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Mar 18, 2025

BG3 Drabble Request: Drunk Tav

Pairing: Shadowheart x (named)F!Tav

Summary: After drinking with (and defeating) Thisobald Thorm, an inebriated Tav returns to camp and shares a few intimate moments with Shadowheart as she cares for her.

Tags: Romance, fluff, humor, angst

Words: 4.7k

Original request below:

For NLS, I've always been impressed with Tav being able to hold her alcohol when drinking with Thisobald (If you pass the checks) but what If she got him but got absolutely smashed in the process then started to have a fun and honest conversation with Shadowheart or your take on a very drunk Tav around Last Light Inn; just something that occurs to me every time I go through this part of the game. Thanks ?

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“Easy, soldier.” Karlach gently lets Tav down from where she’s supporting her shoulder, allowing her to walk on her own fully.

They’ve just made it back to camp after a run in with none other than Thisobald Thorm, in the depths of the Waning Moon brewery.

In fairness, Serena held her own.

Really.

She’s no stranger to drinking, and while imbibing is certainly part of any seasoned soldier’s skillset, that foul liquid has finally taken effect, with considerable delay.

Drinking an undead entity to death is certainly a new victory that she can add to her ever growing list of oddities masked as accomplishments.

It kicked in about two thirds of the walk to camp, to be exact, when Serena began to sway with each and every step forward.

Karlach, bless her, noticed immediately- it was hard not to, when Serena nearly walked right into her chest while trying to keep their line single file.

“M’fine.” Serena hums happily as she claps her hands together rather slowly, and then pats Karlach on the back several times, for her efforts. “Thankyou, Karlach.” She slurs slightly, and covers her mouth before she hiccups.

Karlach grins. “Any time. Looks like it’s just getting to the good part.” She advises. “Any grand plans for the evening, Tav?”

Serena looks deep in thought for a moment, and Karlach smirks, wondering just what her response will be.

After a passing minute, Karlach realizes that there won’t be a response- Serena’s already dazed out, in the direction of a purple and black tent, with gold embroidery.

Karlach’s smirk only deepens. “....I have a feeling I already know.”

“Yes, let Shadowheart deal with her nonsense.” Astarion sniffs from behind them as he does away with his armor.

“Heart.” Serena smiles at the name, murmuring it to herself as she sets off mindlessly towards the tent, forgetting entirely about Karlach, Astarion, Thisobald Thorm, foul liquor, and most anything else.

“Should we stop her?” Wyll muses from somewhere behind Serena, slowly taking off his armor piece by piece, as well.

“...nah.” Karlach shrugs. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

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Serena falls into Shadowheart’s tent.

She doesn’t intend to- it’s really more of a stumble, anyway, but she ends up going right through the flaps and very luckily- into Shadowheart’s lap.

“What in the nine hells do you think you’re- Tav?” Shadowheart blinks as she freezes, prayers interrupted, knelt in the middle of her tent, and now supporting the weight of her…person.

(She and Serena haven’t exactly solidified their relationship, Lady Shar wouldn’t approve, but it’s no secret the two are entirely enamored with each other).

“Hello, Heart.” Serena mumbles the words rather gracelessly, but incredibly fondly, and she gathers herself with less elegance than she normally would as she takes her weight off her.

“And just where have you been?” Shadowheart lifts a manicured brow to accent the inquiry. “You…what’s that smell?”

“Beer…arguably. And innards...” Serena informs her, tilting her head in a curious fashion, similar to the way Scratch does. The slow flutter of her lashes as she takes in Shadowheart’s face in the candlelight says it all: Serena is inebriated.

And not with any old beer, by the looks of it.

“...Should I even ask how? Or why, for that matter?” Shadowheart pinches the bridge of her nose as Serena studies her lips intently, her question nearly forgotten.

“Thiso-”, hiccup, “-bald Thorm. Then he perished.” Serena adds with a frown. “...All over me.” She pouts, as if it’s simply a minor inconvenience, and she isn’t wearing his remains.

Shadowheart just blinks.

After all, why would she expect anything even resembling normalcy, with this group?

“...Naturally.” Shadowheart mumbles finally, taking in Serena’s state. “You need to bathe, Tav.”

“...Naturally.” Serena mocks, slowly turning the word over a clumsy tongue, and Shadowheart doesn’t know why, but it’s curious, seeing her so…helpless. Everything seems to amuse her, and she bears none of the usual anxiety she normally does in such close proximity to Shadowheart.

“Do the others know you’re…” Shadowheart waves her hand, narrowing her eyes. Someone had to have brought her back to camp; she hardly looks capable of navigating in her state.

“Yes! …Karlach carried me.” Serena grins. “So warm.” her head lolls backwards as she stares at the dark peak of the tent, mind clearly drifting elsewhere.

“I can imagine.” Shadowheart snorts. “I’ve feigned an injury or two for a ride on those shoulders.”

“And I pretend to have injuries so you’ll touch me.” Serena admits with a snort of laughter; she finds this endlessly amusing once more, and she giggles softly.

“Oh.”

Shadowheart freezes; she’s unsure which to address first- Serena’s egregious statement about feigning injury for more of her touch (egregious only because she and Shadowheart have been sharing a bedroll more often than not), or the fact that Serena’s giggle is so sweet and innocent, and she’s never heard it before.

Serena is clearly a happy drunk, and Shadowheart finds the corner of her lip twitching upwards anyway, despite the state she finds her lover in.

Serena looks younger, somehow, smiling to herself in the darkness. The furrow lines on her brow are not present, nor the lines that set in when she scowls from the near constant stress of shouldering the group’s various strifes.

She looks positively unbothered by her own admission, though Shadowheart just knows she’ll be mortified if she remembers any of this tomorrow.

“And you came to me?” Shadowheart murmurs, this time, there is less edge to her tone.

“Well…you didn’t accompany us today.” Serena frowns. “You haven’t, lately. It’s awful. Gale doesn’t look nearly as pretty in armor.” It sounds like a cute quip, but Serena’s gaze belies the fact that she’s being deadly serious.

Shadowheart snorts out a laugh, caught off-guard. Her cheeks burn with a blush that Tav cannot see, and she’s all the happier for it. “Is that all you get from my company?” Her tone is airy, teasing and light.

Serena frowns at the statement. She opens her mouth to protest vehemently, but hiccups again, sighing deeply.

“...Charming.” Shadowheart deadpans.

“You never come anymore.” Serena sighs, rubbing her temples as if she’s dealing with a matter of life and death.

“My lady demands that I focus my efforts on-”

“-Ah, yes, your lady…” Serena drawls, and it’s abundantly clear she’s mocking Shadowheart.

Shadowheart scowls at the obvious show of heresy and disrespect. Serena usually has more tact, when referring to Lady Shar in any capacity in front of Shadowheart.

“Watch yourself.” Shadowheart grits. “Just because we’ve built a rapport, it doesn’t mean I’ll take lightly to your transgressions.”

Serena blinks, and Shadowheart realizes she’s not at all present. Shadowheart sighs; it isn’t worth the fight- not when Serena hasn’t an inkling of what she’s saying. She should know better than to argue with someone so clearly intoxicated.

“I’ve missed you, that's all.” Serena mumbles, more in the way of a dejected child than a lover scorned, and Shadowheart’s lip trembles slightly at the honest admission.

She’s missed Tav, too.

She can’t succumb to her feelings- she can’t let Serena crumble walls she’s put up for the better part of her training.

So Shadowheart does what she does best, and deflects Serena’s attention away from any hope of having a truly intimate conversation.

“And here I thought soldiers could drink with the best of us.” Shadowheart remarks dryly instead, despite how her heart still pounds at Serena’s admission.

Serena shrugs helplessly. “I think…” She drawls, licking her lips. “I think…I drank poison.” She tastes the words on her tongue, shaking her head. “It glowed.” she smiles at the word, remembering the way the residue would shine off the side of the tankard.

“...just what we needed.” Shadowheart mutters, and she swears, she’ll have words with whoever allowed Serena to undergo such an idiotic series of events. They need her at her best, not slurring over every word and laughing at nothing at all. “Now, go and bathe.” She demands, thrusting a spare cloth and towel into Serena’s hands from her storage trunk.

“...It’s cold.” Serena whimpers, and Shadowheart is inclined to agree; it’s freezing, and the state of the Shadow-Cursed Lands does little to help the fact, devoid of light and wrapped in a never-ending blanket of night as it is.

“You’ve Thorm-innards on you.” Shadowheart points out, lip curling in disgust.

Serena laughs, a pretty, melodic sound that has Shadowheart reeling for a few seconds afterwards.

Shadowheart’s eyes narrow and she rests a hand on her hip. “You find this funny?”

Serena only laughs harder, dabbing at a tear forming in the corner of her eye, swaying slightly in her laughter. “Yes!” She heaves. “I even wore my best oils for you, this morning.” She throws her hands up at the hilarity of it all- but in truth, she chooses everything based on Shadowheart’s reactions. “And now…” She looks at the mess upon her armor and sighs, letting out a few errant laughs, still. “Blood. As usual. It’s always blood.”

Shadowheart has often secretly admired Serena’s meticulous attention to her appearance.

Her clothing (what she can scrummage from their travels, at any rate), her hair, down to which scented oil she uses after bathing- (Shadowheart prefers the jasmine scented vial, she’s noticed).

She tries, despite the mess they find themselves in the middle of, to impress Shadowheart.

Shadowheart doesn’t know whether it’s sweet or foolish, but she finds her heart tripping over itself at the gesture alone.

She wonders if she was ever the object of someone’s affections like this- let alone someone so sweet. If she was, she certainly can’t remember them now.

“...Perhaps I can help you clean up.” Shadowheart murmurs gently. She glances at Serena’s elated gaze, and shakes her head. “-after all, I wouldn’t want you to drown.”

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They find themselves in a secluded corner of camp, where the sandy banks meet the surrounding lake, and its placid sheet of darkness. There are no stars in the evening sky- the moon does not grace them with its glassy reflection above the still water.

Shadowheart wonders why the darkness does not calm her as it should- Shar gives her a painful lashing for the thought, and she quickly drops it.

She should be at home here in the constant night, comfortable in the depths of the murky black water.

Shadowheart seats herself atop a rock, a safe distance away from the water. She much prefers bathing beneath the waterfall, on solid land. The shore steeply declines after several steps, and her fear of swimming prevents her from taking that risk.

Serena, however, doesn’t seem to mind as she strips away the last of her tainted clothes, shivering in the relative darkness.

About mid-way through removing her tunic, she pauses, glancing at Shadowheart bashfully, as if suddenly remembering her presence.

“...Go on, then.” Shadowheart nudges her with a few soft words.

Still, her breath catches in her throat when her eyes fall upon Serena’s bare and muscled back, bearing several scars from her time in Cormyr’s military. Shadowheart’s eyes drop to a shapely rear as Serena nearly trips over herself trying to take off her trousers and remaining undergarments.

Shadowheart has to give her credit; she hadn’t realized how poised Serena typically is. She carries herself with all the regality one might come to expect from a former Patriar, but with none of the entitlement, stripped away from her time at war.

Drunk Serena carries none of these qualities; Shadowheart doesn’t know why, but she finds it strangely endearing.

“You’re staring.” Serena slurs slightly.

Shadowheart lifts a brow. So she still has some of her wits about her.

“You’re shivering.” Shadowheart counters.

"...do you like what you-"

“Yes." Shadowheart pinches the bridge of her nose, hoping it will finally spur her into action. "Now, please, get in the water before you fall ill and I have to tend to that, as well."

Serena obliges, stepping into the water and gasping as she lowers her body beneath the surface.

Shadowheart watches with a keen eye; if Serena disappears beneath the surface, they both might meet the end of their journey prematurely.

She realizes now that she might not have been the wisest option to watch over Serena in this state, in a body of water no less.

But Serena trusts her implicitly; she came directly to her, despite being at odds with Shadowheart about her faith. Serena, who has carried her from the heat of battle with a goblin’s arrow protruding from her back. Serena, who brings her night orchids in the cover of darkness because Shadowheart refuses to entertain her affections in front of the others, despite how obvious it’s become to everyone near.

Serena is alone, just as Shadowheart is alone; her closest kin is her mother, way off in the kingdom of Cormyr. Shadowheart has the cloister to return to, eventually. Serena will find herself alone still in Baldur’s Gate, should they ever make it to their final destination.

Shadowheart tries to swallow the feeling down; Serena is temporary.

Lady Shar is permanent.

“Here.” Shadowheart beckons her forth, tilting her head curiously at the way Serena covers her chest with her folded arms, shivering still. “I’ve already seen you, Tav.” She snorts in amusement.

Yes, she and Serena have never had sex, but their shared intimacy is nothing to scoff at. They’ve bathed together, healed and tended to each other, and have pressed gentle kisses to bare skin. They’ve slept together- in the truest sense of the word, waking in each other’s arms.

“Oh.” Serena seems to remember these moments, and a wicked blush sets in on her cheeks. “Right.” She drops her hands awkwardly to her sides, and Shadowheart’s breath catches in her throat at the sight of her bare chest, stiff from the icy water.

Just because she’s seen the soldier and felt her every now and again, it doesn’t mean she can ever grow accustomed to how breathtaking she is.

“Uh-uh.” Shadowheart slaps her hand away as she reaches for the soap. “You want this done quickly? Allow me.”

Serena drops her hands almost at an almost comical speed, and Shadowheart cannot hold back her soft laughter.

Serena’s eyes go wide at the sound, and she smiles, rather stupidly, but Shadowheart’s chest flutters violently all the same. She comes to stand in between Shadowheart’s dangling legs as Shadowheart’s fingers run through her hair, scratching softly at her scalp.

Serena’s eyes close, and when a sound akin to a purr is drawn from her lips, Shadowheart is relieved that she cannot see her smile, wide as it is. Serena’s fingertips slowly come up to rest on Shadowheart’s thighs, and before Shadowheart can berate her for her wet touch, she realizes Serena is attempting to steady her.

It’s all the more endearing when Shadowheart realizes that she is the one swaying, but she reaches for Shadowheart, hoping to calm her by the water’s edge, so aware of her fear of swimming.

A grin finds its way to Shadowheart’s lips, and she shakes her head at the sorry sight before her.

“This…” Serena slurs, never opening her eyes. “...is nice.” She whispers gently, and Shadowheart sighs, wondering for just a moment what a shared domestic life might look like, between them.

Shared baths, shared bedrolls- no, a bed- making meals together, reading awful novels aloud together, taking long walks in lands that are not cursed by the shadows.

She hisses as burning hot pain shoots along her arm, and she recoils sharply.

Serena’s eyes open, and even in her slow and addled state, a frown begins to bloom on full lips as her eyes find Shadowheart’s wound, flaring with purple light.

Shadowheart glances away, fumbling instead for a cloth to busy her aching hand.

Serena manages to finish bathing without sinking to the depths of the lake.

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“-and you let her?” Shadowheart folds her arms as she eyes Astarion, waiting outside her own tent as Serena uses it to change into her camp clothing, now bathed and still disoriented.

“Well, it was either drinking or stabbing.” Astarion shrugs. “Seemed simple enough, really.”

“-Stabbing.” Lae’zel chimes in from across camp, where she sharpens her sword and smirks proudly at her noise pollution.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Lae’zel is right.” Shadowheart snaps. “That would have been the correct decision.”

“According to whom?” Astarion snorts, affronted. “We managed to kill the…ah…fellow…all by his own concoction.” Astarion sniffs. “...Which smelled foul, by the way.”

“I’m aware.” Shadowheart retorts.

“And she volunteered-”

“She always does!” Shadowheart’s eyes narrow. “It’s Tav, she has no sense of self preservation-”

“-Well then perhaps you ought to ask your dear Lady for permission to come, next time.” Astarion quips. “Might be more useful than all those prayers.”

“You know nothing of faith, Astarion-”

“Shhhh.” Serena emerges slowly from Shadowheart’s tent- hair wet, not a speck of dust or dirt on her, in her fresh camp clothing. “My head….” She groans.

“How are you faring, Tav?” Wyll asks from his tent, staying clear of Shadowheart’s blazing path of destruction.

Serena’s eyes narrow, and she thinks for a moment, blinking slowly. “If…the inn is right there…” Serena points to the silhouette of the Last Light Inn in the distant fog. “Why…do we sleep…here?” She waves around.

Wyll opens his mouth to respond, but Karlach barks out a laugh that draws their attention. “…she’s not wrong.” Karlach points out mildly. “Might’ve taken her a tenday to get the sentence out, though. Whatever you drank, soldier, it did something to you.”

Serena’s stomach grumbles loudly and she stares at it in clear offense.

“We’ll finish this later.” Shadowheart snaps in Astarion’s general direction, though he’s already retired into his tent for the evening.

“I await your return with bated breath.” Astarion retorts lazily.

“You.” Shadowheart turns to Serena, hands on her hips. “You need to eat.”

“I do?” Serena looks bewildered, and Shadowheart sighs, taking her hand and tugging her along towards the campfire, where Gale is hard at work preparing supper.

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“...Won’t you eat?”

“Tav, I told you, I’ve already eaten.” Shadowheart lets out a puff of laughter in quiet exasperation. It’s the third time she’s offered since sitting atop the log they occupy, a stone’s throw from the others and far enough away that Shadowheart cannot chew them out for allowing Serena to end up in such a state.

“Oh.” Serena glances at the bowl of stew as if it offends her. “ s’not very good.” She finally mumbles.

Shadowheart notes how candid Serena is when she’s drunk; she had no idea how often Serena bites her tongue.

“Accustomed to grand feasts in your grand dining hall?” Shadowheart teases gently.

“…yes.” Serena shrugs casually, completely missing the dig.

“I’ll be sure to extend your sincere thanks to Gale.” Shadowheart deadpans. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous.”

“Whatever for?” Shadowheart scoffs. “…truly, it can’t be anything worse than what you’ve endured today.”

“For...whatever comes next.” Serena admits with a simple shrug, sighing deeply as she slides off the log and slumps against it instead, head resting by Shadowheart’s knees.

It’s a simple statement- and almost doesn’t seem at all profound, until Shadowheart realizes the anxiety brewing in Serena’s chest is real. It is the same anxiety that finds her in her hours of sobriety, without a drop of liquor in her, Thorm-brewed or otherwise.

It is the same pervasive anxiety that threatens to taint and darken all of Shadowheart’s thoughts- what will become of them?

How much more can they endure, suspended in uncertainty as they are?

Serena does not often give voice to her concerns- she buries them deep within herself. She knows the group looks to her to be the voice of reason and logic- for reasons unknown to her entirely.

Shadowheart knows this burden of isolation; at least she has her goddess.

Serena has sworn herself to no deity; she faces her thoughts alone.

“Why don’t we discuss something else?” Shadowheart murmurs instead, resting a gentle hand on Serena’s shoulder.

“Hmm…” Serena rests her head backwards against the log as she sighs, and Shadowheart eyes the scar on her lip intently. Perhaps, had she known her then, when this wound was first inflicted, she could have prevented such scarring with a healing touch…

…Though she’s not at all opposed to the slightly rugged look it gives her.

“...Are you excited? To be going home?” Serena muses aloud.

“The cloister, you mean?” Shadowheart asks with a furrowed brow.

It’s strange to think of the cloister as home. Shadowheart can hardly remember most of her time there, save for her training.

“Mmm.” Serena’s confirmation is more of a hum, than anything else.

“I am…eager to serve my Lady.” Shadowheart answers quietly. “In any way she requires of me.”

“...don’t wish to hear of your Lady.” Serena snorts.

Shadowheart scowls. “Well then you should-”

“-you, Heart.” Serena prods, and her voice is so tired, so innocent, that Shadowheart’s ire melts away at the sound. “...I want…to hear more about you.”

Shadowheart sighs, and Serena’s request aches deep within her very soul. “I’ve told you all I can remember.” she reiterates.

This is hardly the first time Serena has taken a vested interest in learning more about her; she takes in every detail with an amount of care that’s difficult to fathom.

Shadowheart knows the wisdom of Lady Shar, now- one long gaze into those amber eyes, and she would tell Serena everything, if she could.

Her Lady protects her, even now.

“...Fine.” Serena shrugs and drawls. “...what about…something you don’t remember, then?”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes at her logic, but smiles slightly all the same. She’s particularly fond of this idiot, for some reason.

“I…don’t know anything else about myself.” Shadowheart answers softly. “It is Lady Shar’s will that I keep the cloister’s secrets safe, this way.”

“I can tell you everything about yourself.” Serena assures her, drawing the words out lazily. It’s funny to hear her usually posh patriar accent stretched thin across her own words. She seems assured, confident in her knowledge of all things Shadowheart. It’s more endearing than it is haughty, and Shadowheart takes the bait.

“Oh, can you?” Shadowheart lifts a brow in curiosity.

This, she has to hear.

“Your favorite color is green-”

“It’s black.” Shadowheart scoffs. “Like the night. If you’re going to be a bold drunk, be an accurate one.”

“...if you insist.” Serena slurs and laughs at her, the nerve of her. She doesn’t believe a word out of Shadowheart’s mouth.

“Is that it, then?”

“You love…plants.”

“Riveting.”

“-And you’re upset because Karlach broke your watering vases.”

“This only proves that you have eyes.” Shadowheart points out dryly. “And thank you for reminding me.”

“You enjoy reading…romantic lit..” another hiccup, “...literature.”

Shadowheart’s cheeks burn. “As does Wyll. It’s called having taste.”

“...You like animals…”

“I tolerate them.” Shadowheart rolls her eyes.

“With kisses.” Serena grins to herself. Like you to-” hiccup “-lerate me.”

Shadowheart isn’t certain whether to feel insulted or endeared. She settles on the former, though the latter seems to bleed through her tone, anyway. “...Yes, exactly like that.” she scoffs.

“and…and...you’resokind…” Serena smiles as she slurs the words together. “...even though you pretend to be cross. Often. ”

“I’m not pretending.” Shadowheart scowls once more, though Serena’s words seem to twinkle in her conscience like a bright, guiding star, illuminating the surrounding darkness.

“That scowl.” Serena whispers, glancing up at her in awe, favorably smiling at the lines forming between the crease in her brow.

Gods, the way she looks at Shadowheart, even now.

“These aren’t…are you quite finished?” Shadowheart puts a stop to her before Serena’s words can unravel her any more than they already have.

Serena is disarming; it’s so easy to think of her as a friend…as more than a friend…

Lady Shar reminds Shadowheart that she hasn’t the vacancy in her heart for such trifles, with a blunt shock to the hand, causing Shadowheart to seize up in pain.

This time, Serena sits on her knees, frowning as she reaches for Shadowheart’s hand. Shadowheart does not recoil this time; she can hardly find the strength.

Whatever set Lady Shar off, it has her livid, apparently.

“...You’re always in pain.” Serena remarks softly at first, and before Shadowheart can retort, she realizes it’s just another one of the facts about herself that Serena is reciting to her.

“Pain makes us stronger.” Shadowheart recites on pure instinct, through gritted teeth.

“...Then...What does love do?” Serena asks, eyes wide, head tilted curiously like damn Scratch and Shadowheart feels her chest heave violently at the sight.

You tell me.

“It’ll pass.” Shadowheart waves her off- her skin is hot where Serena holds her hand, absently rubbing a thumb over her wound, soothing away shocks of pain with a gentle touch.

Shadowheart isn’t even certain Serena knows what she’s doing, herself- it is her instinct to hold Shadowheart, to comfort her.

It always works, even now.

The pain in Shadowheart’s arm slowly recedes to just her hand, and eventually, nothing at all. Serena utters not a single word during this process, and Shadowheart realizes, with a sinking feeling in her chest, that Serena would take her pain and endure it herself, had she the opportunity.

Love.

The word rattles around Shadowheart’s mind, and terrifies her further- her lungs constrict, her heart thumps against her ribcage, all in vain as it attempts to leap out of her chest and embrace Serena.

Serena remains with her, close, on her knees holding Shadowheart’s hand, wordlessly.

If, eventually, she grows tired and comes to rest her head atop Shadowheart’s lap, Shadowheart does not protest at all.

Shadowheart cards her fingers absently through her lover’s loose waves, increasingly guilty with each touch and yet- unable to pull away.

Serena’s eyes close, and Shadowheart never ceases her soothing touch, gazing upon Serena’s tired form, entirely at her mercy.

Her mercy.

Serena came to camp and fell at her feet, knowing even in the sorry state she was in, that Shadowheart would be there to put her back together.

Their bond is undeniable; Serena is her closest confidant, her friend, her lover.

It cannot be, not when she’s come so close to fulfilling her Lady’s vision for her.

But Shadowheart cannot deny her heart any longer; the aches and pains of pretending she is fine, when in truth, she is terrified, have caught up with her.

Shadowheart allows herself a moment of weakness, as she watches Serena slowly nod off, ever warm and safe with her head in Shadowheart’s lap.

If she hears her now, at the very least, she certainly won’t remember, come tomorrow.

And so Shadowheart indulges.

Just this once.

“...I know one fact about myself.” Shadowheart murmurs, drawing her fingers through long, dark strands of hair that smell delightfully of jasmine oil and soap. “I…think I’ve fallen in love.” Shadowheart whispers, and the tears that form in the corner of her eyes slowly slip down one by one, leaving a wet trail upon her cheek. “And it’s going to hurt terribly when I have to leave you behind.” she admits, her very being uneasy at such an admission.

Serena does not stir; she smiles peacefully in her slumber atop Shadowheart’s lap.

Shadowheart tries not to memorize the sight that makes her heart quiver with such affection; it will be easier to forget her, this way.

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The following morning brings a sense of tranquility to camp.

Morning is perhaps too generous a word for the time; there is no daylight to denote such a change, anyway.

Shadowheart half expects to find Serena still mostly unconscious in her tent; to her surprise, she hears Serena’s voice along with the others before she can even step out of her tent.

Serena sounds well enough; her voice has returned to its normal cadence, and she laughs aloud at something Wyll has told her, echoing across camp.

Warmth blossoms in Shadowheart’s chest at the sound; the warmth is rapidly replaced by an icy feeling instead, when she remembers her plight.

She’d led Serena to her tent, left her with a kiss pressed to her forehead- carefully out of sight of the others, of course, and settled back into her own tent to repent.

Her night was a litany of prayers in the name of Lady Shar- asking her forgiveness, her acceptance, swearing to write Tav off the very moment she is able.

She is to be a Dark Justiciar.

Serena is temporary; Serena is an obstacle.

Shadowheart exits her tent with renewed vigor; she will not so much as glance in her direction. She will finally find the courage to properly honor Lady Shar. With last night’s confession, perhaps she can finally begin to correct her course.

In some way, telling Serena without telling her has done more for Shadowheart than she’d thought possible. Perhaps that was all it was- merely an urge to say something so taboo, so unfathomable, to clear it from her system once and for all.

Shadowheart does not give Serena, nor anyone else, anything beyond a curt smile and nod as she stretches in front of her tent, facing the day for the first time.

It’s a fairly normal morning; Wyll and Serena keep Gale’s company as he prepares breakfast, Karlach and Lae’zel gather more wood for the fire.

Serena glances longingly at Shadowheart, as she tends to do, and Shadowheart quickly looks away after a brief nod, hoping she doesn’t look as harrowed as she feels.

She has to start distancing herself now.

It will be easier to forget her this way.

As Shadowheart averts her gaze, she finds a new vase, filled with water, resting by one of the potted plants beside her tent.

Her heart catches in her throat.

#drabble #nls series #oc: serena tavyndír #shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #nobleheart #drabble requests #queue

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