Created: 11/30/25
Last Updated: 6/10/26
Requests & asks: open
Warnings and disclaimers: Viewer discretion is advised, don't like don't read. Iâll always try my best to put warnings ahead of time but in case I miss something this is a general heads up!
Love and Deepspace
Character Introduction
Meet Lyra!
Rambles
Snowapplemc as lifelong friends
Everyone's Sexuality
Sylus Rant
Do They Believe in Soulmates?
Relationship Dynamic
Assorted Fics
What's your favorite Barbie movie?
Walking to school
Wedding Games
Everyone Loves Zayne
Loving Selfishly
Myths
Sunken Dreams
Baldur's Gate Three
Character Introduction
Meet Odette & Azalea
Assorted Fics
Camp Life
"You, Orin, will be mine"
Just Like Me
I hate you
Too Honest Conversations
So many endings (Odette vers.) (Azalea vers.)
Bloodymary
Rambles
Bloodymary Role Swap AU (Grace vers.) (Simon vers.) (Colt vers.)
I swear I write for more fandoms I'm editing right now
Realized two hours ago that it's almost exactly one year since Orryx was created...I didn't plan shit for his birthday in two days. He's getting a soggy cupcake with a half eaten candle on top. And something with Astarion. He'll like it. Probably.
Responding to both @trexiva and @sisiren tags because I can't keep anything to myself about this au. Both of them hit the nail on the head and I NEEDED to share more
Starting with trexiva!
I actually wrote a little for a scene exactly like this but took it out of the fic because it felt out of place, buuuuuuut I'm gonna just leave an excerpt from it here
There was something watching.
Waiting.
Patiently waiting.
So patient.
It has been waiting before there were humans.
Before there was their home planets.
Before there were stars.
Before there life or death or time.
Before there was nothing.
Waiting doesn't begin to explain what it has been doing.
Observing?
No.
He doesn't know.
But he knows to follow it.
It knew Ryland.
It whispered to him in words that he cannot hear only feel that Ryland was here, at the end of this cavernous maw of oozing blood. He knew the words to be true because he would know if Ryland was gone, he would feel it in his chest the same way the pain his leg had never faded. Losing Ryland would rot his soul the same way his leg had rotted from the inside out... Ryland was here.
He was crying.
He can hear it.
Feel it.
The SM-13 was not built for these depths.
He would make it.
The walls oozed and the camera flashed, the very air congealed in his lungs that have ceased to so much as twitch and his barely present heart pitters in his chest. Every organ and nerve within his body hummed in time with the descent of the SM-13's hull, an extension of the body that has fused itself to him.
He would find Ryland.
Everything down here was alive.
For better and for worse.
Obviously might change it later but figured I'd share it anyways!
Now for sisiren!
I haven't written Jody's fate out yet I'm still debating on what would be the most satisfying, but I do have three endings I've been keeping in mind for her
She either survived Filament Station or wasn't there during the attack, either way she ends up on Eva's crew as a cartographer and photo analysts. She is there when they send Colt down and she's the one who talks to him over the radio when Eva cannot stand to speak with the man wearing her person's face. When Colt can't be reached anymore she was the only one to continue monitoring just in case he might miraculously reappear
She is also imprisoned because after learning about Colt seeking out information from Tom Ryder she begins to search through her own Eden contacts. Someone with her skills had valuable information to trade after all and getting Ryland back was important to both of them. In this case the COI keep her prisoner as sending someone with her knowledge to die on AT-5 would be redundant
She was one of the many people who died in the attack on Filament Station, further fueling Colt's suicide mission (I only hesitate on this one becuase it feels very dead wife fridge)
That's all I have for now!
Thank you for enjoying my au ࣠âęˇęŚâ(Ëśáľ áľ áľËś)â⚠࣪ Ë
Part three of bloodymary role swap au.... because there wasn't going to be a part three but I couldn't find a place for Colt to fit into the fic as anything more than a passing mention for now, so instead everything about him goes here
People who requested to be tagged: @trexiva, @sisiren
Colt Grace Seaver who used to work for the COI but after his injury was dismissed from his position without second thought, who almost lost everyone important to him because he pushed them away once he was no longer useful, this was bigger than him and they deserved better than someone who couldn't provide
Colt Grace Seaver who regained partial mobility, who walked with a cane on good days and needed a wheelchair on the worst days, who was too stubborn to allow Jody and Ryland to shoulder the burden of providing rations and medications
Colt Grace Seaver who was a civilian living aboard Filament Station, who earns his keep with manual labor, who takes on side jobs so he can afford more privileges for Ryland and Jody, because between him and Ryland he was always the sturdier twin even after his injury, because Jody and Ryland worked so hard to care for him they hardly allocated their funds to their own work, and he will be damned if he doesn't do everything in his power to ease their burden
Colt Grace Seaver who doesn't trust the COI in the slightest when they start showing interest in his twin, who tried his best to be present whenever they came asking around for Ryland, who did his best to keep Ryland's intelligence and skill secret for the COI because he knows how they use people until they can't be used anymore
Colt Grace Seaver who watched as Ryland willingly left with Eva and her crew, who warned Ryland to stay far away from whatever they were doing on AT-5 if he could help it and if he couldn't to refuse to do any field work because Colt couldn't lose him
Colt Grace who looked after Ryland students after he left with crew of the SM-8, who entertained the few children left with stories and plays, who didn't mind when they called him Mr Grace two because it was felt good to be known as Ryland's twin when they are so far apart from each other
Colt Grace who is told Ryland is dead
Colt Grace who starts demanding answers, who looks into places where he really shouldn't, who contacts people like Tom Ryder from Eden to learn more about what the COI is up to, who trades information with Ryder because he knows Ryland is still alive, he would feel it if Ryland was dead
Colt Grace who caused the destruction of Filament Station due to the information he bartered with
The convict who was welded into the SM-13 willingly because Ryland was down here somewhere, he had to be
Obviously not done yet but consider this my progress check in for my bloodmary role swap au
I've been putting together any and all background information on Simon, Grace, and Rocky for this au so I can be as consistent as possible. But as I was going through what I had, I realized the only thing connecting the three right now is the Petrova Line and it made me horrifically emotional
Right now I'm looking into Eridian culture and gathering more information about the SM-8 before proceeding with the fic writing part of this mission but I think I'm making good progress Ě Ě ęˇęŚâ¸(ď˝ĄË áľ Ë )â¸ââË.â
Part two of bloodymary role swap au! Last time was all about Grace so this one is for Simon, also tagging @trexiva because they requested it so here we go! Enjoy my silly rambling everyone â¤ď¸â
Simon who had no last name because even in this other life he was born and raised in a cult, Eden was a self-sustaining underground doomsday cult and took in those who were so damn scared of the way the world was going
The butcher who was useful because from a very young age he had proven himself to be good with his hands, strong and sturdy, who was told he was better off working indoors the with machines and plants only far away from other people because he was violent and angry never mind the fact that he is pushed and screamed at and picked on and pushed and abused until his hands calloused and bled and he knew the insides of their machines better than he knew himself, he is their dog wild and feral and violent
The butcher who was tending to the plants when Eden was raided by Ava Kaplan Head of the Petrova Taskforce and her people, the project wasn't well funded yet and they needed a place to work, the Eden compound was perfect, in that it was well equipped with their own labs and generators and pharmacies, in that few knew of Eden's existence and those that did wouldn't be sad about the cult being quietly wiped off the face of the Earth
The cult member who wasn't sent to prison or quietly executed like many of the other members of Eden, instead Kaplan found use for him yet and had him work on building the Mary (she found use for many of the people that had been raised in Eden, though she would only ever admit it to Simon years later)
The engineer who was regarded with suspicion and sometimes outright contempt from the other members of the project, who focused only on building and working and keeping his head down because that is all he has ever been good at, all he has ever been violent and angry and good with his hands so he should keep his head down
The head engineer who was working one night when Ava Kaplan invited ordered him to walk with her, with a sneer on her face and a scoff when she called him her head engineer, she held his arm to make sure he wouldn't run off during their walk below an endless starry sky, and she watched she watched him stare in pure awe at the sight before him as if he had never seen the stars at all
Head engineer Simon who became Ava's person, though neither of them would ever admit it, who followed her around because and was told every detail regarding the project simply because she trusted him, he wasn't a scientist like Elli or the ship captain like David, he wasn't even the engineer being sent on the Hail Mary like Jack was, but who was still always there at every meeting and every party and every gathering
Head engineer Simon who never realized they were preparing him to be a stand in for Jack in case the worst happened, who had barely started mourning when Ava called him into her office and told him that he was needed for the project because there was no one who knew the Hail Mary better than the man who had built her from the ground up
Simon who was every bit a violent and angry dog when they tried to take him, who bit and screamed and hit, who may have killed someone in his desperation to get away from their hands that grabbed and wanted and demanded that he die, who demanded to know how this was any better than what Eden had been doing, that if he stayed with Eden at least he'd be alive, Eden may not have been the place he chose but at least they didn't send him to die, at least he'd been allowed to live
Simon who woke up alone on the Hail Mary and saw the hastily written 'Simon Kaplan' on his items and assumed Ava must have been his family, all the pictures he had Ava was in every single one of them, who didn't understand what was happening but knew enough to understand that this was important, but knew he couldn't do this alone, he was no scientist, he was good with his hands, and he was scared
Simon Kaplan who nearly burst into angry and terrified sobs when he was found by Rocky assuming that this was going to get be what killed him, who was violent and distrusting and swore constantly in his frustration every time he couldn't understand Rocky, who endured and learned and adapted because he has always been resilient
Simon and Rocky who save the stars, who are Erid bound when their radio picks up on a signal and there is the sound of a man begging for his life, who find a moon that practically glowed with an ominous red light
Took me way too long to actually see this whoopsâ
But seriously I'm so glad you like my silly role swap au!!!! Amaze amaze amazeâËâ° ÝËâ.á
Currently plotting out a fic and stuck between if it should be a long fic or a series of one shots so we'll see, as of right now I've got 2k words written so hopefully it lives up to it's potential (ËśËáËËľ)
Also @sisiren not to put you on the spot but your tags had me WEAK
I couldn't leave this gem hidden, having Ava give him her last name doing the psychic damage intended is so gratifying ŕ´Śŕľŕ´Śŕ´ż ËÍĚęłËÍĚ )â§
Part two of bloodymary role swap au! Last time was all about Grace so this one is for Simon, also tagging @trexiva because they requested it so here we go! Enjoy my silly rambling everyone â¤ď¸â
Simon who had no last name because even in this other life he was born and raised in a cult, Eden was a self-sustaining underground doomsday cult and took in those who were so damn scared of the way the world was going
The butcher who was useful because from a very young age he had proven himself to be good with his hands, strong and sturdy, who was told he was better off working indoors the with machines and plants only far away from other people because he was violent and angry never mind the fact that he is pushed and screamed at and picked on and pushed and abused until his hands calloused and bled and he knew the insides of their machines better than he knew himself, he is their dog wild and feral and violent
The butcher who was tending to the plants when Eden was raided by Ava Kaplan Head of the Petrova Taskforce and her people, the project wasn't well funded yet and they needed a place to work, the Eden compound was perfect, in that it was well equipped with their own labs and generators and pharmacies, in that few knew of Eden's existence and those that did wouldn't be sad about the cult being quietly wiped off the face of the Earth
The cult member who wasn't sent to prison or quietly executed like many of the other members of Eden, instead Kaplan found use for him yet and had him work on building the Mary (she found use for many of the people that had been raised in Eden, though she would only ever admit it to Simon years later)
The engineer who was regarded with suspicion and sometimes outright contempt from the other members of the project, who focused only on building and working and keeping his head down because that is all he has ever been good at, all he has ever been violent and angry and good with his hands so he should keep his head down
The head engineer who was working one night when Ava Kaplan invited ordered him to walk with her, with a sneer on her face and a scoff when she called him her head engineer, she held his arm to make sure he wouldn't run off during their walk below an endless starry sky, and she watched she watched him stare in pure awe at the sight before him as if he had never seen the stars at all
Head engineer Simon who became Ava's person, though neither of them would ever admit it, who followed her around because and was told every detail regarding the project simply because she trusted him, he wasn't a scientist like Elli or the ship captain like David, he wasn't even the engineer being sent on the Hail Mary like Jack was, but who was still always there at every meeting and every party and every gathering
Head engineer Simon who never realized they were preparing him to be a stand in for Jack in case the worst happened, who had barely started mourning when Ava called him into her office and told him that he was needed for the project because there was no one who knew the Hail Mary better than the man who had built her from the ground up
Simon who was every bit a violent and angry dog when they tried to take him, who bit and screamed and hit, who may have killed someone in his desperation to get away from their hands that grabbed and wanted and demanded that he die, who demanded to know how this was any better than what Eden had been doing, that if he stayed with Eden at least he'd be alive, Eden may not have been the place he chose but at least they didn't send him to die, at least he'd been allowed to live
Simon who woke up alone on the Hail Mary and saw the hastily written 'Simon Kaplan' on his items and assumed Ava must have been his family, all the pictures he had Ava was in every single one of them, who didn't understand what was happening but knew enough to understand that this was important, but knew he couldn't do this alone, he was no scientist, he was good with his hands, and he was scared
Simon Kaplan who nearly burst into angry and terrified sobs when he was found by Rocky assuming that this was going to get be what killed him, who was violent and distrusting and swore constantly in his frustration every time he couldn't understand Rocky, who endured and learned and adapted because he has always been resilient
Simon and Rocky who save the stars, who are Erid bound when their radio picks up on a signal and there is the sound of a man begging for his life, who find a moon that practically glowed with an ominous red light
"Listeners, I do not know everything about Carlos and he does not tell me everything. That is ok. We are not one person. How lonely that would be, a couple who has made themselves one so completely that they are once again alone. We are two people; separate, unique, and joined only where we choose to join."
I was going to do a cute photoshoot for them but look how badass they are
Idk if this has been said before but it won't leave my head, bloodmary role swap au where Grace is part of the crew of the SM8 (part two here)
Ryland Grace who was well loved by the few students he had, the few children left, caring for and nurturing them because they are more than just the future they are everything good left in this dwindling echo of humanity
Ryland Grace who was the first to theorize that there might be life in the ocean of blood, that there might be a way to sustain themselves on what is keeping the inhabitants of the blood ocean alive
Doctor Ryland Grace who is taken in the by the COI, told that he could save all of his students if he were to help them with their research, who bonds with his coworkers who were bound for the Blood Ocean AT-5
Doctor Ryland Grace who leaves Filament Station with a hopeful grin and an awkward promise to his students that they were going to have a future worth living for
Doctor Grace who was told the SM8 was safe, that there have been dozens of return trips, whose coworkers said they have gone down a handful of times already and came back alright
Doctor Grace who was the only survivor of the wreckage, not because he was lucky but because the crew of the SM8 did their best to protect their scientists. Those that survived the wreckage giving up their rations and tucking their scientists into a corner of the ship that could sustained the least damage, their own lives be damned Doctors Grace, Shapiro and Dubois had to survive
Doctor Grace who worked tirelessly, gathering as much information as he could while they slowly wasted away in the ocean of blood far from anyone who could save them, who was never religious yet couldn't help but pray to anything that would listen that someone would save them
Doctor Grace who heard the voices of his coworkers and friends whispering in his ears, their figures flitting in and out of focus, who didn't even realize they were dead at first because of how often they appeared to him in vivid hallucinations
Grace who was still working tirelessly because he made a promise to save his students and couldn't focus on anything else or he'd risk sharing the fate of assimilated companions
Grace who was stuck at the bottom of a blood ocean, cradled not just a by husk of rusting metal but safely guarded by the eel that had once been his companions, entirely unaware that the ignorant god spied a sliver of his suffering through a pinhole of its realm and assumed that it knows all that is Grace and all that will be
Grace who is pulled from the blood ocean not by Eva who promised he would be safe, not by his companions who were now the eel that guarded his rotting tomb, not by the ignorant god that cradled him in its infinite berth, but by a man who was on a journey to save the stars
I was cleaning out my computer files (I need to get an external hard drive or something I can't keep trashing old wips .¡°Ő(ăŁ-ᯠ-Ď)Ő°¡._) and stumbled across this! I made her ages ago to cope when the manhwa went on hiatus, I had even written some of a fic but never got around to finishing or sharing any of it
I don't know if I will (jury is still out on that one) but I figured I could at least let her see the light of day
I haven't found the doc I wrote the fic in yet but from my vague memory/guesses this is what I've put together
injured her neck somehow (probably because of the Lapileons) and has covered it with the bow ever since
apothecary (duh) who either somehow ended up working for the Lapileons because of her reputation or was raised to be their personal apothecary
discovers Lapileon curse because Phineas has an episode (why they were together could be for any number of reasons tbh)
after attempting to flee she's sent to war with Therdeo as his personal medic, after the war she's kept in the countryside to aid them and be closely monitored in case she tried to run again
somehow ends up poisoned during the time of exception
"It hasnât always been an easy few years. But through it all, just knowing that Carlos was there, that no matter what else happened we would come back to each other, holding hands like two kids flirting on a first date. Thatâs what kept me believing in this town. My love for Night Vale and my love for Carlos are the same love. It is the love of someone who has given their life completely to something beyond themselves."
The shapes and colors change but it doesn't matter, the love endures
Night Vale and Love and Deepspace once again, because these are stories about love
Word Count: 8,343
Summary: An accompaniment to the previous so many endings featuring Odette (Tav). This is three possible endings for Azalea (Durge). One ending where the brain is defeated and she returns to Waterdeep to marry Gale. A second ending where Azalea murders her companions while overcome by the Urge, she and Gortash use the Netherbrain to take over the world. A third ending where Azalea becomes Bhaal's chosen only to betray his will and go mad, Gale ascends to godhood in an effort to bring her back to him.
CW: canon typical disturbing imagery and gore, dark themes, graphic depictions of violence, self harm/suicide, sexual content, pregnancy and children (let me know if I'm missing anything and I'll add it)
Notes: I yearn for more bad endings but lack the skill to properly articulate them, we'll get there one day
read on ao3
Professor Gale Dekarios of Blackstaff Academy spent most hours of his day devoted to his students. Teaching them not only of the theorem and the beauty of magic but also the follies that may chase them on this path they have chosen. Quick to warn them away from entanglement with gods and if it was unavoidable to never allow themselves to be lured in for more, maintaining their freedom mattered much more than earning a god's favor. In the best situation they may hope to remain a pretty thing until they aged out of their gods favor and the next eager to please prodigy came along. At the worse... well he was one such example of a gods favor going sour and his beloved wife was another. Even the least attentive students took heed in the warnings he offered them, others often sought him out when they managed to stumble themselves into a situation that risked spiraling out of control. He was a well loved and well known professor.
The sorcerer Azalea Dekarios was a renowned adventurer that was known far and wide throughout the realm. It was to be expected, the story of a Bhaalspawn not only rejecting her father but freeing herself from his cursed blood was unheard of. In those early days after the fall of the Netherbrain she travelled near constantly, setting out from one adventure to the next. Often times aiding her former companions in their quests to create their new lives. The rest of the time she sought out others like her. They would not suffer as she and Orin had, at least not alone. Her self-imposed penance for all the evil she wrought on the world, to aid her family. Not slaughter kin or blade siblings, she reminded them often. They are family bound by poison murder blood, yes. But they were so much more than what their father had made them to be. As the years went by her adventures began to dwindle, from barely being in Waterdeep to spending most of her days there. Her personal quest hadn't been abandoned, but... she was beginning to come to terms with a simple thing. After seeing the lives her family had built outside of their blood thirst it became all the more clear.
She was allowed to move on.
It was silly, how much the idea scared her.
So much suffering had been dealt with her hands, an entire life of wickedness that she couldn't recall and still spent every waking moment atoning for. It hadn't felt right... to simply rest. There was so much she had to do, to undo all the horrors she had committed and to hope that it was enough to make up for even a fraction of what she had done. She couldn't fathom simply letting it go to live for herself... to live a simple life with people she loved.
Marrying into the Dekarios clan had been easy, though she wasn't often home they never minded. Never expected more than what she was willing to give. Gale never questioned her personal quest and offered his undying support. Morena loved her as if she was her own daughter and defended her from any cutting remarks outsiders dared to whisper within earshot. And Tara adored her, leaving behind fresh kills whenever she left on her adventures and curling up on her injured body. It was a good life... and she wanted more of it.
Denied herself more out of fear and duty.
But... if she was truly allowed to move on and live...
She wanted a family of her own.
Raising Arabella had given her a taste of something she had long missed... brought back memories of when she was small and caring for Orin. Even faint memories of planning a life with Enver, of the baby that had been stolen from her.
She wanted it back.
More than that, she wanted it with Gale.
All she had to do was broach the subject with Gale, lightly and carefully. A well thought out conversation driven by logic and rationale.
So why in the nine hells was she coming to his office now?
âHow are you this evening Mrs Dekarios?â Gale asked with a fond smile, glancing up from his grading in time to see her close the door with a soft click. âWell, I hope.â
âOh very well,â she said earnestly. Without another word she approached his chair, pushing him away from his desk just enough so she could climb into his lap comfortably. âAnd how are you, Mr Dekarios?â
âMuch better now that youâre here,â he replied with a laugh, setting down his work in favor of holding her. âTo what do I owe the immense pleasure of your company tonight?â
"Iâd just like to speak with you.â
âWell then, I am all ears.â
She took a moment to figure out how to broach the subject, she shouldâve thought ahead⌠fuck it. There was no point in hesitating, regardless of his answer Gale had and would always be patient with her.
âI like adventuring."
"I would certainly hope so given how often you take up some new grand quest to save the helpless or explore the realms. It suits you very well and I do enjoy receiving the gifts you bring back for me," he laughed, resting his head on top of her with a deep hum. "Are you considering setting out on another adventure? I'm not opposed to it, but I'd like just a few more days of your company before you set out again."
"No, I'm not setting out again," she told him simply, chewing on her lower lip. "I love spending time with you more than I like adventuring."
"I love spending time with you as well... but I do have to ask. Are you prolonging your stay at home or not setting out at all?" He asked after a beat, brow furrowed in concern as he squeezed her side just a little tighter. "I've noticed your number of adventures has been decreasing in recent years. Your last adventure only lasted a few weeks and the one before was more than half a year ago. As much as I love having you home with me, I can't help but be just a little worried. Is something the matter?"
"I met another one of my brothers," she admitted after a beat. "He found me. Heard about me from one of our sisters. He refused to tell me which."
"Another? It's been so long since you've found another sibling, at least two years if my count is right. I find it hard to believe that any of your family could avoid you finding them, you're quite diligent in your research and preparation â he's not a child, is he?" He asked suddenly, a worried look on his face. "You haven't encountered a sibling younger than Orin, have you?"
"No. He's another big brother, in his late sixties." She smiled at the audible sigh of relief he let out; the ever-composed Gale Dekarios could still be panicked. "He was gruff. Big and intimidating. Just a little scary."
"Yes, well you're all a little scary. It's a certain look in the eye, from your father's side I imagine. Itâs the look that makes battle hardened warriors cry from pure fear. Usually because it's followed by a rather gruesome death though lately you use it when you're about to tell me I'll be sleeping in my officeâ ah ha! That's the one," he declared triumphantly, grinning too wide at her expense. "When we first met you had that same look in your eye when you pulled me from the portal."
"I was debating chopping off your arm."
"And we are both forever grateful that you didn't do such a thing. I am a man of many talents, but I imagine it would be somewhat of a learning curve to adjust to the loss of one of my favorite appendagesâ "
"Your most favored appendage is in very grave danger."
"A chilling but empty threat coming from you," he teased then immediately backpedaled at the grave expression on her face. With an awkward laugh he watched her with rapt attention. "I know when I am beat. Simply cast that thought from your mind, I promise to keep my mouth shut tight. Do tell me how your conversation with your brother went. Should we put him on the list of siblings invited to visit for the holidays or on the list that shouldn't be within a forty-mile radius of my mother?"
"The former. I like him. He's very, nice." She said decidedly, searching for the right way to articulate all that she was thinking. It shouldn't be so difficult to speak. Gale was always patient, waiting for her to find the right words and expressions. It didn't change how much she frustrated herself, more than a decade after Orin mutilated her mind and she still had yet to fully recover all her faculties... "His wife is nice. A bard."
"My mother will be overjoyed to have another bard in the family, we haven't enough of them according to her."
"We could give her a bard."
"Pardon?"
Of all the damned ways she could've started the conversation!
It was too late to go back now.
"I'm an auntie. To more than the children of our beloved companions," she began awkwardly, inhaling a sharp breath and giving him a level stare. "Now that my family know I am safe. That I won't kill them. They have been showing me their families... they have children. Lots of them. Some young as five and others as old as thirty. One of my brother's has two little ones, the oldest sister has grandchildren. My newfound brother has an older son. Spawn all over the place. They are happy. Not normal but very happy. And I am happy for them. But... I feel silly. I put off for so long. Out of fear. But I'm free. Really free. No poison murder blood runs through my veins. My poor family ache and worry for their children. Keep them steady and teach them to battle urge. But we don't have to fear that. I am not Bhaal's daughter. I'm my mothers' daughter. I can have a baby. And they won't be Bhaal's. They'll be ours. You and me and my siblings and my mothers and your mother and Tara and our companions. They'll be family to all of them but not Bhaal. And I would like it. Very much."
He didn't speak, just stared at her... rendered entirely silent for longer than a few passing seconds.
She had finally done it, she'd broken him.
Morena and Tara would never forgive her for breaking Gale! Astarion would never let her live it down either! Every time she'd go to visit Clara and Odette for the rest of their lives he'd mock her about how she had broken her precious wizard all because she had asked his opinion on children!
A lesson to be learned, donât broach such a sensitive subject just because she was overcome with joy about the thought of their theoretical children. Entirely too enamored with the idea of little boys and girls with Galeâs soulful eyes. Her dark hair of course maybe one little brown haired boy who looked just like Gale. A little one that looked like her would be nice too, but even better would be a small child that looked like theirs. She wondered if they would look more human than tiefling, it'd certainly make their lives easier. Hells, she had forgotten the difficulties they'd face merely as tieflings, even without her poison murder blood. Truly it would be for the best if they took after Gale â by the hells Gale is human.
His reaction surely had to have something to do with that. She couldn't fault him for not wanting to have a child now, magic may extend his life but it would not fix his poor back. Chasing after young children would be taxing on a human his age and he still had his students to worry over.
Or was it something worse worrying him?
Any children they had would likely have an affinity towards magic if not outright sorcerers like herself. Touched by Mystra, blessed and watched by the mother of magic. The thought of that damned goddess hovering over their hypothetical children made her chest tight and stomach turn. Theyâd need to work diligently to keep Mystra from sinking her wicked hands into their children.⌠it may not even be possible to keep Mystra at bay.
Taking a deep breath, she forced a bright smile on her face as she tried to muster up the words to say to make him not broken. She hadnât thought this through as much as she had hoped⌠and perhaps this should've been a conversation better saved for when he wasn't grading papers. Maybe one to be had after at least a bit of wine and food. As opposed to one had when she could hardly speak properly, it shouldâve been more articulate less impulse driven. Then theyâd talk about all those details, the nitty gritty fears that were ever growing in her mind. At least so they'd be prepared for what they would be getting themselves into. And if they decided not to have children of their own for whatever reason. That was okay too ... they could just take in apprentices. They adored Arabella terribly, still kept her room ready for use whenever she came home. Adopting a plethora of little magic users would be a good life for them bothâ
She felt a presence prodding at her mind.
"Gale Dekarios!" She shrieked, pushing his face away from her and hitting his chest. "Stay out of my head!"
"I apologize! I'm aware this was a gross of overstep of your privacy, I just got a little carried away in the moment. Overtaken by emotions you see, and I was using the spell before I could think properly. I did mean to remove myself from your mind before you noticed â not that that would make it okay by any means rest assured I know that. I merely mean that I didn't intend to stick along for so long in there, at all, but you were spiraling and then we were spiraling together. For the record I am more than capable of taking care of a child at my age âbecause I am not that old!" He explained frantically, his mouth moving just as quickly as her thoughts had been just moments ago. "What I mean to say is that I'd like it very much. To have children with you, that is if you are not at all put off by my momentary panic. I just... I've spent a very very long time thinking about this, and to hear you ask me? It was wonderful, far better than I could ever imagine."
He kept talking, nervously rambling about how happy he was at the prospect and apologies for his reaction... she hardly cared about any of that. She already latched onto one statement.
"How long have you thought about this for?"
"I'll admit I toyed with the idea a bit when we spent our first night together, or rather the next day when Shadowheart demanded to know if you were taking any contraceptives. And you said no."
"Please stop. I don't want to remember that. It was embarrassing," she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and burying her face in his chest to suppress the humiliating memory. "Gathering up everyone to lecture us! Her of all people!"
"It wasn't entirely unpleasant, I learned you could become incredibly pink. I hardly thought it possible for you to become any pinker given your flower petal complexion, but I was proven quite wrong," he laughed much to her irritation. "Regardless, not long after that conversation you had told me you loved me. And the idea of children had been fresh in my mind thanks to our dear friend... I can't say it excited me at first. I was prepared of course. To care for you and any children we might have, but I wasn't ready to be a father. I couldn't imagine myself in that position. Still, even then I knew you'd be a wonderful mother, so at the very least you'd keep me in check. Not long after we started caring for Arabella and it clicked so to speak. Because of you once again, another late-night conversation. Though instead of being at a camp in a shadow cursed land it was in our home, the first full moon of our marriage. You recall it don't you? When I worried if we were doing right by her, not just as her teachers but as her guardians. You were in my lap, then had grabbed my face and you told me I was worrying too much. That I was doing a great job and Arabella cared for us very deeply."
"Why didn't you tell me you wanted childrenâ why not ask me?"
"My love, sweet love," he began with that too understanding tone and precious smile that made her melt, holding her tight in his arms like she was the most precious thing in his world. "I couldn't bear to ask you to open your heart like that once again. Not after all that you lost. Certainly, not after what you did to save me."
She sucked in a sharp breath and prayed he couldn't feel her heart stop. Or at the very least that if she kept her face buried in his chest, he would not see the guilty expression on her face.
They didn't talk about it often.
Not Enver and not Orin... especially not Orin.
Precious Orin who she had raised since she was a suckling babe that could only wail and sit at the mercy of her caretakers. Little Orin who wanted so badly to play with other children and never understood why the children couldn't survive their games. Angry and hurt Orin who spent several months clinging to her after Helena had failed to kill her. Affectionate Orin who would shape-change to look just like her whenever they went out and always held her hand in the bustling streets. Protective Orin who would've made a wonderful auntie or big sister to the child she would have had with Enver had things gone as planned. Treacherous Orin that had knifed a worm into her skull, who tormented her weakness of heart, who tore apart her flesh, who murdered the life growing in her womb, and who sent her to another torturer. Bitter Orin who had kidnapped Gale, threatened his life and forced a challenge she didn't want. Her Orin... that she had murdered and mourned.
The ache was still there, the throbbing pain of loss of the girl she had raised. It sat right beside all the love she held for Orin, even after all that happened to them... after all Orin had done to her. All the grief and horror woven into the life she had for herself now, a good life filled with people who love her so very dearly.
People who knew how to love her right.
"Gale?"
"Yes my love?"
"Thank you... for always being kind to me."
"I try my best. I will always endeavor to be my best for you."
"I know... it's why I wish you would've asked me," she admitted slowly, pausing for a moment to think before pulling her face away from his chest. Still nibling on her lower lip as she put together her thoughts. "You're allowed to ask me things. Especially things like this. I am happy you care for me enough to wait. Even if it meant it never happening. I'm grateful. But it isn't just my life. It's ours. I want you to be happy too."
"Oh it wasn't a bad thing, we raised a bright young lady during all that time didn't we?" He asked her with a big grin, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "We can hardly forget about our nieces and nephews, they adore us. We'll quickly become their favorite relatives once we bring them a little cousin."
"We have to get to work on that very quickly then," she said decidedly, swiping her tongue along her bottom lip as she stared at him. "I'd like to have the good news by our next gathering."
"That sounded like a challenge Mrs Dekarios."
"It certainly was Mr Dekarios."
"Well then I humbly and eagerly accept."
Lord Enver Gortash the black hand of Bane and Lady Azalea Gortash the proud spawn of Bhaal were names known and feared throughout the realm.
There was no reason for them to hide anymore.
Who would dare resist their rule?
The army of the Absolute sat at their beck and call, the Netherbrain now their partner, the cults they had fostered and held dominion over lurked in every corner of the City â of FaerĂťn.
There were no heroes strong enough to stop them... no meddling Orin ruining their plans any longer... no one left who could stop them now.
They were practically gods, ruling over their slice of paradise with neither care nor worry. The world was ending anyways, there was no point in trying to make it better for anyone but themselves. Indulging in every impulse and craving they had before the inevitable came.
It felt good most days.
To have and to hold Enver without consequence, her free time spent indulging in life's luxuries perched on his lap as if it were her throne. Marking his skin with bites and scratches and wounds and so many pretty scars on rough skin that was all hers to hold and mark and cherish and devour. Their shared evenings spent entangled in one another, sapping up as much time as they could with each other while the world fell apart.
Their respective gods could care less about what they were doing in their free time. The world would soon be felled. Devoured in violence, blood, and eventually... finally death. It brought them all joy, to watch a plan so many years in the making to finally come to fruition.
Every death brought her closer to her Father's demand, every cell in her body sang with satisfaction and thrummed with so much power it made her head spin. Urges that compelled her sated and calm knowing very well that the inevitable wasn't far off.
She was born to serve in this game and she was winning.
It did feel good.
But there were days... certain days where she felt...
Wrong?
Sad?
"Lost," Enver supplied for her, grinning as he fixated on a pile of machinery. A new toy for him to play with, a gift. "The word you want is lost."
"You're in my head again," she snarled, lip curling as she stood from her place on their bed. Knife already in hand as she approached him, tail whipping against the ground. "Stay out."
"Would you rather I let you scramble for a word when I know that I can help you?" He questioned pointedly, all too smug at her silence. "Orin did quite the number on you. No cleric we've found has been able to fix that addled mind of yours."
"Don't talk about my Orin."
It was a simple rule.
A key to the peace they lived under.
They would not mention Orin and what she had done to her or their baby. Just the same as they would not breathe a mention of Kressa Bonedaughter or Balthazar... or anything that happened in the colony when he was only a few feet down the hall from her. Or about the half year she spent undoing all their plans. Certainly not a word about her former companions... her former lover.
It was better not to think about any of it.
It made life easier.
Livable.
Speaking about such... unpleasant things would only make them hurt.
Make her hurt.
When she hurt they would both hurt.
The Urge kept a strict record.
Cutting and slashing and burning and bleeding and screaming â it is better to not hurt at all.
"I won't speak of her again," he swore, grimacing as she remained entirely still. "I'll keep out of your head for the rest of today as well. Potion will wear off soon enough."
"Who brewed the potion?" She asked sweetly, hands twitching to slice and cut and bleed and eat... oh he would make a lovely corpse for her. Enver would look good, finally resting. She'd keep him comfortable the entire time, brush his hair and clean him free of blood. Prop up his corpse to keep her company on long days, sit him by the windows to bask in the morning and tell him of her kills â focus. The Urge would be redirected to the potion brewer. Enver would not die. "I want to crack their skull open and bathe their brains in their precious concoction."
"You're utterly mad," he replied with a dry laugh, finally turning away from his machinery and opening his arms wide. "Come here my dear, we can kill them together in the morning."
He was more fun alive, more use to her when he was thinking and breathing insted of sopping and bleeding flesh.
Father don't be mad.
Enver would die one day.
Just not today.
She dropped her knife and leapt into his arms with a wide grin, nearly knocking his chair over from the sheer force of her colliding with him. Nuzzling her face into his neck and wrapping her tail around his leg. Tongue darting out to lick the sweat of his neck, tasting the oil that stained his collar and the salt of his skin. Too sharp teeth hovering over his pulse point for just a little longer than either of them was comfortable with.
"My precious assassin, we've talked about this," he chastised, turning his neck away from her. "I've lost enough blood for today. You cannot draw more until tomorrow."
"You deny me all my fun!"
"I know, I'm quite a horrible husband aren't I?"
"That's not funny," she snapped at him. "You aren't my husband. Won't be for a very long time."
"You're being quite sensitive about the matter, usually you'll indulge me. Whisper pretty nothings in my ear about how excited you are to plunge your knife into me. Or to overwhelm me with you, pouring so much of your magic that my entire body catches alight and collapse from the inside. To taste your divinity for a mere fraction of the moment, I personally consider it a greater love than your blade but I'll take whatever death you gift me," he cut himself off with an easy grin, hand splaying over her lower back and massaging just above her tail. "So tell me, my beautiful girl, what has you so sensitive todayâ it's one of those days isn't it?"
One of those days felt like such an oversimplification of all that had happened to her. The point was still understood of course... he meant the anniversary of the deaths of someone they did not talk about. A few weeks ago had been Orin, Jaheria, and Minsc.
Today... today many people died today.
So many people that had come to trust and love her.
Not as the spawn of Bhaal but... as Azalea.
They had looked at her with so much trust and hope even after accepting her bloody inheritance.
Even when they were murdered.
It made her sick.
She didn't want to think about it.
Better to leave it at that.
"He died today, didn't he? Your wizard."
She didn't answer him.
Stood from her place in his lap and walked out of the room without another word. He followed her, of course he did, he could never let sleeping dogs lie. He had to be right, had to prove his point... she needed him to leave.
Or at least to stay silent until she could control herself.
She did not want to kill Enver.
She couldn't lose anyone else...
It was the only reason she didn't kill him after she discovered the truth... she had wanted to kill him for what he did to Gale. If she hadn't been so afraid of being alone... she would have murdered him. Sacrificed him upon her Father's alter and screamed with blissful agony as his life slipped from his eyes. But she was frightened and lonely and thoroughly unprepared to face anything alone... and she really did love him.
Even after all that they have done to each other... she loved him very dearly.
Still if he kept pressing her, she would finally go through with it.
It would not be the beautiful death she had promised him, there would be no declarations of love and bonds of marriage at the end of life. She would not cradle his body against her chest and coo to him sweetly so he could pass painlessly in her arms like they always promised each other.
Instead it would be ugly.
Drive her knife into his chest sobbing and screaming hateful things at him. Spew vitriol poison from her mouth and mutilate him until his corpse was so mangled she couldn't recognize him... she would regret it. She knows without doing it that she would regret it more than anything she has ever done over the course of their partnership.
But the Urge yearned for it.
And Enver made it so hard to deny Urge when he was like this.
"What about me? I have loved you for... for so long. I thought you were dead, I mourned you and it seems I will never stop mourning you. The assassin I love is hidden beneath all this wretched grief. For a wizard you knew for six months," he all but spat at her, grabbing her shoulder and halting her from continuing down her path to get away from him. The Flaming Fists nearby scurry out of their line of sight, a year ago when they last spoke of this all their staff had been caught in crossfires of their disagreement. Not a soul had survived the encounter. "I have been understanding, my love, I gave you space to grieve and to deal with these awful new emotions of yours. But it has been long enough. Your friends are dead. The wizard is deadâ"
"If it's been long enough why won't you let it go?" She demanded, lips curling into a sneer as she rounded on him. Jabbing her clawed nail against his chest and she fought down the Urge that begged her to tear him open from nose to navel. "Let it go. That is all that I am asking of you... so why can't you do it? Why won't you forget it like I did."
"If you were so keen on letting it go then you would throw out those blasted keepsakes. Or at least that letter he wrote you. And yet it sat always within your reach. In our bedside drawer no less," he retorted, voice sharp and unforgiving as he stood his ground. "The first time I read it I could hardly believe my eyes. A life full of beauty, happiness, and wonder. How laughableâ"
Her body moved of its own accord, tackling him to the ground and setting her hands aflame as she grabbed his throat. The smell of his searing flesh and pained noises in tandem with the knife he pressed into her gut snapped her back into control. She halted her attack, at least she did not leave her hands alight.
She didn't remove her hands from his neck.
He didn't remove his knife from her stomach.
A standstill.
"Don't make me kill you."
"You cry for him even now."
Was she crying?
Was the wetness on her face not blood or saliva but tears?
Was the screaming hoarseness of her voice not from rage?
It was a sob caught in her throat.
A scream of pure agonizing sorrow.
It explained her blurry vision and the suffocating pain that strangled her lungs. A traitorous heart that whirred to life just to shatter again, a too fragile organ she prayed every day that her Father would carve it from her chest so she could no longer feel this... this inescapable sorrow.
She is her Father's chosen, a Bhaalspawn made from the flesh of the god of murder himself.
So why... why did she cry?
"You were perfect," he snarled at her... and there is something beneath the rage. She knew it well, knew the hurt he was masking because Enver and her have known each other for a very long time. Of course she could recognize it easily in him. It was a familiar expression. They hurt each other. They always have. It used to feel like love but all of this... it was just more pain. "How could a measly half year destroy youâ destroy us?â
The same excuse rested on the tip of her tongue. How Orin's meddling in her mind had ruined her beyond repair and he knew that better than anyone else. It was clear in the way she hesitated before she spoke unable to catch her words and the way she stared blankly into the distance searching for something. The gaps in her memory that no amount of noblestalk could return to her. All the clerics in Toril that couldn't put her back to the way she was...
But they both know it was a lie.
It wasn't Orin's fault.
No matter how much Orin ruined her... all she had really down was give her the chance to do whatever she wanted with her life for six months.
Six beautiful, wonderful, and precious months.
It had always been borrowed time.
From the very beginning she knew that.
They were mostly likely going to die.
But she took the chance to really live.
To live and to love
Those late nights gathered around the fire at camp, surrounded by people... not good people or bad people. Just people, her people. No matter how bleak things were, no matter how much pain they were in or how scared they were... they endured. Together. Laughing and making jokes, holding each other on their darkest nights and with a promise to sit by each other's side till the morning. Even ifâ even when they died... even then she remembered how soft they looked. How tenderly they held each other, bloody and beaten and afraid... but still together.
She wished it had never happened.
Maybe then she could be happy now.
"I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for any of it," she screamed hands tightening around his throat while her own closed around a pained sob. Pressing her forehead against his she let her tears splatter on his skin the same way her blood spilled onto his clothes. His knife slipped deeper into her stomach at the movement. "Do you think I wanted this?"
"Then what do you want?"
"I want Gale back!"
Her mouth tasted metallic and her vision bathed in blurry red.
In the polished marble floor she caught the blurry visage of eyes.
Wild and strange, glowing with an unreadable emotion.
They are the eyes of the monster that murdered her mothers and slaughtered her friends.
A monster who was going to strike again.
She released him and walked away, the dagger lodged firmly in her stomach.
They did not speak the rest of the day.
She went to bed alone, clutching Gale's final letter to her chest and she sobbed.
In the morning things would be normal once again.
She would climb into Enver's lap, press bites and kisses to his throat with murmured apologies every time she drew blood from broken skin. He would fill her arms with trinkets, comb through her long dark hair and dress her wounds with whispered adoration. They would not talk about anything that had happened the day before. They would be happy and in love, perfectly satisfied with each other and the life they created.
At least until next year.
It was the same as every year after all.
But for now... for now she would cry and fall asleep dreaming about a world where her companions were still here... if she pretended hard enough she could almost feel Gale's arms around her.
Hear his voice telling her that he wasn't mad at her.
That he still loved her.
Baldur's Gate was saved and its heroes scattered throughout the realms. FaerĂťn, Avernus, Elysium, the Astral Planes, all such lands became homes and havens to the heroes that didn't feel much like heroes anymore. Baldur's Gate had been saved yes, all of FaerĂťn saved truly... it was shocking how little that seemed to matter when they lost a companion. Just one... in events such as these more causalities were to be expected. Each of them prepared for their own untimely demises, ready to lay down their lives to end the Absolute scourge on the realms. They were lucky to only lose one amongst their ranks, just one.
Yet it was too much all the same.
Dearest sweet Azalea who could not defy her Father, his wretched blood poisoning her body and mind from the inside out. A cruel Father that seized control of her mind and marrow, the companion they loved and adored turned reduced to nothing more than a meat puppet following Bhaal's will.
She tried to end her life on the docks, they watched in horror as she raised dagger to throat.
First, she was stopped by her lover. Grief ridden and pain filled Gale that stopped her attempt before he could think better of it. Then seized by Urge and Father who rejoiced to have his favorite child returned.
"My love, sweet love, I will fix you."
The last words spoken to her by would be husband and forever adored lover. For even in the putrid melted matter of her mind she felt ardent undying love for the man that would know her no more. Though even that was eclipsed by repugnant Urge.
Every fleeting moment of consciousness she asked for death.
Prayed to every god she knew of.
Pleaded with passerbys.
Begged her companions.
Sobbed for a lover that never visited.
None answered, none came, no death delivered.
They all refused to be the ones to put metal to flesh, would not grant her a swift end or a lingering one...
Any end.
No mercy.
Kind words, assurances, stories, and visitors.
But never death.
Abandoned first to a cell, then escaped into FaerĂťn where they let her run loose. For they did not come to her, did not seek her out... or maybe they did. Maybe she has slayed them already. Maybe they are rotten meat stuck between cracked teeth. Scarfed down her gullet, licked their carrion clean from bone and left whatever was left to the beasts.
They should have killed her.
Instead she lived.
Guided only by Father, Urge, and hunger.
A worse monster than her beloved little sister had ever been.
She wandered and she ate and she killed and she rotted.
Cared little for the meaty bits that made her form.
Only for the next to fall to her blade.
Never anything more than elation for her next kill.
A body that no longer felt.
Or maybe it felt too much.
Yes.
Every withering organ and fried nerve, even the poison blood that scorched her veins. She knew it all intimately, aware of her body just as she was aware of her magic.
Magic used to feel beautiful.
Now it rotted.
Fell clumsy and loose and filthy.
It didn't matter.
Magic and time mattered little to a mad woman that only grew madder with every passing eve and dawning morn.
No.
Time mattered very much.
Adventurers grow stronger with time.
They learn her name, they know her scourge, they seek to kill or capture or harm or devour.
Enough time passed, enough prayers whispered, enough pleading for a lover who's name she could not recall and face lost within the twisted pudding of her brain.
Finally... finally something answered.
He stood before her bathed in a silvery glow.
Urge shrieked at the presence, it has tasted god blood before and it yearns for it more now. Father beckons for her to make the kill. To offer a god in his name, to reclaim his favor truly and give her the death that he had asked for so long ago that she had been too weak to give.
She is ready.
More than ready.
She could be good.
Father, please see her now.
She could do it this time.
She would be a good daughter this time.
Father donât hurt her anymore.
She could be good.
She would be good.
Let her prove it.
Please.
"My love... sweet love, I am sorry it has taken me so long to return." And then after a moment he grabbed her face. Not to tear or hurt or kill... simply hold. "What happened to your eye...? All of youâ no. That hardly matters, what happened that is. What matters is... you must be hurting horribly. Aren't you?"
There are passing moments where Urge and Father fell silent.
Just moments.
Where she was consumed by pain, yes.
But also warmth.
Passing moments of recollection of a better life.
It felt like gentle arms squeezing around her body, not to crush or harm or maim or kill... but simply to hold and be held. A feeling like softness in her withered heart. Always accompanied by the barest flickers of memories that blinked into distorted vision. Visions of people whose names and faces had blurred into nothingness.
When they returned to her mind it was with anger and fondness. She knew they were dear to her once but that feeling was always overtaken by the rage of Urge and Father and her own... how dare these people she held dear to her heart leave her to rot? How dare they hurt her like so many others before them had? Why did they let her live if they were only going to leave her to suffer!?
Betrayed at the end of the world.
Yet... for the first time in longer than she can comprehend they return to her memory softly. She felt many things but anger wasn't one of them.
It was with joy that she remembered the pointy one that mocked and teased constantly, her dearest friend in the world who knew her plight as if it were his own. With happiness that the memory of flaming skin that warmed her on the coldest nights and forgave for every sin committed. Fondness for the horned hero who danced with her at parties and sparred with her in mornings. Adoration for the beautiful healer that eased every aching pain, even ones from the mind that ailed her at night. Admiration for the cold bladed and kindhearted Gith that carried her out of battles on her back. Love for the soft half elf that cared too much about everything in the realm, she who soothed her after the deaths of sister and former lover. More faces that she knew, in some recess of her mind. Locked behind Urge and Father and time and blood and murder and hurt and sorrow...
"Did you forget me already?"
No.
Sometimes his name would be lost.
Other times his face.
Most times all of him was gone.
But she knew him.
He was the one that loved her.
Now he had face and body not just vague silhouette. Perhaps because he stood before her. Changed, so very changed much like herself. Or maybe her mind had forgotten and changed him instead, warped him into something unrecognizable.
She knew him still.
A single word formed from a throat that had done nothing but scream in pain, in pleasure, in pure unending agony and rage for an eternity.
"Gale?â
"There you are."
Too soft voice filled with too much adoration.
Too soft hands cradled her too filthy face.
"I've missed you very dearly," he spoke with a voice that eased her muscles or perhaps that was the rot finally taking hold for the evening. It mattered little to the god who cradled her face with all the tenderness he held within his divine body. "You've no idea how long it has been do you? Truth be told I cannot tell myself. Time passes differently within Elysium... but that doesn't matter really. It doesn't matter if it were only a few days or centuries, every moment without you... my love it has been an agonizing eternity. I charged my followers to seek you out and finally they bring you to me at last. Lost and mad though you are... I will fix you. I promise."
A surge.
Impermanent.
Fleeting.
Gone too soon.
But in that one singular moment she had so much to say.
What has become of our companions? Did they chase after their ambitions did they choose their own paths, what lives do they live now? And you... what happened to my Gale? What did you do to yourself... Gale... sweet and charming and awkward Gale that loves me still... why? Why would you choose this? You promised not to... did you do this for me? No one should miss me that much... Do they miss me... does anyone beside you miss me? Do you even really miss me? Can you really bear to look at what I've become? How long... how long have I been trapped? Left a prisoner of my own mind. A rotting corpse that would be better off left to decompose in the ground and rejoin the dirt. Anything is better than this, than being so horrifically aware of my body rotting around me. It hurts, everything hurts so much... I'm scared... I'm tired⌠please hold me for a little longer.
No words came out.
She was a creature without mind for words... but there aren't screams either.
Even when lucidity abandoned her, even when Urge and Father took hold, even when she snapped and bit, there were no screams.
Her face was wet.
"Don't cry, I'm here, I will make it better. I will answer your prayers."
Hands left her face and held her close instead. Folded her wretched ill begotten corpse skin into his divine arms. Soaking silver skin and blue robe with mess and sick and blood.
He didn't care.
"Your ambitions will be accomplished yet... you will be free of this," he promised sweetly, pressing his head against hers all while she thrashed and screamed and raged and bit and tore and clawed. "It is no longer your ambition alone... nothing will ever be yours to bear alone again. It is us... it's ours."
She thought heâd finally come to kill her.
To make right the wrong he had abandoned her to.
But there was no death at the hands of a lover.
Even now he was incapable of allowing her death... no matter how much she tried to wanted it... he just wouldn't let her go.
He had never been capable of letting her go.
Instead he took her.
The realms no longer knew her scourge, and for a time she faded into nothing more than a ghost story to scare children with. Those that had hunted tirelessly for her were forced to relent and finally to admit defeat. Assuming she had finally been finally caught and killed.
Life went on.
Adventurers were still sent to their deaths for no clear purpose.
The God of Ambition was not so forthcoming with his reasoning for summoning followers and calling out to adventurers, sending them on quests related to Bhaal and his wretched spawn. Not many adventurers answered his call, even less survived the tasks he set forth for them... but the ones that did learned one thing.
The God of Ambition held onto one ambition above all others.
To reclaim his lost love.
Naturally such tasks led to whispered rumors that soon became grand ballads based on secondhand accounts from survivors and old stories embellished by bards. Tales that spread throughout the realms, twisted from rumors into a grand story of love and loss.
The God of Ambition that kept the forsaken Spawn of Bhaal safe, kept her loved. A beautiful cage constructed just for his lost love, to keep her safe from others and from herself. Every need she could have was met without question and all the wants of her life from before her madness delivered without so much as a second thought. A place that smelled of fresh pastries and flowers that decorated every inch of space. They spoke of how he brought her trinkets and tales, sat by her cage speaking with her while the mad woman raged. They painted him a compassionate lover, aching for the return of a woman who was worse than lost or dead. A God who would sit by a mad woman's side for eternity just for a glimpse of the woman he had wanted to marry in that haze of madness.
They were not wrong.
He wanted her back so badly nothing else mattered.
Not even what she wanted.
Everyone would come to know the tragic tale of their love when they were mortals. Speak with compassion and yearning about his devotion to her. But not a single soul would speak of how she begged him for death at every fleeting moment of lucidity.
No one would know how he refused her that mercy.
Gale would not give up on his greatest ambition, not even when it came from the bleeding mouth of the woman he loves. No matter how much she sobbed, begged, or suffered he would not grant her one prayer.
Word Count: 9,755
Summary: Three possible endings for Odette after her adventure. The first where she and Astarion open a boutique and live a quiet life. The second where after becoming a vampire Odette struggles to find meaning in her life. And the third ending where Odette leaves Astarion in favor of returning to her old life.
CW: canon typical disturbing imagery and gore, dark themes, graphic depictions of violence, self harm/suicide, sexual content, pregnancy and children (let me know if I'm missing anything and I'll add it)
Notes: I just really wanted to write something about Odette and this was all I could think of, incredibly self-indulgent I won't lie. But if you're here reading this then clearly you don't mind. These are just the first three endings I could think of for her, I might add more hypothetical endings whenever I get bored or run out of ideas. Also happy Motherâs Day everyone, go hug your mom
read on ao3
The Stolen Veil had become a thriving boutique in Baldur's Gate with windows that always shined brightly and a door that rarely closed. Even at night when all other reasonable businesses had closed their doors, only closing up shop when the seamstress and tailor retired for the evening or the morning... or the week. Sometimes many weeks, even months. Truly few knew what schedule the boutique actually operated on.
The boutique never held a strict schedule, even within its earliest days. Only a vague semblance of structure, that when they were both home the seamstress took patrons in the morning and the tailor took them in at night. Rare was the occasion which the tailor dealt with patrons during the day, when he did it was in one of the side rooms for sewing rather than the main room where they welcomed patrons. A little odd but not unusual enough to comment on, the tailor merely valued the privacy of his patrons was the working theory. Regardless, the problem hardly lied with that aspect of their schedule and had nothing at all to do with layout. The biggest problem patrons took was the sudden and random closures. When the patrons were lucky it was only the tailor away, for weeks or months at a time. When they were unlucky both the tailor and the seamstress would disappear with barely a word of warning and no timeframe given for their return. It was near impossible to tell when the couple would open up shop again, given the varied lengths of their disappearance. The shortest was four days, the two returned bedraggled in the middle of night covered in blood and opened up at first light as if they had never closed at all. Their longest had been a year and a half, with the addition of two months spent returned but not open. None could begrudge seamstress or tailor too much for the additional two months they took to settle in with their new infant daughter.
It was inconvenient, at the best of times and infuriating at the worst of them. Still the inconvenience was worth it. They made beautiful clothes and their reputations served them well. Once upon a time the Stolen Veil had been filled with people eager to meet two of the heroes of Baldur's Gate. As time went by those types of visits became few and far between. Most came for the clothes as opposed to the heroes these days.
More than a decade had passed since the Netherbrain and the army of the Absolute stormed Baldur's Gate, the traces of such a catastrophe had been erased almost entirely. The city had healed and moved on, they were heroes yes. But there was always another calamity, new adventurers ready to save the day and have their accomplishments praised in the streets.
It suited the couple better this way, dealing with patrons who only wanted to hear about their adventures had grown very tiring very quickly. This peace suited their new lives much better, neither wanted to even attempt to imagine raising their daughter with that sort of attention on them still.
"Halsin wrote to me again, he seems rather lonely. Or at least, yearning for our company," Odette hummed, tapping a pen against her lip as she went over their monthly budget. They certainly could afford to leave the boutique for a few weeks should they take the trip to Moonrise. They'd be able to stop by the Underdark and check on the vampire spawn as well, it's been a moment since they've returned and sheâs sure they would love to properly meet Clara. "He'd like us to visit Moonrise before the end of the month."
"More than a decade later and he still won't cease in trying to steal my wife. There were oh so many suitors but I was the one to ensnare such a catch. Slayer of hags, savior of the needy, leader of our tragic little menagerie, the hero of Baldur's Gate. And now my wife and mother to our beloved princess. Quite the collection of titles!" Astarion teased with a grin, resting Clara on his hip as he swooped in from the kitchen with a glass of water. Handing her the cup he faced Clara and spoke in a deadpan tone. "Though I have to admit, it does get exhausting contending with so many others. I was under the impression that having a child would ward off all these suitors. Is there an expiry date somewhere on you? You're so shiny and new, surely your charm can't have expired yet."
"Expired?"
"It means gone bad, princess," she supplied. "Like the bread we threw out the other day."
"'m not bad bread!"
"Are you sure?" He questioned seriously, nipping her cheek and humming while she pushed his face away. "No, I suppose you're not bad bread."
"Told you!"
"Yes, you did, but now the mystery remains, why are people still trying to steal my wife?"
"Steal mama?"
"No one is trying to steal me princess. Papa is being silly. I've no suitors left in this realm. You know very well that was put to bed a very long time ago, and any other suitor is too terrified of the both of us to attempt it," she scoffed, rolling her eyes fondly as she took a slow drink from her cup. "Halsin just misses us terribly, apparently he's trying to gather our old companions for a party to celebrate Clara's birthday."
"The birthday that was a tenday ago?" he exclaimed theatrically, placing his free hand over his heart with a flourish much to the amusement of their now giggling daughter. "Already losing track of time in his old age? Honestly, what are we going to do with him?"
"You're reaching those wretched years yourself my star," she retorted, laughing at his scandalized expression. "Don't worry the age suits you, I love your smile lines.â
"I do not age! I am forever immortal, forever young. I don't wrinkle," he huffed, turning once again to confide in Clara as though he might find an ally rather than a babbling toddler. "Do you hear your traitorous mother? Trying to make me out as some old knave."
"Papa's old!"
"You've corrupted my child!" He exclaimed, feigning hurt as he turned his head away from a maniacally giggling Clara that kept grabbing at his face and chanting about how old her father is. "Betrayed in my own home!"
"How ever will you survive," she laughed softly, fighting down a yawn as she closed their records and stood from her place. Walking over to the duo she placed a kiss on their foreheads. "I'm going to bed, you can join me if you can manage to get our princess back to sleep."
"Well then you heard mama, off to bed!"
"No, no, no!"
"Oh yes, yes, yes my little traitor," he said gleefully, spinning Clara around before heading towards her room. "Mama and papa would very much like to rest tonight."
"But 'm awake!"
"That is a problem isn't it?"
Their argument slowly faded away as Odette headed to her bedroom, smiling as she went about her nightly routine. All the while she could only think of one thing really.
She has a good life.
A perfect life really... it was everything she had ever wanted as a child and then some.
The hag that destroyed her family died by her hand, twice. She was given not only the chance to say goodbye to her mother and put the past to rest but also the opportunity to help two mothers and their children. Saved the women and their children from the fate that befell her own little family... oh she remembered how much she had cried her heart out after Ethel finally died. It was good... it was so good.
Her father was well taken care of, though no longer sick from a hag's curse he was still getting old. The fact never stopped him from playing games with Clara or coming to visit them for any reason he could conjure. They'd still visit Ilmater's temple together, except now it was to pay respects to Father Lorgan. Her father always made time for Deimos, the engagement that had been ended so long ago it mattered little to any of them. Deimos was still their family... and he was happy too. His life as an adventurer suited him better than the life they lived together.
More than just them she had a family, large and messy though it was she wouldn't want any other family. One she had helped to make from rot and ruin. Her companions that came by whenever they could, taking up the guest bedrooms without so much as needing to call on them ahead of time. Being received in her companions homes and welcomed with open arms as if no time has passed at all since the last time they'd seen each other. The tiefling children that were not quite children anymore that visited often enough they knew their way around her kitchen as well as she did. A wardrobe set aside with clothes just for them in their favored guest room and their favorite foods stocked up just in case they visited. All the people she met on her journey found themselves welcome in her home.
The boutique she dreamed of since she was young was well loved, maybe a little too well loved even. Her hands cramped and ached from the endless stitchwork she spent her time on... truly it may come time for her to take on apprentices to help lighten her workload. Ide and Mirkon would make for good apprentices, their stitchwork had improved so much over the years and they already knew their way around. Offering them jobs would be the first thing she did when they returned from their trip. Beyond the little practicalities and nuances though, the Stolen Veil was everything she dreamed it to be.
She had a beautiful husband that loved her for who she was... not in spite of it. As a young girl she didn't care much for that distinction but as a woman she knew how important such a thing was, she is lucky to have the former. Astarion was far off from the fairy tale heroes she'd been infatuated with as a child. He was rude, snarky, with a twisted sense of humor, and overall a smug bastard who still made a face when she was too kind. She would not have him any other way. There wasn't anyone else in the realms she would ever want to face life with.
And he gave her a beautiful baby girl that was so much like them it made her cry from pure joy. Radiant and hopeful just like her father, a smile brighter than the very sun and a laugh that made her heart swell. Their Clara who would face many hardships in this life as a dhampir... as their child. But she would know warmth and love. A family so large that there would never come a day where she would be alone.
Her life couldn't be better, she hoped Astarion felt the same.
The door creaked open and before she could think it through. Soon enough there were arms around her middle and a face pressed into the crook of her neck.
"You actually got her to sleep," she asked with a laugh, tilting her head to allow him better access to her neck. When he didn't bite, she placed her hand in his hair, twirling pearl white curls between her fingers. "What did you promise her?"
"Nothing at all I swear," he promised with a smile she could feel against her skin. "Fast asleep after just one story."
"The swan maiden again?"
"It was indeed" he chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest. "She's quite taken with it you know. So fascinated by your mother's drawings, even the horrifying one with the swans drowning that hag."
"I wish she'd pick a different story to enjoy," she admitted with a sigh, pressing her lips into a thin line. "I think I've had quite enough of it... itâs such a sad tale."
"Perhaps at first," he admitted then with a cocky grin he squeezed her tighter and pressed a kiss to her neck. "But I quite like the ending. The swan maiden and her adventurer spending the rest of their days together. Finally making a home under the rising sun beside a lake. With nothing to think or to know, no more running from the monster that turned her. Still searching for a cure but perfectly content with the life they had built together. Even without a cure, they were free."
"You said it was unrealistic when I first told it to you," she said after a beat, trying to keep her tone teasing despite how choked up his words had made her. Tears already gathering in the corners of her eyes. "Astarion AncunĂn are you becoming an optimist?"
"How dare you! I would never become a naive bright-eyed optimist, that's your forte," he huffed, feigned offense oozing from his every word. "And you know very well it's Astarion Atratus now, Odette Atratus. Don't you dare remove my hard earned title!"
"Hard earned title? I thought I was laughably easy to seduce," she shot back, reciting his words at him with a mocking pompous tone. "A loyal white knight oh so desperate for approval that I'd let you get away with anything."
"Let the record show that you did not in fact let me get away with anything."
"Oh please, when have I ever not given you what you wanted?"
"I can think of one really big thing you didn't let me have," he began with a tone that made her groan in exasperation. "So you do remember hmm? I can have whatever I want but not say a few thousand souls? Gods forbid I ask for a little sacrifice."
"You're absolutely wretched!"
"Your wretched vampire spawn and not all-powerful vampire ascendant, entirely self-inflicted in case you needed the reminder."
They went back and forth for several more minutes, not even pausing as they went about their nightly routine. Only stopping when they settled into bed, curled into one another and nearly choking from laughter. Her tears from before had vanished just as quickly as they appeared. He was always good at that, making her laugh no matter the circumstances. Truly it was one of her favorite things about him.
"Feel better?"
"I wasn't sad to begin with," she assured him, letting out a final gasping laugh before taking a moment to compose herself. When she was sure she wouldn't start laughing or coughing when she opened her mouth she spoke again. "I appreciate the laughter regardless... and am immensely grateful Clara is a heavy sleeper."
"We are quite lucky for that," he agreed, his expression pulled into a soft frown. "You would tell me if you were sad, yes?"
"Of course I would," she promised but at the look on his face she explained herself. "I wasn't cryingâ and if I was, it wasn't sad tears... I'm just happy."
"What could possibly make you that happy?"
"I'm happy you like your life."
"Have I ever made you doubt I was happy? What behavior do I have that could possibly suggest that to you at all?" He asked in shock that quickly morphed into concern. "Are... are you unhappy?"
"It's not anything you've done truly, I was just making sure," she said quickly, grabbing his hands and holding him tight. "And I am so happy, truly. I couldn't be happier if I tried."
"Good, I work very hard to make you exorbitantly happy," he said smugly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Now then, off to bed with you as well. We've a lot to do tomorrow if you want to set out on the road to Moonrise by nightfall."
"Oh? And when did we decide we were going to Moonrise?"
"I was never going to decline the trip, as you've said before there doesn't remain a single suitor in the realm that would dare steal you from me. You're well and truly taken after all," he said flippantly, snuff out the candles beside their bed. "Besides, I wouldn't dare deny them the chance to bask in our presence once again."
"I think you just miss our family."
"Ugh perish the thought, I only pity the fools. Being deprived of us must be a wretched thing," he declared, turning on his side and grabbing her hand. "Besides, Clara should know who her aunts and uncles are. Some of them haven't seen her since she was born."
"A beautiful end to a hellish time," she recalled, wrinkling her nose at the memory. "If we have more, I refuse to travel for my pregnancy, lifesaving magic be damned."
"I quite liked the lifesaving magic actually, I'm much too young to be a widow."
"You'd make for a beautiful widow though. You're stunning in black, you could even wear the shirtwaist I made a few months ago, the one with the dark lace. I think you could catch yourself a fair pure hearted hero type with a look like that. Wyll preferably. He'd make a lovely husband to you and an adoring stepfather to Clara. I suppose I'd be fine if you sought out other lovers of course, but I really would prefer Wyll," she mused, laughing when he pinched her side. "Alright, I relent. Lifesaving magic, no matter how humiliating and excruciating, is a must. Even though I can never look Morena Dekarios in the eyes again after my delivery."
"It's a good thing she's not your mother in law than."
"She might as well be with how often she sends us letters and gifts," she said with a laugh that morphed into a yawn. "Mmm, suppose that's a sign. Goodnight, star."
"Rest well my love."
She didn't bother closing her eyes and trying to sleep yet, she knew in a moment or maybe an hour he would have more to say. It was something of an unspoken ritual or maybe a habit he had developed on the road. To say something to her one final time before she slept, usually an apology for something he deemed too far or an assurance. Sometimes it was just another declaration of love or promise to keep her safe. So, it came to no surprise when barely a few moments later he spoke up.
"I am happy you know, this life is a gift."
A dark imposing palace loomed over the city of Baldur's Gate.
No matter how many parties were held or patriars were entertained the aura of darkness and foreboding never left the place. As if horrors were steeped into the very ground the palace rested on and surged within its old stone framework. No number of scented candles or perfumes ever fully covered the metallic stench that stung the air and no music could dare to smother the wind that screamed with the anguish of a thousand souls. No one needed proof to assume something horrible had happened here... but what ever had happened was no one's business.
The mysterious lord and lady of the palace were fawned after socialites; the very best Baldur's Gate had to offer. There was so little known about them that patriars couldn't help but flock to them just for the opportunity to glean information on the couple. Such powerful and beautiful people that hosted so many parties in their beautiful home. All while contributing so much to their beloved city. Offering up their aid to the council they had helped restore, right alongside their aid in reconstructing the upper city.
More than a decade later and they were still revered as heroes. The only thing more well known than their deeds as heroes all that time ago was the stories of their grand parties.
Odette wished that was enough... but each day that passed what precious little was left of her heart ached so terribly she thought she would die a second time.
The endless revelries and parties had once been so much fun. Being around so many people that were all intent on having all sorts of fun. Entertainment ranging from mildly hedonistic to downright debauched. It was fun, to hear the music and to dance with Astarion. To have his arms wrapped around her neck or his hands on her waist, guiding her through the steps of each dance dutifully with that grin she fell in love with. Complicated footwork that never faltered even as the people around them grew more and more inebriated until their guests could hardly see straight. When that time of night came, they'd sneak off together, hiding themselves in a locked room if they could make it. Other times on the balcony that overlooked the city, sitting on the stone banister while he buried his face between her thighs, nipping at her femoral artery. There was no reason to feed on her, she had no living blood to sate his hunger.
It was for fun.
Like everything else they did.
For power, for control, for freedom, and for fun.
One day it stopped being fun.
She attended less and less parties, only showing face for the beginnings of important parties and then disappearing to the attic. Setting needle to fabric and trying to remember what she had loved about sewing.
There was no joy when she finished sewing a dress for herself... she could barely recall the last time she enjoyed sewing at all really...
She stopped sewing dresses and sewed clothes for Astarion instead.
And it worked.
For a little while.
He adored the clothes she made for him, bragging about his oh so talented consort to all the patriars and council members whenever they met. Lavished her with compliments and gifts of silks from Corymyr, even repurposing the attic into a sewing room. She enjoyed hearing him talk sweet to her and about her, enjoyed seeing him in the clothes she'd spent countless hours on. Enjoyed it even more when he would sit with her sometimes, when he grew bored of parties and machinations. He'd pick up a needle and they'd sew together once again as if nothing had changed. In those moments she remembered why she fell in love with him, that beautiful smile and dramatic commentary when he was in the mood to tease her. Not the Vampire Ascendant with his slick smile and too easy charm. Just Astarion. Her Astarion who used to sit beside her at camp and sew up their friends ragged camp clothes. In that attic that had once been a poor girl's prison she found the man she loved so much she gave up... everything.
The feeling didn't last.
Or it did?
She still smiled when he complimented her, grinned so wide her face might split open every time he praised her works in public. Still leaned against him when they sewed together and peppered his neck with kisses. But she didn't feel anything.
Just tired.
Little by little she stopped sewing.
Instead, she'd spend hours idling away in the gardens in the Upper City. She had never been one for growing things so their own garden had fallen into woeful neglect, but it was nice to sit outside. The sun on her skin and the breeze rustling her hair. No one ever dared to approach her, Lady AncunĂn was a visage of melancholy and contempt with that dark veil concealing the upper half of her face. Far too frightening to approach, less of a refined lady and more like a ghost haunting the city.
She wasn't sure when Astarion started joining her outside, taking her hand and leading her on long walks through the most beautiful gardens she'd ever seen. Their walks began to lead them further and further from beautiful gardens and instead towards the endless sea. A single offhanded comment about wishing to enjoy the water without prying eyes and he set to work. Taking her to vacation seaside while he hired people to redo their own garden into something worth looking at. And when the time spent in Amn seemed to truly elevate her spirits, they spent longer away from Baldur's Gate. A vacation home right on the beach, sequestered away from the world.
It worked.
For a little while.
She still laughed too loudly with him, laughed so hard her lungs ached and her face hurt from smiling. Still kissed him with everything left in her hollow body and nipped at him playfully with too sharp teeth that would catch on his pale skin. Every morning they spent in Amn still started with them waking for the sunrise and playing in the ocean or lying in the sand until they went out to look for a meal. Every evening ended with her head on his chest and clinging to him like she would disappear if he left.
But she felt nothing.
Just tired.
Just numb.
Friends visited the palace when they returned to Baldur's Gate and part of her suspected that Astarion had something to do with it.
The rest of her couldn't muster up the energy to think or feel or... anything really.
She smiled, laughed, danced, did everything that she needed to prove that she was here. That she was still their friend and not something hollow wearing their friend's skin. Made light conversation and teased them, how lucky she was to be surrounded by such powerful people who she shared such deep connections with.
And she should feel something.
Deep down she knows she should.
She had spent half a year, fighting an impossible battle with these people. Spent every night of those six months caring for their needs, hearing their troubles, and shouldering their grief as well as their ambitions. They had stood by her side and supported her every decision, aided her when no one else in the world seemed to care for her troubles. Had laughed, cried, hurt, loved, and fought alongside them... having them all here in her home should have made her feel better. It was so much like when they were adventuring together the deja vu almost made her head spin.
This should've been perfect.
This was all she could have wanted.
So why didn't she feel anything?
She tried so hard.
She wanted to feel somethig.
Anything other than this crushing numbness that threatened to swallow her whole.
But she felt nothing.
Their friends left eventually.
They had their own lives to live.
Very important lives... she hoped those lives made them happy.
She hoped they did not stay up at night thinking about the lives they could have had. A life that was not quite as grand as the ones they lived now, not so important and all powerful... but at least they'd all still be together... she hoped at least their current lives made them feel something. She would not wish this emptiness on anyone let alone people she knows she should love...
Astarion returned to his life not long after they left, frustrated at her lacking no doubt. No matter how much time he spent with her it was never enough to keep her full, not even bringing their friends to her had been enough to ignite any kind of reaction. When he didn't get it... well she could hardly blame him for leaving. Throwing himself into his work of puppeteering Baldur's Gate.
She didn't blame him.
Maybe she should but she didn't have the energy.
They didn't speak much anymore, practically lived separate lives within the palace.
She did not look at him as she walked the endless corridors and lay in the flowery garden he had made for her. He could not look at her... he hadn't been able to look her in the eyes since he ascended and now, he cannot stand the sight of her at all.
She wished she could be sad.
Hurt.
Angry.
Anything... anything but tired.
She tried pain and it worked.
For a little while.
Pain never lingered long enough, she healed too fast.
But hunger?
That worked for so much longer.
Even when it stopped working she hardly saw the point in feeding.
Hardly saw the point in anything.
She didn't feed.
She didn't laugh.
She didn't smile.
She didn't sew.
She laid in the garden beside the pond, unmoving for hours.
Maybe if she laid there long enough she'd discover she was actually a corpse. That this was all some nightmare conjured up by her soul to cope with the vast emptiness of the fugue plane. At least it would explain the hollowness where her soul used to be.
It wasn't her fault she was empty.
She was just dead.
She had died a long time ago.
Before she had become this.
Before they had defeated the Netherbrain, before she was a vampire, before Astarion ascended, before they killed Ketheric, before Astarion loved her, before he even knew her, before she had been put aboard the Nautiloid.
Maybe it would have been better for both of them if she had been murdered by thugs instead of kidnapped by Mindflayers.
But she wasn't dead was she?
She was still here.
Still too tired, still too numb.
Just a hollow husk.
"Eternity is going to be awfully boring if you're going to spend the entire time wasting away."
She hummed in way of greeting, turning on her side to face the pond instead of him. Hand outstretched in the water to disturb his reflection, she didn't want to see him.
Or maybe she did?
She didn't know.
"Pouting like a child are we?" He sneered, voice dripping with condescension as he approached her. "Are you really going to keep your back turned towards me?"
She shrugged, or at least she did her best to while she laid on her side. The movement only ended up making her curl in on herself.
"Unbelievable, is nothing I do good enough for you?"
She had nothing to say... maybe it wasn't good enough or maybe it was too much.
"You enjoyed the parties once upon a time. So, I made them happen every night, I brought patriars from the upper city â highborn and nobles from the realm over to entertain you. When that no longer suited you, I let you disappear from our parties off to that dreary attic. I spent weeks making it presentable for you and made certain you only had the finest materials to work with. And when you stopped? I didn't demand reason from you, instead we went away to Amn for a year. I had thought, for a moment that perhaps my swan had come back to me... and yet nothing," he ranted at her and she could perfectly imagine the look on his face. The scowl that furrowed his brows and his lips twisted into a sneer. "I gave you everything you could want. I even brought our blasted friends to our home for an entire month and still nothing! What more could you possibly want from me? What must I give you to make you love me again?"
She should feel guilty, maybe she did.
Maybe that uncomfortable icy weigh settled in her chest was guilt.
Or maybe it was just her dead heart.
"Speak to me damn it! It's been months."
Months?
Had it really been that long?
Amn had felt like weeks ago, their friends' departure only a few days.
Months...
It was colder.
She hadn't spoken to him since it was warm.
"I hadn't realized."
"You hadn't realized the last time you spoke to your husband was the beginning of the year?" He asked bitingly, bitterness seeping into every word as she came to stand just above her. "If you're so miserable, then you're free to leave."
He didn't mean it.
Heâd never actually let her go.
She knew him well enough to know that much. He was just hurt and trying to hurt her too. Always pushing her away, even when she was mortal and he was a spawn. Like he couldn't believe that she would ever stick by his side willingly and instead constantly tested her. For a moment she let the waters of the pond rest, enough to catch a glimpse of his reflection... he looked like himself.
Like Astarion.
Not the vampire ascendant.
Just Astarion.
Her Astarion.
"I'm sorry."
Whatever biting remark he had prepared died on his tongue, she could hear his entire body freeze up at the sound of her apology.
"Sorry?" He echoed. "You're sorry?"
With a mirthless laugh that bordered on a groan he sat beside her on the grass.
"You don't mean that."
"I want to mean it."
She wished she could mean it.
Mean anything.
Feel anything.
"Can you believe you used to love me?" He asked her after a beat of silence. "Aeterna amantes, we had promised. Lovers forever, until the world falls down"
"I have no intention of breaking that promise, I love you."
"You don't love anything anymore," he chuckled wryly, reaching out to toy with the edge of the veil. fingers just ghosting over the skin near her eyes. "You don't even want to live."
"I... I donât want to die either," she answered softly, squeezing her eyes shut to keep from making eye contact. "Iâm sorry for this ... it will pass."
"It will," he answered stiffly, voice hardening. "It has to."
She tried not to linger too long on the thought of what might happen should this emptiness refuse to fade.
"I should apologize to you," he admitted, almost hysterically as he pulled the veil away. Hand draped carelessly over her eyes. "I ruined your love. I ruined you. My precious white knight pure as the driven snow, every drop of blood that ever dared to taint you only fell away. No matter the horrors you remained the same. You weren't like other people, you had a heart overflowing with so much love for the world it was sickening. Those damn bright eyes of yours that looked at everything with so much compassion and trust... and now you are this. It's my fault I imagine. I made you like me, the old me. Weak and afraid."
âIâm not afraid or weak you made sure of that,â she snorted, something almost like fondness creeping into her voice as she opened her eyes to glance at him through the darkness of her veil and gaps between his fingers. âAs your consort, Iâve never had to fear anything⌠Iâm just tired.â
âYes well all you seem to be is tired.â
He was right.
Of course he was right.
Sheâs been so tired she hadnât moved for days, hadnât fed in weeks, hadnât spoken to him in months.
She was just so tired.
"I still love you,â she assured him as sincerely as she could muster. âVery deeply.â
"Then tell me what you desire, what can I do for you my precious swan? What can make you yourself again?" His voice trembled, like for a beat he was worried she might say something he wouldn't like... or maybe she was imagining it. "You wanted children, didn't you?"
"You remember that?" She asked, a crooked smile growing on her face as she choked down a watery laugh. "I told you that so long ago... back when we were still searching for Halsin, I think."
"Of course I remember, I remember everything about you. You were chasing the tielfing children around at the Grove, teaching them little tricks and cons. You were laughing when you said you couldn't wait to have children of your own." As if realizing he might sound too sincere he pulled away, masking the moment with an air of arrogance she knew very well. "Tell me what color and size you want, I'll fetch one for you. I'll fetch you ten or twenty if you so desire."
"What am I going to do with twenty children?"
"You'll come up with something, you took such good care of every little orphan we happened upon during our travels," he recalled trailing off for moment before speaking again. "Simply tell me what you want, I'll make certain you have it."
"What if I asked for all of FaerĂťn?"
"It was always going to be yours, ask me for something harder."
Without warning he removed his hand from over her eyes... and he was looking at her. Actually looking her in the eyes for the first time... in too long.
She hadn't realized how much she missed looking into his eyes... did he like her eyes as they are now?
Did he like who she was now?
Did she like who he was?
"Odette..."
She couldn't remember the last time he called by her name either. Always his dark consort, his bride, his swan, Lady AncunĂn even... but never Odette.
It was nice... to hear him say her name and look in her eyes...
She'd missed all of this so terribly.
"You truly have given up everything for me. Do you regret it?"
"No."
Her certainty shocked them both... but it was true.
"We could've made better choices... in the end all that matters is that we are here now and there's no changing that. Of course, I miss our lost friends... my father as well. I imagine what our life could have been too often, I picture a little girl with your sharp features and my smile, and the vision never fails to make me cry... But we are here. We are this. I've come to terms with it... can you?" She asked him lightly, blinking back tears. "My everything is still yours, if you want it."
They promised each other eternity. No matter how horrible things might become or what horrors they face... whether it be mundane or otherwise. They would do it together.
"Of course I want it, no one else can have it. No one else can have you." He laced their hands together, twirling her silver wedding wing around her finger. "I love you, in my own way. Will that be enough for you?"
"Itâs all Iâve ever asked of you."
âThen weâll be fine. Weâll endure as we always have.â
And one day it might finally be enough.
Odette Attratus was okay.
Content most days.
Just okay for the rest of them.
After her once in a lifetime adventure ended... well she couldn't just abandon everything she had ever known. There had been responsibilities that she needed to return to... difficult choices to be made.
The choice to break things off with Astarion perhaps hurt the most.
No matter how much she had wanted to go with Astarion to the Underdark... she couldn't. They had killed Ethel before the hag could remove the curse she had placed on her father. Her death prevented the curse from getting any worse... it just also meant he wasn't going to get any better. She couldn't abandon him nor could she bring him with her to the Underdark. She wouldn't ask that of her father, not after he spent the majority of his life trapped sacrificing everything he loved for her sake. A family he spurned when they would not accept her, friends abandoned when they deemed her a pest, and lovers turned away... she and Deimos were the only people left in the realm who loved him. More than that, they were the only people who could care for him with the way his mind was these days. The least she could do for her father was to stay in Baldur's Gate and take care of him the same as he had done for her.
And the best thing she could do for Astarion was to let him go.
He had such a beautiful long life ahead of him, filled with vampire spawn and freedom and choices. She couldn't be the reason he gave that all up, not even for a second. After two hundred years of pure shit... she couldn't bear to be the reason he put off seizing his freedom. Keeping him trapped in Baldur's Gate with her and her sick father was a prison sentence all on its own. No matter how much she had wanted to plead and beg for him to stay by her side she refused to... because she worried he might say yes. That he would give up a life that could be good for him all for the sake of supporting her. A repayment for all that she had given him or maybe a foolish thing he did out of love. She refused to ask that of him, refused to even give him a choice in the matter. It took everything in her not to burst into tears when she told him to leave their room all those years ago... that they were done.
Still life went on.
Astarion did great things with his freedom, all of her friends had seized their new lives with zeal. They rarely spoke to each other anymore, outside of letters exchanged and the odd few party that never came with proper warning.
She didn't talk about her life with any of them, tried her best to only listen to their lives and deflect any questions back at them.
It wasn't that she was ashamed of her life... she just didn't think they'd understand it. They'd tell her she had given up too much and she didn't want to tell them it was the least she could do. The last thing she wanted was to fight with them on one of the rare times she got to see them all... her life wasn't bad.
Sure, she closed her boutique, or rather she never reopened it. Her father needed round the clock care and running a boutique took too much time. Instead, she got a job working for Figaro. Her skills with a needle got her a decent position. Saving his life gave her more than flexible working hours to care for her father. It wasn't bad, just different than what she had wanted for herself. As much as she had wanted to run her own boutique it just wasn't in the cards, so she made do with making clothes for someone else's store.
And she married Deimos, a stable safe kind of marriage as opposed to one forged in the fires of an adventure. It was inevitable, they had known each other for so long after all. They were comfortable with each other, knew the important things about each other, and wanted the same thing from life. A home. The one that they had both desired so much when they were young and scared, two too thin children following her father's tips and tricks to steal pocket change for their meals. When they married it made her father happy to know they would always take care of each other just as they had when they were young. He was even happier when his first grandchild came along, with the second on the way she'd never seen him so full of life.
There were days of course, everyone has days.
When those days came, she went out, or rather she stood just outside her home. She couldn't go too far when Deimos was out adventuring, she needed to be close by in case her father or her daughter needed her. Instead, she made herself content with sitting on the steps of her front door and stared at the moon, wondering if her companions were looking at the moon just like her.
It was one such night that she watched the moon when her father passed.
Life went on for everyone else even if it felt like her's had stopped.
Figaro gave her a month off work to grieve even though she would need to go on maternity leave soon. Her daughter asked her where grandpa went and she had to explain death to a four year old little girl. People came and went from their home, bringing meals and well wishes. Soothed her with words about how her father had lived long past his expectancy thanks to the care she gave him. Said and did all sorts of things she imagined were supposed to be comforting but only made her feel worse.
She found the closest thing to peace in the dead of night, on the doorsteps of her home staring at the moon that she had watched the night her father died alone. The moon she buried him under, dirt beneath her nails as she preformed his funeral rites, reciting prayers of Ilmater that she used to have memorized. The moon she had once watched with her father, then Deimos, then her companions, and now she watched it alone. Because her father had died and Deimos had left on another adventure, because her companions were so far away from her, and her daughter was too young to be out in this cold.
She was alone... and it was better this way.
Better to cry in the middle of the night while her daughter slept, face pressed into her hands and sobbing just outside her home. She called it decompression, even if it felt more like rotting... she couldn't let herself rot of course. Alurivette needed her mother, Sprout still needed her womb for two months longer, and her father's funeral rites were not yet finished. Rotting away into an apathetic shade of herself while tempting... it was simply an impossibility.
She cried when the opportunity presented itself at night.
No one that passed by the streets this late cared much for a pregnant woman crying.
Almost no one.
"I could be mistaken, but the last time you were out alone this late at night you were kidnapped by mindflayers. Darling, I thought youâd have learned better by now."
She didn't need to open her eyes to know who it was, the mocking pompous voice that had been so dear to her all those years ago never faded from memory. If she opened her eyes, she knew what she'd see, white hair like freshly fallen snow and irises like poured blood. Sharp features that had engraved him into her memory so vividly, even though they have not seen other for a very long time.
"Astarion." She said his name softly, scared that if she spoke too loud he'd be able to catch the tremble in her voice, the sob that she choked on. Even if he could see that her face was blotchy and soaked with tears she couldn't let herself fall apart entirely in front of him. Wiping her face she took a deep breath and finally opened her eyes to greet at him. He was beautiful. Of course he was. "You look radiant."
"And you look dreadful," he answered after a beat, for a brief moment an uncomfortable expression settled on his face. The longer he stared the more she wondered about what she must look like in his eyes, the more she squirmed under his too focused gaze. It vanished as soon as it appeared, easy arrogance taking over him as he pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her. "I thought pregnant people were supposed to glow."
"I'm very much passed the glowing part, I'm at the get this thing out of my body so help me gods part," she laughed, leaning back with a content hum. Even after so long apart it was so easy to fall back into their familiar habits. It was a much-needed comfort... the familiar was good. "How have you been my friend, your letters have grown sparse."
"Ha! You're one to speak on sparse letters," he teased, smirking down at her. "You haven't written a word to me about your own life in ages. I finally come for a visit to invite you into some... mmm reckless fun and you're pregnant! Too pregnant to rob the Counting House with me."
"I think I'd make for a lovely distraction, I'm due any day now after all," she mused, ignoring the look of appall on his face as best as she could. Biting back laughter, she continued with her diversion plan. "I could pretend to go into labor, or actually go into labor depending on if Sprout here complies. Keep the fists and tellers busy enough for you to slip in and out."
"By the nine hells... don't tell me you're naming that poor child Sprout!"
"Only for now. They're just a sprout after all. The seed of my womb and all that, my little Sprout," she smiled softly, making space for him beside her on steps. "Would you like to meet them? They're especially active around this time of night. Gods forbid they ever let me sleep."
"Can... can I really?"
"Of course you can."
She didn't so much as breathe too loudly when he sat beside her, the last thing she wanted to do was spook him. Instead, she repositioned herself slowly to allow him access to her stomach. Watching with a smile as he hesitantly reached out and finally placed his hand on her stomach. When she was sure he wouldn't pull away she grabbed his hand, moving it to just above where she had felt the last kick...
"There you are Sprout," she praised softly. "This is my friend Astarion."
He didn't say anything at first, stared at her stomach with an expression she'd never seen before. Soft was the only word that she could think to describe him. Soft and a little bit afraid? Worried? Hurt? She couldn't tell.
"Hello Sprout, you're very active for someone who hasn't been born yet. You'll give her a trouble I'm sure," he greeted awkwardly, clearing his throat he continued. "You must be very strong you the little parasite, you've sapped up all the liveliness from my dearest friend. I've seen corpses in better condition than your mother, she's grown quite pale."
"You can hardly speak on how pale I may be, I know you can't see yourself in a mirror but I'm sure you must have a vague idea of your own situation," she huffed, pulling his coat tighter around herself, careful not to knock into his hand. It took more restraint than she cared to admit to not inhale the familiar scent. In over a decade he had yet to change his perfumes, paranoid the corpse rot may bleed through, she's sure. She couldn't ever smell the corpse rot he claimed clung to him, only the perfumes he painstakingly crafted and layered. It smelled like home. "I've just been busy."
"Too busy to spend oh I don't know, twenty minutes in the daylight? What's the point of being married if you can't steal time for yourself?" He asked pointedly, his hand following the intermittent kicks from Sprout absently. "You are married, aren't you? Or widowed? If you're widowed, I'll happily help you pick a new wardrobe to suit your status. You'll be the most striking widow in the city by the time I'm finished. I'm certain you have a dress in your shop to add to the effect to start with. Something dark, not quite black, blue has always been your color. It looks wonderful on you, wonderful enough to get some fair-haired beauty to sweep you off your feet."
"I don't have a shop I'm afraid and I'm not widowed thank you... my husband is very much alive."
"Right sorry you said you don't have a shop?" He asked incredulously, prying his stare away from her stomach to look her in the eye. "I assumed you had moved locations given the state of your previous neighborhood after our battle... but no shop at all?"
"Afraid not," she paused for a moment, grabbing the fabric of her skirt to keep her hands still. "I really didn't have the time."
"I can understand not having the time at first, but darling you spent so long designing all those clothes. Hours doodling in that journal and taking measurements, all the vendors you spoke with on our way to the city. Every rest we had you'd spend sewing, but now you lack time?" The more he spoke the louder he got, his free hand moving quickly as he expressed his frustration and confusion. "You of all people! You were sewing when you thought the world was going to end! The very evening before we set out to fight the brain you sat in my arms and sewed until you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore. You don't have time? For your dream? Your passion?"
They stared at each other for a long moment.
She refused to speak or elaborate.
Astarion took it the worst way, a frown etched into sharp features as he cast a glance at her home.
"I can make an accident happen. A fire." He said simply, voice low as he removed his hand from her stomach in favor of grabbing her hands tightly. Eyes flicking over her wrists before meeting her gaze once again. "Let me help you."
"What in Imaters name are youâ wait no!" She exclaimed as the implications clicked in her mind, laughing despite herself. A small part of her swelled with joy that he would do something incredibly reckless for her sake, even if it was only to return the favor. It was good to know. "Star... I appreciate the offer truly. But that's not the situation at all. I promise. I really didn't have the time. There was so much to do... and when I had Alurivette my time was halved even more."
"You have another child?"
"I could've sworn you knew... I suppose we haven't had a real conversation since our party after the defeat of the brain," she admitted with a laugh, taking a slow breath, she offered a half smile. "Alurivette is my four year old daughter. She's a beautiful girl, clever and already too good at fiddling with locks. Deimos is set on her being an adventurer like himself, or at least a harper like his mother had been. I refuse both truth be told. But we'll see. Anything would be better than a Flaming Firstâ don't tell Wyll I said that of course."
"You married Deimos?"
"I did... a few years ago."
It hadn't been the question she was expecting him to to ask.
She didn't know what he would ask... so much has changed between them.
Once upon a time she may have been able to properly guess his reaction to what she said, calculate her response and prepare for questions he would have for her. But at every turn he managed to catch her off guard, render them both speechless with something it seemed neither of them expected...
Steeling herself she tried to keep her tone even and gather her thoughts before speaking.
Did he think lesser of her for marrying Deimos?
He had always been vocal in his dislike of Deimos from the moment he heard about the man. The fact that she had ever been enamored with Deimos had been a point of contention and iritation in their relationship. Often times used as an example to prove just how foolish she was to marry a man who knew nothing at all about her.
"Well... then it's no wonder you're crying out here, your husband wouldn't be any use in a situation like this after all," he began sharply, grip on her hands tightening even though everything about him screamed he wasn't sure if he should still be this close to her. Every word that left his too pretty lips filled with icy condescension. "If he's even of home of course, not off chasing some vague concept of a better life and leaving you waiting. Again. But I'm sure this time is oh so different. He wouldn't just leave you here alone in this house with your four year old daughter, with another baby on the way! How has your pregnancy been again darling? Hellish I imagine."
"Stop it. You don't get to judge me!" She snapped, rage vibrating in her chest as tears already began to well in her eyes. She could only suck in a sharp breath and hope her rage would be enough to keep the tars at bay. "The battle ended and there were bright futures for everyone else but me! My father was so sick, all because I didn't think to make that hag break his curse before we killed her. We had been so worried about Vanra and the others survivors that I forgot my own father... and Astarion, my poor father... he was so sick. Do you have any idea how hard it was? Taking care of him while he slowly rotted... I could hardly stand the sight of him. I needed help and Deimos was here and you were gone... I was scared and lonely and I needed something. Anything. Anyone to stay by my side."
Whatever his response might have been none of it registered in her mind as her words slipped into incoherent sobs. Only the vague semblance of words intermittent with gasping hiccups and sharp breaths. It was the only reaction she had the mind to have, just a sorrowful half sob as she sat on the icy steps of the only home she has left. Mindless bawling about her worries, fears, and sorrows left her lips far too easily. Placing all of her sorrow on him wasn't fair to either of them... but he was here.
He was here again.
If she closed her eyes, she could almost fool herself into believing that they were back in the Underdark on their way to Moonrise. Drunkenly sobbing her heart out at camp about a man that didn't love her and being awkwardly comforted by a vain but charming vampire... a very small part of her wished she could go back to any night before she had chosen this life.
The rest of her loved her children too much to dare consider such a thing.
They both knew it without her having to say a word.
"It's too cold out here for you," he said stiffly, standing from his place and offering her a hand. "Let's get you inside. Some hot tea will help."
