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melonsap · 3 months

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Archwizard Gale lore???

Okay, SO! My personal headcanons for Gale's powers, both as archwizard and Chosen of Mystra, are based upon the following:

D&D makes a distinction between "archmage" and "archwizard," with the former being a spellcaster dedicated to the arcane arts and either: the counsel of royalty, a lich tyrant, or a reclusive hermit, all with multiple apprentices, and the latter being "an arcane spellcaster of extremely high power who successfully claimed a floating enclave," that specification coming from the time of Netheril.

Gale is NOT royal counsel, NOT pursuing lichdom, NOT a hermit (willingly), does NOT have apprentices when he first makes the claim, and does NOT have a floating enclave.

Despite these, he still claims "archwizard" as a title. This is significant, especially from Waterdeep, where the most powerful wizards in the world gather, including Laeral Silverhand (another of Mystra's Chosen, immortal to a degree, and Open Lord of Waterdeep) and Vajra Safahr (current Blackstaff and Archmage of Waterdeep).

Bonus points for his significance, he is Gale of Waterdeep. His personally chosen moniker marks him as outstanding among Waterdhavians. There might be a handful of people named Gale in Waterdeep, but there is only one Gale of Waterdeep. This is further backed up by Lorroakan recognizing him, with his only reason for Gale being lesser than someone who supposedly figured out immortality being that Gale was Mystra's discarded lapdog.

Gale is skilled in all manner of magic. This is confirmed directly in his epilogue, where you can question him about his choice teaching the School of Illusion, and he says that he wanted to teach ALL the classes there, but the staff told him no. That includes schools you wouldn't normally associate with him, like Divination and Necromancy.

Based on all of that, I've decided that "archwizard," as Gale means it, is a term referring to a wizard who's multiclassed into all their subclasses.

Does this make him overpowered? Yes. But he's an archwizard, prodigy, and Chosen, he's MEANT to be within the bounds of his own lore.

In addition, I also believe him to be an untrained Storm Sorcerer, based upon the following:

Sorcerers and wizards differ in that sorcerers know magic intrinsically, while wizards study it to use it.

When talking to Halsin as Origin Gale, you can tell him that as a baby, you summoned a whole pack of rabbits. Presumably, baby Gale was NOT reading and comprehending arcane textbooks.

Gale has an intrinsic understanding of the Weave, by his own admission, saying he could compose it rather than just control it. He was also casting third level spells like Fireball at eight years old.

Gale's theme is all about storms: his name is Gale, he occasionally says "A rough tempest I will raise" in combat, almost all his official art has him controlling lightning, and his robe is thunder purple. This continues into God!Gale's design, where he has literal glowing lightning bolts framing his eyes, and his outfit is lightning blue.

K'ha'ssji'trach'ash: On his own, the mephit is pretty self-contained; it's a magma mephit capable of revealing the true form of a True Ressurection scroll. However, the key to getting him to do this is to respond to the question "what is my name" in Ignan with the correct answer. After which, K'ha'ssji'trach'ash says "T'i n'uthrantha m'ahthra Gale." We don't know what this means, but it's clear that he's talking to us, about Gale, possibly thanking us or asking us to pass a message along. This implies that he doesn't speak Common, or else he would, because we answered correctly. Why do I bring this up? Storm Sorcerers have an innate ability called Wind Speaker, which allows them to speak Primordial (including Aquan, Auran, Ignan, and Terran). Thus, Gale can speak to/understand K'ha'ssji'trach'ash, despite his known/studied languages being Common, Celestial, Giant, and Draconic.

Because he's untrained, and rather than Storm Sorcery being just a Lv1 flavor bit that does little, I've decided that Gale has access to the class features of Storm Sorcery without access to its spell slots or Metamagic, that way it's reflective of his power without training.

With both of these conclusions, both archwizard and sorcerer, I've decided to pick and choose which class features are from which iteration of both classes, because BG3 and official D&D have a few key differences that were mostly changed for gameplay reasons. I've then taken those and added more flavor to them, based on the already-given flavor of D&D and effects of BG3, doing away with the mechanical side of things for storytelling reasons.

On top of this, because the maximum level you can reach in BG3 is Lv12, and we know that the Orb consumes "the greatest of [his] talents," I've decided that the Orb consumes any ability beyond Lv12 until its removal.

That being said, beyond whatever spells and slots you care to give him, the powers I think Gale has pre-tadpole are:

Abjuration

Arcane Ward: When Gale casts Abjuration spells, residual magic shields him from the worst of incoming hits

Projected Ward: Gale can extend Arcane Ward to someone nearby instead of himself

Improved Abjuration: On short rest, Gale can strengthen Arcane Ward to sustain itself beyond a single hit

Evocation

Sculpt Spells: Gale can control his Evocation spells and keep them from harming allies

Potent Cantrip: Gale can force enemies that resist his cantrips to take half damage from them anyways

Empowered Evocation: Gale's Evocation spells are particularly deadly (based on +INT modifier to damage rolls)

Necromancy

Grim Harvest: Gale can harness the power released when a spell kills a creature to heal himself, UNLESS it's undead or a construct

Undead Thralls: Animate Dead: Gale can reanimate a corpse

UT: Additional Undead: Gale can efficiently harness the power it would take to reanimate one corpse to reanimate two corpses with Animate Dead

UT: Better Summons: Gale's reanimated dead can take more of a beating than others' dead

Inured to Undeath: Gale's been exposed to necromancy enough that he's resistant to necrotic damage, and his life force capacity can't be reduced (this one in particular helps with the "Netherese bile" flowing through his veins)

Conjuration

Create Water: Gale can call forth rain at will (BG3's feature over D&D's to align more with storm sorcery)

Benign Transposition: Teleport: Gale can teleport up to 30ft, and can use that to swap places with an ally

Focused Conjuration: Gale's concentration on conjuration spells can't break due to pain

Enchantment

Hypnotic Gaze: So long as Gale holds eye contact with someone, he can charm them into stopping everything they're doing and staring at him in a daze

Instinctive Charm: Reflexively, Gale can make a split-second charm attempt to redirect an attack at someone directly nearby

Split Enchantment: Gale can efficiently harness the power it would take to enchant one person and instead enchant two targets at once

Divination

Portent: Gale can focus and gain split-second glimpses into the immediate future (such as the next blow about to be thrown in a fight)

Expert Divination: Casting divination comes naturally enough to Gale that he can cast divination spells using a lower spell slot

Third Eye: Gale can increase his powers of perception and gain a very limited Darkvision/Ethereal vision at will, as well as read any language

Illusion

Improved Minor Illusion: Gale can cast illusory effects with incredible ease

See Invisibility: Gale's experience with illusions lets him detect invisibility spells at work, focus on them, and see through them

Illusory Self: Gale can create an identical double of himself reflexively to confuse opponents

Transmutation

Experimental Alchemy: Using transmutation magic, Gale can more efficiently refine potion ingredients, occasionally enough to create a second potion

Transmuter's Stone: Gale can lock some of his transmutation magic into a stone, granting whoever holds it an effect of his choice from the following: Constitution proficiency, Darkvision, extra speed, resistance to acid/cold/fire/lightning/thunder damage

Shapechanger: Gale can polymorph himself once a day without consuming a spell slot (only into beasts with a CR of 1 or less)

Storm Sorcery

Wind Speaker: Gale can speak, read, and write Primordial (Aquan, Auran, Ignan, and Terran)

Tempestuous Magic: Gale can summon gusts of wind around him immediately after casting a spell greater than a cantrip. These winds are strong enough to propel him in flight for ten feet

Heart of the Storm: Gale has resistance to lightning and thunder damage. In addition, whenever he casts a spell that deals lightning or thunder damage, the magic that erupts is stormy and more powerful than other kinds of magic at equal level

Storm Guide: Gale can subtly control the weather around him, causing rain to stop falling in a 20 foot sphere centered on him, or wind to blow in a different direction in a 100 foot sphere centered on him

Feats

These are based on what I, personally, think make the most sense for him pre-tadpole:

Ability Increase: +2 to INT score

Elemental Adept: Thunder: Spells/attacks ignore resistance to thunder, and when a spell he casts causes thunder damage, it can't critically fail

Elemental Adept: Lightning: Spells/attacks ignore resistance to lightning, and when a spell he casts causes lightning damage, it can't critically fail

Okay, so Gale's crazy powerful, right? What could he have possibly lost that's greater than all this?

Well...

Abjuration: Spell Resistance: Gale was in tune enough with the Weave that he could resist spells (as well as gaining advantage on saving throws against them)

Evocation: Overchannel: Gale could deal maximum damage on a 1-5 level spell without ill effect on first cast, but suffered unresisted necrotic damage when using it again

Necromancy: Command Undead: Gale could bring undead made by other wizards under his control

Conjuration: Durable Summons: Gale could give anything he summoned a temporary shield against damage (30 temp HP)

Enchantment: Alter Memories: Gale could make someone unaware they were charmed by him, as well as make them forget something that happened during that charmed period

Divination: Greater Portent: Gale used to be able to predict more split second decisions ahead with ease

Illusion: Illusory Reality: Gale used to be able to pull shadow magic together into illusions and make them, temporarily, real. He can still do a limited version of this, but only via concentration to keep the threads together (hence the "anatomically correct" illusory wizard in the Drow twins scene; shadow magic is NOT the same as the Shadow Weave)

Transmutation: Master Transmuter: Gale could consume magic stored in his transmuter's stone in one go, using it to transmute one object into another, remove curses, diseases, and poisons, raise the dead, or reduce a creature's apparent age by up to 30 years

Storm Sorcery: Storm's Fury: Gale could react with lightning damage when struck physically Wind Soul: Gale was immune to lightning and thunder damage, could fly at a speed of 60 feet, and could reduce his flying speed to 30 feet for 1 hour to make four additional people fly

Yeah. Ouch. And that's not even including his former Chosen abilities.

Gale's Chosen abilities

Silver Fire: Gale could command pure energy of the Weave in the form of silver-white flame, which, at his command, could destroy anything in its path, banish dead magic areas, restore torn Weave, purge external magic and psionic effects from his own body, teleport without error to the last location he used the ability at, or cast spells without verbal, somatic, or material components

Mantle: Gale could cast the dangerous Mantle spell without suffering any ill effects, while other wizards casting the spell would suffer a drain of life force as long as it persisted

Weave Detection: Gale could detect magic's presence without the use of a spell

Weave Tapping: Gale could cast high level spells repeatedly without losing a spell slot, although this was discouraged by Mystra

On the page for Mystra's Chosen abilities, it says that sometimes her Chosen gained an immunity to magic, as well as disease and poison. I don't think Gale was so lucky, however; in the House of Healing, he mentions that he once turned himself in to a hospice in Waterdeep for a "bout of ruddy pox." Him having turned himself in implies he was an adult at the time, and should, therefore, already be Mystra's Chosen.

All that to say: behold, Gale of Waterdeep, in his original splendor. How the mighty have fallen.

#bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #long post #ask bee #the neat thing about the storm sorcery stuff is that it's JUST close enough in proximity to what gale's already capable of #that he probably didn't even give it a second thought #he can fly at lv18? he could fly at 8yo. doesn't matter #lightning and thunder immunity? well mystra's chosen get magical immunity sometimes. must be that!#his lightning/thunder spells are stronger? they're his specialties! he studied those!#i love it

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luxstring · 8 months

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ramshackle dorm uniform WIP

I did these last night but it's still not finished. Not sure if I like it or have some things change. [The butterfly coat is a reference to Yen Sid's butterfly illusion in the Disney animation, Fantasia: the sorcerer's apprentice]

I can't really decide which hat I like better honestly. One is a witches hat kinda like Yen Sid's pointy hat, while the other two are similar to the ghosts hat in ramshackle.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #ramshackle dorm #twst ramshackle #—⋄ luxstring is working

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rylxdreams · 8 days

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I still can't get the unused concept art of Wish out of my head so I've been reading a lot of rewrites and looking at a lot of Wish redesigns...

So... I got inspired. I'm currently conceptualizing my own Wish "rewrite/redesigns", but with a twist. It's gonna be a spiritual "prequel", cuz idk I feel like being meta since we'll be using the original concepts before the final concepts/decisions made for the final movie XD

Many of my "prequel" characters will be stand-ins for the canon characters! So "Asha" will be renamed "Amala", "Magnifico" will be called "Mamoun", and so on. Think of Pokemon Legends: Arceus regarding the relations of these "OCs" with the canon characters.

Anyway, here are the designs I have so far! I only have the designs for Amala and the Star for now. Hopefully, I can get to draw the other characters soon, especially Mamoun and his wife.

The story will be called "Once Upon a Wish"

Here's an overview of what I have so far... Some details may change if I feel like my other choices serve the story better. (Also, small disclaimer, this is just a veryyy self-indulgent AU made by yours truly, so some details may not be accurate with the canon lore present in Wish)

The story takes place on the same island of Rosas, but from many years ago. If my research is right, canon Wish takes place in the 1200s, so maybe my "prequel" can take place in around the 900s-1000s. Rosas definitely wasn't called Rosas back then, but I'm still figuring out what to call it so I'm just gonna refer to it as "an island".

Amala is a shy, meek, but hardworking apprentice of the island's head sorcerer Mamoun (hence, her color palette looks similar to Mickey's outfit from The Sorcerer's Apprentice). Despite all her hard work in her magic studies, she doesn't really excel at using magic, making a lot of accidents during training. If there's anything she really excels at, it's the act of storytelling (She can draw/animate, sing, and write stories like fairy tales).

Amala also has a little sister Ayah, who I can imagine is the Lilo/Anna to Amala's Nani/Elsa. Ayah is spunky and cheerful, but she has an illness that makes her disabled. The sisters are orphans, but they live under an old family friend they affectionately call Grandpa Dabir. Dabir is a retired bard turned doctor who was part of a troupe with 6 other former bards, all of whom he and the sisters still interact.

That's all I can share for now. Feel free to ask me any questions about stuff about this AU!

#ryl rambles #rylxdraws #wish #disney wish #wish 2023 #wish concept art #starboy #asha #wish redesign #wish rewrite #wish au #once upon a wish #idk if I ever do make a fic of this #ill probably try to make it in screenplay format #i just wanna try if i wanna go into the animation industry #if im motivated enough to write it of course HAHAHA

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misc-obeyme · 7 months

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Hello!!!! Congratulations on your 1k followers, i love your writing!! Could I please request "I need to hear you say it" with Solomon?? It's OK if not, tysm!!! ✨

Hello, anon!! Thank you so much!!

Okay since the last Solomon request was so angsty, I really tried for some fluff with this one! I also have another one upcoming that I think is going to be angsty, so yeah I really wanted to try to fluff it up. Hopefully it turned out okay!

Thank you for participating!

1,000 Followers Event!

GN!MC x Solomon with prompt "I need to hear you say it."

Warnings: none!

It all started innocently enough. It was almost an inside joke at first. Solomon had made a witty remark about how your time was always monopolized by the demon brothers and that he would be happy just to get a letter from you. So you wrote him a letter - a brief four sentence message that you actually sent to Purgatory Hall through the Devildom mail.

And of course Solomon had written you back - sending you a letter four pages long.

This continued for some time, your letters getting longer and his getting shorter until you were both regularly writing page long letters to each other.

And at some point, the letters became something more. The two of you never talked about them. You never discussed their contents. So the letters became more and more about feelings, emotions that neither of you could speak out loud, either to each other or to anyone else. They started to hold things like your hopes and fears and dreams. Sometimes Solomon just wrote poetry and other times it was an idea for a new spell, but so frequently it was almost a confession. He would talk about things like his jealousy of the brothers, his experience of being immortal, his thoughts on the Devildom, his relationships with your mutual friends.

Your letters were similar, meeting the level of confidence that his letters seemed to indicate he had in you. You would talk about your feelings, share your personal thoughts, the things you didn’t speak to anyone.

When you became Solomon’s apprentice, the letters would sometimes refer to real life events. Solomon would tell you how proud he was of you mastering a complicated spell recently. He would write you letters of encouragement when you were struggling to get a potion just right. Sometimes he would tell you about what it meant to be a sorcerer and how it had affected his life.

You would respond with your doubts about your abilities, your happiness at having figured out something complicated, your gratitude that he was your teacher. You spoke about how patient and kind he was. That it was because of him that you were as powerful as you were.

And then one day you realized that the person you were in those letters was not the same person you were when you were actually with Solomon. The letter writer was more open, more vulnerable, capable of saying things to him that you could never dream of saying to his face.

But Solomon was different. You never got the sense that he was holding back when he was actually with you. Although he never alluded to anything he had written in his letters, he had spoken to you about similar things.

You paid more attention when you were with him. And inevitably your letters became more brief.

You couldn’t deny the pounding of your heart. You couldn’t ignore the look in his eyes. You could not even begin to express to yourself or anyone else how seeing his smile was the same as basking in the afternoon sun. How Solomon had become something so much more than a teacher and a friend. How his words, the ones he wrote and the ones he said, became the narrative of your heart. How each one made every nerve within you sing.

There was something about this man that made him different from everyone else in your life. Something about every single thing he did that caused you to feel more than you should. The fire that ran through your veins any time he touched you. The goosebumps you would get from the sound of his voice.

You couldn’t hope to be honest. You couldn’t imagine it. You couldn’t-

But if you didn’t-

You wrote him a letter. It was only a single sentence. It was the one thing you wanted to say, but that you just couldn’t manage.

You were so scared to send it. He could easily pretend he never got it, the way you both so often did. Never discussing the letters was part of their charm.

When you finally sent it, you spent your time forcing yourself to think about anything else.

A few days later, you were sitting in your favorite cafe, taking a break from everything with some coffee. You were alone because you needed some space to think.

You looked up when Solomon sat down across from you. He placed the piece of paper with your single sentence face up on the table in front of you. You looked at it and then you looked up at his face. The serious expression there made your stomach drop.

“I need to hear you say it,” Solomon said. His voice was quiet, but intense.

You stared at him for a moment, at a loss. Could you even say those words? You had written them because they couldn’t be said. You couldn’t even speak them to yourself, let alone to him. He had to know that.

You thought about saying something else. About explaining why you couldn’t say it.

But then you looked into his eyes again. And what you saw there revealed something that Solomon had never told you, either verbally or in written form. He was scared, too.

You saw your own fear and uncertainty reflected back at you. That was how you recognized it for what it was.

The truth was that you had two relationships with Solomon. The one where you talked to each other, spent time together, went to school and learned magic together. And the one where you wrote to each other. Your written selves had gone on ahead and reached a place your other selves weren’t ready for.

But now you saw the opportunity to entwine those selves, to let each piece of you be known fully to each other.

You put your coffee aside. You reached across the table to take both of his hands. The paper with your words sat between your arms. You looked across it to meet his eyes.

“I’m in love with you.”

You watched as the fear you had seen morphed into a tentative relief. As though he wasn’t sure if this was real.

“MC…”

“It's just that we never talked about the letters,” you said. “And I wasn’t sure if you…”

You were looking down at your message now, unable to maintain eye contact.

You felt him squeeze your hands. When you looked back up, he had a fond smile on his face.

“Did you really think I didn’t know?” Solomon said gently. “That I couldn’t read between the lines of every letter you sent? I tried to make it clear to you. I tried to write things that would give me away. I was waiting for you to say something. When you didn’t, I thought I must have been the one who misunderstood. I thought I had been reading a truth in your words that wasn’t actually there.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry.”

Solomon chuckled and squeezed your hands again. “Don’t be. I’m just happy to know that I wasn’t wrong after all. Because you wrote me something I couldn’t possibly misunderstand. And I hope it’s clear to you by now that I’m in love with you, too. I’ve been in love with you ever since you wrote me that first short letter so long ago.”

You sighed, flustered by this, annoyed with yourself for not understanding sooner. You let go of Solomon’s hands and stood up from the table, grabbing the coffee and tossing it in the trash on your way out.

Solomon came after you instantly, grabbing your hand as you started down the street.

“MC?” he said, the fear and uncertainty back in his expression. It nearly broke your heart.

"I'm sorry, Solomon," you said. "I just… I'm just…"

You didn't know how to say that you were feeling overwhelmed. That his words meant more to you than anything he had ever said or written before. Could he really have been in love with you for that long?

Solomon somehow seemed to understand you in that moment. He tugged on your hand, making you take several steps toward him so he could wrap his arms around you.

You returned the embrace, your bodies fitting together perfectly like little puzzle pieces.

"I didn't know how to say it," you said quietly. "Because I'd been writing it between the lines for so long."

"You knew exactly what to say," Solomon said, his volume matching yours. "You said it, didn't you? You said it because I asked. I wasn't sure you would."

You sighed. "Honestly? I'll probably do anything you ask."

Solomon looked at you and the twinkle of mischief in his eyes made you regret saying that. "Oh? In that case… will you kiss me, MC?"

A heartbeat passed between you, a single moment where you processed his words.

And then you kissed him.

All of your previous concerns fell away. The feelings were just as intense as they had always been, but the second your lips met, everything simply felt right. You were filled with the warmth of him, the sunshine that always seemed to come out of nowhere to hold you sweetly whenever he smiled. Solomon was the brightness that guided you through every day, no matter how dark things became.

1,000 Followers Event | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omswd #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x mc #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #misc 1k event #misc writes

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blithesharem · 2 months

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You scare me sometimes but I enjoy reading your stories, soooooo how about the Weird Wizard s3x, thanks luv! 😘💕

Unironically "You scare me sometimes but-" is a delightful compliment to me <3 I'm sorry my upsetting horny beel posting scared you bby <33 Have some tentacles to make up for it.

@alpine-forget-me-nots

This was the first idea that came to me for a series I lovingly call "Solomon Uses his Sorcery for Evil".

Also after a few months after I had the idea for this posting, I definitely saw someone else post a delicious smut about accidentally summoning something with tentacles. If I come across it I'll try to link it again...I just wanted to mention it so no one thinks I accidentally or intentionally copied their concept <3

AFAB reader in a skirt. Tentacles etc. A little dubcon? But they're into it.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?”

You freeze, one hand fisted around a writhing black tentacle, the other reaching for the textbook that had skittered just out of reach. With a huff, you squirm to look over your shoulder, cursing when the gripped tentacle uses your distraction to flick free of your grip and smack you wetly in the face.

“Very funny, Solomon. Give me a hand here,” you whine to your sorcerer, but he only leans against the doorframe of his office and smiles.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he replies easily, laughing lightly as you narrow your eyes into a glare.

He has caught you in quite the compromised situation.

You hadn’t meant to be snooping. Not exactly anyway. You were working on an assignment and needed a reference book Solomon had shared with you many times before. It just happened to be laying underneath a thicker, more archaic looking tome. This book was covered in Solomon’s signature scribble, though in a language you weren’t familiar with, and on pages black as ink. It had also been oddly damp, like it had been fished out of the sea just hours before and had barely begun to dry out. You hadn’t even really dug into it, just lifted it off your textbook and given an idle ruffle of the pages.

Only to be sprayed in the face by a gush of seawater. While you were sputtering, the tome had fallen and something had burst out of the pages. Something with too many tentacles and a perverted streak…

“Solo-mONnn.” You try to hiss his name but it ends in a squeal as a thick tentacle latches to your thigh and begins to nurse the soft flesh with its wide suckers. One of your arms is pinned to your side now, the other back to wrestling with a cheeky limb that seemed to be trying to nuzzle against your cheek.

“Solomon what?” he coos back, fluttering his lashes at you smugly.

“…bastard.” He laughs and shoves off the door frame, but any hopes you had of him helping you free yourself are dashed as instead he moves to an armchair, settling into it with a content sigh.

“Forgive me, my darling apprentice. I think I’d like to see how this plays out,” he teases, you can’t help the excited flip in your stomach when you see he’s already hard. Dammit. He Pavlov dogged you there.

“You-“ Again, your frustrations are cut off, this time with a gasp when you feel a push between your legs, an oddly giving press against your clit through your underwear. It makes you realize you’re already slick, something in the way Solomon’s eyes rake over you and the hungry squirm of the tentacles warming your core in eager preparation.

“I hate you,” you pout.

“Mmm,” Solomon replies with a sympathetic hum as he palms his cock lazily through his slacks, “Tell me how much, my love.”

#obey me smut #obey me solomon #mwah #blithe smut

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amandacanwrite · 2 months

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The Violet Thread of Fate Part Three:

The Scribe's Guild and the Acolyte Errant

Read || Part One • Part Two

POV || Third Person, dual POV Gale Dekarios and Elinna Inklynn (Tav)

Pairing || Elinna Inklynn (Half-drow tav) and Gale Dekarios

Length || 5,400 Words

Scenario || In an alternative timeline for the events of BG3 Elinna Inklynn, an orphan from the Moonshae Islands seeks out the tutelage of accomplished wizard Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep. She has a knack with the Weave, but no money or connections to actually learn how to harness it. She has heard the wizard is a gentleman and a schollar, and hopes she can appeal to him to take her on as his apprentice in exchange for her help around his tower, with his research, and in running errands in Waterdeep. Unfortunately for her, Gale Dekarios does not take on apprentices.

Warnings || Age gap (Perhaps about 10ish years), depiction of depression and heart ache, description of very, very mild body horror. Description of scarring from corporal punishment. Slightly mature themes.

A/n || In the interest of full disclosure: I didn't edit this one. I was too eager to get it out, so please forgive any strange pacing or verbiage. I may edit it tomorrow or sometime soon, but I also primarily write this for fun so I may also not. I actually really enjoyed writing Gale softening up to Elinna a bit, and Elinna sort of losing some of her rose tinted vision for Gale. Perhaps soon they will meet somewhere in the middle. :))

If you like this, you may also like my original works! I have a writing taglist that you can sign up for simply by commenting or reblogging and letting me know you'd like to be added. OR you can fill out this form if you'd like to be specific about which works you'd like to be tagged in.

Tag list || @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog @circusofthelastdays @nourangul

The Scribe’s Guild

Elinna cupped her hands above her eyes, trying to reduce the urge to squint as she looked out over the edge of one of the craggy cliffside peaks.

“Are you certain you’re alright up there?” Gale asked from the ground. “Not to be a pain, but you haven’t had the greatest track record with heights as of late.”

“I climbed up here–as long as I don’t try to magic my way down, I should be fine,” she called back. “I’m trying to figure out where we are.”

“Any luck?” he called back.

“You’re distracting me!” she said.

“Are you one of those people who can only do one mental process at a time?” he asked. “Do you go blind when your ears are in use?”

“I’m one of those people who needs to think to recall the details of all the maps I’ve cataloged at the Nest,” she griped looking down at him. “Now be quiet so I can think.”

She saw him lift a hand and rub the back of his neck before he turned around and sat down to have a pout. She rolled her eyes looking out over the coastline again, trying to cross reference what she could see from her view with the overhead details of maps she’d looked at before.

Gale Dekarios was certainly a…strange archmage.

Reading transcripts of conversations, reading his treatises–she’d always pictured this stately, almost dry sort of fellow. Someone who would sniff before correcting her about something–or stand perpetually with his nose pointed at the ceiling so you always knew he was looking down at you past it.

But he was just…well–a sort of awkward, somewhat humorous man.

They’d been wandering for some time–Gale had a good sense for what was north, south, east and west, but there was only so much that one could do when unaware of where the starting point was.

The shame of things was that they were in some random locale with very few cities about. She’d learned much about Baldur’s Gate, Amn, Waterdeep–places she wished to visit. If there was Gale’s tower nearby–or perhaps Sorcerous Sundries–she could have been able to pluck it out of the landscape with ease.

Instead, as she looked out off the cliff, she only saw shoreline give way to worn out cobbled roads. Some sort of village obscured the haze of distance and…well nothing familiar. She pursed her lips before chewing slightly on the bottom one; a nervous habit that often left her with metallic-tasting patches on the inside of her lip.

“Well?” Gale said a bit impatiently.

She was just about to give him the bad news–that she found nothing of note and had no idea which way to go–when a shadow darkened the ground from somewhere overhead. She looked up to find a black blot against the light blue of the sky–a dire raven with a wingspan of about 10 feet, armored in the colors of a the Scribe’s Guild; pale tan leathers, brass metal and mist green canvas.

She found herself smiling despite the fact that she’d told herself she’d never look at a Scribe’s Guild after leaving The Nest. She watched for a while longer as the large avian swooped through the sky and then landed on the parapet of a distant stone structure.

“We’re in luck!” she called down to Gale.

“Are we?” he asked. “You didn’t happen to have found a cleric of legendary skill up there did you?”

“Not that much luck,” she said as she started to climb down the rocky face of the cliff.

“Are you sure you ought to be doing that?” he asked. “It seems awfully dangerous.”

“As we just covered, I’ll be fine so long as I don’t use magic,” she responded. “I’m used to climbs.”

Looking down to find her perch, she carefully lighted her foot on the boulder where she started her climb, and turned to find Gale waiting for her, a single hand offered up to her to assist her down from the small height.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “It’s not that high up.”

“Best not to risk it,” he said. “The twist of an ankle could mean the difference between humanity and ceremorphosis, considering our plight.”

Elinna nibbled on her lower lip and nodded, placing her hand in his. His calloused fingers closed around her hand and he lifted his other hand to grasp her waist. She stepped off the stone and he supported her weight easily, lowering her to the ground smoothly.

“So,” he said, not taking his hands away yet. “You’ve kept me in suspense, Elinna. Why are we in luck?”

“I just saw a Dire Raven,” she said. “One of the ones we use to transport records between different chapters of the Scribe’s Guild.”

“The what?” he asked.

“The Scribe’s guild,” she said. “I told you, I was their ward in the Moonshae Islands.”

“Did you?” he asked.

She sighed and gave him a disappointed look. “You really didn’t listen to me at all back in Waterdeep.”

His hand twitched on her waist as his brow furrowed. “Well that’s hardly fair,” he said. “You were a stranger standing right outside of my home. Why should I have?”

“Courtesy,” she said sourly as she turned away from him and started to walk down the pathway in the direction she watched the dire raven fly.

She tried to ignore the tingling feeling in the tips of her fingers as her hand left his; the feeling of absence at her waist as she lost the weight of his hand.

“Oh, come now–” he said, his face screwing with offense and hurrying after her. “Don’t imply that I was being discourteous when you were the one showing up at a strange man’s home unannounced!”

“It’s not as if I let myself in!” she said back.

“Wait, you still haven’t told me what the Scribe’s Guild is,” he said, finally catching up to her.

“I assumed you would know what it is,” she said looking sidelong and up at him.

“I confess I’ve not heard of it,” he said.

She sighed and looked ahead. Maybe she didn’t want to tell him if he didn’t already know, she thought. She wasn’t sure she was ready to reveal just how sheltered her life was before heading to Waterdeep.

But they were now headed for the local archive and he was going to find out either way so…

“The scribe’s guild is a redundancy,” she said. “It’s one of the realm’s most extensive collections of information. If you’re looking for a book, a scroll, a record of some obscure property dispute… you can find it there. I was raised in one.”

“So, you’re a scribe?” he asked her. “You write books–collect this information and dole it out to those who need it?”

She pursed her lips. “I wasn’t a scribe myself,” she said. “I was a clerk.”

“So you were in training,” he said. “Assisting the scribes so that you could take on the task.”

She felt her skin pinken with warmth, afraid to disclose the truth–afraid of what it would look like. “Not quite,” she said. “The ArchLibrarian thought I wasn’t suited to the work.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because I was too fun,” she said, her walls going up a little higher. “If you must know.”

“My,” he said. “Did I hit a nerve?”

“It seems like you’re looking for reasons to think poorly of me,” she said.

“It seems like you’re hiding reasons to think poorly of you,” he said. “So, what was it? Sleeping on the job? Theft? Did you try to cast a cantrip and Did you come looking for me because they turned you out and cut you off?”

“Gods,” she said looking up at him, a little line forming between her brows and her face getting even warmer with embarrassment. “You really do think I’m a wastrel, don’t you?”

“No I don’t!” he said.

“What happened to you being worried about seeming an ill-mannered man?” she asked.

“Elinna–you’re young–youth is made for mistakes. You think I was always an upstanding young man while in attendance at Blackstaff?” he said. “I slept through most of my Calashite lessons.”

“Don’t lie to me to try and get dirt on me,” Elinna said as she walked faster.. “Don’t mock me like that.”

“Elinna–Elinna, would you slow down?” he said.

“No. I want to get to the Scribe’s Guild.”

“We will get there with plenty enough time before sundown,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Elinna, stop.”

She stopped but didn’t look up at him, she couldn’t make herself do it. She didn’t know what was more embarrassing for her; the fact that she’d hardly seen any of the world, the fact that her guardians felt she was inept and flighty, or the fact that she was quite acting like a petulant child with Gale when she only wished to prove to him that she could be a good student.

Maybe seeking him out had been a mistake from the start. She’d spent so long reading about Gale and his work–learning about his unique understanding of magic–reading his writings…in some ways she’d convinced herself that he was already a friend.

She’d never thought about how trying to become his apprentice also meant sharing her qualifications and the more time she spent talking to him the more she realized she had none.

She could feel him looking at her almost indulgently–like a man speaking to a child.

She didn;t know why she hated that most of all.

“Elinna, forgive me for prying,” he said. “I was just trying to get to know you a little better. From what I can tell there is a significant distance between here and Waterdeep and it will be a much more pleasant journey if we get to know one another a little bit as we travel, don’t you think?”

Elinna smoothed her amber hair away from her brow, cupping her hand on her forehead as if checking herself for fever.

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally. . “I think I’m just tired.”

“I can only imagine…what with going from the islands, to Waterdeep so climbing up cliff sides and now we have to walk even further? We can swap notes later,” he said with a gentle smile. “Let’s focus on getting to this place–maybe they can put us up for an evening or at least point us in the direction of the nearest town.”

Elinna nodded before heaving a great sigh.

“It shouldn’t be long,” she said. “Maybe just a few hours of walking from here.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Lead on.”

The Acolyte Errant

Elinna was a curious girl.

She was somehow equal measures breezy and intense; lackadaisical and earnest. He didn’t know what to make of the dichotomy. He knew even less what to do with the strange secrecy she had about her former home.

Perhaps it was a bit of paranoia–after all, he had his own secrets he was keeping. It was perhaps more than a little hypocritical of him to fault her for hers.

“So, tell me more about The Scribe’s Nest,” he said, trying to change the subject to something more informative and a little less personal.

“Specifically The Nest? Or the guild in general?” she asked.

“Mm…if it’s not too personal for you, The Nest. You said that’s where you grew up right?” he said.

She nodded, wiping sweat off her brow. The day was beginning to get hot, so he had to think they were further down south than Waterdeep and the islands. It was much cooler this time of year–hence the layers both he and Elinna wore.

“Uhm–The Nest in Moonshae is in an old abandoned temple to Ilmater,” she told him. “My mother left me there thinking that it was a safe place for me to grow up–thinking I’d be cared for by clerics. But The Nest was already there.”

“I see,” Gale said, feeling for the girl but trying not to let it come through in his tone. “I suppose they took you in anyway?”

She nodded again. “They did,” she said. “Still not sure why, if I’m honest–they have a few oaths they had to make in exchange for financial support. Even so, there were other temples in the area that probably could have taken me in. But uh–anyway. The way that the scribes work is they receive funds from the local government and they use those funds to pay a fleet of scouts to get word back to us about the goings on in the world. The scribes record it, make copies of each account and send them to the other branches.”

“Hells,” he said. “That sounds like quite the expensive endeavor.”

“It is–and the scribes outsource the work so that there’s no conflict of interest. No scribes out wandering the world trying to spin tales. They have a motto: ‘We Are The Accuracy In The Indulgent The Composed in the Chaotic.’” She said. “In other words, they try to record everything as plainly and as closely to the facts as possible. In addition to that, they try to have copies of every written work ever produced.”

“How can that even be quantified or verified for that matter?” Gale asked.

“Like I said–they try,” she said. “It’s all very tedious if you ask me.”

“I’m shocked I haven’t heard of this place–it sounds like a veritable treasure trove of knowledge,” he said.

“The scribes don’t open the vaults to many,” she said. “They consider their work one of posterity; a record of history, not a resource to be plumbed. They don’t even really indulge in reading the records themselves.”

“That sounds….extraordinarily wasteful,” He said.

He saw Elinna finally crack a smile at that. “I couldn’t agree more,” she said. “Wasteful, boring, depressing.”

He was itching to ask her if that was why she’d left what she’d had as a home for…well however long she’d been alive. She looked remarkably young, but with half-elves that hardly meant much. For all he knew she was his age.

“Elinna, do you mind if I ask how old you are?” he asked.

She looked up at him, her brow quirking. “Uhm–I’ve had twenty-eight summers so far,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

Ah–around ten years younger than he was. No wonder she seemed so restless when she’d come to find him at his tower. Most Wizards were well into their studies at Blackstaff by now, or at least had some reasonable amount of aptitude with the weave. “Just curious,” he said shrugging. “You look young but you’re also not complaining, or panicking, or well–other things I would expect a young person to be doing in this situation.”

He wasn’t sure if he was reading it correctly, but he could have sworn that she pressed her lips a bit to avoid smiling. Was the poor girl such a stranger to praise that the simple pointing out of her maturity could make her have to stop a flustered smile from forming on her lips?”

“I guess I just feel like anything is preferable to being stuck in that dusty old tower,” she said.

There was a sort of…sadness to her words. A quality he recognized first hand.

Not sadness, he realized as he saw one of his own feelings mirrored back at him. Regret.

But that was not a subject he wished to bring up–not when the questions could so easily be turned back onto him.

“Well, Elinna,” he said, changing the subject. “You have Gale of Waterdeep with you–I’m a captive audience as we walk to the guild hall. Anything I can impress you with?”

It was an olive branch, of sorts. It, of course, wasn’t the first time he’d met some hopeful magician who wanted to pick his brain. Usually he politely shooed them away, but he figured that extending the offer might cheer her up.

“I’m quite well read on the subject,” she answered.

Wait…had he missed the question while he was patting himself on the back for being open to bragging? “Sorry–which subject is that?” he asked.

Her face flushed and she gave him a furtive look with those pretty green eyes. She cleared her throat and pushed some hair behind her ear.

“Uhm–you–” she said finally. “I’ve read everything the archive has that even has a tangential mention of your name in it.”

He blinked, feeling glad for the fact that she was looking most pointedly away from him. “Ah,” he said, trying to master his tone. “Well–should we crosscheck the scribe’s records? Tell me what you know and I can correct anything that’s wrong.”

“We’ll be here for hours if I do that…” she mumbled under her breath.

Now it was his turn to flush–until he realized–

“Wait, I thought you said that the scribes don’t read the records–” he said.

“I did,” she said, looking over at him with a sheepish little smile. “That’s why they said I’m not suited for the work. It’s why they keep me on shelving duty.”

Ah–that was what she meant when she said she was used to climbing.

Suddenly there was an uncomfortable pressure in his skull as he saw flashes of giant stacks of dusty tomes, heard the squeaking of a half-broken wheel on a cart, felt rawness on his fingertips from shelving books and records; the deep ache of tired muscles.

When he was able to focus again, Elinna was crouched a few feet ahead, her gloved hands pressing on the sides of her head.

“W-was that a memory?” Gale asked. “Did you just send me a memory?”

“No,” she said weakly. “Gods…that was…I could feel you in my head–”

“I didn’t–it wasn’t something I did on purpose,” he said frantically.

He felt as embarrassed as a young man might be during his first time with a lover. It’d been years since he’d accidentally used his magic. Not since he was an adolescent.

“I think it’s the parasite,” she said. “Mindflayers are part of a hive mind–maybe it’s the start of that tether forming to it.”

“I’m loath to face that possibility, but you may be right,” Gale said grimly as he walked over to her and offered a hand. “You alright?”

“Just exhausted, I think,” she said as she took his hand. “It felt like the parasite was pulling at the seams of my mind, extracting those images like thread through the eye of a needle.”

“Aptly put,” he said, finally helping her up.

“Let’s just hurry to the guild,” she said.

It was a bit of a grueling trek after that. The pathway mostly uphill and on rocky, uneven pathways. Wherever this guild branch was, it was clear enough to him that the scribes had no interest in being bothered or visited. He wasn’t so worried about himself, though–if anything, he was worried about Elinna.

Thinking about it–she’d originally mentioned that she was looking for a place to live when he met her and she’d asked him to take her on as a student. He wondered when the last time she’d slept was. It wasn’t uncommon for passengers unused to traveling by ship to sleep poorly on them. The voyage between the Moonshae Islands and Waterdeep was probably close to a tenday, give or take a day or two.

He felt a little guilty, now, that he had let her climb up the cliffside to help them get their bearings; that he couldn’t be of more assistance with some kind of charm or boon.

As predicted, it took them about another two hours to make it to the base of a decaying old castle. He didn’t recognize it, and from what he could tell there were no real markings on it to distinguish what lineage or people it could have belonged to at one point.

He looked up as another dire raven–or perhaps the same one he hadn’t seen before–took flight from one of the crumbling parapets, then he looked over at Elinna.

She was still damp with sweat, but her exerted flush had given way to an almost sickly sort of pallor. He worried for a moment that she may already be starting the process of ceremorphosis–but if that was the case, why hadn’t the same happened to him?

“Fucking stairs,” she groaned as she bent over and braced her hands on her knees. “I think I may need to sit for just a moment.”

Gale looked at the stairs and then back at her. He quirked his lips slightly, weighing the number of stairs against the health of his knees.

“I know once you sit it will be all the more difficult for you to get up and get going,” he said. “Let me carry you the rest of the way.”

She balked at him, her verdant eyes wide and a bit of her flush returning to her freckled cheeks. He tried not to think about how charming the look of surprise was. “Y-you can’t,” she said. “I’m filthy–and drenched besides. And I’ll be too heavy.”

“Nonsense,” he insisted. “You hardly come up to my shoulder–and it’s not as if I’m a fine example of cleanliness at the moment. You can tell me proper decorum as we make our way up.”

“Gale–”

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he said with a little teasing glimmer in his eyes.

He kneeled in front of her, back toward her, and patted his shoulder. “Climb on,” he said.

There was nothing for a moment and he almost looked back to see if she was going to stubbornly refuse. But just as he was going to, he felt tentative fingertips on his right shoulder; then his left. She smoothed her hand toward the front of him, drawing a tingling line along his collarbones. He tried not to flinch as her hands joined right over the spot the orb burned in his chest, but he couldn’t stop it.

She froze and almost started withdrawing. He reached up and closed a single hand over both of hers.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked him.

“Not at all,” he said. “Remember–I’ve been a recluse for some time. Just forgot what it felt like to be touched by someone who isn’t a tressym.”

There was one more moment of hesitation and then finally, Elinna put her weight onto him, hitching her legs above his hips.

“Alright,” he said. “Going up.”

He scooped his hands under her knees and rose to his feet.

Truth be told, she was a touch heavier than he’d expected. And he realized with a bit of rueful interest that her body was a little…softer…than he’d anticipated. Even through her layers of canvas and leather, he could feel the supple swell of her thighs, her hips, her breasts…

He shook his head and cleared his throat as he started to climb the stairs.

“So, what’s our story?” he asked.

“Mmn–story?” she breathed against his ear.

Gods, she sounded like a freshly roused lover in the morning.

“You’re not falling asleep back there, are you?” he asked.

“Trying not to,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Keep talking to me,” he said. “It will help you stay awake.”

And give me something to stop my mind from drifting to what might be beneath your clothes. He thought with no shortage of disgust in himself.

“Mmh–visitors are prohibited, usually,” she said, her sleepy slurring sending a chill up his spine. “Since you’re carrying me in…maybe tell them you found me unconscious on the ground. They can refuse scholars, but they have an oath to help the needy. Hence…me…”

“The lady deceives,” Gale teased. “I thought you were above such dishonesty.”

She gave a quiet chuckle. “If the guild needs a bit of encouragement to do what is right, who am I to deny it?” Then after a moment. “Thank you…for carrying me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no bother,” he said.

And it really wasn’t, aside from his own traitorous thoughts about her. His knees weren’t even tired when he reached the top of the stairs. He looked back at her sidelong. “Hang onto me will you–afraid I’ll need one of these hands.”

He regretted asking her to do that immediately. Her thighs squeezed a little tighter around his middle and he suddenly wished for death. He opened the door as quickly as he could, and went back to holding her knee.

Inside there was…no one to be found. At least not at first.

Then came the sound of soft soles scuffing on stone stairs. He gazed to the right, seeing a shadow elongate as it grew further and further away from some torch or sconce further up on the stairs.

A moment later, a wizened man peered at him through small spectacles on a crooked nose.

He was dressed somewhat like Elinna, though the embroidery and fastenings on his clothes were finer. On his lapel, he wore a golden dire raven pin with a quill snatched in it’s beak.The pin was connected to a chain from which dangled a single golden key.

“You’ve reached The Scribe’s Perch,” he said, his voice quiet and willowy, like it had frayed through years of neglect. “I fear we’re not taking visitors.”

In front of Gale’s chest, Elinna’s arms went slack and her body went a little heavier. Her head rested fully on his shoulder, her sleeping breaths gusting warmly on the back of his neck. He supposed it worked better for the tale he had to weave–though he did worry for the poor girl.

“I’ve found one of your acolytes on the path some way away from here. She seems feverish–likely hungry and dehydrated. She’s gone in and out of consciousness but told me to find you here and ask for you help. Help for both of us.”

The old man merely tilted to get a look at Elinna with a somewhat disinterested expression. “Mnh…there are protocols in place for this, yes,” he said. “An inconvenience to say the least, though. We will have to make arrangements for your supper.”

Gale felt his ire flare and found himself understanding why Elinna seemed so sour about where she’d been reared. It was a wonder she made it out of childhood with her curiosity and her tenacity intact.

“If it’s too much of a bother, I can see to producing a meal for us,” he said, trying his best to master his tone.

“No, no,” the man said. “The smells–the oils–they could upset the balance and focus of the archives. Come–I will see you to a lodging for the night. I am afraid I must ask you to stay there and to not wander our halls freely. And you must leave come morning.”

“I thought you had an oath to help the needy,” Gale said.

“The qualifying criteria which defines who or what is needy is not agreed upon,” he said. “The girl is unconscious, but you stand and walk freely. Surely she is hardly needy if she has you.”

“She’s one of your acolytes,” Gale said. “Surely you can’t be so callous.”

“She’s not an acolyte from The Perch. We do not allow women among our ranks–their scents and scintillations bring focus away from posterity. I allow you to stay only because she still wears our colors and because we’ve received no missive about a disgraced acolyte,” he said. “But there has been a great collision on the shoreline and we work tirelessly to record it.”

“Well you’re in luck–we’re survivors from that crash–we can help you–”

“No. We only accept the accounts of verified scouts,” he said. “Now come–I’ve wasted precious time already. My quill will have started to dry out.”

Gale bit his tongue and simply nodded–worried that if the man showed is rudeness and disinterest again he would snap at the Scribe and lose them a night of rest and the chance to bathe and change.

Their ungracious host led them up the stairs, past a massive steel door singing with wards, and to a doorway about as tall as Elinna. The Scribe opened the lock with his tiny golden key–a skeleton key it seemed–and gestured him inside.

Gale bent a bit at the knees, careful to mind Elinna’s head as he ducked into the room.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Supper is at seven bells. Porridge, roasted carrots and river fish–you will have to come retrieve it yourself–the kitchens are down the stairs we traveled up and through the small northern wooden door,” their host said.

And with that, the man simply closed the door and left Gale alone with Elinna.

Gale looked about the room.

It was small, about the size of the larder in his tower, and barren. In one corner, a threadbare sheet hung to offer pock-marked privacy should one bathe in the water-swollen, wooden tub there. There was a single desk with a nearly-spent candle perched slantingly in a chamberstick made of brass. Against the far wall stood the bed–

The Bed.

Singular.

Only one bed.

Oh hells, it would be a very long night indeed.

He carried Elinna over to the bed and carefully cradled her against his back as he pulled back the mildew-smelling covers. Beneath was an old hay mattress. He felt loath to place her on it, but he hadn’t enough energy to conjure something more comfortable for her.

He supposed it didn’t matter for tonight–the poor girl just needed some sleep.

He carefully placed her in the bed and hesitated, pondering.

She’d spent so much time during their travels complaining of the feeling of viscera in her clothes; her shoes. He could only imagine how terrible it would feel for her to wake up, warm and damp from feverish sleep, only to still feel soggy boots and garments on your body.

It wasn’t proper. He wasn’t even sure it would be welcome. But it was a gesture toward her comfort he could actually provide.

He carefully slipped off her boots, setting them off to the side in a blood-soaked heap. Then he removed her leather gloves, and finally, the waistcoat she wore.

Beneath her green canvas, she wore a simple muslin dress that fell just slightly off the shoulders. He noted with a bit of curious mirth, that she had a smattering of freckles across the bare skin of her decolletage and arms as well. He wondered how many times she’d had to sneak away from her duties to get those.

Then he saw something else.

On the inside of one delicate wrist, he spotted the hint of a violet patch of skin. In a brief panic he turned her arm over to get a better view of it, worried that her transformation may be starting, after all.

Instead, what he found was scarring. Violet scars forming a ladder of tidy caning marks on the tender skin of the inside of her arm.

“No wonder you wanted to get out,” he said under his breath as he brushed his thumb against the marks. They were only barely raised. They’d been there a long time then. For some reason it hurt his heart to think of a smaller, squeakier Elinna as her caretakers tried and clearly failed to tame the wonder out of her.

Perhaps it was because he had also been punished severely for his ambition and thirst for knowledge, but he could no longer bear to see her in the greens, tans and creams of The Scribe’s Guild. Not when there was so much she’d had to fight to keep hold of.

He thought he could maybe find a pocket somewhere. If he rested he ought to be able to, anyway. Or if not, he could try to look around the grounds and scrounge something up for each of them to change into. And maybe a few supplies for setting up camp, too, since they wouldn’t be granted time to catch their bearings at The Perch.

He pulled the worn blanket up enough to cover her arms, but not so high that the smell of mildew could wake her.

He walked over to the tiny door and looked back over his shoulder one more time to make sure she was still quite asleep.

And then he slipped out of their sorry room to find a place to restore himself.

#bg3 #historical fantasy #romantasy #authors #writeblr #my writing #violet thread of fate #bg3 fic #fic recs #bg3 fic recs #gale /tav #gale x tav #gale bg3 #gale dekarios #bg3 au #bg3 headcanons

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rolanpilled · 5 months

Text

Analyzing Lorroakan’s letter to Rolan, line-by-line

“You are most fortunate, Rolan.” <- making rolan feel like he’s special for being chosen

“Few catch my interest, but your letters demonstrate potential.” <- knows rolan holds him in high regard, so gives him something resembling a compliment to strengthen the connection between them, bordering on praise but not quite. asking him to prove his devotion to his own growth

“I am willing to give you a chance. However, a warning - you must be willing to do whatever is necessary.” <- setting up the stage for rolan to blame himself for not being strong enough if he’s unable to fulfill increasingly high expectations. emphasis on ‘necessary’ to really make him feel like hardships are essential trials

“Power is not cheap. And I’ll not suffer weakness in my own student.” <- doesn’t even care whether rolan accepts his offer of apprenticeship or not, makes the decision for him. probably an intentional way of establishing a certain lvl of control over him from the start. refers to imperfection as ‘weakness’. signs just his name, no “sincerely” or “signed” or anything formal at all. it’s a calculated wording on his part

some other questions i had about rolan, who seems to be mid- to late- twenties but still considered an apprentice wizard? late starts in life aren’t uncommon in faerun, i’d imagine, but it still makes me wonder wtf he was doing for 30-odd years instead of studying magic

- did he need to give up his dreams to support his family? it’s lightly implied that he could use magic as a child, but that’s a long time between 12-30 ish. perhaps he was too tired from working shitty jobs to study magic, or he didn’t have enough money or opportunities (as a tiefling) to do so?

- did he fail out, give up, lose his passion or his hope that he’d actually become a great wizard?

- something drove him to write those letters to lorroakan. he wrote multiple. was lorroakan the only one he wrote to? were there others he was rejected from, making him feel desperate for this one thing?

- did rolan, cal, and lia get kicked out of elturel (with the other refugees), or did they leave willingly? did they leave willingly AFTER witnessing increasing violence and hostility towards tieflings?

- why is he wearing a sorcerer’s robe????? he had a wizard robe in EA… and he is labelled as a “prodigy” i’m assuming unironically, so perhaps he’s a sorcerer who thinks he’s a wizard? (he’s clearly labelled in game as a wizard, though, so perhaps it was for visual reasons - clothing that better matches his personality)

#rolan #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 spoilers

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tinietaehyun · 3 months

Text

Forsaken [VII]

[Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader]

[Series] [Chapter Seven]

Pairing: Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader [Ft. Sorcerer!Soobin]

Genres: Royal!au, fantasy, enemies to lovers, supernatural, angst, fluff, romance, action.

Contains: Profanity, mentions of anxiety, academic pressure, arguments, jealousy.

Links: Forsaken Masterlist || Masterlist

Summary: With Prince Choi having backed you into a corner, you feel as though you were trapped inside a golden birdcage. Perhaps, marrying the twisted prince was your one way out, without having to cause disastrous consequences?

Though in the middle of your crisis, you hear a demanding knock on your door; you knew who it was. Taehyun was not going to let anything slide, not whilst he was still alive. After all, this young sorcerer was the person who once came face to face with epitome of betrayal himself.

The sunlight beams through the grandiose windows of the hallway as the two sorcerers converse seriously, both adorning their cloaks. Soobin peers at the blonde haired man with a deep frown, “I…I can’t believe it.”

Taehyun bitterly hums, “I couldn’t either at the time. But after having so much time to think, it made sense why he did that. Not that it was right; but I was lying to myself when I couldn’t see the signs at the time. I knew internally he was jealous and I relished it.” Soobin regards Taehyun blankly.

The two men had engaged in a serious conversation in which Soobin pestered Taehyun to explain what happened all these years. He was appalled to find out the cause for Taehyun and his father’s exile. He couldn’t believe it, how was his father capable of such an act? No way! Trying to assassinate the king and the pregnant queen?

Even he could see, that his father would never do such a thing; he knew Taehyun’s father (regardless of how vain and strict he was), was a man of principle, of morals. Nothing made sense, how could the Royal Court of Fortuna fall for such a clear attempt to frame two powerful sorcerers; Taehyun was but a young child at the time!

“I’m speechless. I…” Soobin breathes out wide-eyed. Taehyun mutters grumpily, slightly regretting his choice to tell him about what had happened. Taehyun always had a hard time trusting anyone ever since the events of his past occurred. But with the way Soobin was begging, believing he had offended him, Taehyun felt as though divulging a little couldn’t hurt. Nothing could happen anyway; what’s done was done.

Soobin was a close friend of Taehyun’s back at the prestigious Sorcerer’s Tower. He was training as an apprentice there alongside himself, Yeonjun and a few others. Whilst the others were mere characters of the background, excluding himself and Yeonjun, the only other sorcerer of note was Soobin.

He had potential, but just needed time. He was a sweet boy, dedicated to his craft and quiet as a child, preferring to observe rather than speak. He was often referred to as the weakest of the friendship trio.

Soobin questions, “Does…the Princess know about this?” Taehyun shakes his head, “I don’t wish to burden her with my past, Soobin. I don’t need my baggage weighing her down. She already has enough issues as is. Maybe if she’s curious enough, perhaps.”

Soobin says, “You know, I’d never have thought Yeonjun to be that way. He always told me he admired you. That he was honoured to have such a talented sorcerer to call his ‘best friend.” Taehyun’s gaze darkens, “What an utter load of shit.” Soobin dryly muses, “I suppose I have always been rather naive. I didn’t think he was lying.”

“You are,” Taehyun cuts in with a smirk, “I remember tricking you into thinking me and Yeonjun snapped your wand in half in an argument.” Soobin grimaces, “No, no don’t remind me. I was on the verge of tears.” Taehyun snickers, “I had only hid your wand under your table, but you believed me. You didn’t even ask to see the supposed broken wand.”

Soobin’s cupid lips form a pout, “You’re starting to sound like old yourself again.” Taehyun hums composing himself immediately, “I guess meeting an old friend does that to you. Oh yes, you didn’t even cry, all you said was ‘that’s okay, it’s fine, really,‘ whilst trying not to hold back your tears.”

Soobin rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, “Okay, okay I get it, I was and still am a little gullible, a bit naive.” Taehyun snorts amusingly.

The two men stand in a comfortable silence; their previous tensioned atmosphere lightens. Both their minds rush with reminiscent memories of their childhood. Taehyun murmurs, “Shame, you left so early on.” Soobin releases a breathy chuckle, “Yes, I suppose. But I don’t regret it. I’ve been given a lot of good opportunities here in Luna. I want to expand the use of sorcery in Luna, kind of like the way your father did in Fortuna.” Taehyun frowns.

“Prince Beomgyu believes there’s a lot of potential for sorcery and magic here, that we could rival Fortuna if we play our cards right. He’s been so supportive of me and the apprentices. The royal sorcerer here has also treated me well. I’m bound to become the next royal sorcerer for sure!” Soobin exclaims with a bright smile. Taehyun's lips twitch, “I always knew you had potential, you just needed the right motivation and environment. It’s…it’s good to hear that Soobin.”

The words hit Soobin and his heart aches. Soobin shares, “You know, I was always envious of both of you, I both admired your ability and natural affinity for sorcery. I admired Yeonjun‘a charisma, charm and his wand techniques, his ability to carry out any new spell within the first try with ease.” Taehyun listens intently.

“You, on the other hand, were in a completely different league. The son of the Royal Sorcerer, the pioneer of Fortuna’s Sorcery Legacy. No wonder Yeonjun was jealous of you, even if he didn’t show it. Hell, I was jealous. I think everyone in the damn class was.” Taehyun scowls, “Jealousy is fine, but that doesn’t mean being a backstabbing piece of shit.”

Soobin snorts, “True, but the way you handled your mana, your wand techniques, your ability to memorise hundreds upon hundreds of spells and enchantments. I could never understand.”

Taehyun remains quiet; he never did have to think too hard about it. He could sympathise with Soobin’s perspective. Soobin never once hurt him or showed any signs of harmful jealousy.

“Thank you,” Taehyun utters lowly, “You’ve improved. I can tell, you’re confident in your abilities, I can sense it.”

Soobin smiles genuinely, “I worked hard here. I remembered your advice, your father’s advice. You even gave me some of your notes to take with me when you heard I was moving.” Taehyun says nothing; feeling a dull ache in his chest. The past always seems to somehow catch up to him in the most convoluted of ways.

“You know, I always preferred our discussions, just us two, rather than me and Yeonjun,” Soobin admits. Taehyun hums, “Why’s that?”

“At the the time; you were always so rude and blunt about things. I always thought you had a big head on you. But no, you were just being honest, constructively critiquing me, I was an idiot to not see that back then. Only when I was going to leave, after you gave me some of your notes, encouraged me, I knew you were being harsh because you saw potential in me, you wanted to see me succeed alongside you,” Soobin’s eyes glimmer.

Taehyun clears his throat feeling flustered at the onslaught of praise and peers away, “Well, I thought that was obvious. But perhaps, it was a mistake on my part for coming off as so…harsh. I just found it frustrating to see you constantly demeaning yourself.”

Soobin nods slowly, “Despite that, I left,” he frowns, “I’m sorry for leaving you behind. I never expected Yeonjun to be so terrible. I thought you two would be fine.”

Taehyun mutters, “Well, you’re not a fortune teller. I didn’t stop you from leaving because I didn’t want to hold you back. It was clear, you weren’t enjoying the pressure of the Sorcerer’s Tower, being caught between the unspoken rivalry of me and Yeonjun. You did good, Soobin.”

Soobin’s expression softens and he murmurs, “If I had known you’d been exiled…I…I would have came to help, to visit.” Taehyun drawls, “You couldn’t have done anything, it’s fine.”

Soobin stands there solemnly, “For the first time in a long time, I feel like…you’re more in tune with your emotions, Taehyun.” Taehyun affirms, “I know. Years of being alone, isolated and surrounded by mysterious supernatural nature, does that to you. You have a lot of time to think.”

Soobin murmurs, “I’d imagine so. We’ve got to catch up more. You’ve got to describe the Woods of Mors to me. Teach me a few new spells too?”Taehyun muses, “Believe me, I could go all day. Just so happens I have my little spell book, too.”

A sense of calmness permeates through Taehyun; it had felt good to open up a little to someone; the one person from his past who saw him for who he was. Perhaps, this meeting of fate was not so bad.

Soobin’s brows furrow in deep thought, “Huh, I should probably stop writing to Yeonjun.” Taehyun scowls, “You write letters to him?” Soobin huffs, “In my defence, I didn’t know he did all that!” Taehyun scoffs, “Pitiful, you really are so sappy.” Soobin rolls his eyes, “Don’t worry, the letters stop.”

He hums, “I sent letters to you too, you know; addressed to the Sorcerer’s Tower. But after getting no response, I kind of assumed you wanted nothing to do with me. I didn’t know you were exiled of course.”

“Well, Yeonjun must have had a fun time tearing them up or throwing them into the fire,” Taehyun mutters unimpressed. Soobin snorts amused, “There goes my hard work recounting my wondrous progress in sorcery.”

The two men chuckle, feeling once more comfortable with each other, a sense of nostalgia permeates the air. “If you need any help around here, don’t hesitate to call on me, okay?” Soobin hums. Taehyun nonchalantly hums, making Soobin smirk, “Yes, yes sure. Whatever.”

The pleasant atmosphere is sliced into as they both spot you rushing down another hallway from afar without sparing them either a glance. Taehyun’s visage morphs into a serious expression; his heart instinctively palpitates. You seemed to be in a hurry?

Following a second later, Beomgyu walks in with a frustrated face. His eyes catch a glance of Soobin and Taehyun immediately switches into a pleasant smile, beginning to walk toward the two. Taehyun’s jaw tightens; he never cared particularly for the Prince. Then again, he never really cared for any royalty. Except you. Wait, he didn’t mean that, what was he saying? Focus!

“Gentlemen, well, is everything sorted? All caught up?” Beomgyu asks brightly. They both lower their heads respectfully as Soobin utters, “Your highness, but of course.”

Beomgyu’s eyes observes Taehyun intently, scanning him once over, “Soobin has told me a little about you, yet you still remain rather a mystery in my eyes.” Soobin gleams, “Don’t worry, your highness, I’ve got a lot more to say. He is incredibly talented.” Taehyun grimaces, peering at Soobin awkwardly, “Perhaps, let’s not do that.”

Beomgyu tilts his head musing, “Hm, y/n must trust you a lot for her to let you remain by her side. She’s always been a cautious individual.”

Taehyun murmurs, “I suppose. How long have you known her?” Beomgyu’s eyes twinkle, “Oh, for a long time, did you know we were once to be betrothed?” Soobin’s eyes light up, “Oh yes, I remember. You sent over quite the array of gifts and the largest bouquet I’ve ever seen, your highness.”

Taehyun stiffens; a surge of irritation courses through him. What made him feel this way? It obviously didn’t go through, but why did the mere idea make him feel so infuriated?

Beomgyu sighs, “A shame really, she was rather fond of me, unlike her father and the royal court.” Beomgyu’s gaze meets Taehyun as his lips form a coy smile, “We found ourselves catching up pleasantly.” Soobin grins, “Good to hear it, your highness! You both make an excellent pair.”

Taehyun snaps his head to Soobin. Soobin asks, “What?” Taehyun mutters, “Nothing, it’s nothing.” A heavy feeling grows in Taehyun’s heart. Why did y/n not say anything about this to him?

Then again, who was he to you? Who were you to him? You weren’t obligated to tell him anything, neither was he to you. So then why did this whole idea of her being alone with this prissy stuck-up prince irk Taehyun so badly?

At the end of the day, Taehyun was not royalty, not a noble whatsoever; so why was he feeling angered? Not like anything was going to occur.

Beomgyu hums; his tone condescending, “I find it fascinating, she chose to trust a complete stranger. Someone like you, with unknown intentions.”

Taehyun's gaze morphs into a glare. What was he trying to imply? Soobin’s smile fades slightly at the tone of voice, “Your highness?” Beomgyu hums amused, “Merely an observation. It was out of desperation of course, that she did so.”

Soobin’s shoulders relax as he asks, “So, what’s the plan, your highness? Was it what we discussed yesterday?” Beomgyu simply nods. Taehyun asks, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Beomgyu’s eyes have an unrecognisable glint to them and he brushes off Taehyun's remark, “Oh yes; I’ll explain the plan to you in more detail later. I just remembered I have an important task to get back to, I’m already behind schedule. Soobin come with me, I have some other matters, regarding the funding to speak of.” Soobin hurriedly nods walking behind Beomgyu, “See you later Taehyun.” Taehyun doesn’t respond, feeling a surge of anger flood through him.

He mutters to himself, “Who the fuck does he think he is? Stupid fucking prince.” To think Soobin follows behind him like a pitiful puppy dog.

Taehyun’s mind flickers back to you. Oh yes! You’d ran off; his mind was already churning with suspense. Were you okay? He had stormed off earlier too; surely you weren’t upset at him for that, were you? Wait, why did he care what you thought?

His feet move themselves in the direction of the guest wing, in a reluctant search for you. Soon, he finds himself outside of your door and he knocks a few times. A muffled, “Leave me be,” resounds.

Taehyun scoffs, “Not happening. Open up, sweetheart.” He is surprised at your reluctance; surely you weren’t throwing some sort of tantrum were you? Did something happen between you and Beomgyu?

“Let me in, princess,” Taehyun demands; his heart rate increasing. A moment of silence ensues before he hears the soft click of the door opening; revealing you dressed in a new lovely gown befitting your status. Your face looked exhausted, your eyes were glazed over as if you were about to break down into tears. Your bottom lip trembles ever so slightly causing a pang to hit Taehyun’s heart. What the hell?

His harsh gaze softens and Taehyun asks, “Sweetheart?” A sniffle escapes your nose as you turn away walking into the room; he follows after you, closing the door behind him. You were on the very verge of crying. You felt trapped here, in this damn palace. A place you thought would be a safe haven.

You plop yourself down onto the luxuriously oversized rug on the floor where you’ve managed to pile several cushions around you to comfort yourself. Taehyun watches as you get comfortable; a concerned expression painting his features. He knew something was troubling you.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen between you and Beomgyu?” He asks; his tone coming out blunter than expected. You feel your eyes become wet and tears drip down your cheeks. How pathetic you were! Here you were crying; how miserable.

Taehyun huffs walking closer; unfastening his cloak clasp and throwing his cloak aside carelessly onto the bed before moving some of the cushions. You sniffle, “What are you doing?” “Sitting next to you, you pretty fool.”

You whine as he sits himself right next to you; his thigh brushing against yours as he readjusts the cushions back to their positions once he’s settled. He snarks, “There’s a king sized bed here, that you could sulk on, you know.” You hit one of the velvet cushions onto his arm making him scoff.

“You’re crying, why’s that?” He enquires with a tilt of his head; some locks of his hair fall across his piercing eyes. “It’s nothing,” you mutter. Taehyun remarks annoyed, “Tch, it’s certainly not nothing. Let’s skip over the pointless denial. Something’s clearly happened. Unless you don’t want to tell me, then I can just sit here or something. Perform a magic show or something to keep you entertained,” he grimaces.

You snort teary-eyed, “A magic show?” He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well are you going to tell me or what? I don’t want you turning your mind into mush overthinking.” His finger tips glow ever so slightly.

“It’s just the pressure of getting my throne back. Just hurt feelings,” You murmur. Taehyun’s eyes sharply glint, “Lying to me is not going to get you anywhere, princess. Either you can choose to tell me the truth or you’re not obligated to tell me at all.” You flinch at his sharp tone.

More tears escape from your eyes and Taehyun watches you; a sense of awkwardness not knowing how to handle your tears properly.

He wanted you to open up more to him, but didn’t want to force you. He didn’t want you to bawl in front of him either. Taehyun mumbles, “This isn’t like you. It’s strange.” Taehyun knew you were upset; it had to be something to do with Beomgyu!

“It’s Beomgyu. You were upset after catching up with him. It’s obvious,” he utters. You find yourself flinching at his direct statement; he was observant. Taehyun takes note of your reaction confirming his suspicions. It was. What did that bastard do or say to you?

Taehyun’s jaw tightens and gaze sharpens, “What the fuck did he do?” You stammer, “No, no. Calm down.” Taehyun snaps, “What then?”

You take a moment to compose yourself, before beginning to slowly reiterate everything that had previously occurred between you and Beomgyu on your walk together.

Taehyun was the one person who you felt you could maybe trust now. Who knows maybe you were meant to play the fool and get played by everyone around you. You didn’t care, you just needed to vent; it felt good to tell him.

Finishing your recount, you peer at him and see his blank expression. His eyes hold no emotion and he stiffly sits meeting your eyes.

Abruptly, Taehyun goes to get up; an enraged look in his eyes, “That fucking manipulative piece of shit! That fucking bastard, just wait till I-“

Your eyes widen and you scramble forward grabbing his arm with your entire might, “Taehyun! Wait! This is a matter that needs t-to be handled delicately!” You grunt, pulling him back towards you.

“That fucking prince lulled you into a false sense of security, we’re stuck right in right in his trap,” Taehyun seethes. Your eyes widen; you hadn’t seen Taehyun so angry before. Infuriated, he exclaims, “How the fuck are you sitting so calm? All these disgusting royals only ever think of themselves. They don’t see you as a victim of genuine treachery, just a fucking chess piece to be used to further themselves!”

You flinch; he was right. Your eyes water, “I get it, I know okay! That’s just the way the world works!”

Taehyun peers down at you, at the way you cling to his arm, “I know what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you truly trusted. It fucking hurts to see it happen to you.” His sudden honesty touches you and your lips tremble, “T-Taehyun.”

“I don’t want you to give up, which is what I did. I accepted my exile. I wish I had died fighting,” he rasps out. His eyes hold intense pain and you tremble. Your fingers dig into his arm as you whimper, “Sit with me. Stay with me. Please don’t be reckless, Taehyun. Please.”

He regards you for a moment in silence. Taehyun asks coldly, “Are you going to agree with his plan to marry you? You’re going to marry yourself to that bastard? Tell me.” You remain silent; you were deep in thought before Taehyun arrived knocking at your door.

In all honesty, you were contemplating the notion. You had to tread carefully. Perhaps, you think, it was easier to sacrifice your own happiness instead of risking the downfall of Fortuna and its people through your foolish brother. Perhaps, choosing the lesser evil of both evils was better than choosing nothing at all.

You didn’t want the nations to erupt in unrest or potential threat of war or breach of the treaty. You were scared of stepping into the world of politics head first. All your actions had repercussions.

You pull him back to attempt to sit him down and he stumbles slightly into a crouch; his face a few inches from yours. He doesn’t move away as he snarks, “You’re contemplating it aren’t you? You’re an idiot. What about love? Why should you sacrifice your own happiness for this shit?”

Anger surges through you, “You don’t get it! You don’t understand the pressure of responsibility I feel, whatever step I take has consequences! You wouldn’t know what it’s like to be in my position! I cannot act recklessly just because I am angry!”

Taehyun bitterly muses, “You’re right I don’t get it. I’m just an exiled nobody, right?” You sigh frustrated, “I never said that. You’re so insensitive. Get over yourself, Taehyun.” A manic laugh escapes his lips, “Get over myself? No, you should get over yourself, sweetheart.”

A pang of hurt flashes in his eyes and he seethes, “I’m trying to fucking help you and you’re lashing out at me? Can’t you see I want to help?” He was lashing out at you! You cry out, emotions overwhelming any rationality within you, “Why? Why do you care so much? We barely know each other. If you find me so insufferable-“

Taehyun snaps, “So caring for you now is a mistake?” Your heart feels as though it’s going to tear into two. “No, I-“ you sigh. Perhaps you were wrong to get so defensive. He had no obligation to care about you, to even ask how you were. Taehyun wanted to stay with you to help. You compose yourself.

Shakily, you murmur, “I’m…I’m sorry, Taehyun. I didn’t mean any of that. I just…” Taehyun’s gaze melts for a second as he huffs sitting back down beside you, “Whatever.” A tensioned silence ensues. Guilt consumes you.

You never wished to argue with him. You drawl out fatigued, “Maybe consigning myself to fate is easier. Fighting back only causes more pain.”Taehyun snaps lowly, “Don’t say such stupid shit like that in front of me again.” You glare, “What am I supposed to do then?” Another round of silence occurs as Taehyun’s brain churns its gears.

After a minute or so, he murmurs, “Escape.” You ask confused, “What?” “The palace. Escape the palace. Go on the run?” Taehyun emphasises with a glare. You snap lowly, “Are you insane?” That was an absurd idea!

“We can’t stay here. We’re trapped otherwise. We have to be out of Beomgyu’s sight. We’ll figure it out; we just need to be out of here,” Taehyun takes both of your hands with a determined gaze. “To where?” You ask, peering down at his hands squeezing yours. Taehyun’s eyes shake as he thinks, “The Woods of Mors. Back to my abode. Remember no one in Fortuna knows you’re with me.”

That was indeed right; no one knew that you escaped through the tunnels and then made your way to Luna through the Woods of Mors, even more unlikely that you stumbled upon the exiled sorcerer. Why would they check a place where he was presumed dead?

You glare; your own brain working hard, “What about Beomgyu, genius?” Taehyun scoffs irritated, “Minor details. Yes, Beomgyu and Soobin know I was exiled to the woods. So what? You think they’d expect us to return to Fortuna?”

That’s right! Why would you go back to the place you were trying to be on the run from? The most likely would be they think you’d go to, was another nation or hide out somewhere in Luna.

Taehyun murmurs, “I know there’s no guarantee that they won’t check back in the Woods of Mors. But it’s our best bet; we can’t trust any other nations. If they somehow do find out, we’ll handle it. We’ll get out of it somehow, princess.” His voice is impassioned and you feel guilt; he had more determination and desire than you to win.

His fierce expression is oddly pretty in your eyes. The way he looks at you for a response; a touch of desperation in his eyes. Uneasy, you whimper, “I don’t know…that feels like a bad idea.”

“What choice do we have? Beomgyu betrayed you. You think he’ll just let us leave of our own free will, just because you say, no?” Taehyun scoffs, removing his hands. You huff crossing your arms, “I thought you’d be smarter than this.”

“Marry him then; not-not- that I care or anything,” Taehyun spits out with a huff. You grab another cushion smacking his shoulder making him grunt. His expression is infuriated; your eyes scan over his pretty features. Your heart becomes warm at the sight.

Taehyun peers over at you, meeting your gaze. “What?” You find your lips twitching to form a smile. “You’re really caring, you know that. Getting this angry on my behalf. Don’t deny it.”

A slight hue of embarrassment floods his features as he dismisses you, “What did you expect? I’m not an emotionless brute?”

You snicker, “Mm, I suppose.” The tension between you two eases. You murmur, “If…we succeed,” you notice he’s deep in thought. “If we succeed, I will overturn your exile.” Taehyun’s eyes widen and he mutters, “Don’t make false promises, princess.” You glare, “I mean it.” He snaps his head to gaze at you; your eyes lock onto each other. Taehyun’s eyes glimmer; he looks truly touched.

“So, you have a plan, right?” You ask, peering away solemnly. “Yes, I do. It’s risky. Very risky. Involves my magic and lot of preparation.” Your heart pounds anxiously. “Do you trust me? Trust me to get us out of this?” Taehyun asks seriously. Your gaze melts, “…I do.”

“I won’t betray you. That’d be the last thing I’d do. Because I know the pain of it. So rest easy, sweetheart,” Taehyun murmurs, still not removing his gaze from yours. Your heart feels heavy.

“I know,” you affirm softly. You bite your lip tearing your gaze away from his. Your heart palpitates rapidly; what was this breathless feeling? His eyes flicker down to your lips briefly.

“Sorry,” he mutters awkwardly, “For being so rude earlier.” You find yourself smiling.

You peer back over at him, your eyes drifting down his face and his torso. Your mind drifts back to the hug he gave you yesterday.

“Can I…Can I hug you?” You tentatively request. His eyes widen; a soft hue of red, blossoms of his cheeks ever so subtly. Clearing his throat; he outstretches an arm behind you, “Come here.” You spy his reluctant expression and can’t help but smirk to yourself. He was not so cold; but truly a man with a giant heart.

You nestle into his arms leaning your head against his chest. You’re surprised to hear his heart hammering in his chest. Was he anxious? He rests his other arm around you, muttering, “Take whatever time you need.”

Perhaps that was his way of saying, he didn’t want to let you go out of his arms. Or maybe you were just wishful in your thinking. After all, why would he be interested in you, a noble, a figure he despised?

An odd sense of comfort fills the both of you. You go to thank him for the hug but he seems fine just to hold you. His embrace felt warm; you felt safe. Taehyun peers down at you and notices you looking back up at him with your gorgeous eyes, clinging to him. The sight was incredibly endearing.

Hugs weren’t so bad, Taehyun surmises. He wasn’t much of a verbal comforter. A hug would do for now. For how long? However long you wanted.

You wonder what goes on his mysterious mind; did he have similar thoughts to your own? How you wished to dissect and unravel the many layers of Kang Taehyun. You note he had comforted you all today; he stuck beside you with no intention of any reward.

Yet, you never cared to ask about his past fearing the worst reaction but also focusing on your own predicament.

“You understand my position, being betrayed,” you state. He drawls, “I do, very well in fact.”

“If the Royal Court has unfairly convicted you, I want to fix it. If my family has wronged you, I want to know.” Your genuine words startle Taehyun.

“Taehyun,” you croak out, “I want to know what happened to you and your father.” Perhaps, it was unfair to ask, but you wanted to ease his bottled up emotions. If he could be there for you, you wanted to be there for him too.

“Sweetheart, you’re playing a dangerous game, here,” Taehyun warns with a frown. You whisper, “I know.” You knew you’d get a ‘no.’ He was a man with high walls and stern boundaries.

“Fine,” he utters shakily taking you by surprise. “I think…I’ve kept you waiting for long enough.” You stammer, “I’m not forcing you-“

Taehyun gives you the most gentle smile you’ve seen from him, “Relax, sweetheart. I feel ready.” He smirks softly, “Aren’t you curious?” He muses, “Consider my pitiful story, something to fall asleep to.” You scoff, “No way.” You part from him as he leans his back against the end board of the bed.

Shakily, he hums, “Oh, you’re in for a long ride.”

Oh, pretty sorcerer; what was your story?

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demonlovingsheep · 11 months

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[THEORY. SPOILERS INCLUDED]

Imagine if Solomon is Nightbringer. Point being:

-Future Solomon knows MC’s relationship with the brothers well. So does Nightbringer.

- He is also the first to reach out to us. Wouldn’t it be easier for him to ask Barbatos to contact us and pull our ass back?

Some of y’all may want to argue that if Solomon is the past Solomon, why didn’t he remember the beef he had with Barbatos?

He DOES. You’re telling me he can remember some ancient ass spells and can’t remember the beef that got the time demon to despise him. X to doubt. Would he really tell you his true motive? After all he is the witty sorcerer.

More proof? Nightbringer is brought up at one point in the lesson too. Some dead person said that Nightbringer told them their prophecy and that MC has the capability of fulfilling it. So Nightbringer do know the power MC has.

- Why is this being brought up? Who else is messing with the past like Nightbringer is? Solomon. Like him casually saying that they should avoid doing anything that messes with the future but also making a pact with Asmo and yet no consequences. He’s fine.

- Maybe past Solomon also heard about his prophecy from Nightbringer.

- Not to mention he doesn’t really act the same as he did in the present. Given that Solomon did live for a long time, it’s safe to assume that he knows a thing or two about capturing one’s heart, whether human or demons.

Want even more proof? Who’s the one narrating the Prologue Movie? Solomon.

Not to mention the lines from it:

“With a flurry of trumpets from his king, the demon appeared.”

- The only king we ever known is probably the Demon King (Diavolo’s dad) but would he really care about some human? Not likely.

- However in biblical textbooks, Solomon is referred to as King Solomon. He also mentions somewhere in season 2 in the original game that he did build a large “house” (looks at castle in the video that is not likely the demon lord’s castle 👀).

- King of the time demon, perhaps a pack master?

I believe his plan goes like this:

Send MC back to the past to his past self.

No brother is gonna cockblock them since they live under the same roof and the brothers are not familiar with MC yet.

Flirty sorcerer becomes the only source of comfort, only one MC can rely on.

Use MC as a tool to gain respect. If his apprentice is strong enough to handle the seven demon brothers, it’ll make other demons see him as more of a threat.

Persuading them to stand by Humanity. Who is the only human other than MC we know? Solomon. Standing by humanity means he wants us to stand by HIM.

But that’s just a theory. A game theory! And cut.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me solomon #obey me theory #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #nightbringer solomon

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kurooblossom · 8 months

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「BLACK SHEEP」サタン

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST

➤ Word Count: 1,050 ➤ Inspiration: Prompt

➤ Pairing: Satan x Reader

➤ Tags: accidental demon summoning, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, established relationship, f!reader, family drama, family pressure, mention of depression, mention of pregnancy (not reader), pact marks, reader is mid-20s, references to canon

Black Sheep (noun) - a member of a family or group who is regarded as a disgrace to it.

Being in the Devildom for so long, Y/N had nearly forgotten how much she disliked visiting her family. The family she had before she found her own in the Devildom. The few happy memories she had coupled with the memory of delicious home cooking clouded her judgement. She thought just maybe the visits to her family home weren't as bad as she had remembered.

But then she actually returned home.

“Just look at your sister: has her own house, a caring husband, a baby on the way… And what do you have?”

Standing above her with her chest puffed outward, her mother glared down at her with her arms crossed. Looking at the scene from the outside, one would think Y/N had done something horrific. Something no one should get away lightly with.

"Depression." Y/N answered flatly.

Her crime? Being a female in her mid-twenties who isn't married with a 'typical' life that most follow.

It wasn't exactly her plan to get dragged away from the world she had known all her life within a blink of an eye, shortly after finishing college, but it happened. She lived with the Seven Avatars of Hell, she befriended the Prince of the Devildom, she became the apprentice of Solomon the Wise, she had various encounters with the angel Michael. She hadn't planned for any of the events of the last year and a half to happen. But they did happen, and she wouldn't change a moment of it.

Her one regret? Not being able to tell anyone else about the best year of her life.

"How do you think it looks that you graduated a year and a half ago, and you haven't found a proper job?" Her mother continued. "You could at least try to do something with your life, you know. Your sister-"

Her mother’s words soon fell on deaf ears as Y/N’s mind began to wander to nothing in particular. From what possible shenanigans the brothers were up to in that particular moment to that spell Solomon wanted her to practice. Her attention was anywhere and everywhere but on the disappointed and disgusted filled words spilling from her mother’s lips.

”Are you listening to me?!” Her mother screeched, pulling her attention back momentarily. She nodded, not meeting her mother’s eyes as the woman groaned and continued her rant with pointing fingers.

For what felt like hours upon hours, her mother's tyrant eventually came to an end. Quickly, she fled to her childhood room, where she closed the door and locked it behind her.

With her back to the old and worn wooden door, she slowly slid down the flat surface until her butt came into contact with the cool wood flooring. With her knees to her chest, her arms circled around her knees and she buried her face into her shirt sleeves.

Bitterly, she humorlessly laughed as she finally felt the shaking of her body. She may be in a pact with the Seven Avatars of Hell and one of the most powerful sorcerers alive. She may have been able to live amongst demons as a minority. She may have been able to stand up against Lucifer himself without so much as flinching. Yet, it was her own mother who made her tremble for the first time in a long time. The woman who birthed her, who raised her, who put a roof over her head and feed her until she went to college. That woman was the one to make her feel so inferior, weak, useless. Not the demons who hated her guts and saw her as weak. Not the angels, who equally saw her and other humans as weak. Her mother.

"...Tsk."

Dejectedly, she moved to rest further onto the door, leaning her head back against it with closed eyes. Focusing on keeping her breathing even, everything around her faded into the background. Not even the slight tingling of her pact mark caught her attention as it faintly glowed underneath the fabric of her clothing.

"...Y/N?"

Her brows scrunched at the familiar voice.

Was she hallucinating? There was no way she could be hearing his voice if she wasn't. Her D.D.D was in her bag that was laying, long forgotten, on her bed, so it couldn't be that she had accidentally called him. Was she finally loosing it? Did her mother's words finally get to her where-

"Y/N." There it was again, followed by the familiar warmth on her knees. "Y/N, look at me."

Hesitantly, her eyes opened, and a gasp slipped past her lips. Looking back at her, with furrowed brows and a frown, were the emerald eyes she had come to know and love.

"What's wrong?" He asked, concern lacing his voice.

With practiced ease, Satan's hand raised to her cheek and gently wiped away tears she didn't realize had begun to fall. Worry was written clearly across his features as he peered down at her.

”I—“ she tried, but nothing came out.

Small little squeaks and cries escaped her lips with each attempt she made to speak. After one too many attempts, Satan carefully wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, quietly hushing her as one of his hands found its way to her head.

During her time in the Devildom, her and Satan had many long late night conversations discussing their earlier years. She knew his almost as well as he knew hers. So while he didn’t know what the situation he had stumbled into was, she knew that he likely got the idea with a moment or two of observing the situation. For that she was grateful, in all honesty.

“It’s okay.” Satan murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You don’t have to tell me right now.”

She nodded, leaning into his embrace. Wordlessly, Satan’s arms tightened around her frame and pulled her in closer. His hands rubbed comforting circles into the fabric of her shirt as she nuzzled her face into his neck. Her tear stained cheeks moistened his skin, not that he minded.

“You’re okay.” He murmured, pressing another kiss to her forehead, before pressing another and another to any exposed skin he could reach. “I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you. I’m here now.”

A/N: I’m honestly not happy with how this turned out, so I’ll most likely rewrite this in the future when I’m in a better headspace for this type of fic.

#satan x reader #obey me x reader #satan fanfic #satan fanfiction #satan x mc #obey me x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #satan one shot #obey me one shot

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