I'm sorry to go off script but I want a part 1 and 2 and my stories are going to link to each other as one full story...
The morning following the wine tasting was a hard one for Rolan to wake up to, though he had not gotten unruly nor had he upset any fellow patrons, he did wake with a sore head and an almost insatiable thirst for cold fresh water.
Rolan’s first thought was one of pure relief, he had managed to control himself from what his memories had told him, to know that he did not get belligerently drunk was a notion of comfort to him, he was able to conquer the demons that he had so feared this last year and control his appetites.
Though as happy as he was with his own behaviour, happiness would not dull the pain he was feeling in his head at this moment, sitting upright in his bed he cradled his head in his hands, even the feeling of his own hands upon his forehead caused him pain. It was an odd feeling, Rolan had experienced hangovers before from his previous toxic life of drink and yet were none as bad as this, he just attributed it to the type of wine that he ended up drinking, the strength of some of the wines would be enough to burn a small city to the ground if set on fire.
Headache or not, Rolan had a duty to force himself out of bed and attend whatever correspondence he had for the day. The stone floor was cold beneath his bare feet as he stood, normally he would sleep with socks on to avoid the cold hard feeling of the floor, yet today it brought him much comfort.
The sounds of his feet patting softly amongst the stone floor of his chambers echoed quietly until he finally reached his desk, pulling the chair out slowly and taking his seat he noticed an unfamiliar letter, one that had been haphazardly ripped open and thrown down already. Upon removing the letter from its destroyed outer layer he read the contents with full interest.
An invitation to a Masquerade Ball? An invitation from an anonymous person by the looks of it, the only details being where the ball was being held and to instruct fancy dress and a mask, It was an intriguing prospect, Rolan couldn’t deny that, all that remained was for him to find a way to convince himself to go.
Rolan was a workaholic when it came to the tower and the store, to get him to do anything to benefit himself was an arduous task, one that his siblings had to undertake on a daily basis. As much as Rolan loved to avoid social meet ups where he had to play nice and be polite, he was intrigued by who had given or even left the invite to him.
Rolan had proved himself sensible on the night of the wine tasting and so trusted himself to behave appropriately for this ball in the heart of the city, attending if only for curiosities sake over who had invited him
My contribution to the Rolan Week Summerganza, kindly organized by @keepyourstyle! Thank you so much for this! <3
Tags: Rolan/f!Tav, post-canon, romantic fluff, Rolan is finally happy and gets what he deserves 🥹
Words: 3,2k 🥴
Summary: Two years have passed after the final battle for Baldur's Gate, and the new Master of Ramazith's Tower is invited to the Moonlight Masquerade celebration. At first glance, it seems that Rolan now has it all, earning the respect he deserves among the citizens and a peaceful life with his siblings. But tonight, a chance meeting makes him dare to dream beyond that. He yearns to give his heart to the woman he secretly adored all these years.
Photo by the one, the only - Nyxie @cursed-nyxan! My biggest supporter and inspiration during writing this fic - I am forever grateful. 💜💜💜
Notes: The alternative universe Nimriel features in this fic. 🥴 Same Nimriel as you see her in "Worthy", but in this universe, they didn't have any romantic relations with Rolan. So you can just read it as a drow Tav story. 😅 The fic was written in a big rush, and I still didn't make it on time, sorry about that. xD
On AO3
+++
He arrived early - not that his status demanded him to. His punctuality was one of the reasons, but in truth, Rolan didn't want to make the grand entrance. It wasn't a conclave of archmages or even a council session. Just a simple masquerade night dedicated to Baldur's Gate finally being rebuilt after the Elder Brain's devastation two years ago.
The tiefling doubted he would attend such an event if not for the obligation to maintain appearances. He would much rather spend the evening playing chess with Cal while Lia would tell them about her day being a Flaming Fist trainee.
Alas, Rolan was already here, standing in the corner of a massive ballroom, the wine glass never leaving his hand. The black satin mask served no purpose - other members of high society recognized him right away. Being one of the few tieflings present at the Moonlight Masquerade didn't help the situation, either.
Thus far, he remained unimpressed by the evening: beautiful gowns and dances passed his attention by - every time Rolan considered joining the fun, someone would inevitably come up to chat with him.
"Ah, nobles and their dealings. Indeed, they would need something from the Sundries even when I'm on my deathbed," he thought while nodding with authority to yet another lord. He struggled not to roll his eyes at most of their ridiculous requests.
Still, Rolan knew he had to maintain a warm and composed facade. If it served to protect his reputation - and, by extension, the reputation of all Elturan tieflings, this was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
At last, the daunting conversation was over, and the wizard exhaled with relief. He was considering leaving the masquerade altogether if that's how the rest of his night was supposed to go.
Rolan cautiously looked around, dreading to be discovered by other noblemen. Suddenly, something interesting caught his eye. A glint of silver hair cascading elegantly over bare, ash-toned skin. Could it be?
Yes, unmistakably. The scar on the drow's left shoulder gave her away. He remembered the exact moment she earned it, back during the fight at the Last Light Inn. The red mask wouldn't help her cover her identity - not from him. The drow in the long, shoulderless dress was none other than Nimriel - the hero of Baldur's Gate. The woman who truly fascinated him.
It's been two years since Rolan saw her, but the surge of bittersweet memories made him believe it was only yesterday that they fought side by side.
The errands of running Sorcerous Sundries and Ramazith's Tower were so numerous that time flew in an instant. He wondered if it felt the same for Nim in Avernus.
Rolan watched from afar, catching her every move, every tip of the head, every smile. Many people approached, and some asked for a dance, but Nimriel politely declined. Despite all her grins and laughs he knew so well, something about her posture seemed distant and lost. It was the ultimate sign for Rolan not to approach her. Her mind was clearly elsewhere, and him barging into her life after years of silence felt quite rude.
Instead, Rolan contented himself with stealing glances at her across the room. Nimriel was still her kind, awkward self - and the sight warmed his heart. And gods, she was beautiful. The tiefling saw her bloodied and bruised too many times ever to picture her in something so sophisticated. He sighed, hoping that soon enough days would come when Nimriel wouldn't need to wear armor ever again.
After some time, a red-faced nobleman approached Nimriel, his ridiculously ornate outfit matching his inebriated demeanor. Rolan couldn't hear their conversation from where he stood, but he didn't need to. He knew the man, knew he was trouble.
+++
"...sorry, but I really am not in the mood for a dance," Nim said apologetically, barely tolerating the stench of booze coming from the stranger.
He, however, wouldn't back off, "Bhah, don't you be sorry to me! Do you even realize who I am?" suddenly, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer, "Or what, you think you are above me now?" he slurred.
Nimriel grunted, pulling her hand out of his clutches. The drow considered if she should ruff the bastard up a little. The crowd around them was the only thing holding her down. But, in the end, she didn't have to.
"Down."
A simple command brought the drunk onto his hands and knees immediately. The caster - none other than the Master of Ramazith's Tower - approached him slowly, shaking his head in disapproval.
"I would think a man of nobility such as yourself, Heywood, would know how to treat people right," the tiefling said with sardonic authority, stepping in front of the offender.
"Master Rolan?" Heywood lifted his gaze, realizing it was the wizard's spell that held him against the floor, "What is this sick trick? Let me go!"
"Trick?" Rolan asked, grinning, "Oh no, it would be a trick if I lifted you into the air and tossed you out of that window. Want a demonstration?"
The man gulped, shaking his head.
"Well then," the tiefling huffed, severely entertained, "Apologize to the lady."
"I... I am sorry."
"You can do better than that. Or do you want me to make you kiss the floor?"
Heywood was shaking now, realizing that everyone in the ballroom witnessed his humiliation, "I am very sorry, madam. I swear it will never happen again."
"Good," Rolan nodded, allowing the man to finally stand up, "Now, how about you go home? I'm afraid missus Heywood would not be pleased. It's a shame you didn't bring her with you tonight. Guess I would see her at the Sundries sometime soon."
The man didn't need much convincing afterward, his exit from the ballroom followed by countless gazes. The nobles wouldn't admit it aloud, but that was, perhaps, the most amusing part of the evening.
Rolan finally faced Nimriel - she was no less delighted by the show, shaking her head playfully.
"Sorry for the display. He has been getting on my nerves for some time now," the tiefling shrugged, enjoying her attention.
"Look who is my knight in shining two-piece suit!" the drow proclaimed theatrically, "Can't believe you recognized me, Rolan."
He smirked, "And you still remember my name. Glad we are on the same page."
Nimriel chuckled, "You haven't changed - always the charmer. Thank you for intervening and saving me the trouble of punching that creep. I hope it won't cause you any trouble."
"Don't worry about it," he said with casual ease. "Sorcerous Sundries sees a constant flood of customers. Would I lose anything from refusing a service to a pig? I don't think so."
As he spoke, Nim was subtly looking him over: undeniably, it was still Rolan she knew: proud, witty, and handsome. Yet, something felt different. The fire in his eyes burned brighter now, filled with strength and confidence. Maybe it was because he no longer carried every burden alone.
"I hope so. I am happy to see a friendly face here. Well, half-friendly," she teased.
"I am glad to see you too. Although it is unexpected. Are you returning to the city for good?"
The drow's smile slightly subsided, "Just for the night. We all got invited, but Karlach couldn't come, naturally. So Wyll suggested I unwind a little while he looked over her in Avernus. So I selfishly took the offer."
"Nothing selfish about wanting to escape the Hells for the first time in two years," Rolan replied earnestly, recalling dreadful times of Elturel's descent, "What of the others? I know Gale is researching the ruins of Myth Drannor, and Lae'zel would hardly return to the Sword Coast for a masquerade night."
"Well, Shadowheart is hard to track, I doubt she will be back to Baldur's Gate soon. And Astarion," her face went down, "Doesn't really want to relive the experiences of his past life. I mean, I knew they wouldn't be able to make it. But, to be frank, I misunderstood what this whole Moonlight thing was all about. I expected to see some of our old friends here. But turns out it is a rich-people-only club. So I am really happy to see you here."
A small, genuine smile graced Rolan's lips, "In that case, I am happy to be here. To be frank, I wasn't too thrilled to attend. But maybe we can make our collective misery a little more bearable," he pondered, inviting Nim for a dance, "If you want to, of course."
The drow glanced at his stretched-out hand, and for a moment, Rolan thought he saw her cheeks flush.
"I'd love to, but I can't dance, really," she said apologetically, "I've never done it before."
"Well, lucky for you, I am an impeccable dancer," the tiefling boasted, "All you need is to follow my lead."
Nim couldn't help but giggle, "Since when are you an impeccable dancer?"
The wizard's brow rose, "I will pretend I didn't hear you mock me just now. For your information, I am highly skilled in many things. Dancing is just grazing the surface."
"Sorry, I am being very untactful," the playful lilt returned to the drow's voice. "I trust you."
As the music swelled again, she placed both her palms firmly on his shoulders. "Well, how it goes?"
Now it was Rolan's turn to laugh at Nim, but only ever so slightly, "Gods, aren't you an eager student? First of all, please don't put me in a chokehold, we are not that close," he snickered, "Slide your left hand a little lower down my shoulder. And hold my other hand with yours."
He paused, a tingle slipping down his spine as he carefully rested his hand on her waist, "Mine goes here," Rolan exhaled, trying not to meet her gaze.
But Nimriel didn't catch on to that, "What about legs?" she asked nervously.
The tiefling looked down, "Don't worry about it. Your dress is quite long - I doubt anybody would pay attention to how you move them. All you have to do is keep up with my pace. I am sure you will handle that perfectly well. Ready?"
She nodded, and Rolan immediately took her into a swirl, his enthusiasm for dancing suddenly fueled by the partner he dreamed of.
Nimriel quickly realized that the tiefling wasn't exaggerating about his skills. Rolan moved with both fierce and grace, like a red dragon roaming the vast blue of the sky.
Tonight, Nim saw a side of him she utterly adored: the way he defended her honor, ignoring possible repercussions for his own reputation. The way he led her now, brimming with confidence and strength. The way his hand lay carefully on her waist, the warmth of his touch sifting through her dress. Now, Rolan was truly free to live his life as he deserved. And it suited him stunningly.
As they danced, he told her all about the two years she missed: how all the tieflings finally settled in Baldur's Gate, pardoned by Ulder Ravengard. How Lia, Cal, and he finally began their lives anew. And how the influence of Ramazith's Tower was quietly stretching far beyond the city's walls, its reach growing with each passing day.
"You did pretty well for yourself, Master of Ramazith's Tower," she teased lightheartedly, listening to him speak.
"Master of Ramazith's Tower," Rolan mocked her tone as he guided her into an elegant spin. His composure remained impeccable, but beneath the surface, the unraveling had already begun. From her lips, his title sounded like a name for a deity.
"To whom I owe that, I wonder?" the tiefling smirked, drawing her closer again.
"Only to yourself."
Nim caught him off-guard. Rolan studied her expression, trying to understand if this was a trick or a tease, "It wouldn't be possible without you," the wizard finally scoffed.
The drow shook her head, "You truly do owe it to yourself. You were brave, stood your ground, and helped many of your kin along the way," she jokingly patted him on the shoulder, "The best candidate to become the Master of Ramazith's Tower."
His eyes widened in disbelief, "Better than Gale?"
Nim gave him the kind of smile that made Rolan's heart stumble - the one he'd dreamed of ever since it first began to beat faster in her presence, "I don't think he'd be half as passionate about it as you are."
No right arguments would come to the wizard's mind. Nimriel disarmed him with ease. All it took were just a couple of kind words. And that smile, those eyes gazing at him so attentively, making him melt.
After everything he had accomplished - all the joyful days shared with Cal and Lia, the hard-won respect he'd earned - could he truly dare to want more? Would it be selfish to offer his heart to someone and hope to be cherished in return?
"So quiet all of a sudden," her voice returned Rolan back from the depths of contemplation, "Can't believe you ran out of witty remarks."
Rolan faltered, "I'm a... I think I need some fresh air," he blabbered, slowly halting their dance, "How about you?"
"I don't mind at all."
As they were leaving, Rolan realized that he was still holding her hand. Nimriel didn't pull away, trusting him to lead her wherever the tiefling pleased. It was as if he was anchoring himself to her and a precious moment they shared. And he had no intention of letting go.
They stepped onto a secluded balcony overlooking the lower city. Nim couldn't help but gasp, mesmerized by the scenery, "I can't believe they rebuilt it so fast. It looks just like the day we arrived. Maybe even better."
"It's mostly Jaheira's doing," Rolan explained, leaning onto the balcony railing next to her, "She oversaw the construction like a hawk."
A bittersweet grin appeared on Nim's face, "Wouldn't expect anything less from her." She suddenly fell silent, brows twitching, as the surge of memories has overtaken her.
Rolan didn't need to question if she was alright. It was the same look as earlier in the night. The tiefling didn't mean to pry, but his body disobeyed. His hand slowly landed on her shoulder, offering a silent gesture of support. And Nimriel accepted it, squeezing it in return.
They stood in silence for a while before the drow spoke again, "Can I ask you a favor?"
"You can try," he joked, but the words sounded more like an invitation.
But Nim didn't ask - Rolan's expression told her she wouldn't need to. The drow reached up, carefully untying the strings of his mask. And once she was done, her mask followed.
"Now we look just like the day we met," Nimriel pondered softly, meeting his gaze without hesitation or shame.
His breath caught, and he masked it quickly with a quip, "I was hoping I'd age like fine wine. Glad to know I haven't turned to vinegar."
Nim wouldn't laugh. Her light, purple eyes held his, unwilling to let go of the moment.
Silence stretched between them like a tail rope, ready to be torn any second.
"I missed you more than I thought I would," Nimriel revealed quietly, placing her hand gently on his arm, "I am sorry I didn't write. I wanted to. But each time I would sit and scribe something to you - to any of my old friends, really - my hand would freeze. The memories are too much to bear. Knowing we won, knowing we could actually live here together after it all... somehow that hurt even more."
Rolan nodded, understanding what she meant. Unsure at first, his hand rose to cover hers, fingers intertwining in one reverent motion.
"You have a good excuse for not writing, at least," his smirk was bittersweet, "I don't have any."
A gust of chilling wind swept across the balcony, pulling them instinctively closer. The world itself conspired to narrow the space between them.
If there is a moment to tell her, it is now.
Rolan let out a long, quiet sigh like he was trying to breathe courage into his lungs, "It doesn't mean I didn't think about you. You gave me a wonderful night and brought so many memories from the past. I cherish those times, no matter how harsh I had it."
He stepped closer, leaving next to no space between them, "The Gate is not the same without you. Many hope you will return. Especially me."
His voice dropped to a murmur as Rolan leaned closer, worried that the wind would steal his words, "And maybe then, I can show you around the city. I know it now as well as the wizard's spellbook."
Once he fell silent, the wind lost its voice, too. Nim didn't say a single word, either - her expression spoke louder. A bittersweet realization, a mourning for the time they've lost, lingered on the drow's face. But the moment didn't stay in sorrow for long.
"Show me tonight," Nimriel whispered.
Before he could react, Nim wrapped her arms around Rolan's neck and drew him down to meet her parted lips. Her kiss was tender yet filled with urgency - they had wasted years on unspoken desires already. Rolan felt her passion filling his lungs with lightning-like resolve. The tiefling pulled her into a tight embrace, his kisses growing hungry and breathless as the pressure of his longing finally broke him.
They shattered together under the light of a full moon, ruining each other's composure with every second passing. Clothes grew ruffled. Hairdos - disheveled. Lips - bruised with want. And once they finally parted, the sense of urgency wouldn't leave.
"When do you have to return to Avernus?" Rolan asked, caressing her cheek with gentle care.
Nim leaned into his touch, still unable to catch her breath, "Tomorrow noon at the latest," she sighed.
"Then we'd better hurry and create more happy memories before you depart."
Rolan smirked, catching her confused gaze, "I told you - many here expect your return. Don't you want to see them, too?"
The drow's eyes widened, "Isn't it too late to wake them up?"
But the wizard just pulled her into another warm hug, "You're worth losing sleep over. Many nights, if it comes to that."
+++
Rolan was right - the Elturan tieflings were overjoyed to see Nimriel again.
Throughout the night, the two of them wandered from one home to the next, visiting everyone she and her party had once saved on their journey. Laughter, embraces, and happy tears followed them like a trail of light. With time, the reunion swelled into a private celebration, culminating in the familiar warmth of Sorcerous Sundries.
Wherever they went, Rolan was never far from Nim. Pressing his shoulder to hers as they strode the streets of Baldur's Gate. Holding her hand gently under the table while they chatted with others.
And between houses, Nim and Rolan would sneak away from the group into the dark alleys. There, they would kiss senselessly under the moonlight, holding onto each other as if they were always meant to be one.
Tonight and forever, they didn't have to mask their feelings any longer.
A/N: Thank you Katy @keepyourstyle for providing such amazing Rolan prompts and organizing another fun writing extravaganza :) Really wanted to get this one done on time so pls forgive any mistakes, I only proofread it once!
The last bit of magenta sunset faded into the clear night sky as the crescent moon and stars reflected glints of light along the moving surface of the Chionthar. Docked in the harbor was a flat, three-story river boat dimly illuminated by magic, purple lamps that were strung evenly along the perimeter of each floor. A jaunty tune welcomed the guests, as servers kindly offered hors d’oeuvres and libations as the main floor began buzzing with chatter. With a deep sigh, Rolan straightened his collar before stepping onto the boat, graciously taking a glass of wine and entering the crowd.
Since taking over Ramazith’s Tower, the young wizard had used his newfound wealth and title to help the city get back on its feet. He funded several schools, one of which he created in order to help refugee children access quality education in studies of all kinds. But alas, no good deed goes unpunished it seemed to Rolan, as his new station also came with much more ceremony and hand shaking than even he was prepared for. Despite gaining the notoriety he had craved for so long, he still felt lost.
The rock of the boat departing shook Rolan from his thoughts as he gulped down his whole glass of wine, trying desperately to relax a little. He was here for two reasons…
-
Rolan sighed as he leaned his head against the back of the plush armchair in the sitting room, “Unfortunately, I see your point. But you know my skills are better suited for research and managing the shop, why don’t you go in my place?”
Lia groaned, rolling her eyes as she scolded her brother, “Rolan you are the master of the tower, people want to see you! Just do it for the kids, yeah?”
Rolan groaned, growing exasperated, “Lia, I have so much work to do here, and as I said, you are much better equipped to handle the social aspects of our endeavor.”
She shook her head, now equally exasperated as her eyes scanned the invitation from the city council. The river cruise was a gala to celebrate individuals “who have gone above and beyond in effort and/or contribution to rebuild Baldur’s Gate” and it would no doubt be a hub for lots of connections that could prove valuable. But as she looked it over, a devious smirk began tugging at the corners of her mouth, so her fangs became visible. Rolan raised an eyebrow as Lia smugly purred, “I bet Tav will be there.”
Despite his best efforts to conceal his excitement, the deep maroon flush that took over the tiefling’s whole face was a dead giveaway. Lia laughed before putting a hand on her brother’s shoulder, “Oh come off it Rolan, we all know you’ve been dying to see her. It’ll be a great opportunity to find patrons for the school, and to catch up with your favorite hero. I bet she’ll be delighted to see you too.”
Rolan sighed indignantly, “Please don’t tease me Lia, you’ve hounded me enough. I will go for the school, it is my responsibility after all, as you’ve kindly pointed out.”
As Rolan strode out of the room to draft his RSVP, Lia chuckled behind him, “Right, for the school…pshh.”
-
Rolan snapped back out of his thoughts as a rogue dancer knocked the empty wine glass out of his hand and he noticed the now lively pace of the band in the background. A slim, young elf stood before him in long pink evening gown as the smell of whiskey practically steamed off of her as she put a hand on Rolan’s chest, “Sorry to meet thisaway, but aren’t you the new Tower Master?”
Before Rolan could respond, a massively tall orc put a hand on the woman’s shoulder and glared at Rolan while he let out a low growl, “You trying to dance with my girl?”
In the haze of the wine, Rolan tried to stammer out an explanation as the young elf mischievously winked at him, the orc taking another step forward as he stood befuddled by his current predicament. As the orc opened his mouth to further escalate the situation, a familiar voice called his name, “Rolan, there you are!”
All three turned to see one of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate walking quickly over to them in an elegant black evening gown that made Rolan’s jaw unwillingly drop. Every person she passed by turned to behold the radiant hero, and the orc immediately stepped back and kneeled, “My lady, apologies! I had no idea this was your acquaintance.”
Tav nodded kindly at the orc, “Rembrandt, it’s good to see you. No harm done, why don’t you and your lovely date go back to enjoying the evening?”
The pair nodded before quickly disappearing back onto the dance floor, as Tav wrapped her arms tightly around Rolan’s shoulders, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “It’s been too long my friend, shall we talk elsewhere?”
She let go, far too soon, as he followed her through the crowd and up the stairs onto the upper deck. The music faded as Tav walked to the stern, the party below just background noise as Rolan enjoyed the fresh air and significantly less crowded space. A waiter appeared, almost out of thin air to dote on Tav as she happily accepted two more glasses of wine, offering one out to Rolan, “I’m so glad to see you here. I must admit, this isn’t my favorite scene. I may have reconsidered all this “hero” business if I knew about the pomp and circumstance that comes with it. Kissing hands, shaking babies, you know.”
Rolan laughed at her joke, causing Tav to shoot him a cheeky smile as she continued, “You probably deal with your fair share of formalities as Tower Master though, I’m sure?”
He gently swirled the wine around his glass, “There is certainly more bureaucracy involved than I previously anticipated. Though, I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you must get as the Hero of the Gate.”
Tav giggled before giving him a playful shove against the railing in front of them, causing another deep chuckle to emanate from Rolan’s throat.
“Oh please, you’d think I did everything by myself the way some of these people speak to me…silly, really. I was just trying not to die most of the time to be honest.” Now it was Tav’s turn to stare into the wine swirling around the bottom of her glass as she nervously twirled the glass stem in her hand. Rolan coyly slid closer to her along the railing, until their elbows brushed enough to make Tav look up to meet Rolan’s intense yellow stare.
Despite the thousand daydreams he’d had of such a quiet moment alone with Tav, it was as if his body was acting on its own accord as he leaned in even closer, enough to make the pair of them blush wildly as he spoke with an unusual softness, “Well, you could have fooled me with the way you saved everyone, starting way back in the Emerald Grove. Even taking care of a rather nasty self-taught wizard, if I recall correctly?”
Tav smiled, shaking her head, “The way I remember it, there was a rather dashing wizard that was rightfully quite angry with a set of unimaginable circumstances, and in the end, he came around. I’d go so far as to call him a good friend, believe it or not.”
“Dashing?”
“That is what you took away from that?” she chuckled at her blushing companion, still standing close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his infernal body. Rolan found himself trying to stammer out a response for the second time this evening, but before he could form a coherent rebuttal, he felt Tav’s hands gently cup the sides of his face, and he involuntarily melted into her touch.
Feeling confident from the privacy of the upper deck, and compelled by both wine and vulnerability, Tav pulled Rolan’s face into hers as she planted a long, soft kiss on his lips. Rolan stood, mesmerized by the feeling of her lips on his as he stared at her, wondering if he was still on the boat or just dreaming.
Nervous she had overstepped, Tav quickly started to stammer out an apology that was quickly cut off by Rolan leaning back in and kissing her hard. Her hands caressed his face and neck as his found their way down her arms to her waist, clawed hands pulling her firmly against him.
When they finally pulled apart for air, Tav rested her hands on Rolan’s chest as he tucked her head under his chin and they both looked out over the starlit river. Rolan’s chest still heaved from their exchange, but he pulled back enough to look her in the eye.
“You know, I’ve been imagining this moment for so long, yet it has still exceeded my hopes in every possible way. Perhaps, if you aren’t too busy, I could show you some of what I’ve been working on at the tower after this?”
Story Summary: Rolan invites Dammon to a picnic in a hidden glade beyond the city walls of Baldur's Gate. They spend a wonderful day together in each other's company and reminisce. Rolan has something important he wants to tell Dammon too.
I wrote this for the picnic prompt for Rolan Summer Week.
Story Rating: Mature/Explicit (MDNI)
Chapter 1: Sunshine and Wine
Parings: Rolan x Dammon, Thunderforge
Chapter Word Count: 2,917
Tagging because of interest: @wasteful-sam and @cursed-nyxan
You can read here on my AO3. Snippet below the Read More cut.
I hope everyone enjoys! 😊💙❤️🔥
Rolan fusses with unpacking his picnic basket and placing everything on a soft dark blue blanket he spread out. It has to look perfect. Fruits, cheese, dried meat, wine, and wildflowers… He paces while trying to figure out if he left anything. The wildflowers and strawberries come from his own garden. He is quite proud of them.
He found the most beautiful place in a hidden glade beyond Baldur's Gate’s walls. It is on a hill that overlooks the water. The view of the Sword Coast and the sun dancing on the waters is breathtaking. It's perfectly shaded under several trees and the sunlight makes patterns on the soft grass through the leaves. Butterflies flutter on nearby flowers. A few birds chirp happily. There is a light breeze encircling him and the scent of ocean waters fill the glade.
He places another thicker reds and blues blanket down next to the variety of food and wines. Bread, cheese, fruits and dried meats. He brought both a few wines as he couldn't make up his mind. A bouquet of wildflowers accents everything on the blanket.
There, that should do it. A light breeze rustles through Rolan's long brown hair and he pushes the strains back. He pulls his robes down, anxious about when he will show.
He stands waiting, unsure if sitting wouldn't look as nice or harder to get up right away. His stomach made noises, more out of nerves than anything else. He stares out at the waters while he continues fidgeting with his robes. He wishes he had thought to change clothes before rushing out of the tower.
“There you are!” a familiar voice says behind him.
Rolan turns around to see Dammon approaching him. He changed out of his blacksmithing attire. He was wearing black leather pants and a dark blue open button shirt that accented his eyes. I should have changed clothes. Damnit!
He smiles and asks, “Trouble finding it?” He takes a deep breath as Dammon moves closer to him. He breathes in a mixture of spices and fire with a hint of chocolate. It makes his heart race having him so close.
Dammon smiles, scrunches his nose and says, “Just a little.” He takes steps closer to him and says with a grin, “But I did find it and that's what is important.”
Rolan says, “Yes, truly.” as he nods. He jesters with his hand for Dammon to sit and he sits next to him on the blanket.
Dammon asks, “So, you wanted to talk?”
Rolan answers, “Yes, I wanted…well we both work constantly. You have always been good about making sure I get some rest away from the tower. I figured you deserved the same. I thought that we could both take the rest of the day off.”
Dammon leans closer and says, “I just think you wanted kisses.” He grins and softly lays his lips against Rolan's lips. He always tastes oranges on him and his aroma is similar to old books and spices.
When he pulls away Rolan says with a smirk, “Yes but I always want kisses from you.” Rolan notices Dammon's cheeks turning red and he smiles.
Dammon smiles and looks down at his hands in his lap. He says softly, “Me too. I always enjoy you kissing me.”
Rolan places his two fingers under his chin and lifts Dammon's face to him. He tilts his head, his golden eyes are intense as he watches him, and leans closer. He whispers, “You can always have kisses from me, anything you wish.”
Dammon's smile widens as Rolan places his lips passionately against Dammon's lips. They press harder with desperation as his hand softly glides to the back of Dammon's neck. There is no air between them, only longing and strengthening emotions. Dammon's hands are propping himself up as Rolan pushes further into the kiss. He doesn't stop until Dammon starts whimpering, leaving them both wanting more. Rolan always loves this feeling, desperately wanting…desperately wanting for each other, because later it will ignite into fiery passion.
Life has been so chaotic and I'm so sad that I haven't had the time or energy to get an actual oneshot out for this event, but I do have an Idea™. So I will share it with the class in the hopes that y'all like it. And I will hopefully get the chance to actually write this out, but I basically created a whole au for this silly prompt so we'll see where it goes.
This is an au where there's no Netherbrain and Rolan is the new owner of Ramazith's Tower after the mysterious demise of the former master. Without further ado, here's the outline:
This is an au where Rolan defeated Lorroakan on his own and comes into ownership of Ramazith's Tower by himself.
Why does he decide to do this by himself? He comes across a diary of a woman who lived in the tower with Lorroakan a decade ago (it's Cressida just to be clear but he doesn't know that) and recognizes similarities to the way she was treated and how he is treated now.
Lorroakan also gets super yappy one day about his spells and essentially admits to using blood magic to attempt to subdue a former lover.
Rolan digs a bit deeper on the spell and realizes Lorroakan's just slowly killing some woman who seems to have no idea, assuming she isn't already dead.
All of this put together on top of the abuse he's experiencing is enough for bro to take matters into his own hands.
Cressida is basically stuck bedrotting from her regular depression and the nightmare spell Lorroakan's been doing on her up until this point, so she isn't in a position to help anyone and doesn't even know Rolan exists.
But!! Lorroakan is dead now, so no one's casting a nightmare spell that's been dealing her points of exhaustion anymore. Which means Cressida's energy level starts going up and she starts vaguely feeling like herself again.
And this turn of energy happens not only in time for the Upper City ball, but right as she realizes her ex-boyfriend is dead and there's now a totally new archmage in his place.
Big social gatherings like a masquerade ball are not usually Cressida's thing, but she wants to figure out what this new archmage's deal is. She knows nothing about him, so he could be far worse than Lorroakan for all she knows. And she's not an idiot, she doubts that Lorroakan just keeled over and died on his own.
Cressida hasn't gone to one of these things in basically forever, so she's pretty much unrecognized (or maybe she uses Disguise Self for full mystery effect?? She really just wants to do a vibe check on the new archmage and leave and if she doesn't like the vibes, she doesn't want this guy knowing anything about her)
It took about 300 words of exposition planning, but now we're actually at the masquerade ball!!
Cressida is kind of in hell because she has her psionic powers and is hearing the thoughts of literally everyone, so she is really just trying to get in and meet Rolan and leave.
Rolan is trying so hard to be so normal about this super overly fancy ball, and to his credit he is doing great. But between anti-tiefling racism and the murky details behind how he acquired his title of archmage, he isn't exactly accepted into high society with open arms.
This makes Cressida's job a bit easier because he's not surrounded by all of the important people in Baldur's Gate, so she can not only talk to him without the fuzz of everyone's thoughts in her head, she can hear some of what he's thinking.
Bonus points if Rolan sees through Cressida's disguise spell right away and just kinda lets her do her thing because at least she's one of the first people he hasn't had to approach on his own.
They dance once and that's about all Cress can do before starting to get a serious headache. But!! She and Rolan end up going off somewhere slightly more private and actually get to yapping.
Cressida realizes kind of early on that Rolan's vibes are fine and he's probably way better than Lorroakan regardless of the truth of the circumstances behind the shift in power. But she's having a genuinely nice time talking because an important thing about these two is that they're both nerds! (any verse where they don't immediately start off arguing is one where they immediately have a thing for each other and I could elaborate on this but I won't)
Cress's spell wears off and Rolan points out that he already knew she was using a disguise and just thought she was really into the masquerade theme. But Cress already feels kinda bad about lying in the beginning, so she comes clean about mainly being there to vibe check Rolan.
Cressida's internalized guilt complex and avoidant personality means she does just leave after this, but not before telling Rolan in not so many words that if he needs some help with the city's politics or with getting people to stop suspecting him of killing Lorroakan, she's willing to help.
Rolan's not quite sure what just happened, but he's down bad. And Cal and Lia don't let him live it down because he never even got Cressida's name in all of this so he actually doesn't know who this lady even is.
Cressida did, in fact, forget to introduce herself properly because she poked out of her self-isolation for the first time in years and forgot a fair number of social rules.
Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this! I think it would be really fun to have written out and I super wanna get it written sometime (me with sooo many ideas I have for these two)
The Upper City's annual masquerade shimmers under a velvet sky, masks glittering and secrets whispered in every shadow. Rolan, formally invited as the Master of Ramazith Tower, arrives in enigmatic fashion. Does he glide solo through the crowd, mysterious and untouchable? Bring a date whose identity may, or may not, remain hidden? Or does he dance with a stranger, never learning their name, but remembering their touch...
Rolan indulges in a sophisticated (or possibly scandalous wine tasting tour through the Gate's most charming taverns and hidden cellars. From fruity reds to rare meads, he samples the best; and banters even better.
Does he keep his composure with witty charm, or does he end the evening serenading the citizens with a half-empty bottle in hand?
