivity

Astarion pulled Tav rudely off his horse, setting her down on the ground without a care. He sunk onto an old chair and grinned at her terrified eyes. “Now, what to do with you, my pretty thing?” He looked her over. She was barely clothed aside from the cloak wrapped around her. He looked at the round of her stomach with disgust. “Already ruined I see,” he sneered at her. His divine employer had not mentioned that fact. “Oh well,” he sighed, pulling out his dagger. “That just means I won’t keep you around for long, but we can still have some fun.” He took his dagger to the binding on her ankles, pressing himself on top of her as she screamed and thrashed against him, calling for Halsin to find her. “No one can hear you, darling,” he began to cut off what clothing she was wearing. “And the more you struggle, the more I’ll like it.”

She closed her eyes as his knife torn away her clothing and his hands groped her vulgarly. She called to Halsin, to her former Goddess Chauntea, to anyone who could bring her true love to her side and rescue her from the rogue’s cruelty.

Revenge! (The Hazards of Love 3)

Astarion reached down to unbutton himself, the woman no longer struggling against him. He’d almost hoped that she would, but perhaps after the third or fourth time she would. He felt a chill run down his spine as he pulled at his buttons, looking back towards the whisper he’d heard in his ear. “Father…the pie…it burns my belly…father,” he heard a quiet, child-like voice whisper.

“What?” He looked around, seeing nothing around him. He’d nearly turned his attentions back to Tav, before another voice whispered to him. “Papa, my bath, the water is too high, and I have no breath…”

“Who’s there?” He climbed off Tav, seizing his dagger again.

He saw the faint red glow of a fire down the hall, figuring there must be some other squatter in the ruined fort. He gripped his dagger tightly. Perhaps he would get to kill two people today. He crept quietly down the hall, approaching the glow, and seeing it form the figure of a small boy. “Isaiah?” he dropped his dagger, the fiery figure having the visage of his murdered son.

“Father,” the boy smiled, holding out his glowing hands to his killer. “We’ve returned to you.”

Astarion felt two tiny, icy hands grip his wrists, looking down to see the wraiths of his dead daughters holding him tightly. “The hazards of love, the hazards of love,” they sang to him, dragging him into the fire as he screamed in agony.

The Wanting Comes in Waves (Reprise)

Tav heard nothing for a while, after the screams of the man that had abducted her faded. Her hands were still bound, but she managed to get to her feet, still unsure if he was still there. She managed to pull her cloak around her and peeked tentatively down the hall. She was no signs of the man, aside from his dagger that sat on the ground. She went to retrieve it, finding nothing else aside from a slight scorch mark on the floor, as if someone had made a fire there. She picked up the dagger and cut her bindings, hanging onto the weapon when she heard footsteps.

Halsin rounded the corner, seeing her crouched in her cloak and seized her in his arms right away. “My heart. My one true love,” he held her tightly as they both cried.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” she wiped his tears away.

“I had to tell you I loved you first,” he squeezed her tighter.

The Drowned (The Hazards of Love Part 4)

They left the ruined fort, huddled against one another, finding an old boat pulled onto the bank. “My mother will never stop pursuing me,” Halsin held Tav tightly against him. “And I swore a promise to this river…if it allowed me to cross…to hold you one more time…in return for my life.”

“I don’t want to leave you…” Tav cried. “I can’t leave you. Let us give both our lives to it then.”

“No,” he hugged her against him. “You should live…for our child.”

“I think…the child is gone,” she cried, showing him the blood on her thighs. She had felt the loss as the man had carried her away.

“Then let us make this river our bed, forever…married under its waves,” he looked down at her.

She joined hands with him and they pulled the boat into the water together, climbing into it before it was swept away by the rushing current. It began to flood almost immediately, water gushing into the holes in the bow and over its sides as they drifted down the rapids. They held onto each other tightly, saying their silent vows, their lips sharing their final breaths.

“These hazards of love, never more will trouble us.”