From The Ashes (Chapter 1 - Baldur's Gate 3 fanfiction)
Well, well, look who's back! And she brings a new longfic under her arm!
This story (and its title) are heavily inspired by my bestie @toolateintheday's original idea, so I hope I'll do it justice. Hope you enjoy it, too!
Ship: Shadowzel (much to no-one's surprise) with a little bit of Galeheart
WC: 3,415
Warnings: Post break-up blues, blind date, mentions of infidelity, modern AU, band AU
You can read on AO3 or under the cut. And if you reblog or leave a comment, you'll make this bard's day!
Shadowheart: The Blindest of Blind Dates
“I love you. Always have, always will.”
A sound between a sob and a scoff escapes Shadowheart upon hearing those words. Then the bland female protagonist gets scooped up by her lover and they both melt into each other in a kiss while emotional music plays in the background.
Shadowheart turns off the TV and returns her attention to the tub of half melted ice cream in her hands. She should stop torturing herself like this, binge watching stupid romantic comedies. Instead of giving her hope, they just make her feel even more miserable.
Because that's not how life works.
Not so long ago, someone was saying those lovely phrases to her. Compliments whispered between cuddles on a lazy Sunday morning. Promises of eternal love after a passionate kiss at the train station. I'll be back before you know. Distance won't be an obstacle to us. I'm yours, forever.
Too bad forever's true translation turned out to be a little less than a year. And while distance wasn't an obstacle, an attractive middle-aged boss and sex in a laboratory certainly were.
It still hurts. She knows it shouldn't. Knows he doesn't deserve a single one of her tears. Hells, it's been so long! Feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago at the same time. She should be over it by now.
The sound of the doorbell startles her. She frowns. Who could it be now? Her order shouldn't arrive for at least three or four more days – she should really do something about her online shopping – and her parents are not in town. It'd better not be someone trying to sell her something, or one of those door-to-door cults trying to recruit more adepts. She may be sad and tired, but she's still perfectly capable of verbally eviscerating anyone who dares.
Limbs heavy, she rises from the couch and leaves her Ben & Jerry's on the coffee table. She's halfway through the corridor when she hears the sound of keys turning in the door. Her blood freezes.
Thank the gods it's just Nocturne. Just seeing the pity on her friend's face lets Shadowheart know that she looks as awful as she feels.
“Whew, good to see you!” Nocturne greets, trying her best to sound cheerful. “You weren't responding to my texts, so I got worried. Thought you had fused with the couch at this point!”
“I'm fine,” Shadowheart lies.
“Girl, you look anything but fine. Tell me what happened.”
“Nothing. I was just watching a movie.”
“Oh, no! Not another one of those bad rom-coms!”
Inviting herself in, Nocturne makes her way into the living-room. She scrunches her nose at the empty bottles piling up in the corner, at the dirty laundry poking out of the basket. Makes Shadowheart regret giving her an extra key to her apartment.
“Did you want something?” she asks her.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Nocturne replies. She clears her throat and straightens herself. “I came here seeking your charming company.”
“Sorry, but I don't think I'm good company at the moment. Let alone charming.”
“Bullshit! Come on, shower and get dressed. We're going out.”
“Not in the mood.”
“Oh, come on! Do you have anything better to do right now?”
“No, but-”
“Please! You need to get out of this place. I swear I can see cobwebs forming in your armpits.”
“Hey!” Shadowheart protests. “Seriously, now is not a good time. I promise I'll hang out with you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, that's what you said two weeks ago,” Nocturne rolls her eyes. “Come on, I won't take up too much of your time. I'll bring you back in a couple of hours so you can continue moping.”
“Ok, fine. Just let me put on something and-”
“No! Hop into the shower. Right now!”
“But-”
“Don't make me push you myself. You know it wouldn't be the first time. And wear something nice.”
Shadowheart grunts and drags her feet to the bathroom. In fairness, she could probably use a shower. And going out with her friend would be good for her, too. It'd be nice to see something other than her TV screen or the green tiles of her kitchen while she drinks, for a change. If it weren't for work, she wouldn't have left the house in the past few months.
The faucet screeches as she turns it on, drops of water raining furiously down on her tub. She waits until a little steam fills the room before stepping in, her back to the mirror above the basin. No need for a jumpscare.
This time, no tears stream down her face, mixing with the shower water. Just numbness and a small touch of annoyance at being forced to get ready for some event she doesn't even feel like attending. She knows Nocturne means well and she could probably use some real distraction, but the fact that her brain knows that doesn't mean her emotions agree.
Like some sort of undead creature, she lets Nocturne choose her outfit and do her make-up like they used to as teenagers. She remains still and unresponsive while her friend gushes over how pretty her eyes are and how she needs to show them off.
“Aren't you gonna tell me where we're going?”
This is the first full sentence she says, locking the front door and making her way to the elevator, where Nocturne is already waiting. She regrets asking the question the second she sees a dangerous twinkle in her best friend's eye. That's the face she makes when she's been plotting something, something Shadowheart is not going to like, so she braces herself for whatever's coming next.
“Guess who finally got a photography job!” Nocturne announces.
“You did?!”
“Yes! Remember that new club that opened a few weeks ago? They're planning to have live music every Friday and Saturday and want me to take pictures of the bands.” She grimaces as she presses the button on the remote to unlock her black Hyundai. “It's not much, so I still have to work in the burger. But hey, it'll be fun.”
“That's great!” Shadowheart exclaims. “Why didn't you tell me before?”
“It didn't feel right to come in bragging about my new and exciting side gig while you're still going through it.”
As Nocturne adjusts the rearview mirror, Shadowheart allows herself a weak smile. Thoughtful as ever. She's also happy that her friend has finally found something she'll actually enjoy doing, even if it's just part-time. Nocturne has always been an artist at heart.
Shadowheart holds the camera case with all its accessories on her lap as she fastens her seatbelt. The momentary joy she feels for Nocturne keeps her from perceiving the anticipation, the tense beat that passes until the engine starts.
“And also, I've arranged for you to go on a date with one of the musicians,” Nocturne blurts out quickly.
“What?!”
Clever of her to wait until they're already on the road, when Shadowheart can't run away anymore.
“Nocturne!” she scolds her. “What did I tell you about blind dates?”
“I know, I know, sorry! But hear me out-”
“You know I'm not ready for another relationship.”
“Yes, you keep saying that, but seriously – it's been half a year! That prick never deserved you. It's time you got to know other people.”
“What part of not ready don't you understand!?”
“Shads, please! Give it a shot. No-one said anything about a relationship. I personally think a one-night stand would do you just as well.”
Shadowheart grunts, hiding her face in her hands. She'd throttle Nocturne if it didn't mean dying on the road.
“It'll be different this time,” Nocturne insists, using the forced stop at the traffic light to look at her. “She's totally your type.”
“She?”
“You're bi, aren't you? Thought you could use a break from men after the whole Gale fiasco.”
“Trust you to use any chance to push your lesbian agenda on me.”
“I won't dignify that with an answer. But really, you're gonna love her,” she promises. “I only know her from social media, but her posts are hilarious. She has the same dark sense of humor as you do. And she's hot, too. Great style.”
“Maybe you should go on that date instead of me,” Shadowheart arches an eyebrow.
“I'm not the one who needs to get fucked out of her depression.”
“It doesn't work like that, and you know it.”
“Worth a try, anyway!”
They pull up a few minutes later in the parking lot near Candulhallow Street, where the most popular clubs are. It's been almost a decade since she last visited this area. Seeing all those students gathered at the entrance of the bars, dressed up and ready for the hunt and smoking their last cigarettes before going in, Shadowheart feels ridiculously old. Looking on the bright side, there's always the chance to take a taxi home if things go wrong. Or rather, before things go wrong. Gods, if it weren't Nocturne's first night on the job!
At least there will be alcohol. And loud music that will prevent her from forced socializing as long as the performance lasts. It will also give her a chance to take a good look at the stranger Nocturne is making her meet. People are very different on stage from who they are in their daily lives, but it will give her some manner of a head-start. She can choose if she goes through with Nocturne's plan or runs away before the gig is over.
The place is still virtually empty when they arrive. Everything is made of dark wood: the walls, the floors, the counter. The little stage on the other end, framed by red velvet curtains, makes it look more like an old theater than a rock bar, if it weren't for the banners with legendary band names hanging from the columns. A dark-skinned man with cornrows is standing on it, speaking and singing into the microphone. From what looks like a pulpit, another one, tall and muscular, gestures at him. Shadowheart assumes they must be members of the band. The singer has a lovely voice, she must admit. Strong and vibrant, generally velvety but with a slight growl every now and then. Other than them, the only people present are the waiters and a few customers sitting by the bar who look like part of the furniture. Looking around curiously, she follows Nocturne, who immediately greets the old guy who is pouring pints.
“Get yourself something to drink,” Nocturne tells her. “I'm gonna go take a few shots of the band now that there's more space.”
“Oh, great. Does that mean you're going to leave me hanging all evening?”
“Not at all. As soon as this whole thing starts, you're coming to the front row with me.”
“I'll order something strong, then.”
After thinking about it, she decides to get a glass of Tyche pink. A beer would probably suit the scene better, but she's not in the mood right now. Besides, wine gets you tipsy faster than beer and, by the gods, she needs to be a little intoxicated for the situation Nocturne has got her into. Hopefully then everything will seem more fun.
The pub gets fuller and fuller by the minute, so soon she finds herself being dragged closer to the stage by Nocturne. She should have brought some earplugs. An amplifier half as tall as she is stands few feet away from her, and the idea of spending two full hours – she assumes – with loud music blasting from it straight to her face doesn't sound particularly appealing. It's just a gig, the voice in her head tells her. You used to love watching local bands play. You can handle this. It will be fun.
All the lights in the bar go out except for the spotlights above the stage, which change color every few seconds. Two more band members make their way through the crowd and join the others on stage. It's about to begin. Shadowheart can't help but feel a flash of excitement in the pit of her stomach.
Everything goes silent. Four hits on the hi-hat and the two guitars explode through the loudspeakers in unison. She recognizes the song after the first chords – one of those classic rock anthems her father loves. Even the wooden beams holding the ceiling listen expectantly.
Then she sees her.
The guitarist. Shadowheart's breath hitches.
Black biker boots. Leather shorts – really short – that show off her thin but strong legs. Matching crop top. Wiry arms, muscles noticeable whenever she flexes them to strum the guitar. The instrument hides them, but Shadowheart is sure she has abs. Long neck. Auburn hair, half-up half-down with a few tiny braids that shake when she headbangs to the rhythm. The pseudo war paint may be a bit over the top, but it oddly works on her. Makes her face even more expressive.
In fact, that's her most attractive trait. She looks more into it than anyone else on stage, eyes closed in concentration, skilled fingers moving along the frets. The things those fingers could do! Shadowheart mentally scolds herself for that thought. Nocturne is probably right – she needs to get laid.
Speaking of which – could this be? Has Nocturne found her the perfect date?
Well, she shouldn't be so surprised and give her more credit. Nocturne has known her since they were kids. It's just natural that she would know her type.
“She's hot, isn't she?” Nocturne asks, as though reading her mind.
“Yeah.”
A triumphant laugh escapes her. She gives her a friendly nudge before adjusting the strap of her camera.
“I'm gonna go take some pics from the other side,” she announces. “Just keep enjoying the views. And not to get you even more worked up, but... you know what they say about people who play string instruments.”
Suddenly, even though she's really enjoying the performance, Shadowheart finds herself wishing for it to end so she can meet her. Hopefully she'll be cool enough for her. Those insecurities make her cringe inwardly. Gods help her, she's starting to sound like a teenager with a crush. But whenever the gorgeous stranger plays a solo, blush takes over her cheeks, as if that guitar were speaking to her personally.
When the show is finally over, applause exploding all around the pub, Shadowheart can feel thunderdrums beating inside her chest. The four musicians stand at the edge of the stage, bowing to the audience, but all she can see is her. For the first time since the gig began, the guitarist is smiling. Granted, it's only a hint of a grin – a little tense, perhaps; shy, even – but still beautiful. She can't wait to discover what's behind it.
Her palms are sweating. Her legs are shaking like jelly. Anticipation is killing her. The band has just disappeared in the backstage area. It's only a matter of minutes before they come out and the not-quite-so-blind date starts. She should go to the restrooms and check herself in the mirror, make sure she looks alright. Ugh, she should have brought her eyeliner pencil in case it needs fixing. And her lipstick, although she hopes it'll be all smeared by the end of the night.
She needs to calm down. Being too keen will just scare that poor woman away. Godsdamnit! Little more than an hour ago she was protesting that she wasn't ready to meet anyone. What's wrong with her? Being so ridiculously emotional is what got her into this mess in the first place, what prevented her from seeing the red flags in Gale. Get a grip, she tells herself.
Oh, fuck. There she is. The popular songs booming from the PA system, loud notes bouncing against all the walls, fade to mere echoes. Everything seems to slow down. The sea of people drinking and dancing that separates them becomes a blur as the musician strides to the counter, a guitar case full of stickers hanging from her shoulders. Shadowheart watches as she sits on a stool and orders, her heart almost stopping when she turns around, eyes scanning the place as if looking for someone in the crowd. Can she see her? Does she even know who she is?
Either way, Shadowheart takes it as her cue to enter the scene. She elbows her way to the counter, rushing to catch the stool next to her before someone else does.
“Hiii,” she greets her.
She could kick herself. So much for not sounding too eager. Her voice comes out way too cheerful, too enthusiastic. It's embarrassing. And she feels even more ashamed when the guitarist turns to face her, a look of surprise parading across her features.
“Hello,” she responds.
Deep breath. Yes, she doesn't sound very excited, but maybe she's just timid. She can't let that discourage her. Biting the inside of her cheek, Shadowheart tries to think of an icebreaker. It's been such a long time; she's rustier than the microphone stand that's still on the stage.
“It was a great show,” she says in the end. “You all are very talented.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Not very talkative. Well, she probably hears comments like that a lot. Maybe she's tired of them. Shadowheart swallows as she watches her take the bottle of beer to her lips, trying not to focus too much on those soft-looking lips. She doesn't seem to be wearing any lipstick, an interesting contrast to the aggressive black make-up on her eyes and cheekbones. Neither is it a good idea to let her gaze travel down to the exposed skin of her taut stomach; it makes her instinctively tighten hers, painfully aware that her dress fits her a little more snugly than it used to.
“I'm Shadowheart, by the way. And you?”
“Lae'zel.”
“That's an unusual name! Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Lae'zel replies hesitantly.
Funny how awkward a moment of silence can feel in spite of the pop music and the indistinct conversations in the background. Shadowheart's smile falters. Toying with the tip of her ponytail, she forces herself to keep the conversation going. It's annoying that she has to be the one doing all the work, but that Lae'zel woman seems to be a massive introvert. She's not usually this chatty herself either.
“So... do you come here often?”
“Not really. I do not go out much.”
“Oh. Why's that?”
“I do not have much time for that.”
“That's a shame. Not that I'm much of a party animal myself. In fact, this is not the place I would have chosen for a date, but my friend-”
“A date?”
Lae'zel's eyes widen. Heat rises up to Shadowheart's face. Damn Nocturne! Sounds like the kind of thing she would do – set her up to someone and not tell them about her true intentions.
“I'm sorry,” Shadowheart bites her lip. “I'm Nocturne's friend. Should've probably led with that. She told me you'd been chatting on social media and that she was planning to introduce us.”
She cuts herself off as soon as she sees Lae'zel shaking her head. Her frown makes the tip of her button nose point up slightly. It'd be cute if the situation weren't mortifying.
“I do not know who that Nocturne person is,” Lae'zel says. “I am not even on social media.”
Before she can say anything, a tap on her shoulder and a cheerful voice interrupt the conversation.
“Shadowheart, there you are!” Nocturne exclaims. “We've been looking for you everywhere. This is Minthara.”
She points to a long-faced blonde who greets her with a nod.
At that moment, Shadowheart wishes for the wooden floorboards beneath her to crack open and swallow her into another dimension. That's the bassist of the band. She had been so distracted staring at Lae'zel that she had barely noticed the other female musician.
“You got the wrong person, it seems,” Lae'zel points out, not a trace of amusement on her expression. “I must go now. Enjoy your date.”
Lae'zel virtually runs away, the guitar slinging from her toned shoulders. Nocturne gives her an apologetic smile before discreetly retreating to give them some privacy. As she tucks some strands behind her ear, Shadowheart can sense Minthara's gaze studying her.
“Don't mind my bandmate,” she says. “She's a bit of a bore, always leaving right after the gig. Anyway... Shadowheart, huh? Interesting name. Were you also an unwanted child?”
Gods, this is going to be a very long night.
