#would have made too much sense for many companions including gale

[galedekarios]

larian truly revealing bit by bit how they actively chose to make their game worse

#text: personal #bg3 critical #larian critical #we love to see it /s #cutting ketheric as a companion #made too much narrative sense and would have given the player a nice pay off #cutting candlekeep and the astral sea #would have made too much sense for many companions including gale #to actually treat the orb like it was in ea #as a part of the primal weave that could have been rendered inert in the astral plane and perhaps removed there #it's totally so much better now that he's made to grovel at mystra's feet #and whatever the fuck the orb is now (spoiler: it's whatever the game needs it to be instead of making sense) #and a glorified fetch quest in sorcerous sundries that take 2 mins tops to complete #this company i cant

[istoleyoursk1n]

How do you think the companions would react to a Tav that's shorter then them but physically capable of carrying them around be it over the shoulder or princess style carry?

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a short Tav who could carry them easily?

(I’ve made brief mentions of this type of scenario in a previous post so you may check that out as well.)

.

.

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“My, my, if you would've done this for me sooner, I’d be swooning much more quickly than you realize, you know that darling? Now be a dear and carry me over there!”

He would have been the one teasing you/urging you to try and lift him up in the assumption that you simply cannot. He was merely messing with you at the time.

Though, he didn't think you’d actually do it.

He would be startled by your offer/assurance that you would be able to lift him up without so much as a struggle which he then laughed at, not believing a word you say but allowing you to try anyways.

He was just about to say another snarky remark the moment your hands were on him but the words quickly fell flat on his lips the moment you managed to carry him in your arms.

You've never seen him so wide-eyed and confused than this very moment.

His mind would be too muddled on whether he should continue to be snarky or at least show how surprised he actually is about the whole situation.

Probably ends up being both snarky and impressed because his mind was too much of a mess at that very moment.

Besides, there's a strange sense of security he feels when he has your arms wrapped around him like some sort of shield.

Regardless, he now demands you to carry him like a princess for however long you can as he’d prefer not to walk throughout the entirety of your tiring journey.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“Are you- am I- are you carrying me?! By the hells, am I not as heavy as I thought I was? Or are you that ridiculously strong? Ha! Though, I can’t say I’m against this at all!”

Was a bit apprehensive when you offered to carry him, he was afraid that he might crush your poor arms with his own weight.

Definitely needed you to reassure him three times before he finally agreed. It's not that he wasn't confident in your abilities (sort of), he just wanted to make sure you didn't hurt yourself.

Was quite shocked when you did manage to lift him so easily, so much so that an awkward little laugh escaped from his lips.

This was certainly a situation he never thought he’d find himself in.

Even so, that awkward little laugh soon turns into a genuine one, his grin is one of the many things that drive you to carry him for as long as he wants.

He can't stop laughing at the absurdity of the moment but he has no qualms, in fact, he's having a blast!

Now you’re both off being absolute goofballs with Wyll playfully referring to you as his own ‘knight in shining armor’. The scene alone would be sweetly sickening to anyone who caught a glimpse of it.

While he’d never ask for you to carry him again (he’s far too worried about exhausting you), he’d always be willing to find himself lifted in your arms once again if not but a temporary relief from the hard journey ahead.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“Well. I never quite envisioned myself being in this particular predicament… there seems to be a handful of lovely little experiences that I have yet to indulge in, this included. Now, how do you suppose I’d get down?”

Similar to Wyll, he was a tad bit apprehensive when you first proposed such a thing to him. He wasn't quite confident that you had the ability to carry him nor did he really think he wanted to be.

It would take a tad bit more convincing to get him to be on board with it.

He keeps reminding you of the worst-case scenario where you’d find yourself with broken arms and him with a broken back. Truly something he isn't looking forward to.

He probably closed his eyes the moment you lifted him off the ground, half expecting to fall to the ground right then and there.

His limps were all over the place, grasping at what he could to the point where it landed him in an awkward position. It was fairly obvious that he hadn't been carried like this before.

He was pleasantly surprised when he found himself up in the air in your arms. At first, he thought that this may have been the work of some sort of strength elixir but he had faith in you.

It doesn't take long for him to become a flustered disaster who doesn't quite realize what to do or say. He’s in your arms and he’s far too close, he’s being far too awkward about this and it’s rather amusing to watch.

He’s simply holding on as tightly as possible, asking again and again if you are certain that this isn't something you struggling with. I mean, is he truly this light?

If he wasn't smitten with you before then he sure as hell is now. It would take him a while to come around to ask to be carried again but when he does so, he does it with the biggest puppy eyes you've ever seen.

: ̗̀➛ KARLACH

“No fucking way! I’m up in the air?! Me?! You can lift me?! Bloody hell you're a strong one, soldier. Never thought big ol’ Karlach could be so easily swept off her feet. Gotta repay you for that one!”

She believed that there was no way in hell you’d be able to carry her. She would have crushed you the moment you tried.

Even so, she agreed, it doesn't hurt to try after all. Besides, she's a tad bit curious about herself. However, she does constantly remind you of how heavy she is and to let go if it's something you truly can't do.

She would have backed out last minute to save you if it weren't for the fact that she suddenly felt her feet lift from the ground below.

She would be surprised that your little form somehow has the power to lift her, she’d think it's the coolest thing ever! She's practically laughing her ass off from having you carry her around.

This is the most fun she’s had in a while and she hopes for it to last for as long as your body could handle. Both of your combined laughter would be enough to startle the entirety of the camp.

Right after she’d be more than happy to carry you as well! Consider it a favor after doing the same thing to her. You’ll be having free piggyback rides for days to come! In exchange of free carries from you of course.

She’ll never not laugh every time you pick her up. She's felt so strong and impenetrable most of her life until you came over swooping her off the ground like it was nothing. It makes her fiery heart soar.

: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART

“My hero, and just when I thought I’d have to use a quick healing spell or two. I suppose I don't mind playing myself as the ‘damsel in distress’ if that means I get to end up in your arms.”

She wasn't quite on board with the whole idea of you picking her up just yet. She was confident that you’d drop her and you’d end up falling alongside her.

Though eventually, she did come around to it, not that it took too much convincing. She was a Cleric so if both of you ended up hurt somehow, she’d be there to heal both of you.

She was very careful with choosing how she’d like to hold you just before you lifted her up. She tried to get into the most comfortable position possible that would cater to both you and her.

She was delightfully surprised when you did manage to lift her up in your arms, a warm smile plastering itself across her face from witnessing such a shocking act of strength from you.

If this isn't the perfect moment for her to tease you then you are greatly mistaken because she would be teasing you relentlessly for as long as you keep her in your grasp.

Even so, it's all in good fun. She finds herself loving how feather-light she seems in your hold, reassured that you wouldn't drop her despite her previous apprehensions.

She’d never doubt your abilities again in this case, and she’d be more than willing to be held within your strong embrace once more.

: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL

“Chk. The fact that your arms remain intact is a surprise. Still. I am capable of walking on my own if carrying me like this was your plan. Your strength is noted but I’d rather set onwards with my head held high and my feet on the ground.”

Her immediate answer was no.

She’d think of it to be a rather stupid idea, she didn't even believe that there would be a slight chance of you carrying her properly.

It would take a lot of convincing for her to ever allow you to carry her with her consent. Doing so without it would result in her punching you right in the face. Ingrained reflexes I suppose.

She’d be annoyed but she’d reluctantly agree when the moment comes around. However, she would make a blatant reminder that if you were to be crushed, it was over your own stupidity.

She instantly tensed the moment you lifted her off the ground, her eyes went wide, and she couldn't believe that she was somehow being lifted by you.

She also generally hasn't been lifted before and she doesn't completely realize how she should be feeling about it. It's strange, and it definitely takes her a while to relax.

Eventually, she’d finally sprinkle some form of praise onto you, seeming rather impressed by your bold display of strength. She might even find it somewhat attractive that you could so easily lift her up.

It would take a while to get used to but I doubt she’d be against it anymore. Your strength is truly a perk of yours that should never go overlooked and she thankfully realizes this now.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“Oh! Well isn't this quite the shocker? Not only do you have a strong heart but it appears that you have strong arms too, haha! And just when I thought I’d undergone everything life had to offer.”

He thought you were joking with him at first. There was no way you’d be able to carry him, he's never seen anyone successfully do so either.

Perhaps he’d let you try if not for his own amusement/pity, but he pretty much was certain that you’d hardly have the strength to lift him an inch off the ground.

Of course, this wasn't to undermine you, but he knew all too well that a man of his stature couldn't possibly be carried like some sort of fairytale Princess.

Safe to say that he was utterly baffled the moment you began to lift him. In all his years alive he has never once encountered someone who was able to carry him with the use of their raw brute strength.

The first thing that came to his mind was worry, he wasn't sure how long you’d be able to hold him or if this was too much. He understands how heavy he is and he’d be absolutely devastated if he were to accidentally crush you.

As fun and ridiculous as this all was, Halsin would be too concerned about somehow crushing you down with his weight so you wouldn't be carrying him for long.

After a few shared laughs, he’d be the one to politely request to be let down. Softly asking if you are okay and hoping that carrying him wasn't too tiring.

Nevertheless, he’s enamored by your display of strength and the new experience truly did make his heart skip a beat. Now there's yet another peculiar thing about you he’d add to his reasons for adoring you.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 headcanon #bg3 headcanons #bg3 x reader #bg3 wyll #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 halsin #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 lae’zel #bg3 karlach #astarion #wyll #gale #halsin #shadowheart #lae’zel #karlach

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Party

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 3,924

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

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Summary: A slow burn Tav and Halsin romance fic about their relationship forming between the major events of Baldur's Gate 3, and probably a little bit after too. Explores Tav's friendships with some of the other companions, but mainly Karlach. Lots of longing and fluff, including plenty of soft Halsin moments.

Tags: Slow burn, hurt/comfort, love confessions, eventual smut, light angst, implied past rape/non-con

A/N: After starting another playthrough specifically to romance Halsin, I decided to write some additional details of how their relationship forms throughout the game. Not sure how many chapters there will be yet...we'll see where the game takes me :) There will be POVs from both Tav and Halsin throughout the fic. Enjoy!

Tav retrieved one of her arrows from the many corpses strewn about the courtyard. The inside of the temple was just as bloody of a sight. Three True Souls had been defeated and the remaining goblins slaughtered at their hands. One of the leaders lingered in her mind – Minthara, the drow. When their minds mingled, Tav saw something in her memories that she couldn’t quite place. She wasn’t sure how many more of these cultists they would be facing, but she had started to feel uneasy during this past battle. It dawned on her that the only difference between her adventuring party and these True Souls was the strange artefact they carried. Had they not been chosen for this mysterious protection, they would be meeting the same fate at the hands of a different group of adventurers.

She looked back around at her companions. Astarion was limping his way between all the bodies, checking their pockets with disturbing efficiency. Gale was sitting on the ground, leaning against a wall while catching his breath and favoring a twisted ankle. Karlach was helping Tav gather arrows and other weapons around them. A golden glow enveloped their bear companion, transforming him back into an elf.

“You did it. You actually did it.” He was smiling at her, his voice full of admiration. “There are no words to thank you for what you have done today, my friend.”

“Think nothing of it, I was happy to help.” She was still out of breath from the fighting, a small trail of blood tickled her cheek.

“It was everything.” One of his large hands rested on her shoulder. “Forgive me, but I must make haste back to the Grove. I can…see to some matters there and we can discuss your next steps further once you’re able to meet me.” He placed his fist across his chest with a small bow of his head.

Tav nodded her reply as he wildshaped into a rat and ran away.

“Let’s do another sweep of the place, make sure there’s nothing useful that we should take.” She suggested, gaining a small whoop of approval from Astarion.

They did a full sweep of the temple, eventually finding a secret entrance into the Underdark. Tav took note of that for later, she thought she had heard a rumor of a passageway from below that led to Moonrise. Only if we have to go there, she thought to herself. She was desperately trying to hide her anxiety from her companions. Halsin had sensed it when they were talking, but she sensed something from him as well. More of a deep sadness than anxiety.

Luckily, they also found plenty of useful items scattered about. Healing potions, weapons, armor, an abundance of camp supplies and no small amount of gold. They loaded Karlach up with as much as she could possibly carry before making the trek back to the Emerald Grove.

Once they arrived, they took the time to sell some of the extra equipment they had found, exchanging for additional potions and elixirs. Tav was being constantly stopped for one tiefling or another to offer their gratitude. She smiled and accepted their thanks, feeling awkward about being in the spotlight. Being alone by choice for so long made it overwhelming to be the center of attention again. As a new pair of hands seemed to touch her with every step she took, a hazy memory rushed forward to the front of her mind.

She was standing in a vast ballroom, wearing a light, elegant gown. The small circlet adorning her temple was light as a feather but weighed heavily on her shoulders that night. The room around her was filled with colorful patrons. All of them dancing and spinning together, slowly getting drunk on the extravagant selection of wines. She was constantly being pushed into one suitor or another, each doing their best to woo her into their arms. Their wandering hands were not as subtle as they thought, and she had to resist the urge to break their fingers on many occasions. If she caused too much of a scene, Father would not be pleased. Just as she thought she would have to headbutt the handsy nobleman groping her ass, her true knight in shining armor came twirling to her rescue.

Tev’aron, her older brother. He slammed his hips into the drunk noble, acting equally as drunk. She couldn’t help but giggle since she knew for a fact he would never partake. He offered multiple slurred apologies before easily taking his dancing position.

“Hello, Ria.” He flashed his mischievous smile at her, his drunken façade gone. “Your suitors this evening are serious lightweights. Father hasn’t even brought out the liquor yet. Best to pass on this batch as well, they’ll never keep up with this family’s drinking.”

“My hero.” She rolled her eyes at him. Tev was her best friend, always swooping in to rescue her when her noble duties got too overwhelming. And by noble duties, she meant being fondled by strange men.

They danced together in silence for a while, Tev earning dirty looks from the men around them. His ivory curls bounced lightly around his face as they moved around the dance floor.

“Tav’ahria…” He said quietly. “Why do you put up with this? You’re more than just a pretty collectible to be paraded about. You could snap the necks of half of the men in here before anyone realized what had happened. Have you thought more on my suggestion?”

It was all she had thought about for the last tenday. Tev’aron was planning on running away to join the Harpers, and he wanted her to come with him.

“I don’t know, Tev. If Father ever caught up with us…” She could see her parents on the other side of the ballroom, laughing with some diplomat from Cormyr.

“He doesn’t care enough about us to have us followed.” Tav’ahria could taste the venom in her brother’s words.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, Ria.” He continued, his tone softening. “I can’t bear the thought of leaving you here to be married off to the highest bidder. You deserve more than that.”

She closed her eyes and hugged her brother tightly, desperate to keep a few more moments to herself before she was forced back into her flirtatious mingling.

“Alright, alright. That’s quite enough. The poor woman is bruised to the hells and back, she doesn’t need your extra hands on her.” Astarion’s voice cut through her daydream. Tav snapped back to the present, staring at him in surprise. He was bouncing around her, slapping away hands from her arms and shoulders.

“Astarion? What are you doing?” She asked quietly, still a little disoriented from her thoughts.

“Hm? Oh, nothing I just noticed you were maybe a tad overwhelmed by the affection coming your way. I can’t have all of this attention going to your head, darling.” He smiled sweetly at her, but there was something in his expression that Tav couldn’t quite place. For just a moment, it was like Tev’aron was standing in front of her again, fighting off unwanted advances.

“Of course. Thank you.” She smiled weakly back at him, fighting the tears stinging her eyes.

“Speaking of bruises,” she poked his arm lightly, “we should get back to camp soon. A couple more and you could easily pass for a drow.” He was not amused by her joke, but Karlach was cackling behind them.

“Fine. Let’s find your new lover and head back to camp.” He shot back at her.

“Excuse me?” Tav could feel a blush moving across her face.

“Oh please, Tav. You obviously wanted to climb that brawny druid like the tree he is.” He continued teasing.

“You’re really close to getting those last few bruises my soon-to-be drow friend.” Her gritted teeth were causing her jaw to ache. Astarion thought better of pushing her and turned away with a cheeky smirk.

Tav groaned as she felt her skin getting warmer across her face and chest.

“For what it’s worth, soldier…I think he might have liked you too.” Karlach had walked up beside her, hand hovering supportively above Tav’s shoulder so she wouldn’t get burnt.

“Ugh let’s just wrap up here and get back to camp. We have a party to prepare for after all.” Tav smiled at the large tiefling, surprised by how quickly she had gotten attached to her.

They wandered further into the Grove just in time to see Halsin finishing up a heated conversation with Kagha.

“…you may stay but consider yourself a novice anew.” Halsin’s voice had taken on a much more imposing tone compared to when they spoke in the goblin camp. “You have forgotten the ways of the druids.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

“Yes, Master Halsin.” Kagha gave a small bow before walking away.

“You’ll have your hands full with her.” Tav called from behind him.

Halsin’s expression immediately softened when he saw her, causing Tav’s heart to skip a beat.

“The understatement of the century, my friend. Misjudgments aside, the Emerald Grove will have need of her. Still, nature prevailed on this day. The Grove stands, and I have you to thank.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to say something to him, but caught Astarion peeking out from behind Halsin, grinning at her. Tav glared back at him.

“So, what happens now? Will you still come with us to Moonrise?” She was trying to keep her voice from sounding too hopeful.

“Yes of course, I’ll join you in your camp for the celebration later and come morning, I will be at your side.” He still had his hand on her shoulder. His smile was making her knees feel weak. Astarion and Karlach could barely contain their giggles at his last statement. Their lips sputtered as they tried, and failed, to hide their laughter. Gale looked between all of them, confused. Halsin walked away with a small nod.

“I can’t help but feel I may have missed something while I was dead.” Gale was searching each of their faces for a way to decode their inside joke. Astarion hopped up next to him and slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Let me catch you up, my friend.” He dragged Gale alongside him, Tav just buried her face in her hands.

They wrapped up their business at the Grove, talking to Nettie and Rath who each gave them rewards for their efforts. Tav helped the last few straggling tieflings to pack up their remaining belongings. After a few more heartfelt thanks thrown their way, the four of them started the trek back to camp.

***

The sun was just starting to set as Halsin wandered into the small encampment. He had taken some extra time to say his goodbyes at the Grove. A letter was sent to the High Forest to request his replacement as Archdruid, a decision that brought him more shame than he expected. Not because he was leaving his position, but because of the overwhelming relief he felt after sending the letter. He never coveted that position, it was thrust onto his shoulders, but now he couldn’t help but feel guilty. Like he was abandoning those who had looked up to him for years.

Around the camp, it looked as if most of the refugees had already arrived, but there were some unfamiliar faces as well. He saw a Githyanki woman engrossed in the act of sharpening her sword, the shrill sound cutting through the various conversations. Another man with dark skin stood alone just off the edge of the camp. He looked like another tiefling but something was different about him. There was a young half-elf woman who appeared to be brooding into a glass of wine. From what he could gather, they had to be the other unlucky souls who had been kidnapped alongside Tav. Quite the curious group to be travelling together.

He looked around at the smiling faces, finding a feeling of relief and joy in them that he hadn’t seen in these people since he met them. It had been so long since he had witnessed the kindness of a stranger that he had seen today. His eyes scanned the camp until they found Tav. He watched as she stood next to Zevlor, wine glass in hand, waving her hand slowly in front of her, undoubtedly trying to waive off any praise for her good deeds today. She had changed out of her bloodied armor into a blue, sleeveless outfit. The corset-like shirt accentuated her hips, showing off more of her figure than he could see in the leathers she had been wearing. Her muscular back and arms were highlighted by the warm light of the sunset, not to mention her hair which was now tumbling freely down her back. The color and luster of the strands put the most beautiful of pearls to shame. Desire ached in his chest for the first time in years, a warm feeling that made his heart race. He felt like a lovestruck 60 year old again, he couldn’t stop staring at her, taking in every curve of her body. She suddenly turned around and caught his stare. He could feel his cheeks redden, yet he still couldn’t take his eyes off her. A huge smile spread across her face, making his heart skip a beat.

Oakfather preserve me…

She turned back to Zevlor and said something unintelligible before walking towards him. He shuffled awkwardly in place, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. They tugged nervously at pieces of his clothing as he averted his gaze towards the ground.

Oh, stop it you old fool. Nothing can happen anyway. You must stay focused.

When he looked back up, Tav had been stopped by a few more grateful refugees. He just barely noticed how she flinched at their touches, obviously uncomfortable by the contact. All her injuries from the day seemed to have healed properly, he couldn’t see any trace of bruises or cuts. With each person that reached out to touch her, the smile on her face twisted, no longer reaching her eyes. It looked flat and lifeless, like a mask. Eventually, she broke away again and continued towards him.

“I was starting to worry that you had changed your mind.” She called out once she was close enough.

“Nonsense, I just had a few additional matters to attend to at the Grove. It seems my absence had a larger impact than I had hoped.”

She gave him a curious look.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, I promised you my aid and you shall have it.” He didn’t have the energy to explain himself to her right now.

“Okay, well if you want, I could introduce you to the rest of the camp. I’m sure the others are anxious to meet you.” She held out her hand. He started to reach out for her but thought better of it.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure you have many other pleasantries to dole out this evening. It would be rude of me to keep you for too long.” He tried to smile back at her, but her expression fell slightly and her hand dropped back to her side.

“I uh…I do want to apologize for earlier today.” She ran a hand nervously through her hair.

“Whatever for?” Halsin was racking his brain trying to figure out what she could have done to warrant an apology.

“When we first met, I wasn’t exactly uh…subtle. I can’t help but feel that I made a real ass of myself. I’m not always great with first impressions.” Her face had turned slightly pink, now matching the color of her eyes. Halsin relaxed slightly. “When we were sent to find an all-knowing Archdruid, I was sort of expecting an old man. Not someone young like you.”

He let out a snorting laugh at that.

“Young? You are too kind. It’s not exactly a word I would use to describe my age.”

“Oh please, I put you at hardly middle age for an elf.” She was smiling again, a real smile, the sight caused another wave of warmth to wash over him.

“Regardless, let me put your mind at ease. I judge others based on their actions, and yours have spoken clearly for you. You have nothing to apologize for, my friend.” He placed a reassuring hand on her arm, noticing that she didn’t flinch away from him. “As long as we’re being honest, I was just as shocked to see a lovely noble elf to come to my rescue in a dirty goblin camp.” She blushed again.

“Now go on, enjoy yourself. Don’t waste your evening talking to me. There are many other grateful people who wish to spend time with you.”

“Take your own advice, come have a drink with me. I’d like to get to know you if we’re going to travel together.” She was still smiling sweetly at him as she placed her hand over his.

His heart started to race. How he yearned to feel a sense of companionship again, a luxury he couldn’t afford often in the last century or so.

Careful, Halsin. You cannot tolerate such a distraction now.

“Not unless you want to hear my terrible singing, or a love confession to the first soul that crosses my drunken path.” He chuckled as he slowly removed his hand from her arm, she laughed, and the sound sent a shiver down his spine.

“I fail to see the problem. I grew up in Baldur’s Gate, that was a daily occurrence for me.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.” The words escaped his lips before he could stop them, causing his breath to catch. Tav’s expression shifted, a playful smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“Well, there’s other things we could do to get to know one another. If you’re not up for talking or drinking.” She chewed on her lower lip as she held his gaze.

No, not subtle at all.

He could barely control the grin threatening to spread across his face. It wasn’t often that potential partners were so forward with him. A small chuckle started in his chest making its way past his lips.

Silvanus give me strength…

“I have no doubt you could think of something. You strike me as extremely…resourceful.” He took a deep breath. “But as I said, there’s many others here who wish to spend time with you. I must not keep you all to myself, as enjoyable as that may be.”

“I understand.” She said with a small smile. “I’d best go claim some of the wine before it runs out, everyone seems particularly thirsty tonight. We’ll talk in the morning?”

“Of course. Oakfather preserve you, friend.” He gave a small bow of his head before she turned away.

If Tav was disappointed, she hid it well. He kept watching her as she strode through the camp accepting handshakes and compliments, as she checked in with each of her companions, and then finally until she went and sat by Karlach holding two large bottles of wine. The rest of the evening was uneventful, he allowed himself an evening of peace watching the happy scene before him. He longed to feel as carefree as those around him, but it would have to wait. For a hundred years he had been seeking favor with Silvanus and he couldn’t lose that focus now, not even for such a sweet temptation as Tav.

***

Tav walked over to the small box containing several bottles of wine. Hopefully her embarrassment wasn’t too obvious to everyone else around her. She couldn’t quite figure Halsin out, he seemed interested in her, but it was like something was holding him back. Two large bottles of firewine caught her attention. She grabbed them both and made her way over to the riverbank where Karlach was sitting.

“Want some company?” Tav asked, the wine held out in front of her.

“As long as one of those is for me.” Karlach smiled up at her and patted the ground next to her. Tav took a seat and handed over one of the bottles.

“What are you doing out here, soldier? I figured you’d be wrapped up in vines tonight or whatever weird stuff druids are into.” She uncorked the bottle with her teeth and took a large drink.

“Eh, he didn’t seem to go for it. I wasn’t exactly delicate either. I guess we were wrong.” Tav lifted the bottle to her lips, the spice of the wine helping to drive away the cool breeze.

“Really? He seemed a bit smitten with you. Nevermind though, let’s find you someone else, my friend. You and Astarion have been awful flirty. I’m sure he’d at least be fun.” Karlach’s suggestion nearly caused Tav to choke on her drink.

“I don’t think he’s quite my type, love. He…reminds me too much of someone.” She took another large swig of the wine.

“Okay then, how about Gale? He’s got gorgeous eyes, and you two seem to be fast friends. You could always add a little something to that friendship.” Karlach batted her eyelashes at her, causing Tav to laugh.

“I don’t think I want to risk an explosion the size of Waterdeep for a night of fun. Besides, I don’t think Gale is the casual relationship kind of man.”

“Fucks’ sake, mate. I’m trying to help you here.” Karlach chuckled into her bottle.

“Well, that still leaves Wyll, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart. What do you think my chances are with them?” She leaned back onto her elbows, nestling her wine bottle in the sand.

“I think Lae’zel is still upset with you for stepping in on her ‘interrogation’ so she may be out. Wyll has been moping in a corner since we got back to camp, I don’t think he’s in a fun mood tonight. As for Shadowheart, how are you feeling about her Shar worship?” Karlach gave her a knowing look.

“Okay, looks like you’re stuck with me for the evening.” Tav winked at her.

“Well then, welcome to the club of the touch-starved and sexually frustrated, my friend.” She held up her wine bottle and Tav lifted her own to clink against it.

“Happy to be here, love.” Both of them took long drinks and settled in for the evening. They talked long after the others retired for the night, enjoying their bottles of wine and telling jokes and stories from their pasts. Nothing tragic, even though they both had their share of sob stories. Tonight, they focused on happy memories – tales of foes felled, lovers of their past, their favorite foods from Baldur’s Gate. She recounted her conversation with Halsin, trying to hide her disappointment. Karlach still insisted that she had a chance with him. Tav burned herself twice giving Karlach friendly nudges, her instincts causing her to forget about her fiery skin. But she didn’t mind, the injuries only made them laugh harder. Their words started to slur slightly as their bottles emptied. It was refreshing to sit and laugh with her for so long, Tav didn’t have many people in her long life that she could truly call a friend. But it was easy with Karlach. They ended up falling asleep in the sand, the heat from Karlach keeping Tav warm thought the night as she drifted off into a trance.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 halsin #halsin fanfic #halsin x tav #halsin silverbough #bg3 headcanons #bg3 brainrot #bg3 fluff #the tadfools

[raphaelapproves]

Today, focus was a precious commodity and I ended up behind at work so did not get the chance to post the conversation as promised.

But now, here we are, the "conversation"--and I do use that term loosely--that I had with an Astarion girlie.

Allow me to set the scene.

This happened on a video where a streamer was, I assume, HORRIFIED to find that if she just self-insert played the game with answers she would give--SHOCK!--Gale was the companion who liked her the most. I can't imagine why.

Anyway, the comments section was the predictable Gale-bashing. Some in good fun. Most of it not. And I'm me, so I just couldn't help myself, because I see too much of my younger self [ who still tried to engage with people and connect but didn't know how ] in Gale, so I responded to a couple of comments. This was the one that prompted this little meeting of the... well, one mind and then whatever the other person was operating with. Must have been a different Operating System, because it sure didn't make sense to me.

It is below the cut, as are my thoughts because it turned into a long post as, apparently, I had many thoughts.

Astarion Girlie [ henceforth AG ]: THEN HE CAN GO SUCK OFF LETTO II ON ARRAKIS CUZ I AM NOT HERE FOR GALE'S SEXIST A$$ 😤

Me: First: how is Gale sexist? Second: and yet you're okay with Astarion [ NOTE: the username had something to do with what Astarion could do for them, so I made an educated guess ] who is canonically racist, knowingly lured people to their deaths, and was fine with condemning the world for himself???

AG: are you serious??? 🤣 Gale mansplains EVERYTHING to the women around him including magic to other magic-user, uses coercion as a flirting tactic, & slvt-shames Tav if you're romancing someone else.

Me: Wow. There is so much wrong with that. 1) Tell me you don't have an autistic friend without telling me. 2) He explains to EVERYONE not just women. 3) Genuinely? What coercion? 4) He just tells you -- He isn't for an open relationship [ says he wishes you had asked him first which is y'know healthy? ] and asks you to choose, then says he wishes you well if you don't choose him.

AG: have you considered touching grass?

Me: This is such an intelligent rebuttal. Brava! So insightful and useful to a debate. Have you considered maybe listening to others without belitting them because you can't have a friendly discussion?

AG: 1) all of my friends are auDHD and so am i. you're an ableist joke. 😘 2) now you're gale-splaining his sexism 😂 3) i'm not interested in continuing with someone as clearly unwell as you are, bye!

Me: I AM autistic, friend. 2) It's not sexism if he's literally explaining his special interest to EVERYONE regardless of sex. 3) Again, quite mature. Thank you. 👏👏👏

I am just. How??? can anyone be so ??? I do not even have a word for it. It baffles me.

Astarion has canonically done terrible things, would canonically do many even more terrible if not swayed from it, and yet Gale??? is the one with whom they have a problem??? And they can't even logic their own argument???

As someone who is autistic and has been a victim of continued mental and emotional abuse from someone who always wanted to play the victim card and as someone who was always given the excuse "well they're not well and you know it, so you just have to deal with it and don't argue" when they're going out of their way to make your life hell and trying to frame you as their own personal villain, up to and including gaslighting you to the point of nearly two decades of depression, making you feel like you were broken and the worst human being in the world, and having you contemplating things you shouldn't, and them lying to others about things that happened or things that were said to get you in trouble, I get very, very tired of the mentality I see so much around the crazed Astarion Girlies of excusing everything he has ever done and being unable to even acknowledge a single flaw and attacking anyone who does say anything.

I have and continue to live that, have been and continue to be on the other side of it having to suffer because someone else wasn't held accountable, and I am Tired. [ At least now, thanks to my best friend in the entire world, I can see it for what it is and I'm in at least a better place now mentally, 98% of the time. ]

[ NOTE: This is NOT against the Astarion writers I have seen on here. Please do not misunderstand. The Astarion writers I follow on here are the only reason I can still even marginally like the character at this point. He is fascinating. He is multi-faceted. It's one of the things I love to see explored by those who I follow. It is always interesting to see people write complex and even morally difficult characters because that, too, is a form of understanding humanity. It's one of the things I love exploring with my anti-heroes and villains. In Baldur's Gate, that would include characters like Raphael, Gortash, Dirge, etc. So please know I am not hating on any Astarion writers! Everyone I follow is amazing! ]

But when you bring up those character flaws and morally difficult things that does make the character so complex and multi-faceted, these are the responses you get:

Astarion is a victim!

Yes, that is true. But Gortash who, let's be honest, at least doesn't fully know what he's doing is wrong [ you pass the insight checks and what not/narration tells you/the VA tells you that he thinks he's doing the right thing for himself and for the city, etc. and with the way he was raised, what example did he have to the contrary but I've already gone on that rant HERE ] is to the smallest degree even less culpable in my mind than Astarion, and he doesn't get a pass the way Astarion does? And he certainly shouldn't. He isn't absolved. He is doing terrible things whether he can fully rationalize it or not with his understanding of life.

Astarion though, acknowledges on multiple occasions, gives excuses, justifies his actions at every turn while still knowing that what he's doing and planning to do is wrong. And it's heavily implied that he really wasn't all that great of a person BEFORE Cazador either [ that is not to say that he deserved what happened either, just to clarify ]. But the point is Astarion did, at one point, having come from what seems an affluent family, have a knowledge of right and wrong and still made decisions that he made, even before Cazador and after once he was free.

Cazador made him do those things! Yes, he did, but that excuse stopped the moment Cazador's control was no longer an issue. He had free will and a knowledge of right and wrong, and he made the decisions he made.

But it was a habit by then! It was what he learned to survive!

And that coupled with the knowledge of right and wrong goes only so far as the moment you choose to knowingly make your trauma someone else's. Cazador wasn't going to force him to do the Ascension ritual and pay 7,000 souls for his own betterment. "Because after 200 years of SHIT, PURE SHIT, I think I deserve better." A paraphrase, but I think I caught the most important parts. He knew it was wrong, he acknowledges it and immediately tries to justify himself, and is still quite willing to do it. Literally, if he kills you by draining your blood, he acts like nothing ever happened and then tries to sweep it under the rug with Tav if they continue to be upset about it by telling them there's no reason to be.

And yet, we have a problem with Gale, who can be or come across as condescending at times, but I think you can hardly call a man sexist who made his girlfriend his entire personality--since she was the goddess of his SPECIAL INTEREST--and continues to put her word above even his own life, prioritize her forgiveness over his continued existence and who takes such great interest in literally everything Lae'zel has to say about the Astral Plane and her people. We have a problem with a man who is honest about his comfort zone? Who loves your PC even if you become a mindflayer? Who only takes issue with you when you do something morally bad? Who literally gives you approval points for anything even remotely resembling a good choice? Who feels like he doesn't even deserve a place in the world and would gladly give himself up for any one of his companions?

He's always harassing me for items!!!! AND HE GOT MAD WHEN I WOULDN'T GIVE THEM TO HIM!!!

The count is THREE and you can give the man the most trash items you have and he still thanks you and tells you that he will repay your kindness because he knows what such sacrifice means. He is thanking you--just as he gets mad at you if you don't--because he literally has a ticking bomb in his chest that would kill not only HIM if it de-stabilized and exploded, but also anyone within the vicinity.

Well he betrayed Mystra!!!

He tried to get on equal footing with someone he loved, to share in something he loved with the person who embodied it. Was he overly ambitious? Absolutely. [ And honestly, tell me it's not Gifted Kid Syndrome -coded to assume that he could do this impossible thing. ] Did it cost him? Yes. And then Mystra, who could have fixed it and didn't cast him off. And he still prayed to her. And took all of the blame on himself, despite the fact that Mystra shares more than a little responsibility for what transpired. [ I.E. all of the Origin PCs have been victims in this game, in some way or another, and some if not all of them to power imbalances in relationships. Why does anyone think Gale is the one exception? ]

HE'S MANSPLAINING TO ME!!!

He is literally telling you all about his special interest and probably assuming that you don't know much about it, or at least not as much as him, because he was literally a Chosen of Mystra and an Archmage. Again, can he be condescending and huffy at times? Yes. He absolutely can. Call it a character flaw. Everyone has them, but you know what? His doesn't condemn anyone to death, so why are we up at arms?

HE DOESN'T WANT ME TO SEE OTHER PEOPLE!!!

And that is his prerogative and he's straightforward and honest with you about it. He tells you--if you already started flirting with or seeing someone--that he wishes you had the courtesy to tell him first [ which, IS IN FACT the healthy way to go about a relationship of that nature, just as shown with Halsin insisting you ask your partner first ]--but if you choose the other person, he wishes you both well, usually gives some compliment to the other person, and then continues to treat you well as long as you weren't rude and demeaning to him during or after the fact.

So why???? Is so much of the fanbase SO AGGRESSIVELY against Gale? But Astarion is uwu Babygirl and can do no wrong? What about defending Gale makes me "so unwell", but how DARE anyone rightfully criticize even the smallest thing about Astarion because [ insert extensive list of reasons why none of that should matter ].

That he is a victim, that he's pretty, that his VA has a great voice and personality, et cetera, does not excuse that Astarion has knowingly done terrible things both against and within his will and will do so again without hesitation if he helps him, particularly if your Durge or Tav doesn't try or manage to sway him.

Make this make sense to me, because I certainly cannot seem to make it do so.

I've said it before with that Gortash post I linked above and I said it on a similar post for Zevlor and somewhere that I was talking about Minthara and Nere, but the double standards within a loud portion of this fanbase--even within the game itself and among the people who worked on it--is not one of its better qualities.

#|| out of charm || { ooc } #|| ' full of sound and fury signifying nothing ' || { psas // thoughts // ramblings } #tw; abuse #tw; abuse mention #tw; suicide #tw; suicidal thoughts mention #// Vague blink & you'll probably miss it on the latter but still there so I'm putting the warning & tagging 'suicide' alone tag blocks

[liecoris]

— BG3!Mukuro's thoughts on fellow camp members!! ( alphabetical order and includes thoughts on both those who can be party members and then those who can be invited to camp and just hang out lmao )

Astarion - Mukuro and her curse to always have a crush on a white-haired character lmao so from the start she's just like ' Oh~♡ teehee♡ '. THANKFULLY Mukuro is quite good at masking the fact that she has a crush on someone, but there are still tells. ( he'll be someone she converses with often and she's absolutely guilty of looking away quickly when locking eyes with someone ) Other than that, she does find him quite interesting, especially when he introduces himself to her. Because she's heard his name before, having been in Baldur's Gate during his time as a magistrate ( and well before that too ), but the mental image of Astarion the Magistrate she knew of ( and no doubt had a lot of job requests to kill him - but none of them never paid enough ) and the man standing before her are so vastly different. This would be something that she will comment on in later interactions, especially after it's revealed that he's a vampire and Mukuro's just like: "OH! That makes so much sense now..." And honestly, a part of her would love to see how he reacts to her blood given that she's a dragon because if he gets drunk off of a bear imagine what a dragon's blood could do lmao He's probably one of the companions that Mukuro would get along with most I feel since she also knows the thirst for power and want to overpower those above her ( granted not on the same level as him, but she can relate to some extent )

Gale - She likes him... sort of? Kind of? He talks a little bit too much for her tastes, but she'll listen politely even if he gets too technical in his speech. In her mind, he also gives off a bit of a goody-two-shoes vibe so because of that, she'll always be a little adverse about being in the party with him because that'll mean she'll have to be on her best behavior ( because she honestly hates the thought of someone disliking her - so she's a bit of a people pleaser in a way ) Her opinion of him would probably forever be on the fence unless he says something totally out of pocket that would gain her interest/give her entertainment or try to reprimand her for some of the decisions she's made in her life and her mood on him is just absolutely soured.

Halsin - There's an interest there, Mukuro doesn't interact with many druids ( as far as she's aware anyway ) especially the very devoted to nature type. So she does wonder if he's so in tune with nature that he could pick up on what she truly is without telling him. Which, admittedly to her, is a bit of a scary thought. Considering how closely guarded that secret is, so she probably would keep her distance for the most part.

Jaheria - She's... indifferent towards her, Mukuro knows of her exploits of course ( who hasn't ) but much like anyone who's done a good amount of good deeds, Mukuro is just so indifferent. So long as she's nice to Mukuro, she'll be the same in return. Mukuro would probably be a bit skeptical about her because that's just how Mukuro acts with the hero type.

Karlach - Mukuro is a #1 Karlach stan lmao. When she spotted her, Mukuro's first thought was ' Oh she looks rad as fuck ' Then she speaks, and when Mukuro sees how she acts, Mukuro's just even more enthused about her. Mukuro just thinks she's so much fun and a joy to be around. And I assume she gives off quite a good amount of warmth so the same part of Mukuro's lizard brain of ' sit on hot rock and get warm ' would activate and she'd want to sit nearby and just get warm. it's not like she runs cold or anything, she just likes the heat she gives off.

Lae'zel - It'd be Mukuro's first time seeing a githyanki. She's heard of them but hadn't ever seen one up until recently. And honestly, Mukuro's just so entertained by her and how intense Lae'zel is. Outside of Astarion, Mukuro would probably talk to Lae'zel the most simply because she's just so interested in learning about her culture, Mukuro's always been hungry for knowledge so this is a perfect opportunity.

Minsc - Another individual she's rather indifferent about, she likes Boo because well... hampter, but that's about all the opinion she has on him.

Minthara - As much as Mukuro is very pro evil women, there's just something about Minthara's attitude that she just doesn't mesh with. Probably because she's sided with The Absolute and that seems to be the source of this tadpole business and so Mukuro is automatically just pissed off lol like she won't be nasty to her right away unless treated so first, but she'll absolutely mad dog her.

Shadowheart - Mukuro loves the sass that Shadowheart gives, to be honest. She'd be another one in the camp that Mukuro would probably clique really well with. Mukuro also wouldn't care that she worships Shar ( honestly if she did mind, it wasn't like Mukuro would have any room to talk considering she worships Tiamat lol ) and Mukuro would ask any and all questions she could about Shar, and in turn answer questions about Tiamat. ( mukuro vc: haha ya she tells me to treat y'all like chew toys but I ignore her... for the most part... sometimes it's tempting :3 )

Wyll - She knows him of course, both because he's the Blade of the Frontiers but she's also been to the same parties the Wyll has had attended before, since she had been married to a noble. Mukuro had spoken to his father a few times and therefore had exchanged words with him before, but they had never been long conversations so she wouldn't be too upset if he didn't remember her. But she's also on the fence a bit about him, he's a sweet guy, sure, but again the ' hero ' type. However, when she learns he's made a pact with a demon, her interest spikes a little because now he's a bit more interesting than before. I don't see them getting along super well, mainly just for the sake of not compromising the vibe but since Mukuro would absolutely sleep with Mizora with no hesitation and she'd probably urge Wyll to be like ' ya dude get more power just go ham '

Zarina ( @zorkaya ) - Also hailing from Baldur's Gate, Mukuro would have seen her around, especially given that they run in similar circles so the chances that they're paths have crossed more than once is likely. Zarina is also the type that would pique Mukuro's interest quite a bit ( also have a bit of a crush on b/c of her silver hair ahdklfj ) because they're very similar in some ways in terms of what their stances are on a lot of things and since if/when Mukuro senses that Zarina probably isn't really telling them everything ( which honestly she wouldn't be mad at given what mukuro is and all lmaooo ). Zarina is also one Mukuro would get along most with and sing at the campire together and do their makeup together while the rest of the camp sleeps/rests up lmao

Arabella - Mukuro would be one of the companions that would urge Tav to be like, ' yeah she should stay at camp with us ' when that moment arises. And back at the druid camp when you first meet her, Mukuro would be entertained by her since she tried to steal the druid's idol ( and honestly would probably try to yoink it for her later on especially with how Kagha treated Arabella )

Dame Aylin & Isobel - Mukuro adores having them in camp, she thinks that not only are they just a super cute couple but she's also just happy to have some pretty powerful allies.

Duke Ravengard - Honestly when/if he's at camp Mukuro would do her best to avoid him simply because he'd probably point out that she's a noble at some point or ask about what happened to her late partner and Mukuro just... doesn't want to answer any questions from anyone that would follow such a revelation. But other than that, Mukuro finds him pleasant to talk to.

Mizora - Again, Mukuro is very much team evil women, so the moment Mizora showed up she was like; tucks hair behind ear oh hello~ ABSOLUTELY sleeps with her at some point because there's no way she's passing that up.

Owlbear Cub - her son, her little baby boy. She holds him like a teddy bear, cuddles him, and gives him all sorts of pets and little smooches. nevermind the fact that they had killed his mom to get him

Scratch - her other son, her other little baby boy. Loves him to pieces and should anything happen to him or the owlbear cub she'll kill everyone in camp and then herself.

Thaniel - She isn't sure of what he is but if Halsin says he'll help with the shadowcurse then who's Mukuro to say he's wrong or question it.

Withers - Will absolutely refer to him as ' grandpa ' and will not elaborate why.

Yenna - Another instance where when Yenna asks to stay at camp, Mukuro urges Tav to agree even if Yenna just seems a little off to her.

#»» ooc. || ✨ — ʟᴏᴄᴀʟ ꜰᴏxɢɪʀʟ ꜱɪᴍᴘ. #»» headcanon. || 🦊 — ʜᴇʟʟꜰɪʀᴇ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴅʀʏ ᴇʏᴇꜱ. #»» ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴠᴀʀɪᴄᴇ. || 🪷 — baldur’s gate iii / bg3. #\\ i keep forgetting i have this headcannon banner lmao

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Theurgist

Chapter Five: A Quick Laugh at Death

-dragonswithjetpacks

Notes: I am so sorry it took so long. I had a busy week last week and was gone all weekend. I got really tired of trying to right this chapter so I am sorry if it seems rushed and choppy. I mainly just wanted the quirky bits. And I have so many things already pre-written I'd like to get to. Including the temple. And then tying in the bite scene later on.

Read here on Ao3

Ferelith looked down into the reflection of the water, examining the dried blood on the side of her face. A small shard of anger slithered into her thoughts when she thought about the creature from the crash. The worm was trying to fight it, but the twirling shadow had clouded it’s thoughts. Her patron was still there, protecting her the best he could. But he would not speak. Ferelith looked up to the moon and saw it was still a few days away before she could perform the ritual to speak with him. Though there was always the option to try. She sighed, setting her gloves to the side to wipe them off later and she dipped her hands into the water. As she began to wipe off her face, Gale had approached her.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like a word once we’ve settled in for the night,” he said.

“If this is about what happened earlier,” she rose to her feet, “then I assure you I’m quite alright.”

“Actually, no,” he paused as he turned. “But I’m glad to see you’re feeling a bit more like yourself.”

A swift breeze pulled her hair into her face, but she was quick to tuck it behind her ear. Gale watched her eyes closely, but saw nothing peculiar within them. They were just as they always had been. Pale yellow with nothing of importance gleaming inside. No hint of anger or excitement. Just simply mindful and content. And the lingering dark essence he had sensed before disappeared. There was just Ferelith with her pale skin and dark hair holding her arms against her chest to brace herself against the cold wind of the river.

“You know,” she said, squeezing her arms. “I’ve met many wizards in my travels. Have you… met many warlocks?”

“A few,” he nodded.

“What were they like?”

Gale paused for a moment. A warlock was unlike a wizard in the sense of how they obtained their power. A wizard was impatient, in most cases. They desired power, but that wasn’t any different than any one else. What separated a warlock was the means in which they obtained that power and what sort of desire drove them. It varied upon the person. And when he looked at Ferelith, the quiet woman who cradled the apron with her books and her singed quill, he did not see a desire for power. He saw a woman with secrets. A woman blanketed by a protective shadow. He took a deep breath.

“Nothing like yourself,” he smiled at her in adoration.

Her eyes, once cold and gazing lost across the river came round to acknowledge the compliment of her companion. He caught the reflection of gratitude within them and knew her smile to be true.

“That’s very kind of you to say,” she looked back out to the water. “It even makes me sound a bit dangerous. But I’ll take the ambiguity as a compliment.”

“I simply don’t know enough about you to say otherwise,” he attempted to correct his statement.

“I appreciate your honesty,” she let a little sigh slip through, leading Gale to believe she was finished with his company. “For the record… you’re one of the kindest wizards I’ve ever met.”

“I do try… my lady.”

“Alright enough flattery,” she waved her hand slightly as he left her line of sight, her gaze still focused on the rolling stream in front of her. “I’ll see you later.”

His footsteps faded out, only to be replaced by another. Ferelith glanced up at the sky, realizing they had a few hours of daylight left before she could retire. There was still much to be done, but she had a sudden urge to be alone. Whoever it was behind her, they were in no rush. And she wondered how long she could stay silent before they urged her to speak.

“The breeze will just get colder as the sun goes down,” she said eyeing the colors shifting as the sun set. “It will draw me closer to the fire. Soon enough.”

“Take your time,” a male’s voice startled her.

Ferelith turned, seeing Astarion with his newly gifted bow strapped to his back, a few crude arrows in his hand.

“Oh, I though you were- well, it doesn’t matter…”

“I was just leaving,” he stated, glancing back to the rest of their party gathering around the pit as Gale prepared a fire.

“And you’re, what? Taking requests?” she smirked over her shoulder.

“I’m afraid the prime rib will be unavailable tonight,” he shifted his weight to his other foot. “But, in order to make up for it, I’ve offered a few bolts to your collection.”

Ferelith lowered her arms, granting him her full attention. “To my what?”

“The village coward dropped his quiver. There were a few arrows in there a bit too short to be considered an arrow. I tossed them onto you bedroll.”

“Oh… thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. At the quality they appear to be in, they could have just been poorly made arrows that couldn’t be used by a proper bow,” he cringed. “They might just snap straight in half.”

“Right,” she nodded, admitting that her thoughts were lost on him.

Astarion could see her drifting back out into the open evening, eyes faded into a distant plane. After what he had witnessed of her earlier that day, he had expected a change to her behavior at camp. The outburst to him meant a reveal of character. Not this reclusive woman who was lost in thought. While Ferelith had been a mostly quiet person from the beginning, there were still those snarky comments between he had rather enjoyed. This was simply just disappointing. She did not even bother to send him away as he turned to leave.

***********************************************************

After an evening delegating a very passive aggressive discussion between Shadowheart and Lae’zel over what she would consider dinner, Ferelith was forced to resist the urge to turn in for the night. Her head had been pounding, likely a side affect of the illithid’s mental damage from before. Still, she had agreed to have a moment with Gale. And least with him, she knew half of what to expect. That included walking up to see him observing his own double.

“Be with you in a moment,” his voice echoed.

His attention never left the mirror image, his eyes focused upon his own face. Ferelith snorted a bit, rolling her eyes with a sigh as she glanced around for something else to keep her occupied. She allowed him a few more seconds before she grew impatient.

“Is there a reason you’re studying your own image?”

Gale turned, a smirk shot at her to acknowledge the teasing tone.

“Indulging in a spot of vanity. Handsome devil, aren’t I?” he spun around with a wave of his, causing the image to vanish. “Be that as it may.”

It slowly fizzled down to a few sparks. He folded his hands behind his back, very much in the estute sort of way she would have imagine. His brow lowered and she could feel the tone shifting to a more serious manner. Though, she felt she had enough of it that day.

“Ceremorphosis. What does it make you think of?”

“The tadpole,” she answered, knowing it was what he expected.

Still, he responded with utmost enthusiasm.

“Spot on,” he winked. “Day one: fever and memory loss. Day two: hallucinations and graying skin. Day three: hair loss and blood leaking from all orifices. Need I go on?”

“By all means,” she nodded.

“Day four: excruciating pain as the skeleton and organs reform and reposition. Day five: the host's personality has disappeared. Fingers, toes, and limbs elongate,” he became a bit aggravated as a small chuckle fell from her lips. “I take it you get the picture.”

“I’ve already committed to the lesson, Gale,” she grinned. “Might as well get my money’s worth.”

“Day six,” he lowered his brow, clearly not humored by her sarcasm, “The flesh around the mouth splits to make way for tentacles. Day seven: a mind flayer is born. This is the most annotated version, of course.”

“What you’re saying,” she shifted with crossed arms, “is that I can at least keep my sense of humor until the fifth day? I’d say we only have another night’s worth of laughs, Gale.”

“I’m glad your coping mechanism consists of deflecting the seriousness of this problem with jokes,” he replied.

“You’re no fun tonight,” she tilted her head to the side. “But no worries. We’re two days in. We should have clearly turned gray by now.”

“Spot on again,” he flicked a finger at her. “Orifices remain blissfully unbloodied. Our heads remain clear, and our blood temperature is normal. Any expert will agree: this is… abnormal.”

“Don’t question it so much,” she shrugged. “In all my existence, the only reason I owe my life to anything is because of the abnormal. I’m just lucky to be alive.”

“I’ll toast to that,” he smiled uneasily with a hint of intrigue. “The pragmatic in me, however, sees only the silence before the storm. Something to sleep on. We should get some rest.”

“Thank you for leaving me with that imagery,” she gave a slight nod. “I’m sure it will soothe me as I mediate tonight. Good night, Gale.”

“I’m only here to help,” he gave a half solute.

Ferelith grinned, waving her hand slightly to bid farewell as she retreated to her bedroll. They had acquired a few extra blankets. And she was lucky enough to procure an additional pillow. Leaning against her new luxurious cot was her pack, waiting patiently for her hands to dive into it. And standing directly across it from the fire, just as he was the night before, was Astarion. He seemed to be waiting as patiently as her pack.

“I saw you getting a lecture from our magical friend,” he said the moment she glanced in his direction.

“It was quite informative,” she took a break from straightening her blanket to address him. “Descriptive, at the very least.”

“I have to say,” he said leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “I thought you’d look worse. But no. Not a tentacle in sight.”

“Thank you?” she pulled back, turning a shoulder to him. “I’m hoping it will stay that way.”

“Naturally,” he rose a brow. “But I was thinking… what if it doesn’t?”

Ferelith had thought about what would happen if she did change. But the ever growing stubbornness inside her made her truly believe it would never happen. She was not willing to believe it. Nor was she willing to admit to anyone else that it was a possibility. He let the sentiment settle with her for a moment. Though he could see it had little impact. The blank stare with a slow blink signaled him to proceed.

“Of course,” he went on, tilting his chin to the side with a gleam in his eye, “first sign of change and I’ll have to stop that pretty little heart of yours.”

He almost seemed too excited at the thought of putting her down. Like a wild animal. She crossed her arms, as if to guard her chest from his stare. It did not matter, he could hear the sound of her pounding heart. And it had only grown louder from his statement.

“I am open to suggestions. Knives, poison, strangulation – whatever you’d prefer.”

“I’d prefer not to die,” she said dully.

“Well now you’re just being closed-minded,” he teased. “There are some lovely ways to go.”

“First I listen to Gale talk about the details of turning into a terrifying monster and now you’re telling me all the options I have in which you could kill me? Whoever said chivalry was dead must have no taste for macabre.”

“To be fair, you were the one that pushed the wizard to give those wonderful details. I am giving you these options as a gift.”

“I am ever so grateful. Do go on about the beautiful ways in which I can ensue death,” she opened her arms, flicking her wrists in a manner as if she were receiving the said gift he spoke of.

“You know, I watched urchins freeze to death on the street. It looks peaceful – just like falling asleep.”

“Very poetic… I wonder if drowning feels the same.”

“Ha!” his shoulders fell back as he lifted his head with laughter. “Oh, come on. Humor me. If you had to choose…”

“Fine,” she took a deep breath with a few seconds of thought. “I suppose a knife. Straight to the chest. That seems quick.”

“A classic,” he nodded with approval. “One good thrust to the heart and you’re gone. We need a good blade, of course. Don’t want to waste time hacking and prodding with a dinner half.”

It was the first time in a long time it had happened. The welling feeling in her chest. The tightening of her cheeks. The widening of the eyes. The burst of air from her mouths as her voice let out a loud series of rhythmic laughter. It caught her off guard. So much that she covered her mouth, leaning forward, and looking to Astarion with surprise. She rose her brows in disbelief that he had truly made her laugh.

“Well,” he said, leaning forward toward her like they were a couple of children cackling in school, “I’m getting ahead of myself. This is all a worst case scenario, obviously.”

“You’re terrible,” she giggled, lurching forward with one last tit of laughter. “What about you? Is there any way you’d like for me to end your life?”

“Oh, my dear,” he said with a condescending tone. “I’d like to see you try.”

Ferelith reared back, a bit offended that he held himself so much higher than herself. But she knew he was only testing her. Pushing her to see what sort of outcome he could obtain by doubting her strength.

“Dealer’s choice then,” she said firmly. “I’ll make sure it’s a lovely surprise.”

“Somehow, I don’t think you’ll disappoint me,” it was meant to be a positive reinforcement, but the way he said it still made it sound more like a threat. “Now, enough of this talk. Let’s get some rest. The sooner we start tomorrow, the better our chances of keeping this hypothetical.”

“I take it you’re joining us to the tiefling camp, then?”

“Of course, darling,” he replied. “I’ll go wherever you lead.”

“I’d be careful with those words,” she said darkly. “You’ll never know what path I’ll lead you toward.”

“Even better.”

She shook her head at his advancements with a foolish smirk she could not hide. “Good night, Astarion.”

“Good night, Ferelith.”

************************************************************

The next day brought a heavy fog over the camp, dampening both their supplies and their spirits. Ferelith could smell the moisture in the air and knew it would lift as the sun rose. And sure enough, the moment they began to snack on their morning rations they could see a bit of orange illuminating the sky. Their pace quickened and they got to their feet, ready to begin to their journey into a new part of the forsaken land they had been thrown into. The human, the gith, and the two elves made their way out of camp, leaving Shadowheart to sulk to herself as they had agreed to take Lae’zel to question the tieflings and seek further assistance for themselves against her wishes. Though Ferelith had promised the temple would come soon, as she had an interest in what laid within it herself.

The path was quite clear to the camp. And Ferelith wondered how they had missed it so easily before. Or perhaps, they had been far too occupied with their troubles and each other to pay attention to path carved among the rocks. She kicked at the dirt, still a bit dry despite the wet morning, and looked up to the back of her companion who was the only one who managed to sustain any of the information the tieflings had given before. He stopped for a moment, glancing behind him to smile at her, then looking to the others.

“I think we should take a moment to really prepare ourselves for this camp,” he said with an overthought of wishful thinking. “Our main goal is information. We don’t want to overwhelm them.”

“It’ll be fine, Gale,” Ferelith stated, slinging her pack over her shoulder. “We’re only asking a few questions. Getting supplies. There won’t be enough time to do any real damage.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gale whispered slightly to himself with a shrug. “I can think of a few things that could go wrong.”

She ignored him, rummaging through the items in her pack until she felt the cold texture of leather beneath her fingertips. Pulling them out, she gave them one good look before she turned Astarion.

“Here,” she handed him brown leather folded neatly to show the string tied at the top around the collar.

He took them, a bit disgruntled but willingly. Though he wasn’t sure what she expected him to do as she kept searching through the pack.

“Am I supposed to hold onto these?”

“Put them on,” she directed, otherwise paying no mind.

“Right now?” he dipped his head low as he questioned her, staring her in the eyes while waiting for her acknowledgment.

“Yes, right now,” she finally turned to look at him but only for a moment. “You’ve been wearing the same city clothes for days. You should put on some actual leather. One, because it’s more useful. And two, so you don’t look like a complete lost cause.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that last part because this is a very expensive doublet. And this blouse is of the finest threads in Baldur’s Gate.”

“I’m sure,” she grinned lovingly, looking back down into her pack.

Astarion tossed his new leather armor to the side to free his hands. He began to work on his doublet right away. It was already sliding down his arms when Ferelith looked up, catching the back of him in just his white shirt. He looked… nice. It almost made him feel more humble than he really was. Or at least, more approachable. His hands came up, his fingers loosening the collar. Still facing the rock, he pulled the shirt up and her eyes widened as he lifted it. His back flexed and his hands grasped the bottom of his shirt as he pulled it over. She swallowed… hard… as he turned around. What she had assumed was the doublet in all its puffed out glory… had been the actual thickness of the man’s chest. He was lean, but he far from frail. Seeing it off was a revelation and normally she would have felt annoyed at being so wrong about someone’s character. She inhaled a heavy dose of air, holding it for a few moments as she let her eyes wander. He shook the leather tunic out and she admired the muscle in his forearm tensing as he did. Slowly, she exhaled, observing him turn around with his arms raised trying to pull down the armor. She counted each curve of his abdomen with a small smile. Then, nodding with a bit of appreciation, she looked back down into her bag.

“Well, you certainly have no shame,” Gale nudged her.

“What?” she shrugged with a coy smile. “I’m in the wilderness. My eyes get hungry, too.”

“Careful. Some of the tastiest looking berries are the most poisonous.”

“Better than death by ceremorphosis.”

******************************************************

The back of Zevlor whisked away, his tail thrashed back and forth with irritation as he left. There was something about a tiefling that left an excitement behind for Ferelith. Like a small trail of flame. She breathed a heavy sigh, knowing that the flames would grow larger the longer she stared at them. After all, she had just witnessed them in battle. Turning to her comrades, she noticed a slight irritation within their faces.

“What are we messengers, now?” Astarion seemed particularly the worst.

Ferelith stepped close to him, too close for comfort. It made him shift backward, which is exactly what she wanted. He took several steps back just so she could hiss at him out of hearing range of anyone else. She kept her head down as she spoke.

“Listen, we keep all options open. There’s no agreeing. No disagreeing. If we’re stuck here, we best leave all doors open in case we need a way out. That means seeing what we can do about the druids.”

“Ah, I understand, now,” he said, his chest still out further than than his chin to keep her at bay. “This is the sort of thing we should have discussed before our arrival rather than my appearance.”

Ferelith blinked, her eyes gliding up toward him. “I didn’t expect you to complain in front of the whole sodding camp after watching one of them take an arrow to the chest.”

“Like it makes a difference? They’re all going to die anyway.”

Ferelith crossed her arms, her fingers tapping against her forearm. “If we’re not careful, we’ll die too.”

“Fine, fine,” he waved his hand.

“If you’re done,” Gale interrupted. “I believe there’s a merchant just down the hill.”

She gave him one last warning glance before she turned to the direction Gale was pointing. There was a small set up just on the edge of the camp beneath a stretch of a rock archway. It was a grand entrance, nothing at all comparable to a refugee camp. They followed the trail down, glancing further into it and noticing the make shift buildings and rails along the sides. They seemed misplaced to her. Even the shop they approached looked more like a scatter array of things more than any kind of marketplace.

“Refugees… adventurers. No one in years. And suddenly, we’re overwhelmed. Well me,” he greeted them begrudgingly. “Thank you for beating back those goblins. Most brave of you.”

“I do what I can,” she shrugged, not feeling quite worthy of his gratitude just yet.

“Is there anything you need? Act fast if you do. The ritual will be complete before too long.”

“I do,” she paused, observing Astarion round the display. “We’re a bit short on supplies. But we do have a bit of coin. Are they really locking down the grove? I was hoping to rely on the business here for a short time.”

“I know it’s drastic, but more monsters seem to terrorize this region every day.”

“And the tieflings?”

“We druids will be safe-”

The sound of the merchant drowned as she became distracted by Astarion looking through the array of weaponry. She watched as he ran his fingers over the blades along the table, glancing at her with a mischievous smirk. Her eyes shifted back to the vendor, trying to pay attention as best she could. But she kept wandering back to the rogue. He held up a knife, displaying it for her with a raised brow. She shook her head slightly. But he ignored her, giving the air a few jabs and shrugging, setting it back down with a frown. The next one he picked up, waving a hand down in it like it were a grand prize. She swallowed the lump forming to stop herself from bursting with laughter. It did not work and she was forced to clear her throat rather loudly.

“It sounds like these are dire times,” she blinked to regain her focus.

“You sound just like Khaga.”

“Are these the only weapons for sale?” Astarion interrupted, setting down the knife he was holding with a loud thud.

“These are the only ones I am selling,” he lowered his brow. “There’s a blacksmith further into the camp. Though I’m not sure he has much to offer.”

“Thank you,” Ferelith said loud enough to draw his attention back. “Here’s what I have for… oh, I think a few potions will do.”

“Of course.”

She passed Gale the bottles as they were handed to her who began to slip them into the back of her pack. Astarion had lost interest in the wares and moved back to Lae’zel who was impatiently waiting behind them. Her stare was into the gorge, examining the tieflings as if she were able to spot the one with the information she needed. Ferelith was certain she would have already caused chaos if they were not with her. As she turned around, she could hear Astarion grumbling into her ear.

“Things are about to get a lot more dire with those sad excuses for weapons.”

“You’re going to get us kicked out,” she said as she brushed by the two of them. “Let’s find the blacksmith. Find the lead. And get out.”

“Is the blacksmith necessary?” the gith rolled her eyes.

“Yes,” Ferelith said firmly. “I’ve only got two bolts for my crossbow. The ones Astarion found are useless.”

“I warned you,” he shrugged.

“A snapped bolt could have meant my death.”

“It wouldn’t have been my first attempt to kill you.”

“Nor the last,” she said over her shoulder as she trailed further down into the camp.

#astarion #astarion x pc #astarion x mc #astarion x ferelith #astarion fic #ferelith #ferelith moonshade #medium burn #ferelith writing tag #dwjp writing tag

[stupidsexyfandom]

In the Study

@helsa-summer-event

Rated T // Drama

Before her coronation gala, Elsa retires to her study, where she receives an unexpected visitor. (Unexpected for her, that is. I’m sure you all know who it’s going to be.)

Written for Prompt #1 of Helsa Summer: “Don’t you dare!” 

The coronation ceremony was over. The diplomats had been presented at court and shuffled off to their rooms to dress for the evening’s ball. The townspeople had dispersed back to their shops and other duties. Queen Elsa finally had a few moments to herself.

To be more accurate, this hour was devoted to the beginnings of her queenly duties. Elsa knew that a monarch’s work never truly stopped, and already her advisors had presented her with several documents that needed signing. Still, she was grateful for the brief respite from the crowds and noise and the feeling of countless eyes on her. Her already-tenuous control had been stretched nearly to the breaking point. This was an opportunity to recuperate and muster strength for the next stage of the festivities.

She sat at the large oak desk that had once been her father’s, perusing the first document that needed her attention. Satisfied with its contents, she removed her gloves and prepared her pen and ink. For the next quarter hour, she was fully engrossed in reading and signing documents. Her concentration was only interrupted when she thought she saw a flicker of movement in the top of her vision.

Looking up, she was surprised to see one of the visiting diplomats silhouetted against the large window across the room. His back was to her as he examined the woodwork, and all she could make out was the sun burnishing the copper tips of his hair. He moves like a fox, too, she thought. She had not heard him come in.

He turned almost instantaneously, and Elsa quickly tightened her slack jaw into a more regal expression. Recognition dawned on her. The Southern Isles. Population: 180,000. Chief exports: oxen and grain. Army adequate. Navy formidable. Prince… Hans, maybe? Number thirteen?

Prince Hans (or whoever he was) crossed the room. Elsa looked up at him, careful to give the impression that she was unbothered by his appearance. He stood over her like cliffs above the sea. It made her uneasy, but she could not bend. Conceal, don’t feel. After so many years, concealing her emotions felt almost like second nature. Unfortunately, not feeling was where the real trouble lay.

“May I help you?” she said, keeping her face impassive. Prince Hans sprung into action, like an automaton whose key had been released. His face lit up and he bowed with a flourish.

“Your Majesty, may I say what an honor it is to meet you at last. I am Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. My father, the king, sends his felicitations.” Elsa blinked a few times. She wanted to ask how he got in there or say that this was highly irregular, but she could not find the words. It would not have mattered if she had, for Prince Hans continued with the force of an avalanche.

“I have a petition to place before you, and I hope that you will give it due consideration. The historic bond between our two nations runs deep, and my father has every hope of its continuance through a new generation.”

Elsa found her voice and said, “If this is a diplomatic matter, please speak to my steward. He will let you know when the crown has decided to receive public petitions.” She inched her hand along the desktop toward her gloves, hoping to slip them on surreptitiously. Her discomfort had caused the temperature to drop slightly, but no snow was falling, for which she was endlessly grateful.

“If this were a diplomatic matter, I would do so. But this request is of a more personal nature.” Oh, such impudence! Prince Hans delicately perched himself on the edge of the desk, leaning slightly towards her. Elsa fought the simultaneous urges to push him back with an icy wind and to crawl under the desk.

Cursed, as always, by a tendency to inaction, Elsa merely said, “What personal matter could we possibly have?” Her voice did not shake, a small victory, and she was nearly able to reach her gloves. A few more seconds and any crisis might be averted. But she was not prepared for what the prince had to say.

“It’s simple, really. I would like to ask you to marry me.”

Elsa did not want to believe what she had just heard. She dropped her pen as a layer of frost radiated out from her hands, coating her gloves and half the papers on the desk. She immediately put her hands in her lap, but it was too late. The foreign prince had seen all. Her anxiety reached a fever pitch, but Prince Hans was unperturbed. He reached out and plucked a rigid envelope from its icy bed, turning it over to examine the patterns of hoarfrost.  

“Ah, so you are not a secret invalid after all. I had wondered. Well, this makes things both easier and more pleasant for me. What say you?” The prince’s tone remained affable, but there was a hard edge in his green eyes that Elsa did not like.

“I have no intention of entertaining marriage proposals at this time. And anyway, I hardly know you,” spluttered Elsa, still reeling.

“What a shame. But that needn’t stand in our way. Plenty of royals marry without ever meeting each other. Is your refusal because of me, personally? It is said that I’m quite handsome, and my kingdom has great wealth. Many diplomatic ties. A strong military, too. We could be quite the powerful allies to an inexperienced queen.” Or powerful enemies. Elsa could feel her magic crackling at the unspoken threat. She gripped the edge of the desk until her knuckles turned white.

Sensing her discomfort, the prince continued, “Arendelle looks to be a fine land. Its fields are rich, and its people are gentle. It seems so peaceful.” It would be a shame if that peace were broken.

“Yes, I could see myself growing quite fond of it. And of you, for that matter,” said Prince Hans, staring down at her. Elsa hated feeling so small and weak. Was not a queen’s duty to be strong for her people? The thought spurred her to action.

“I’ve heard enough,” she said, and stood to call the guards. But Prince Hans was too fast. He was on his feet in an instant and held her arm in an iron grip. He leaned across the desk and pulled her towards him, so their faces were only inches apart. Snow floated in the air around them. Elsa could let this go no further.

“I could skewer you,” she hissed, “I could run you through with ice before you even knew it was happening.” She brought her right hand up to rest upon his chest. Prince Hans only laughed.

“Hardly. How would you explain my body? A corpse full of icicles in a snow drift inside your study? In June? Unless you want your secret to be known…” But he loosened his hold, and Elsa pulled away.

“Anyway,” said the prince, straightening his jacket and adjusting his glove, “physical violence is much more my brothers’ style.”

The snow had slowed to a gentle flurry. Elsa considered her options. He was right that she could not simply alert the guards. Her guardsmen were trusted to the highest degree, but the visitors for the coronation introduced too many unknown variables. Too many opportunities for information to spread through benign gossip. And that was without considering what malice the prince might introduce.

Elsa said, “Even if I were amenable to marrying you, the council would never allow it. They want to see me get my footing as queen in my own right before I marry. How can I convince my people to trust a stranger as king when they do not yet know me as queen?” That was a blatant lie. The council had specifically briefed Elsa on all the eligible bachelors attending the coronation, including Prince Hans. But Elsa had been lying since she was eight years old, and she had honed her art like fired steel.

“I’m a patient man, your Majesty. I don’t mind the wait. I have waited many years for your coronation, why should I be troubled by a few more?”

“Even when the council deems it prudent for me to marry, I highly doubt they will consider your suit.” Another lie, but this one seemed to get Prince Hans’ attention. Elsa continued, “Arendelle is indeed a fine kingdom, and it deserves a fine king. One who embodies power, wealth, and status. Not a king thirteenth in line in his own court. A king who is strong in his right, not a mere leftover.” For a fraction of a second, Elsa thought the Prince Hans looked genuinely hurt. But the next moment he had returned to his faux affable manner.

“Oh, Queen Elsa, you wound me. So, your answer remains no?”

“You know that it does.” Prince Hans turned toward the door.

“Alas, you would have made a lovely bride. But no matter! There are other routes to Arendelle’s throne.” He placed a hand on the doorknob, turning his head back toward Elsa. “There are two heirs, are there not?” The temperature dropped sharply, and the snow fell fast and thick.

“You wouldn’t dare!” said Elsa, voice barely above a horrified whisper.

“Wouldn’t I? Princess Anna is so very pretty. Nearly as pretty as you. And I imagine she would be a much more willing companion.”

“Keep away from my sister!” Elsa spat amid a howling wind, “She’ll never marry you! I’ll make sure of it!”

“Not even if she thinks it’s true love? You know, I ran into her at the docks earlier. Such a sweet girl. So naïve, so trusting. A girl with so much love to give, and nobody around to receive it. It’s a pity.”

“You don’t know the first thing about either of us!” But Elsa knew that the gale she had created testified otherwise.

“I know that I could make her love me like that,” he snapped his gloved fingers, “because she is so eager to be loved. Desperate, even. I doubt that you could convince her otherwise. You, the ice queen of a sister she barely knows.”

“If she will not listen to me as her sister, she will respect me as her monarch! You forget, Prince Hans, that while Anna is next in line for the throne, I am still sitting on it.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t dare,” Prince Hans chuckled, “not when I hold your secret in the palm of my hand. Do you think your people will trust you as queen when they learn of your unholy power? You know, it is not so many years ago that there were witch hunts in this county. No, I think you will look favorably upon a match between me and your sister.”

“I will not!”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter. Unless, of course, you consent to marry me yourself. I’m sure the council would accept a little prodding from their sovereign ruler on the matter.”

“Never! I would die first!”

“Ah well. Suit yourself.” And with a devilish grin, he was gone.

Elsa sat down at the desk and slumped over her arms. It took her several minutes to realize that her teardrops were frozen to her face. Poor Anna. Elsa did not know how to protect her from this. Either she would fall prey to the devious prince, or she would learn the truth about what happened all those years ago. Either might break her completely.

Daring. That was the heart of it. She stood at a crossroads, paralyzed by fear, unable to take any action. Once again, she could do nothing to save her sister. She would hurt Anna again because Elsa was a coward and Prince Hans was not.

***

Author’s Note: I’ve never personally subscribed to the idea that Hans is a sociopath, but it’s a fun sandbox to play in. There’s something so juicy about writing a shameless schemer of a villain. Thanks to everyone who made it this far, and I hope you’ve enjoyed my fic. Be on the lookout for more Helsa Summer fics, provided I can keep my act together that long. :)

#helsa #helsasummerevent #helsasummerevent2020 #frozen #hans #elsa #fanfic

[kuno-chan]

Love Amongst the Dragons: Gales of Yesterday - Ch. 4, Freedom’s Wings

Summary: In a sentence, Prince Callum doesn’t care for dragons. He has his reasons for not being a fan, but the Dragon Ban has expired and now his life is full of them as the Dragon Keep has finished and everyone around him is preoccupied in making sure everything is ready for the Xadians arriving so the dragon rider’s training program may succeed. Now, Callum is up to his neck in everything that has to do with dragons as he does his best to satiate some dangerous curiosities, wrestle sorrowful memories and support his stepfather, King Harrow, in this time of redemption.

Rating: G

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It felt really weird carrying fish in a sack; it felt even weirder stealing fish from the kitchens, but Callum tried not to think about the strangeness of it. They wouldn’t miss a couple pieces of fish, but the Tempest could sure use them.

Callum tried not to let this whole endeavor freak him out. It’d all be fine. If the dragon took it without trying to kill him that is.

He thought about taking Ezran, but never really got the chance to ask. Ezran took off earlier that morning to… somewhere. Where to, Callum didn’t know. His little brother often snuck around the castle on some venture, and it often involved a quest for food. So, it didn’t exactly surprise him, but it was a little strange that Ezran left so early.

He put Ezran’s strange behavior behind him and set his mind on the task as he entered the keep. This time, he needed to be more discreet than his last visit, especially if he didn’t want Viren to catch him. Callum knew Lord Viren usually wasn’t there in the early mornings and late evenings. As high mage, he had other responsibilities to tend to, and there was a degree of delegation that needed attending if anything was to get done.

Callum made it to the Dragon Keep at first light, long before Lord Viren would get away from his high mage duties. Not that he knew what those were, but if it kept him out of his office area for a while, nothing else mattered.

The draft in the prison felt cooler this early in the morning; yellow light against a blue sky a calming backdrop through the rectangular windows in the stone wall. Callum needed as many calming elements as possible when he laid eyes on the Tempest. The Tempest seemed to have heard him coming, considering he already had an eye trained on the boy. Clutching the strap of his bag, Callum took a deep breath.

I can do this , he told himself. I can do this.

His body started shaking; red flashed in his peripherals, and with the sound of his mother’s wheezing voice sounding in the back of his mind he stepped forward. This was insane. This was absolutely insane. This dragon might bite him and then where would he be?

He took another step forward. Every step was painful, and excruciatingly slow, but something inside of him couldn’t back out or back away. If this dragon died when he could have done something… Callum wasn’t entirely sure he could forgive himself.

Maybe his stepfather was busy and maybe Lord Viren was beyond reasoning with when it came to dragons, but that didn’t mean starving them was okay. They were still living creatures, after all.

The Tempest’s nostrils flared and the black slit against his blue eye contracted.

A terrifying, living creature.

“It’s okay,” he tried to keep the shaking from his voice. “Look, I’ve brought you something.”

He pulled a fish out of the sack and the Tempest came to attention. Slow, careful, ready to strike attention. Callum could barely move anymore.

He would do this.

He could do this.

Callum closed his eyes and took another step to the cage. Then another and another until he was trembling, with his hands under the maw of this great beast that could take his hands off any minute--

The Tempest slurped the fish from his hands in a snap and Callum jolted. He opened his eyes.

The dragon was looking at him, waiting, like he knew Callum had another for him. Callum felt more than a bit faint. Quickly, he presented another fish and did the same routine. When he was out of fish, dragon and boy watched each other through the bars of the cage.

The Tempest’s eyes were bluer than anything Callum had ever seen. Electric, brilliant blue and sleek silver scales.

Like grey clouds, Callum realized.

The horns, a longer and a shorter set, made him look more regal. A lord of the sky itself.

Callum could see him flexing his crescent-shaped spines. Anticipation? Curiosity? His eyes were dilated, and it didn’t feel hostile.

The Tempest licked his lips.

“I don’t have anymore,” Callum explained. He had to get a hold of himself. He was still trembling. “But tomorrow. I’ll be back with more tomorrow.”

The Tempest seemed to understand the promise and breathed softly onto Callum. He went back to curl up in his cage.

Callum left, his knees so weak he was surprised he didn’t resemble a noodle upon leaving the keep.

-:-:-:-

When King Harrow asked Callum if he wished to accompany him on a walk through the castle, Callum sure wasn’t turning him down. It was just a walk of the grounds, see how the castle staff were doing, but Callum could see that perhaps it was also a much needed break for his stepfather.

They crossed into the courtyard and it was… different to see so many elves lingering about. They were respectful enough to keep their dragons in more designated areas, like the stables, and he noted how every elf did not have their dragon out. Some of them did, however, including Runaan with his dragon, Athena.

Callum heard laughter above his head.

It was the elf girl from yesterday, Rayla, flying around on her dragon, Luna. He could hear Luna making noises and Rayla laughing as they dipped and soared in the sky. At some point, they shot straight up into the sky before coming back down. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Runaan in a somewhat disapproving manner, but he just shook his head and let her go.

Luna circled above them and Callum could hear Rayla praising her.

It made Callum smile a little. They were sure having fun.

“Wondrous, isn’t it?” Harrow was watching them, too.

“Yeah,” Callum said. “They really love each other, don’t they?”

“It would appear so. To think, humans have been missing out on so much love in our lives.”

“You think so?” Callum glanced at his stepfather.

Harrow raised his brows. “Elves have a special relationship with their dragons. The ones they keep as companions, anyway. They bond with them. Love them in ways different than just having a pet. You could almost argue it’s the way Ezran loves Bait. You feel what they feel and they’re a joy in your life that’s not easy to describe.”

“How do you know all that?”

Harrow shrugged. “Call it a hunch. I’ve never quite had the experience myself, but I’ve seen it.”

Callum could sense a caveat at the end of that sentence. Gingerly, he pressed. “... and?”

“And I’ve ended some.” Harrow said gravely. “The war separated many riders from their dragons.”

“... that wasn't your fault. Not all of it.” Callum said quietly as they passed the courtyard.

Harrow put an arm around Callum. “Most of it started with my decisions. I can’t change the past, but that’s why this peace is so important, Callum. If we foster it, we can’t change the past, but the future will be better, brighter than ever. For us, the elves and the dragons. For all of us. I want you to see that. Remember it.”

Callum glanced behind him. He could still see Rayla flying high on Luna.

“So,” Callum tried to change the subject. “When are the elves visiting the keep?”

“Soon. There’s going to be a preliminary visit tomorrow. Nothing too thorough, but they’ll get a quick look at the place.”

“Preliminary?”

“Politics, Prince Callum. These are the kind of things I deal with. Promise me you’ll never get into politics.”

Callum laughed. “I’ll try.”

King Harrow patted Callum’s shoulder. “Good.”

-:-:-:-

The next day, Callum arrived at the keep before the Xadian’s visit. Preliminary visit, he reminded himself. Just to be smart, he told his stepfather he’d be down there already, early, to do some sketching. King Harrow had raised his brows at the idea, but commended his dedication.

Today, he managed to swipe three pieces of fish. That would probably be his limit from now on. The kitchen staff would eventually notice considerable amounts of fish going missing if he took any more.

Today, Callum still shook, but he’d come to expect it and that somehow made the walk a bit easier. The Tempest sat up slowly when he heard Callum. They were just as apprehensive of each other, just as watchful.

Step by step, Callum approached, each shakier than the last. He let the dragon eat from his hand and, again they watched each other through the bars. Today, he noticed the Tempest’s tail slowly moving on the ground behind him.

Later, Runaan and Rayla got a very broad tour of the Dragon Keep. They kept stony faces -- King Harrow called it a Moonshadow elf thing -- but Callum glimpsed Rayla again. Her tattoos had his attention. He wondered what they meant. Whatever they symbolized, he couldn't help but notice they kind of matched her eyes. The artist in him, perhaps.

He might have imagined it, but he swore she was watching him, too.

The next day, Callum brought three more fish and noticed the way the Tempest’s wings flexed ever so slightly. Before he left, Callum took a deep breath.

He relaxed his limbs.

He looked the Tempest straight in the eye.

“If I’m honest, dragons aren’t my favorite thing in the world, but I promise I won’t forget you. Not down here. Not anywhere.” Callum swallowed. “Just… promise you won’t eat me?”

The Tempest snorted. Callum wasn’t sure if he understood, and thought the notion was ridiculous, or if it was just that… snorting.

Elves have a special relationship with their dragons. The ones they keep as companions, anyway.

Callum didn’t fail to notice how he was still shaking even after all these days. How the thoughts from before still kept circulating, but--

But he stuck out his hand, anyway. Slowly, carefully. Palms face up like when he fed him, but this time Callum had no food to give. Nothing to give except a truce.

They bond with them. Love them in ways different than just having a pet.

More, if the Tempest wanted it. If not, Callum was about to lose his hands. Whatever mad idea this was, whatever rush of nonsense he’d been swimming in these past few days, maybe this was the ultimate result. Callum losing his hands to a dragon. His sketchbook would lay incomplete. He’d never pick up a pencil. Never draw again.

Panic blossomed in his chest.

It still felt like he was supposed to do this.

Why? Perhaps he’d realize it and regret it later.

Still, he held his hands out. A peace. An offer. The peace his stepfather believed in so much.

I want to believe it, too, Callum prayed.

And maybe that was why.

The moment felt like forever and a blitz all at once. He’d known this creature for what? A week? Less? Fed him a handful of times, but maybe…

Callum knew what it was like to feel trapped. All this dragon business made him feel like he was in a cage. Behind bars he couldn’t see, but couldn’t seem to escape either; then Callum saw those blue eyes; he saw them behind bars.

He saw them starving.

He saw them begging for freedom.

And Callum knew. They both wanted the same thing.

I want to be free , Callum still held his hands out, but now he also held the Tempest’s gaze. And I know you want to be, too.

They stood there for an eternity.

Then, the Tempest moved. Callum forced himself not to outright flinch, but the dragon brought his muzzle against Callum’s hand. He breathed softly into his palms and ran the dry scales of his face against the soft pads of Callum’s fingers. A truce. No.

More.

Callum’s lips twitched into a smile, then, a grin. He took his gloves off to feel the texture of the Tempest’s silver scales on his palm; he carefully ran his hands over the dragon’s horns, and the extra plates growing under and behind his jaw. Maybe his ears were under here? Did dragons have ears?

The Tempest sniffed at Callum, inspecting his clothes, his torso, his face. He licked Callum’s face, as if tasting it told him something humans and elves wouldn’t understand. The Tempest made a noise at him, a kind of satisfied warble. He put his head against the bars and made a friendly sound when Callum ran his fingers around the base of his horns.

“You want to get to know me a bit more, too, huh? Curious?” Callum laughed a little at the Tempest’s flexing crescent spines as Callum scratched the base of his horns.

The Tempest made another noise. An affirmation, perhaps. It sounded like it.

“We’re made of the same stuff, I think. You and I.” Callum smiled. The Tempest’s pupils dilated. “If we both want the same thing, then I guess we ought to go at it together. Right?”

The Tempest flexed his wings.

“Alright, then. Together. We escape together.”

-:-:-:-

“Listen, Ez, you had to have been there. It was-- it was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. They’re not like us, but they are, you know? I can feel it. I felt it.”

Callum was pacing the room; he’d come back to the castle and had been drawing the Tempest in his room -- free and uncaged -- until Ezran finally showed up. Callum didn’t even ask where he’d been this entire time. He just sat him down and told Ezran everything that happened.

He didn’t want to leave the dragon, but he described his time to Ezran. Ezran raised his brows, smiling. “Wow, Callum. You really feel all that?”

“I do. I really do. I just… there’s a connection you know? Or, at least, I could have one. Maybe something’s there.”

Ezran beamed. He looked down at Bait and hugged him. “There is. Most animals are willing to connect with us if we just see it.”

Callum laughed. “Well, I see it. They’re… incredibly intelligent and empathetic. I could be crazy, but I think he could really see me, you know what I mean?”

Ezran curled into bed, Bait at his side. “You have no idea.”

-:-:-:-

Viren settled himself against his desk in Katolis castle. He held his children’s attention.

“So, this dragon training program is good, right?” Soren asked.

“Of course it is,” Viren said. “The method in which we are going about it is… questionable.”

“The elves, you mean,” Claudia said.

The room was candle lit; he didn’t want full light in here today. He had a massive headache. Hours of roaring and growling dragons took its toll. The beasts were insufferable when they were all together, but trained… trained they could be a force to be reckoned with. Their force to be reckoned with. His human riders and his dragons.

The irony could not be lost.

“Our Xadian visitors are an investment the king considers necessary. We must humor them. In the meantime, we do as our king bids to the best of our ability. At the end of the day, these elves hold no real power in Katolis. When they leave, their wishes amount to nothing.”

Soren frowned. “But if the king wants to go along with what they have to say--”

“Then we will follow along to the best of our ability,” Viren snapped. His son’s… brilliance with the obvious was something to behold. Truly. “The king will delegate, and we will do what we feel is necessary for Katolis.”

Claudia frowned. “Dad, what are we going to do about the dragons though? We have to keep them happy or else the king won’t be happy.”

Claudia spoke the truth. Harrow had come to love the beasts in recent years. A complete turnaround from the first years after Sarai died, but Viren supported him, nonetheless. Still, it was high time he began churning some… creative solutions in his head.

“The king is doing what he feels is best for Katolis,” he told them both. “And, so will we.”

#the dragon prince #tdp #rayllum #rayla #callum

[undertheinfluencerd]

The Hunger Games: Who Each Main Character Should Have Ended Up With

The central romance of The Hunger Games series is the one between Katniss and Peeta, which spans all four films. But other characters also have their own love stories. Not all of these are based on romance; some characters have companions of the platonic variety, though not everyone ends up with their perfect match.

RELATED: The First & Last Lines Of Each Hunger Games Character

Gale is just one of the many characters who ends the series heartbroken and alone. Likewise, Annie has just lost Finnick. In fact, many of Panem’s residents have lost someone they love during the revolution, and Katniss and her friends are at the center of the conflict. Even though they willingly descend into battle, their chances of escaping without losing someone are very slim.

10 Cressida – No One

Cressida is introduced in Mockingjay: Part 1 as a member of Katniss’s propo team. She isn’t romantically involved with any other character during her time in the series, and this seems to suit her just fine. She is dedicated to her career as a filmmaker, and she appears to be fulfilled and empowered by her work.

Her work doesn’t bog her down because she’s truly passionate about it. Now that the revolution is over, Cressida might have more time to work on projects that aren’t solely political. Whatever she decides to do next, she seems happy with her current relationship status.

9 Cinna – No One

Like Cressida, Cinna is devoted to his work. His passion is obvious, as he always goes and above and beyond what’s asked of him. Though Cinna’s death is one of the saddest in The Hunger Games and he’s certainly gone too soon, he doesn’t die in vain. His exit from the series is the most fitting ending he could have, given the circumstances.

Had Cinna lived longer, he may have found a romantic partner. However, as it is, he lives a full life, devoting himself not just to fashion, but a much bigger cause. He’s an important ally for Katniss to have and is a big reason for her motivation in the arena. His support continues even in the last movie, where Effie gives Katniss Cinna’s old designs, including her Mockingjay costume. Cinna doesn’t need to end up with somebody to have a happy ending — seeing Katniss start the revolution is enough.

8 Plutarch Heavensbee – Seneca Crane

As two Gamemakers, Plutarch and Seneca have a similar way of thinking. They’re cunning, logical, and both fuel Katniss’s rebellion — whether they know it or not. Like Plutarch Heavensbee, Seneca Crane never agrees with Snow’s ways, though he’s too afraid to act against him.

RELATED: The 10 Richest Hunger Games Characters, Ranked

Had these two characters shared screentime, they could have come up with a more efficient plan to overthrow Snow’s government. Both of them know things about the Capitol that the other probably doesn’t. Even if they don’t make a good romantic pair, they might have been good friends. Heavensbee’s confidence and wry humor balance out Seneca’s uncertain seriousness.

7 Caesar Flickerman – No One

It’s hard to imagine this eccentric character enter a romantic relationship with anyone. However, he’s never seen in any capacity other than his professional one, as garish as it may be. Caesar does demonstrate some important traits when it comes to relationships, like empathy and intuition, but it’s unclear whether this is just for show when he’s interviewing someone.

Caesar’s fate is unknown at the end of the last movie, but if he’s still alive, he’ll probably find some way to continue his work in the media. He certainly has a talent for it, but now that Panem is under new rule, hopefully, he can find a way to use his skills to spread more positive messages.

6 President Snow – President Coin

Like Seneca and Plutarch, these two iconic villains of The Hunger Games could have made quite the match if they’d worked together. Their match wouldn’t have been good for Panem, but because they stand for the same things, it makes sense for them to be paired together.

Neither of these leaders deserves a happy ending after everything they’ve done, but they might’ve been drawn to each other had the circumstances been different. It’s hard to imagine anyone else ending up with such powerful, conniving dictators.

5 Prim – Rue

Katniss doesn’t hide the fact that Rue reminds her of Prim, so when she dies in the Games, Katniss feels the loss deeply. It’s a shame that Rue and Prim never get to meet as they’d likely have become friends. They’re both gentle in nature, yet they understand that a rebellion is necessary. Even before the revolution, Rue helps Katniss dethrone the Careers in the first arena.

RELATED: 10 Hunger Games Book To Movie Differences Nobody Talks About

Even if they’re a little too young to think about romance, it would have been nice to see these young women become friends. They have a lot in common, from their caring natures to their wordless understanding of people they love — like Katniss.

4 Finnick – Annie

Finnick and Annie never get to spend their lives together like they’d planned to, though their District 13 marriage also suggests that they may have suspected what was coming. After Finnick’s death, Annie is left to raise their son on her own. In this way, Finnick will always be a part of her life.

Annie and Finnick may not have had a lot of screentime together, but it’s easy to see they’re perfect for each other. They aren’t exactly a conventional match, but their personality traits complement each other. Annie is gentle, understanding, and calms Finnick down. As one of the best fighters in The Hunger Games, Finnick needs and appreciates her steadying force.

3 Gale Hawthorne – Johanna Mason

Gale’s last appearance in the series is when he visits Katniss after she recovers from her burns. Having acknowledged that he may have had something to do with the bombs that killed Prim, Gale apologizes for failing to take care of Katniss’s family. He says goodbye to her and begins a new life in District 2.

Meanwhile, Johanna doesn’t have an exit scene like most of the other main characters do. She and Gale could make a great match, given their strong opinions and fiery personalities. Johanna’s sarcasm would tame his headstrong rebelliousness, which Katniss thinks is one of Gale’s worst traits, and even if neither of them needs a romantic partner, they might have a chance at happiness together.

2 Haymitch Abernathy – Effie Trinket

Haymitch and Effie share an entertaining back-and-forth throughout the entire series, though it’s never anything serious. The more time they spend together, though, the more they become a team — even family.

These two characters are on the same page when it comes to protecting Katniss and Peeta. They may have different strategies, but when they come together, Haymitch and Effie are able to pull off some incredible feats. However, after everything, the two part ways in the Capitol, where they share a brief romantic moment. It’s unclear what Effie’s future in the Capitol holds for her, but Haymitch’s life in District 12 could have been less lonely if she’d joined him.

1 Katniss Everdeen – Peeta Mellark

From the beginning of the series, it’s clear that Katniss and Peeta share a connection that nobody else entirely understands. They’ve shared experiences and helped each other through all kinds of trauma, beginning with the bread that saves Katniss’s life.

Even without the Hunger Games, Katniss acknowledges that Peeta is right for her. He balances out her fiery personality with his gentler one, but he still understands her motives and supports her cause. At the end of the series, both of them are content, having come to a point of closure in their relationship. After everything they’ve been through, it makes sense for them to find their peace together.

NEXT: Katniss Everdeen’s 5 Greatest Strengths In The Hunger Games (& Her 5 Biggest Weaknesses)

The post The Hunger Games: Who Each Main Character Should Have Ended Up With appeared first on undertheinfluencerd.net.

#Undertheinfluence #weed

[londonlanded]

Week 29

Alright, it’s time for one last hurrah - aka, this week I went on my last trip before the regularity of a Monday to Friday schedule rears its predictable head. 

Monday was a typical workday that ended with a fabulous surprise in the form of my second free Four Seasons massage, courtesy of my lovely friend Pau who wanted to give me a leaving gift in the form of 90 minutes of care that my muscles more than needed. He also passed along the information that ours was the only 5 star hotel that boasts a 5 star spa in Europe, and he encouraged me to take advantage of the other facilities while I was there. 

It was one of the few times I was grateful for London’s early evenings, since it meant the end of my massage coincided with a beautiful sunset that just happened to be best viewed from the sauna. I headed home a happy girl. 

Tuesday took a turn for the strange when I fell quite ill quite quickly, managed to rally enough to meet my friend Giulia at Heathrow but not before questioning calling the whole trip off. No better way to test the limits of my own stubbornness than to give me a stomach bug on my first day of a planned trip. Regardless of my state and pace (bad and slow), I made it to the airport and through our short journey to Belfast City Airport. Waiting for us with open arms (and driving the same car he had the last time I saw him a decade ago, lefthand drive and all), was Keith, one of my dad’s ex-trainees who was born and raised in Northern Ireland before the stint in Toronto that brought him and his young family into our lives. We quickly popped home so I could see his family, and I found myself face to face with two boys, taller than me, both with the goal of following in their father’s medical footsteps. Last time I saw them, my siblings and I were forcing the youngest one to repeatedly say the word “eight” in his adorable accent because we thought it was the funniest thing we had ever heard. Time has one hell of a way of changing, aging people. Keith brought us home and we settled into our hostel for the evening, but not before meeting two Canadians who we realized would also be two of the people that would be sharing our day tour the next day.

Wednesday morning, met Paul our tour guide right beside the Europa hotel, which Keith had pointed out as being the number one most bombed hotel in Europe thanks to the IRA choosing it as its main target. We found out later that it was the number one location for journalists to stay while in Belfast documenting the conflict in Northern Irerland, so any time the IRA wanted to make sure an attack got international attention, it made (contextual) sense to bomb the very place those documenting everything were sleeping. 

We set off, and as we left Belfast proper, the weather changed more drastically than I had almost ever seen. The world went gradually, peacefully grey, before turning black all at once. It was the kind of sky you looked up at and realized you were literally looking at your day’s luck changing. Behind us, bright blue, ahead of us was a Northern Irish storm. Still, we ploughed on, and in spite of Paul’s initial warnings that we’d have to skip our first stop due to the weather, we arrived at the Dark Hedges right on time after he decided we could pull it off after all. 

The Dark Hedges are simply someone’s driveway - the property owner decided to line his drive with arching birch trees and what came of his agricultural endeavours are what are now frequently used as a set for a number of Game of Thrones episodes. The car and foot traffic has damaged a ton of the trees, so the road is now pedestrian only though some locals still drive on it illegally. 

As we approached the mouth of the road, the wind picked up and a murder of crows leapt up from the grassy cornfield to our right, they swarmed and shouted above us as our little group walked under the first of the massive, arching trees. A few seconds later, massive wet snowflakes began to fall on us, and I remember thinking the place had a darkness about it regardless of the Game of Thrones association. 

Up next, Bushmills distillery, the oldest Whiskey distillery in Northern Ireland (note, Whiskey is Irish, Whisky is Scottish). It’s a company that’s managed to weave itself in to the fabric of the country, but it also plays an integral role in the local community. In years where tourism was slow, it kept locals employed, even during times where the entire country’s economy was suffering. This distillery is so important to the people of NI that it’s even on their five pound notes, which I only noticed on our last day in the country while Giulia was paying for lunch. 

On our way out of town, we stopped at Dunluce castle for a photo op, just as the sun began to shine again. Dare I say, I was getting hopeful about the weather? 

15 minutes down the road, Paul let us off at the top of the walkway down to the Giant’s Causeway. You can take a shuttle down for 1 pound, but we felt brave in the newfound almost-sunshine. Ten minutes walking, and you make it down to NI’s number one most well-known tourist attraction, and just as we made it to the bottom, the weather welcomed us enthusiastically. 

Through sideways rain and flying seafoam, G and I clambered all over the hexagonal basalt columns that make the causeway so famous. They were truly one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen, geologists theorize that they’re left over from a volcanic eruption but Paul offered a skeptical ‘well no one’s ever showed me no volcano,’ as his thoughts on that. Amusingly, clambering on top of slippery rocks brought some life back into me that I had forgotten I had, I wound up scaling the stones while G sort of watched me dance with my own demise, armed of course with her camera. 

I’ve genuinely never felt more stupid than I did while standing atop some of those stones, with the wind, rain, and foam flying at me from every direction, I thought I was about to meet my end. Thankfully, the local guards stepped in and pulled us all off the rocks before anyone got too carried away, but they let us have more than a satisfactory amount of adventure before pulling the plug. 

Giulia actually had to pay for the shuttle back to the top of the cliff face since my hands were too numb to sort out my change, we wound up in a local cafe where G ate and I used their fireplace as a personal full-body dryer. While I can’t comment on the food, the ambiance of The Nook more than made up for my inability to feel my extremities. 

With the main event over, I was sort of skeptical I’d get much out of the rest of our day, but I was more than pleasantly surprised with how the rest of our adventure transpired. An hour later, unfazed by the weather at our last stop, we made it to the Carrick-a-rede rope bridge, which marked the end of a 1km pathway from the park entrance. Paul parked and set us free once more, we paid for tickets to cross the 60 foot bridge waiting for us at the end of our walk, and we set off once again. 

The walk actually wound up being the most beautiful part of the day, at least in my opinion, in spite of the weather descending beyond even what it was at the causeway. 

There were literally gale force winds coming at us in every direction, there were hailstones collecting in the rain puddles we were dodging on the unpaved path, we were trying to hold onto railings that weren’t completely anchored into the muddy earth that framed our glistening, stony walkway. 

Having feeling in my hands became a thing of the past, forget being dextrous enough to bother refastening my hood, it’s not like my hair was salvageable anyway. 

Regardless, we were met with some of the most beautiful landscapes I’ve ever seen, Giulia’s little pink raincoat made for an easy subject. 

The rope bridge was initially built so that fisherman could make it from one little island over to the mainland, with their fishing gear in tow. A few months ago, the bridge was redone to be made safer and steadier, but before those refurbishments it was actually much more similar to how it was when it was built however many years ago when it was still being used for its initial purpose. The bridge only had a railing on one side so that fisherman could stabilize themselves without having to hoist their fishing gear above shoulder height and out of the way of where a second railing would have been. The modern version of course has two railings, and none of the boards are missing from the footpath either, much to tourguide Paul’s chagrin. 

Unfortunately, once we made it to the bridge, they (expectedly) told us they’d closed the walkway due to the rain, but we still were glad to have made it far enough to see it. On the way back, my Canadian companions caught up to us, one of them was bloodied and the other was sort of confused looking, but her expression was also blended in with a bit of pride. The bloody one announced to us she had just saved a local farmer’s sheep from being tangled in a broken fence, and I’ll admit that there have been few moments where I’ve been prouder to be Canadian than at the moment I was told my countrywoman was playing sheep Jesus. 

A few hours back to the city, G and I braved local NI trains and made it to Keith’s neighbourhood of Holywood (pronounced like the California version oddly enough), where he fed us and took care of us, and ensured the two of us were warmer than we’d been all day. 

Thursday morning while G slept in, I headed downstairs for a tea and wound up chatting to Brett at our hostel's reception, who recommended that we do a Black Taxi tour of the city that morning. For £35, you can take a tour of the city from a local who's lived through its recent past, including the years of tumult that lead up to things being as they are. I'll admit I was quite naive to the state of Northern Ireland before arriving in it, but a quick google got G and up to date before Walter, our driver arrived. 

He started by showing us the area we were in, pointing out Queen's University Belfast as the main landmark nearby. He told us the story of its construction, and said that an identical but smaller version was built in nearby Glasgow. Apparently the smaller one was actually supposed to be built in Belfast, but the plans got swapped by 'accident' and the larger building wound up being put up. It's a beautiful building, and its responsible for attracting most of the people that reside in the area near the hostel, South Belfast. 

From there, the real tour started, and we were shown a side of Belfast we were definitely not expecting. Though the conflict between the Catholic and Protestant communities in Ireland can be traced back hundreds of years, back to when the Protestants were first invited to live in England by the British, the modern cause stems back from a Protestant government in 1969 that was viewed as treating Catholic and Protestant communities unfairly. This government favoured the middle class, and did not allow for many reforms that would have made life easier for those not in it. That in itself might not have been a standalone issue, but the problem was that most of the Protestant population was included in the middle class, so they did not feel the unfairness as heavily as the Catholic, working-class population did. The closest thing the government did to reforming anything was when they put up what are called 'kitchen houses' throughout Belfast, they were called this because while these strings of connected houses had kitchens, they lacked bathrooms entirely. These were built externally, which meant you had to walk across the driveway to make use of communal restrooms. Modern modifications of those kitchen houses can be identified by the fact that they're a long rectangular stretch of conjoined buildings, but moreso by the addition of single small bathrooms at the back of each house in light of the progress that's been observed since they were first put up. 

In any case, the reason this government was deemed unfair seems to be that the Protestant population felt as though everyone was being treated unfairly due to their mostly-middle class view of the state of things, while the Catholic population saw that the government was being much harder on the working-class in light of the fact that they made up the majority of it. This disagreement led to the conflict that still polarizes West Belfast today. This was what inspired the beginning of what's known as 'The Troubles' in 1969. 

Soon after they began, the British stepped in to try and ensure that peace reigned between the two sides. To try and do that, they proposed building a 'peace wall' between the two warring sides, with the intent of leaving it up for 6 months while the conflict settled (spoiler alert, the wall is still up today). It was built on Cooper Street which naturally bisected the two communities. Protestants move slightly north, Catholics slightly south of their newfound border. The British remained involved until 1971, when the Irish Republican Army became hostile, and attacked some of the British soldiers there, at which point they removed themselves from the area as the conflict began to escalate. At the heart of the conflict was a Catholic desire to leave Britain, and a Protestant desire to remain a part of it. 

We started our tour by driving into the Eastern, Catholic side of West Belfast, where we began seeing the first signs that not all was as idyllic as our initial impressions of Belfast led us to believe. Black cabs, identical to those in London, whizzed past us on the street. Walter told us how, during the peak time of conflict, public transport was both unreliable and frankly dangerous. Busses were being burned in protest, and so the IRA responded by purchasing a host of London's black cabs and driving them up and down the main roads themselves. This served a dual purpose, both as a transport system for the citizens that had been left without transport, but also as a way for the IRA to remain informed about everyone's movement throughout the city. Walter said that there's nothing going on that the IRA doesn't know, and that to this day, ex-IRA members drive the cabs on the Catholic side of the wall, even though busses now safely run. 

The two sides of the wall are drastically different in ambiance and aesthetic. On both sides of the wall, local artists have turned to artwork to express their political inclinations. Walter intimated that while there were aspects of their statements he didn't agree with, the art and murals themselves were quite tastefully done. He explained a ton of them but I can't pretend I know every detail, but in brief, the polarization of both sides was palatable in the artwork. It's amazing how close two communities could live to each other while sharing such radically different ideals. The Catholic side had portraits of everyone from Fidel Castro to Che Guevara, there were pro-palestine signs and Irish flags painted beside portraits of hunger strikers who had died, text in Irish language and statements that peace is harder than war when it's not real resolution. The Protestant side was the blunt opposite, there were pro-Israel pieces beside pro-Britain murals, paintings of their lost hunger strikers and statements made by Protestant politicians acknowledging the wrongs of the government and addressing the conflict.

The loudest contrast, at least in my mind, was illustrated by two gardens with identical commemorative purposes, but for people on opposite sides of the same war. On the Catholic side, a garden commemorating lost members of the IRA stands tall near one of the four gates in the wall. On the Protestant side, a garden commemorating people killed by the IRA stands clearly on the main street of that side, they were identical in purpose but completely opposite in content. 

The gate itself spans the entirety of West Belfast and still closes every single night, which Walter says is indicative of the mistrust between both communities. There are four gates, and each one of them is controlled by members of government from each side. One closes at 4PM, 7PM, 8PM and and the final one closes at 10PM. You can still cross from one side to the other after 10PM, but you need to pass through central Belfast in order to do so. It's an inconvenience that's one of the clearest signs that the peace we observed at the time has nothing to do with having reached a resolution, and only to do with having become exhausted with constant and persistent conflict. 

Another element of that stark contrast was that while the Catholic side of the wall was incorporated into people's backyards, made up their fences and was generally undecorated and unmarked both by government and by citizens, the Protestant side was the complete opposite. Perhaps it has more to do with the way the wall was built, but the fact that the Catholic side of the wall is right up against a ton of houses and a factory somewhat limits it in terms of its function as a potential canvas. 

That same limitation does not exist on the Protestant side, in that the wall is built on the far side of Cooper Street away from most of the buildings on that side of the divide. That distance perhaps led to artwork being justified, but regardless of the reasoning, Walter had come prepared with towels to dry the painted wall, and sharpies for us to sign it ourselves. Apparently it's painted over every year, and adding artwork is actually encouraged. Messages of peace, patriotism, hope and everything in between blanketed the blue base coat of paint, G and I added our own two cents to the nearly-covered wall. 

We were dropped off at our hostel to pick up our stuff, and after a moments rest we were up again and off to find a final adventure before g caught her airport bus. We found ourselves at the towns city hall, which actually had a pretty excellent self guided tour, and was stunning enough just in terms of its construction. 

Turns out there’s a lot more to know about Northern Ireland than I imagined. Of note, the entirety of Belfast’s governing body is currently female, and it isn’t even the first time it’s happened as it occurred once before back in 2014. There are still some words that are native Irish in origin that are used colloquially today (for some reason I didn’t take note of any though, not my finest journalism). There are also some remnants of Shakespeare’s English due to the fact that, well, England and its neighbours are an island and therefore somewhat separated from mainland linguistic dilution. I can hardly understand some Irish at the best of moments though, perhaps that’s why? 

There’s also strong desire (or stated desire at least) for peace between the two still-warring sides of the troubles conflict. Like I said, it’s not that peace reigns at the moment because a problem has been solved, it’s more about the maintenance of a ceasefire than it is about having found a solution to what ails both sides. 

Inside city hall was an entire room dedicated to statements from those who had lost people on both sides of the conflict, profound and acute is the desire for peace, the universality of human loss the clear undertone of what we read. 

I know most of you are probably wondering where the titanic stuff is going to come in, hate to disappoint but we elected to skip that part of the city. We did learn a bit while at the city hall, most notably that the titanic sunk only 12 days after leaving port, but beyond that t and I were mostly interested in everybody else the town had to offer. We left city hall and meandered to whites tavern, the second oldest tavern in Belfast.

G caught her bus but I found one more adventure in the form of the linen hall library, which was dedicated to documenting the political comedy that surrounded the troubles themselves. 

The whole four story affair is decorated with tapestries depicting artistic interpretations of both sides of the conflict, and while I had to leave the members area I still managed to find somewhere to sit and enjoy a national geographic while waiting for my turn to set off. 

My flight was a mere 45 minutes long, and before I knew it I was aboard the bus to Edinburgh after having landed in cold and clear Scotland. No borders, no problem, I was with my friend Rachel in the centre of the city within an hour of landing. The next morning, our grand foot tour of the city began, but only after a tea and a coffee at Rach's favourite cafe. From there, we hiked up Arthur's seat, which is probably what Edinburgh is most famous for if not for it being the place Harry Potter was conceptualized and partly written. 

It was a fairly painless hike and the reward was one of the most beautiful views I've seen on any of my travels, especially of a bustling city. 

Rach and I weren't exactly in tip top shape (she was coming down with a cold, I was still running on nearly 0 fuel thanks to my protesting organs) so we took it slow, but we still managed to somehow tally almost 30000 steps worth of exploration that day. We headed down through town to see the gorgeous centre. 

Basically, the entire city looked like the photo below in different sized versions. The whole place is just a connected series of spires, stained glass, and time-stained stone. I wound up taking so many photos Rach started to make fun of me, so here’s just one of them. 

From there, we headed to Dean village, which is pretty much the cutest little area I could ever imagine, and was worth every bit of trespassing we did to snap our photos. 

From there, Rach took me to the Elephant House cafe, which became famous thanks to JK Rowling having penned her first book from the comfort of its cozy back room. Out front, there's actually a metal plaque outlining that JK had been there. 

The vibe inside was actually something I would have dug myself had I had more time to appreciate it - there was even a sign that said something along the lines of "we have no WiFi, talk to each other, pretend it's 1995" which made me smile. When you look out the back window of the place, Edinburgh's castle looms above you, and apparently that was the view that JK saw when she thought of Hogwarts. After seeing the town she used as inspiration for her novel, it all sort of makes sense how Harry's world came to be. 

Rach and I ended the day at a Jazz bar with a couple of her friends, and though I didn't know it at the time, we were at one of the most popular Jazz spots in the city. I suppose that's the magic of a small town though, it's really not hard to hit the best places when everything's so perfectly close together. 

Saturday morning, my last day with Rach, we woke up and stopped at two farmer's markets on the way to the Surgeon's Museum which was beyond incredible if not a little draining considering its jarringly painful-looking content, combined with the fact that it was the most cognitively engaging thing I had done since arriving in London I think. I couldn't take photos because the specimens were human, but I strongly recommend that place to anyone who's in Edinburgh with a few hours and £7 to kill. 

Last but not least, Rachel made sure I had the ultimate taste of Scotland. This dish is called haggis, nips and tatties, and that's short for haggis, turnips, and mashed potatoes. It's served with gravy, and this little trifecta is a delicious, hearty, and earthy meal if I've ever seen one. The haggis takes a second to wrap your head around, but I promise it's at least worth the try. We cleaned the whole plate off of course, I'm not sure how my stomach felt about my first real meal consisting of a combination of oats, sheep organs and suet, but my mouth was pretty happy regardless. 

With two minutes to spare, Rach walked me to my bus and before I knew it, I was back at the airport with years of time to kill (typical me). I was reminded later that evening that no matter the weather on the ground, the world above the clouds can be more glorious than words can convey. 

After landing that evening, I had a quiet shift on Sunday with none other than my little Giulia, who made my return to real life about as palatable as it could have been. 

Next week, a really out of the ordinary dose of luxury I never in a million years imagined I'd be getting! 

e