Anon asked: If you feeling up to it, how about napping in sunshine for Halsin x Tav :D
Halsin x F!Tav || SFW || 656 words
AO3
Serilda cozies up with a book in a secluded area of the forest only to find out it’s already been claimed.
While the quiet of the grove was far more significant than that of the city, Serilda still found herself seeking solitude and silence; children could almost always be heard running around, animals often roamed through the encampment making their presence known–either via conversations among themselves or with the actual grove members, and the general bustle that matched that of a small town always lingered. Sometimes it was a touch overwhelming. Now that she was no longer confined to the healing den, she’d explored the area and found a secluded nook in the forest, and it soon became her place of temporary respite.
Nestled against a tree trunk, Serilda opened the book Nettie had given her and read; the sounds of birds chirping and critters darting around under the foliage provided serene background noise, and the sun prickling through the gaps in the leaves offered just enough light to see in the otherwise shaded alcove.
She flipped through the pages, enjoying the stories despite the book seemingly being geared toward younger readers; Nettie told her it was a good place to start when learning about their beliefs. It was a collection of fables often taught alongside stories of their god, Silvanus. Most were lessons in respecting nature, both its peaceful and chaotic sides, and respecting such things in people as well; the addendum being that one shouldn’t use entropy to excuse all actions and disregard accountability.
“My mother used to read me that book before bed,” Halsin’s voice cut through the silence.
Serilda’s head shot up.
“Sorry,” he said, holding his hands up and chuckling. “Hadn’t meant to startle you.” Halsin placed his hands on his hips and looked around, as though surveying the area. “I see you found my little escape.”
Her face warmed. “Sorry, I didn’t, uh, I didn’t think anyone ever came here. The grass looked undisturbed.”
“It’s been quite some time since I’ve been able to have a moment alone,” he explained.
“I can leave,” Serilda offered. She moved to push herself up off the ground, but Halsin shook his head.
“No need. I know the grove can get a bit much at times.” He smiled. “I’m sure we all could use an escape. I can leave you be.”
“I don’t mind,” she replied without hesitation, cheeks darkening. “I’m just reading.”
Accepting the invite, he sat against the same tree to her left, his long legs kicked out perpendicular to hers. “Have you gotten to the story about the bear cub and bird’s nest?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
“That one was my favorite,” he replied. “I always begged my mother to read it.”
“Would you like me to read it for you?” Serilda asked, chuckling.
There was a soft rustling as he adjusted his position, and she turned back to her book thinking he’d not bother replying.
“That’d be nice,” he said shortly after settling with his arm behind his head.
Serilda looked back up, expecting him to start chuckling, but he simply sat there with his eyes closed and a smile on his lips.
“Um, let me, uh,” she stuttered, “find it.” She flipped through until she came across the story: ‘Gentle as a Bear.’ She began, “Ever-wading was the cub, in the river that split the land…”
She continued reading, peeking over at Halsin every so often, though he never moved save for his chest rising and falling with his silent breaths. The smile remained, content and unforced; Serilda had never seen him so peaceful. Despite not being in the grove long, she imagined it didn’t happen often–the life of a grove master couldn’t have been one of tranquility.
“A crack echoed amongst the trees, the branch crying out to others, unable to withstand the heft of the cub.”
A soft snort interrupted her, and she looked over once more. His smile had melted away; his lips now parted slightly, letting out quiet snores.
Serilda and Aurella's mother take them below the city to finalize a business deal.
“Mother, where are we going?” Serilda shuffled alongside Aurella behind their mother, struggling to keep up.
She shushed her daughter and continued leading them through the near-dark while her mother’s bodyguard, Virgil, followed from behind all of them.
It smelled of damp dirt and stagnant air, and each step they took kicked up years of dust. It was eerily quiet; the sounds that often filled the city were swallowed the moment they stepped underground.
Aurella sneezed and gave her twin a worried look.
Grabbing Aurella’s hand, Serilda gave it a squeeze in an attempt to reassure not only Aurella, but herself as well.
There were rumors of this place; stories shared among the twins’ friends. ‘I heard there’s a whole city of sewer people down there.’ ‘Well, I heard it’s where they send all the unwanted kids.’ ‘I think it’s full of vampires. And I bet they sneak up at night and feed.’ Serilda never imagined they’d possibly find out, and she certainly never expected their mother to drag them here.
Every so often, they’d pass a gate or a rat would skitter by, but otherwise, it was simply empty stone walls. Up ahead, the area was far better lit, and Serilda saw two people standing in front of a large, heavy-looking door. They were armored, though it was so dark, they would’ve been nearly invisible were it not for the lanterns nearby. As the three of them approached, the others moved to guard the door, pulling out their weapons.
Virgil shifted behind them, his hand reaching for his own weapon.
Closer now, Serilda could make out a strange, deep red design in the center, appearing to be woven into the wood of the door itself.
“Who are you?” the man on the right asked.
“Melania Emberlin,” their mother replied. “I’m here for Cazador.”
The woman to their left looked at the two girls before turning toward the door. She placed her hand against the wood, and the red began to snake out of the center and into the grain of the entire door. It then split in the middle, opening just enough for the woman to slip through before closing right after.
“Who’s Cazador?” Aurella asked.
“I told you to shut it,” Melania hissed.
The sisters stood closer together, gripping each other’s hands as though that would protect them from any danger. They waited in silence.
Eventually, the woman returned with a man following behind her; he had dark hair and eyes a shade of brown that appeared almost red in the firelight, and a grin that made Serilda’s stomach turn.
“Lady Emberlin,” he said, his voice like the buzz of a wasp.
“You’re Cazador?” Melania asked.
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I understand you’d like to conduct some business.” Cazador looked between the two girls standing behind her. “And which one of you is Serilda?”
At the mention of her name, Serilda’s heart leapt into her throat.
Cazador smiled at her, somehow figuring it out without a response. “I hear you’ve quite the gift,” he said.
Serilda remained still.
His grin widened, and his attention returned to their mother. “The standard rate.”
Her mouth opened, question upon question threatening to spill from Serilda’s lips, but Aurella squeezed her hand with such force it hurt and silenced Serilda.
“Standard and a half,” Melania offered, “and I’ll throw in the other.” She glanced at Aurella, disdain evident in the curl of her lip.
“I take it she has no discernable skill,” Cazador remarked.
“That’s why I’m only asking for half.” Melania shook her head. “She has a knack for going where she doesn’t belong. I’m sure you can do something with that.”
“Please don’t do this!” Serilda blurted.
The fury in her mother’s eyes turned Serilda’s blood cold and hurt worse than the back of Melania’s hand striking her cheek.
Tears rolled down her face. “I’m sorry, Mother!” Serilda cried. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt that boy. It was–it was an accident!”
“You killed that boy,” Melania said with a sneer. “Your magic is a curse. You’re a curse. My standing is at risk because of you.” She leaned forward into Serilda’s face. “You were supposed to be my perfect child. Aurella was always a problem, but you… it seems your father couldn’t provide me with even one child worthy of our name.”
She straightened and turned back to Cazador. “Well?”
With a slight narrowing of his eyes, he stared at Aurella for a time, as though searching for something in her face. “We are always looking to expand our little family down here.”
He returned his gaze to Melania, his grin now verging on smug.
Serilda attempts to hide an injury from her companions, but Halsin seems to have an uncanny way of finding her when she doesn’t want to be found.
The chill of the dirt soothed the throbbing burn that filled the palms and pads of her fingers; using her magic to cool the blisters seemed like the rational thing to do, but she’d tried that before, and it somehow only served to make them worse. She was thankful her tent was kept away from the others as she no doubt looked odd with her hands shoved into the ground. The rest of the party was gathered around the fire, sharing soup that Gale had cooked; Serilda’s helping sat on the ground next to her, unable to hold the bowl long enough to enjoy it without wearing it.
Aurella’s laughter carried through the camp, and while Serilda felt like an outcast with her self-imposed isolation, letting them see her as uncontrolled was not an option. For whatever reason, she’d been thrust into the impromptu leadership role, and they needed to believe she was strong enough to carry that responsibility. Then again, was it really her responsibility? Why couldn’t one of them make the decisions? She wouldn’t trust Astarion or Aurella, but Wyll? Well, Wyll seemed to jump in heart first rather than take a moment to think; great for the folk hero he aspired to be, but a little dangerous as a leader.
She pulled her hands out of the earth and brushed the dirt off before reaching for the burn salve she bought from the druid grove. It smelled of mint and lavender to mask the harsh scent of aloe; she scooped a dollop on her finger and began rubbing it into her hands as she resumed her line of thought.
Lae’zel wouldn’t have enough of the party’s trust to follow her, and her sole focus would be reaching her people, and the rest of them would be left to wonder whether she told the truth. Shadowheart… actually, Serilda didn’t know how Shadowheart would lead. Her reactions seemed to waver, but it seemed, more than anything, she sought self-preservation, even if at the detriment of others. Gale, though, he could be someone she’d follow. He often agreed with her choices, helping others when possible. Then again, if his past was anything to go by, he could very well land them trapped in a bottle of wine suspended somewhere in the Astral Plane.
“Serilda?” Halsin’s voice startled her. “Is everything all right?”
Her head shot upward, and she quickly hid her hands in her lap. “I’m fine,” she said, giving a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I just… had a headache.”
His eyebrows arched upward and he frowned. “Are you sure?” he asked. “If you’d like, I brought with me some teas from the Grove that may help.” His eyes fell to her lap.
Tucking her hands further into the layers of her robe, she put more effort into her smile as she replied. “I appreciate the offer, Halsin, but I think Gale’s soup will be enough to help me sleep it off.”
He hummed and smiled knowingly. “You mean the soup you’ve yet to touch?”
She blushed and looked down at the bowl. “I… was just about to dig in.”
“I would recommend reheating it,” he said. “The flavor waned once the steam cleared.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
He crossed his hefty arms and simply looked at her.
With a sigh, and an attempt at relieving the growing tension, she joked, “It’s a bit of a strain on the neck having to look up at you. Did you need anything else?”
Halsin’s comprehending smile remained. “I did mention the habits of leading the Grove were slow to leave. Are you sure everything is all right?”
Again, she sighed and dropped her head. “I’m guessing no amount of ‘yes’s would convince you.” Serilda looked back up at his tender face and couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed at his persistence.
The large elf fell into a squat in front of her, giving her neck a chance to relax. “I suppose I’m rather stubborn. Is this perhaps one of your ‘far more interesting’ secrets you mentioned some time ago?”
“Perhaps,” she replied, her eyes falling to her hands, wishing she could mimic the sharp tone Aurella often used, but Halsin’s concern made that impossible.
“If you are adamant that you wish to keep this secret,” he began, “I won’t trouble you any further.”
She looked up to find blue and gold watching her, and her shoulders slumped under the weight of his disquieted but encouraging gaze. It filled her with the urge to share everything; her and Aurella’s childhood traumas, the loneliness felt among her mentor’s colleagues, the sexual nature of the illithid dreams, even secrets that weren’t hers to divulge, like why Aurella was who she was, why it was dangerous for her sister to return to Baldur’s Gate (even if she shrugged off the concern).
Blinking away the feeling, she shook her head and smiled. “I can see part of why you made such a great master,” she said, earning a raise of his brow. “You have a way of making people want to say or do something they would otherwise refuse.”
Halsin chuckled softly as he dropped into a more comfortable position, his knees digging into the already disturbed dirt. He reached his hands out toward her, palms up.
“May I?” He nodded his head down at her lap.
Hesitating a moment, she conceded and slipped her hands into his expectant ones. His skin was warm, rough, worn with years upon years of guiding and working in the wilderness he was so fond of; the calloused hands dwarfed hers to the point it was almost laughable.
As he examined her hands, turning them over and gauging the severity of the burns, she couldn’t help but watch him. The way his brow furrowed and his eyelashes dipped just above his cheeks, how his mouth shifted into a thin line and deepened the shadows of his laugh lines.
He looked up, and she prayed it was dark enough to hide the color filling her cheeks having been caught staring. Though his face appeared more concerned than confused or accusatory.
“How have you managed to gather so many scars?” he asked, his tone lighthearted on the surface.
Her gaze moved to her hands still in his; his thumbs brushed over the faint maroon patches of skin marring her fingertips and palms, careful to avoid the fresh wounds.
“I enjoyed playing with fire when I was younger,” she replied, forcing a chuckle, though it was a half-hearted attempt.
She glanced back up at him, and the tilt of his head told her he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t push.
“I can heal these if you’d like,” he offered, his thumb hovering over one of her blisters.
“I wouldn’t want you to waste magic on something so small,” she said, eyes returning to her hands and where his skin touched hers.
“It’s hardly a waste,” he replied with a light chuckle. His right hand released hers, and he tucked a curled finger under her chin, gently pushing upward so she would look at him. “I would only offer if I sought to help you.”
Warmth pooled in her cheeks, and she blinked at him, his finger still pressed against her skin, the heat radiating from his hand only serving to worsen her blush.
“Okay,” she muttered, lips barely moving.
He smiled and pulled his hand away, taking with it his warmth and leaving behind an echo of his touch. He hovered over the burns on her left hand for a moment before a bright blue light filled the space between them; a cooling sensation passed over her skin and seeped through each wound, repairing the damaged dermis from underneath. He repeated the action with her right hand, the same feeling filling her injuries and healing them.
The light faded, and he gave her hands another once over.
“How do they feel?”
She flexed them as they remained in his own loose grip. “Better than what any salve would’ve done,” she said, smiling at him. “Thank you.”
Halsin returned her smile and released her hands. “It’s no trouble. In fact, I much prefer serving as a healer than I did as Master of the Grove.” He added, “That’s not to say I want you to actively seek injury just to keep me occupied.”
A weak laugh passed through her lips, and she watched as he returned to his feet, forcing her to crane her neck upward again.
“I will leave you to rest,” he said, giving her a brief nod. “Have a good night.”
Serilda awakens in an unfamiliar place after fleeing the city guards.
Halsin finds Serilda in the woods, injured and unconscious, and brings her back to his people’s grove, planning to return her to the city gates once she’s healed. Little does he know, she’s has no plans of returning as the city is no longer safe for her; she has no plans at all, in fact, no clue what to do after getting herself on the city’s wanted board. She stays as long as she can, sifting through possibilities, nearby cities, but something about the lifestyle of those in the grove is rather appealing. And the more time spent there, the more she realizes this secluded family is nothing like those in the city. She learns of an entire society thought to be mere myth.
Read on AO3!
This is an AU loosely inspired by the world of Baldur's Gate 3. It focuses on Serilda and Halsin and those in Silvanus’s Grove, but the lore has been changed immensely. Much of what exists in Faerûn doesn't here or is heavily altered.
I realize this is incredibly short, but this is more just to establish the setting and situation for me. I figured I'd share it anyway.
Serilda finds a quiet spot to avoid the party, but Halsin manages to find her.
The river lapped against the bank, just inches from her boot as she sat on a log someone had dragged out toward the water. Music and voices sounded behind her, but with her back against a boulder, she was hidden from the celebration. Or so she thought.
“Do you not wish to join the others?” a deep voice spoke beside her.
Serilda looked up to find a very large and very friendly elf smiling at her.
“Halsin,” she said, giving him a wave with a cup in her gloved hand. She craned her neck to look past him at the dancing tieflings and her conversing companions; she didn’t have much interest in participating in either. “I’m… not really one for parties.” Returning her back to the stone and eyes to the water, she took a drink and added, “And I wouldn’t want them to mistake my discomfort for disapproval or something else that may spoil the party. They deserve to celebrate.”
“I don’t wish to disturb you,” he replied. “I simply came to check on you, but I understand if you prefer to remain solitary.”
She glanced up at him, catching a glint of something she couldn’t place. Grabbing the bottle beside her, she held it out to him and smiled. “I think I can handle the company of a single elf.”
He returned her grin and accepted the bottle before sitting on the log beside her, the added weight causing the wood to give the faintest creak.
“Thank you,” he said. He eyed the bottle a moment for taking a swig, barely able to suppress a grimace.
“It’s awful,” Serilda remarked with a chuckle. “But I figure at some point, you stop tasting it.”
“Right you are.” He took another swig. “But still awful for the time being.”
A burst of magic Serilda recognized as Aurella’s sounded, followed by glass shattering and angry shouting, and then a certain vampire’s laugh. Halsin’s attention turned to the crowd behind them.
“Your sister appears more at home among the chaos of revelry,” he said, chuckling. “Though, I’m not sure the tieflings will appreciate her spilling their wine.”
“If that’s the worst she’s doing, I’m not too concerned,” Serilda said, downing a long swig from her cup and shuddering.
“Interesting one, your sister,” he commented before following Serilda’s lead and taking a drink himself.
“Interesting is a… kind… way of putting it.” She frowned, second-guessing whether she should check on Aurella. “She had a rough childhood,” Serilda explained, the alcohol loosening her tongue. “We both did, but I got lucky and happened to be saved, and she… she wasn’t.” She finished what remained in her cup. “I’ll never forgive myself for it.”
Halsin refilled her cup and sighed. “Forgiveness is hardest to offer yourself. You can spend a lifetime regretting actions taken, or perhaps not taken, but it does little good. Wishing to change the past only serves to widen the hole felt in your chest.” His voice carried an echo of what he had probably told himself at some point; the long drink he took, as if to wash it away, furthered her suspicions. “There’s naught to be done for the past, but you can still rectify the future.”
A soft hum vibrated against her cup as she took another drink. She smiled. “Do you do this often?”
He raised a brow at her.
“Offer unsolicited but very comforting advice to strangers?” she asked, chuckling into her cup.
He mirrored her chuckle. “I suppose years of serving as the grove’s master has formed some unwelcome habits.”
“I said unsolicited, not unwelcome,” she reminded him.
“Are they not the same?”
She shrugged. “I don’t think so. Unsolicited means I didn’t ask. Unwelcome means I didn’t appreciate it.”
Silence fell between the two as they continued to drink, until each had finished what they held.
“Can you hand me another bottle?” she asked, arm extending across his body to point at the ground beside the log. “I stashed a few down there. Help yourself.”
He did as asked, and she didn’t bother pouring it in her cup this time, deciding instead to simply uncork it and drink it straight from the bottle.
Her mind wandered to ways of rectifying the future. She would offer Aurella a home--she was sure her mentor would allow it. She would provide magical instruction, formal training from her mentor or herself, even if their magics were a little different. She would keep an eye on her, keep her from landing herself in prison.
“Dammit,” Serilda hissed under her breath. Aurella’s bounty.
“Is something the matter?”
“No, no,” she said, sighing. “I just remembered something unpleasant I’ll need to take care of once… if… I get back to the city.”
“I promise, Serilda,” he said, placing a warm, large hand on her shoulder, “I will do all I can to remove the parasite and return you to your city.”
Serilda smiled, though it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Thank you.”
“May I ask you a few questions about the tadpole?” he said, letting his arm fall back into his lap. “I completely understand if you would prefer not to speak of it on a night that’s intended for celebration.”
Serilda shrugged. “I’m not really celebrating anyway,” she said, again finishing her cup. “I just can’t promise I’ll actually be able to answer your questions. I know almost nothing about it.”
“I hadn’t the chance to ask the drow about his experience with the tadpole,” Halsin said. “I was forced to kill him before managing any conversation.”
She frowned, thinking of the dead body she saw while Nettie tried to poison her.
“Have you felt any different since the insertion of the tadpole?” he asked. “Any unexpected symptoms? Or even expected symptoms? Fever? Bleeding from various orifices? Things such as this.”
“The strangest thing,” she began, deciding there was little reason to keep this information from the person she sought help from, “is this telepathic link we seem to have to each other. We can sort of see into each other’s heads. It’s not constant, thankfully, otherwise I’d have to listen to Aurella’s and Astarion’s disgusting thoughts all day. But there are times when we sort of slip into each other’s minds.”
His brow furrowed as he listened.
“That telepathy, if we focus on it, can be used to…” She paused, struggling to find the right word. “Not exactly control, but I suppose influence people who have devoted themselves to this ‘Absolute.’”
“That’s… highly disturbing.”
She nodded. “It was how we entered the temple without provoking the goblins. I hadn’t meant to do it, it just sort of… happened. The gatekeeper, he threatened us, and I just had this sudden urge to assert power over him. It felt… good at the moment, which was terrifying. I felt horrible afterward.”
He hummed, a low, deep set sound in his chest. “Did anything more happen after using the telepathy granted by the tadpole?”
“We felt awful that night. Headache. Bodyache. Dread. I thought that was it, that we were turning, but we were fine--better than fine--the next morning.” A blushed crept through her cheeks and ears. “We had strange dreams, but I don’t remember mine,” she lied. “I only know it was odd since I woke with a feeling of unease. But then I felt great, we all did. And we had new abilities.”
The lines of many years spent in deep thought were pressed heavy into his skin as he mulled over this information. She could see the master, the healer, the well-respected and trusted druid considering every possibility and every danger, the severity glinting in the gold ring of his warm blue eyes.
“I would recommend against using these newfound abilities,” he finally spoke. “I understand the saying ‘Never look a gift horse in the mouth,’ but I do not believe these to be gifts. Sooner or later, there’ll be a price to pay.”
She nodded as she tipped her bottle back, only to find it empty, though she didn’t remember drinking it all.
“I must apologize,” he said, glancing at his own bottle. “I’m afraid I’ve spoiled your already uncomfortable night of celebration with talk of things most unpleasant.”
With a shrug, she replied, “I agreed to it. I’d rather share this with someone I believe can actually help. Aurella went and told this batty old lady that was with the tieflings, and it’s not something I think should be shared with everyone we speak to.”
“I agree,” he said. “I think it’s safe to assume the fear would drive people to overreaction. Nettie’s attempted poisoning was certainly a good example.”
“I didn’t know you knew,” she replied.
“Your sister gave me earful about it,” he said with a chuckle. “I understand Nettie’s thought process in trying to keep everyone safe by eliminating something we do not understand, but I still apologize on her behalf.”
“Thank you,” Serilda said. “There was a risk telling you too,” she added, smiling. “I hope I wasn’t wrong to divulge our deepest secrets.”
He laughed. “I’m sure you have secrets far more interesting that I have yet to discover.”
Returning his chuckle, she blushed, but she assumed it to be from the drinks. “I hope you have the opportunity to do so.”
With a smile, he pushed himself to his feet and turned toward her. “I greatly enjoyed our conversation,” he said. “But I think it’s time for me to call it a night.”
At that, she yawned, suddenly yearning for her bedroll and noticing the noise of the party had died down.
“It appears you feel the same,” he added, holding his hand out to her.
She took it, feeling his warmth as he wrapped his long fingers around her leather-clad ones and pulled her up.
“Such a gentleman,” she teased, feeling a little unsteady on her feet.
“Even in the wilderness, we do not forget our manners,” he remarked. “Thank you for allowing me to disrupt your solitude.”
This fic has no meaning or point or anything like that, it was just fun to ramble on about a glimpse into this fantasy version of Full House @curiousartemis and I have talked about. It stars Halsin, Astarion, Gale, and our OCs, Serilda, Aurella, and Imryn ( @curiousartemis‘s ). There isn’t even a plot or anything xD but it was fun to write! It has not been edited, it has not been re-read. I don’t even know if it’s legible.
Ships mentioned: Halsin x F!OC, Astarion x F!OC, Gale x M!OC || SFW || 2340 words
Serilda and her found family attempt to celebrate the holidays.
"Have you read this one yet?" Gale asked Imryn, pushing a well-worn book into the drow's hands. "It discusses how much of Midnight may yet still reside within Mystra."
Imryn accepted the book, his dark cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink the moment Gale placed his hand on Imryn's arm.
Gale added, "It's a fascinating read."
Serilda smiled, the amusement of watching the pair of intelligent yet oblivious men never waned.
She glanced at Astarion and Aurella, the pair whispering conspiratorially, which typically meant trouble for the rest of the household, and the few times it didn't were simply misdeeds none but those two could find. And with the number of drinks Aurella had downed, it was sure to be a doozy. Serilda sighed, shaking her head at whatever her twin and the vampire planned.
The front door swinging open echoed into the room, shortly followed by Halsin's boots clicking on stone flooring. He soon poked his head into the great room, as wide a smile as any plastered across his face. It always made her heart swell. On his shoulder rested a large pine tree, much larger than was necessary, but that was typical of Halsin: above and beyond for any holiday, whether it was druidic or Baldurian or originating in their new home of Waterdeep. Thankfully, now that they were settled in a house much larger than when they lived in Baldur's Gate, Halsin no longer needed to consider size constraints when planning for the holidays (not that he had before, which led to a number of nubbed off trees).
"I found the perfect tree!" he announced, walking across the room. He rested the tree on its side and undid the burlap that held the soil in place; he always returned the trees to their original home the day after the celebration.
"You say that every year," Serilda remarked, stepping next to him and placing a hand on his back. Even fresh out of the cold, he radiated warmth.
"And every year, nature provides the perfect one," he replied. He placed the tree in the pot and wound an arm around Serilda's shoulders. "Now to decorate it!"
"Excellent," Gale remarked. He moved next to Halsin and eyed every branch. "This is the perfect opportunity to sharpen your dexterity, Imi." Gale glanced back at his pupil who returned his gaze with one of slight confusion. "It'll become quite clear in just a moment!" The wizard dashed out of the room, leaving Imryn little to do but look to Serilda in question.
She shrugged. "I've given up trying to guess where his mind leads," she said, smiling.
Aurella moved to stand behind the tree. "I think there's a bald spot here," she said, jabbing her finger toward the tree.
"There is not," Halsin insisted. "I was very thorough in my examination of the trees. And, even if there was, it would matter little since it's still a beautiful gift provided to us by Silvanus, and I am grateful."
Aurella rolled her eyes and muttered something about keeping the tree-hugging shit to himself before finishing off her drink. As soon as Astarion approached, she held her empty glass to him and stared up at him through her lashes. "Can you get me another one?" she asked, giving her best attempt at puppy eyes, though she looked more like a devious kitten.
"Are you suddenly incapable of walking to the kitchen?" Astarion said, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, come on," she whined. "You make it better than I do. And it looks like you need a drink yourself." She took her free hand and batted at his empty ones before tangling her fingers in his. When he merely replied with a raise of his eyebrow, she pulled him and leaned forward, her lips right at his ear.
Serilda couldn't hear what was said, but the growing smirk on Astarion's face told her more than she needed to know. She happened to peak at Imryn who appeared to be making a great effort in not watching the exchange.
Gale returned, much to Imryn's obvious relief as he hurried toward him and grabbed the top box from the pile Gale was balancing in his hands. When Gale placed his boxes on the ground, Imryn did the same and tilted his head as Gale pulled off the top and revealed a myriad of colored baubles.
"Tree decorations?" Imryn asked, lifting one and admiring it. "Glass? Is this… wise?" His eyes drifted to where Astarion and Aurella had been previously standing but were now gone.
"Yup!" Gale stood and placed his hands on his hips. "They're enchanted, so unless someone tosses them across the room, they should be fine."
Serilda shared in Imryn's concern, but Gale knew Astarion and Aurella long enough to know whether they could be trusted with such things--well, mostly Aurella.
"I know what you're thinking," Gale said, glancing from Imryn to Serilda. "But I don't think we'll have a repeat of last year's… incident."
Halsin's eyes dragged from the bottom of the tree to the top, which stood several feet higher than even the druid, a slight fear in his eyes. "I hope not."
"I can make it," Aurella slurred. "I just… need… come on. Give me a hand, Astarion!"
"Oh, no, my dear," he replied with a wave of his hand. "I'm far more interested in discovering how high up you manage on your own."
"What in the hells are you doing!" Serilda came rushing at the sound on glass bursting on the floor. "Why are you in the tree!"
More ornaments fell with each movement Aurella made, but she didn't seem to notice or care. Serilda assumed it was most likely the latter. She moved to grab Aurella, but Astarion held his arm out to stop her.
"I am begging you to let her finish," he laughed. "I will even sweep up the mess she's made."
"What is going on?" Gale called just as he ran into the room with Imryn close at his heels.
"Why… why is she in the tree?" Imryn gawked. "Is she stuck?"
"No," Serilda spat. She shoved Astarion's arm away but didn't reach out for her sister. "She's just--I don't even know what she's doing other than giving me a headache."
"There's a drink for that," Aurella said, looking down at everyone.
Halsin was next to witness the strange but somehow not surprising site. Confusing, certainly, but not surprising.
"What is she doing to the tree?" He dropped his bag of what Serilda assumed was more decorations.
"Astarion, would you be so kind as to enlighten us?" she asked. "You're usually involved when she pulls these stunts."
"That's hardly fair," he whined. "I didn't tell her to go climbing up the tree like some monkey."
"Do you at least know why?" Serilda asked, her jaw clenching.
"Oh, please, allow her to explain," he replied with a wide smile that never meant anything good, his hand gesturing toward Aurella. "Why, my love, are you climbing the tree?"
"Because," she began, cutting herself off with a short hiccup. "Because we need a star at the top, and I'm gonna be the star."
As she spoke those last words, the hefty tree finally gave up trying to hold her weight and toppled over, bringing with it numerous bulbs that shattered on the floor. The tree landed on top of Aurella, leaving only her limp hand sticking out.
Astarion’s laugh echoed in the otherwise silent room, doubling over and clutching his stomach.
“Why would you do that?” Gale admonished. His face fell as he lifted a particularly large piece of an ornament and examined it.
“Are you okay?” Imryn asked, rushing by Gale and kicking aside the broken glass.
Her hand remained still.
Halsin sighed and lifted the now-ruined tree, returning it to its pot and revealing a slightly bloodied Aurella.
Other than the shallow cuts on her cheeks and forehead, she appeared fine. Her eyes didn’t move however; they appeared fixated on the ceiling.
Serilda took a deep breath and walked past Astarion to the nearby closet. She returned with a broom in hand and bopped the vampire’s still-bent forward head with it; as soon as he straightened, she shoved it into his chest, and he took it from her without argument.
“Aurella?” Imryn knelt beside her.
As he began examining her, looking for signs of concussion, Aurella turned and looked at him, her eyes shining as she frowned. “I didn’t get to be the star.”
“I have hope that Aurella won’t try the same mischief twice,” Gale said. “Not if it failed the first time.”
“You’ve known her for how long, Gale?” Serilda asked, voice laden with doubt. “But I firmly requested that Astarion keep her from breaking anything this year.”
Gale scoffed. “And you think he’d actually do that? I think he enjoys watching her resulting chaos just as much as she enjoys creating it.” He smiled and added, “You’ve known Astarion for how long, Serilda?”
“It’s the holidays,” Halsin said. “I think we’re all granted a bit of false hope.” He placed his arm around Serilda and squeezed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Now, before we begin decorating the tree, we’re all to change into our ugly sweaters.” He grinned at Gale and Imryn, a silent plea to indulge in his holiday spirit.
“As is tradition,” Gale replied.
“I, uh, don’t have any ugly sweaters,” Imryn muttered. He glanced at Gale.
“I have plenty!” Halsin boomed just as Gale opened his mouth.
Before anyone could object, the startingly fast elf hurried out of the room and toward his and Serilda’s bedroom.
With an apologetic smile directed at Imryn, Serilda mouthed, “Sorry.”
Imryn returned her smile, offering one last glance at Gale, disappointment evident in his eyes. The druid appeared soon after, lugging two sweaters in his arms, only one of which looked like it would fit Imryn, but any hope he may have had of not looking absolutely ridiculous was quickly crushed when Halsin handed the smallest sweater to Serilda.
“Here!” Halsin said, holding out a red sweater adorned with sewn-in tinsel and embroidered snowflakes. He already donned his own; a green one with a bear crocheted in the center, and actual mittens sewn over the paws, surrounded by tinsel similar to Imryn’s and dangling miniature bulbs.
Imryn accepted it with a smile that wavered on a grimace.. He pulled it over his head--well, there was actually no pulling needed given the sweater was made for someone more than twice Imryn’s size. The fabric swallowed him.
Serilda covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, but Halsin saw nothing wrong and simply beamed.
The young drow held his arms out to the side, inspecting the draped sleeves and sighing. “Thank you,” he said, avoiding putting a dent into Halsin’s holiday spirit.
Gale patted Imryn on the shoulder, allowing his hand to linger just long enough to cause Imryn’s cheeks to burn pink. “I’ll be right back,” Gale announced before turning toward his own room.
“I’ll go get Astarion and Aurella,” Halsin offered.
“I wouldn’t open the door to any rooms you think they’re in,” Serilda warned. “Just knock, shout, and hurry away.”
He laughed heartily and nodded before heading toward the kitchen.
“It’s not the worst sweater ever,” Serilda said to Imryn once Halsin was out of ear-shot. She pulled on her own; a blue one with silver bulbs and snowflakes and an argyle design behind.
Imryn lifted his arms again. “No, it’s just a little… big.” He smiled sheepishly.
“It’s a shame Gale wasn’t a little quicker with his words,” she remarked. “I’m sure he had a spare, and it certainly would’ve fit better.” She tilted her head, a knowing grin on her lips.
He looked away and at the tree, it’s pines seemingly far more interesting than whatever Serilda said.
She chuckled softly just as Gale returned, already wearing his sweater with a large cat in the center of a pine tree.
“That would’ve been perfect for last year,” Serilda remarked, Aurella’s star-stunt coming to mind.
Gale smiled at her and stood beside Imryn. “Why don’t we begin decorating?” he asked his pupil.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Halsin?” Imryn asked, turning toward Gale.
Serilda shook her head. “Go ahead. I’m sure he’s busy fighting with Astarion and Aurella to get them to wear their sweaters.”
“Would you care to join in?” Gale asked. He motioned to the boxes beside the tree. “There are plenty to hang.”
“I think you two are fine without me,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
She left the two wizards alone in the great room, smiling to herself. She heard Gale walking Imryn through the steps of a telekinetic spell, one they were forced to use every year since Halsin’s trees were always several heads higher than any of them. Serilda settled at the table, picking at the fruit tray Halsin had left out earlier.
His voice soon traveled through to where she sat, as did Aurella’s and Astarion’s.
“We do this every year,” Halsin said, the exasperation evident in his voice.
“And every year, I deny such ridiculous requests,” Astarion huffed. “This is my compromise.”
Halsin sighed.
“I didn’t argue this year,” Aurella bragged.
“No, but I much would’ve preferred that over… this,” Halsin said.
The three of them entered the kitchen, and Serilda simply shook her head. Astarion wore an all-black sweater, and Aurella…
“Why?” Serilda asked.
“It’s ugly, right?” Aurella smiled and spun in a circle, showing off the sweater. It was similar to Imryn’s, only Aurella had made some adjustments, cutting out two circles over her breasts, leaving her near-see-through bra exposed.
“Why?” she asked again.
Aurella shrugged. “If you want me to participate, you’ll let me do so on my terms. At least mine fits the theme.” She looked pointedly at Astarion.
He rolled his eyes. “Mine is a sweater. And it’s ugly.”
The party meets Halsin, and Serilda puts up with her twin’s attitude.
The bear stood eye level with her, watching her with a tilt of its head. Goblin bodies and stench surrounded them, and while the threat of the bear remained, Serilda hoped this bear was actually the person they were searching for. It blinked at her, and she swore she saw its mouth twitch into a smile before it shifted its weight to its hind legs and began to glow. The body morphed into one more sapien, and the light dissipated, revealing a very large, wide-smiled elf.
He shook his hand, flicking away goblin blood and grimacing when something solid hit the ground.
"Pardon the viscera," the elf said in a warm, deep voice. "One should cherish all of nature's bounty, but goblin guts are quite far down the list."
Serilda let out a nervous chuckle, still in shock at the sight before her: not that the bear had turned into the elf--she’d seen that already in the grove--but that the elf was so… big. He stood over a head taller than her--to meet his eyes required her to crane her neck a tad--and his sheer bulk was nothing short of impressive. And he was admittedly attractive, even with the deep-set scars running across his face.
“You aided a bear without knowing if it would savage you,” he remarked with a laugh, his facial scars moving as his eyes crinkled. “A true friend of nature--or perhaps a lunatic.”
“I believe the lunatic would be my sister,” Serilda said, shooting a glare at Aurella. “I’m so sorry she goaded those children on.”
“Whatever,” Aurella scoffed as she rubbed goblin blood out of her blonde strands. “They were having so much fun. How could you not join in?”
The elf shrugged. “It is easy to fall into the wiles of children.”
“You’re lucky he wasn’t a real bear,” Astarion muttered, nudging Aurella’s arm and smirking. “You deserve to be torn to shreds.”
Aurella returned his smirk. “I’m sure the sight would be one you’d keep in mind when alone in your tent.”
Astarion opened his mouth to retort--or continue their disturbing flirtations if his grin was anything to go by--but Serilda’s groan quieted him. She rubbed her leathered hand against forehead and sighed.
“Either way,” the elf continued, a smile playing on his lips, “I owe thanks. I am the druid Halsin.”
Serilda grinned, “I’d hoped so. We were asked to find you.” She sucked in the corner of her lip, considering spoiling the rescue with grim news. “The druids are about to perform some rite and close off the grove, leaving the Tieflings stranded or killed.”
“What?” his grateful demeanor changed abruptly. He set his hands on his hips and sighed, looking down at the ground. “Kagha. We must return to the grove. I cannot allow this rite to be completed.”
“She thinks she’s saving it.”
“This is my doing,” he admitted. “I foolishly left it vulnerable to this rabble.” His eyes returned to hers, and again, his features shifted. “There’s more, isn’t there?” He stepped forward and leaned down slightly. “That look in your eyes--in all of your eyes--I’ve seen in before. Are you feeling all right?”
“It can wait,” she said, holding up her hand.
“The hell it can,” Aurella said. “There are mindflayer tadpoles in our heads. We need them taken care of!”
“And what is he supposed to do here?” Serilda asked, turning her head toward her twin. “Slice us open in the middle of a goblin hoard?”
She turned back to Halsin who was stroking his chin. “It’s spreading then,” he said. “You all suffer from the very blight I came here to investigate. I thought all the afflicted worked together. Clearly, I was wrong.” He paused, his gaze bouncing to each of them before settling back on Serilda. “No visible signs of ceremorphosis. Just like the others. The good news is you still have time.” His eyes turned downcast. “The bad news: I don’t know how much.”
Aurella let out an irritated sigh, drawing an apologetic look from Halsin. Serilda ignored her.
“I will do my best to help you,” he promised, “but, as you said, I’m unable to slice you open in the middle of a goblin hoard.” He smiled as he spoke, but it quickly fell. “There’s work to do--blood to spill. I cannot allow these butchers to threaten my grove. The natural order must be protected.”
Each word spoken seemed to add another inch to his height. Gone was the man who laughed about strangers saving a possibly wild bear; this was a leader of druids, the Master of the Emerald Grove. Serilda could do little but stare, a bit in awe of the authority he demanded just in the shift of voice.
“What can we do?” Serilda asked without a second thought.
“More running around putting ourselves in danger for others, right?” Aurella muttered.
“We came here to kill the gobbos anyway,” Wyll remarked. “It’s good to be the hero every now and then, Aurella.”
Aurella and Serilda rolled their eyes, though for entirely different reasons. Serilda gave Halsin a nod to continue.
“Rare is the beast that survives decapitation,” he replied, his more jovial side returning. “These parasites are nothing without their command. We must eliminate their leaders, and nature will cure itself.”
