What if Kanon Lived
If you didn't know, I've got a serious soft spot for Kanon. People may have thought I was unhinged for starting 'What if Rolan was a Companion' but then the fandom blossomed and I now know that with the power of fanfic anything is possible.
So prepare yourselves for the story Larian was too afraid to tell, the story of how the entire fate of Faerûn was changed in one fateful moment, the story of one tiefling brother who is part of a trio of refugees you meet in the Grove that I am mildly obsessed with and want more content for (hey wait a second, that sounds familiar...)... ✨ What if Kanon Lived ✨
I think it'll end a little something like this...
“Imagine if this had all worked out differently,” he mused, momentarily placing a clip in his mouth before folding the fabric and securing it, “if I’d have died back at that druid grove or something.”
“Really?” Arka grimaced and stared over at her brother, “not exactly a topic of light conversation.”
“I’m just saying,” he focused on the pleat of material in his hand, “wonder if we made a difference. If things wouldn’t have turned out this way without me. Us. If perhaps, in some small way, we’re all heroes of Baldur’s Gate.”
Arka couldn’t help a scoff.
“Kanon,” She placed her hands on her hips. Her eyes softened and looked over her brother, skillfully moving the needle to create the shape he’d envisioned. Gods if he wasn’t talented. But they weren’t fighters. And that’s what the people of Faerûn had needed. Not refugees, certainly not a tailor, much as she adored him for it. No, they weren’t anyone really. What difference could they have possibly made? A ridiculous thought. She shook her head affectionately, “no.”