Chapter Text
Shadowheart brushed curling auburn hair away from her face and said, “I think I could quite get used to this. Waking up beside you in some secluded place.”
“Perhaps with less straw.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed, feeling pleased with herself. The morning light was starting to stream in, red and gold with sunrise. She stroked her hand down bare skin, counting freckles, and said, “But if you ever get me in the family way - if we have children - it'll be nice, won't it? Having a little place like this we can slip away to.”
“I've been trying my best to get you there, but I'm not sure it's working,” her lover said. After a moment, she added, “children? Plural? A little litter?”
“How many did you want?” Shadowheart asked, then teased: “six?”
“Oi,” said Seren. But she thought about it, and said, “two is a good number.”
“And what if we end up with twins?” Shadowheart asked.
“Then we can consider ourselves quite lucky,” Seren decided.
Usually when they curled up together, Shadowheart rested her hand on her lover's stomach. Now she took Seren's hand and placed it over her own stomach, feeling butterflies bursting up from deep inside her as she joked with her, putting on an overly sweet tone. “And you'll look after us?”
“I'd do anything for you,” her knight said, with a conviction she hadn't expected so early in the morning, when they were supposed to be just lying here, teasing each other. She kissed her without thinking, and Seren kissed her back and said, “you're half in the future, my darling. You've planned out our happy ending already.”
The laugh she released was perhaps a little sad. “I had four decades of darkness,” she said. “Of drinking poison because I thought it was love. Perhaps I am being too greedy. But I think of how good it feels to be loved - unconditionally, by my parents, by you - and I want to give out as much as I feel. I want others to feel the way I do. I want to make love grow.”
The other half-elf curled up around her, warm in the cool autumn air. Soft kisses followed, lips brushing against her neck and hot skin. “I feel quite loved,” she said. “When I'm with you I feel like myself.”
“That's an odd compliment,” Shadowheart said.
“It is,” she agreed. She kissed the back of her bare shoulder again and said, “we'll build your house, and get your parents settled in, and the fields growing. Then we'll figure out children.”
“Now who's in the future! You're skipping a chapter,” Shadowheart pointed out, pulling those comforting arms around herself again. “A rather important one.”
“If it was that important, I'd remember it.”
The world shook; somewhere an elder brain was trying to break free from the shackles of its controllers.
“Oh, right,” Seren said with obvious disappointment, still cuddled against her. “That whole business.”
“We ought to head back,” Shadowheart said, voice tinged with regret.
“We can stay a few minutes more,” said her knight, decisive. She shifted a little, so she was sitting up, cradling her lover against her naked chest. They rested their heads against each other and she laughed very quietly. “I really would do just about anything for you.”
“Isn't it good for you that the most I want is your continued devotion?”
“I worship you,” Seren agreed. “I think I always will.”
It was good to have a morning full of love and tenderness. The rest of their day did not follow that pattern.
The Temple of Bhaal was…unsubtle.
“I mean, I'm usually into the whole blood aesthetic,” Astarion said. “But it feels a little…much.”
“It's like if it's not a phase, mum! was a religion,” Seren agreed, taking a rubbing of a symbol of Bhaal carved into a wall, stained with dried blood. “Mae'n chwerthinllyd. If I ran a cult I think my symbol would be a bar of soap. I'd like to recommend it to every one of these fellas.”
“Notice how it's all humans?” Astarion pointed out.
“I did notice that! It's probably a human thing,” Seren said, jerking her thumb at Gale. “Cults and that.”
“I can hear you! Ugh,” Gale tugged his robes up, stepping over a dead body someone had dropped like litter. “They're just talking in Elvish now.”
“I can translate,” Shadowheart said.
“I'd prefer you didn't,” Gale said, giving her a side look. “I think I have a fairly decent idea of what they're talking about! How terrible Baldur's Gate city administration is that nobody's noticed an entire Bhaalist temple under the city!”
Shadowheart looked over at Astarion and Seren. Seren was talking rapidly, waving her arms, while Astarion was visibly yawning. “You might be right,” she said.
As they caught up with the bitchy elf and half-elf Shadowheart just about caught “the sheer amount of stone masonry required in order to build a monument of this size - in what universe is anyone keeping - I, I just mean, how are SINKHOLES not opening up all over the city, just a total lack of basic engineering knowhow–”
“Hold on, darlings,” Astarion said.
“Don't call me that. It makes my skin crawl,” Seren said.
“I quite like it!” Gale said.
“It's very presumptive,” Shadowheart said.
Astarion ignored them. “This is a temple of pure evil, right?”
“So you'll fit in,” Shadowheart said.
Astarion ignored this too, magnanimous as always. “I bet it has all sorts of little nooks and crannies. We ought to slink around on our bellies, like serpents. Until we find the best place to ambush Orin!”
“I still think we can talk her down,” Seren said.
“On our bellies?!” Gale baulked. “What, in the blood and dirt?”
“Metaphorically,” Astarion said, and added, “darling.”
“Well,” Gale said, flattered. “I'm sure it won't hurt…”
Seren was giving him a hard look when he looked back.
“I don't get called darling a lot,” Gale said, a little defensively.
“Clearly.”
Orin was sitting in her evil temple, in front of her evil god, about to evilly sacrifice to Bhaal.
Her name was Orin and she had long ivory hair with white streaks and red tips (from blood) that reached her mid-back and white eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people told her she looked like Bhaal (AN: if u don’t know who he is get da hell out of here!). Today she was wearing a suit made of flayed flesh and gore. It was dark in the underground temple so there was no sun, which she was happy about. A lot of cultists stared at her. She put up her middle finger at them.
Orin was having a very normal evil day. Gortash was dead, which was good (in an evil way). No news had come from the murder council, which was good (in an evil way) because it meant that either murderers were still busy competing in the murder Olympics around the city, or someone had murdered her grandfather Saverok, which meant more murder had occurred, which was good (in an evil way).
There was a scrambling noise behind her. A sound like some sort of murderable dandy saying you absolute fool, get back here!
And then a small figure was climbing up from her private quarters.
“Hey Orin!” Said her murder target, the red haired Half-Elf. “Is that your room? Someone made an awful mess down there. Er, listen, we talked to…was that your…mother's corpse sort of…pinned to the wall? Next to the corpse of…er…well, nevermind. Have you given any more thoughts to the theater? Because I really do think…Er, look. I've got some bad news to break vis-a-vis your family tree. Do you want to sit down?”
“You know,” Astarion said, kicking what was left of Orin after the fight. “I've seen people take news better.”
“We told Orin Sarevok was her mum's dad and also her dad via degenerate murder cult incest, and Bhaal spoke from the skull carving up there, and then Orin exploded into a murder monster from legend and/or nightmare and tried to remove my limbs,” Seren said. “The only time I've seen someone take worse news was when I said you had crow's feet.”
Astarion stamped his foot and said “I do NOT!”
“That cheered me up,” Shadowheart said, trying to wipe Seren's face. “Hold still, let me get some of this blood.”
“I need to fight from the back like you do, my love.”
“You could,” Shadowheart agreed, using a create water spell to make gentle rain fall on them, making the blood stream away in rivulets of pink. “But then who would very bravely hold up their shield to protect me?”
“You have a shield and you know very well how to use it,” Seren pointed out. But she was smiling, and she kissed the back of Shadowheart's knuckles, where they'd been scraped in the fight when a cultist had tried to close with her and gotten a shield in the teeth instead. She cast a healing spell with her kiss, and the skin knitted together. “But by my oath, I will make sure that very soon you'll never have to use it again.”
“Be more specific!” Shadowheart said, nose wrinkling. “Make a wish to a djinn with wording like that, and I'll lose my hand, or my life!”
Gale was busy undoing Halsin’s bonds. “Is anyone going to help me get him out of here?”
“I can't lift more than about twenty pounds,” Seren said, thoughtfully.
“Don't look at me,” Astarion said.
“I won't lift more than that,” said Shadowheart, the only person present with a higher strength score than 8.
“I suppose physics must save the day!” Gale said, and with enthusiasm picked up a shield someone had dropped, attempting to use it to lever Halsin off the altar. This did not work well, and soon Gale was panting, sweating, exhausted.
“Hold on,” Seren said, and went to Halsin's other side, pushing. “f*ck me sideways. How did Orin kidnap him?!”
“Hold that thought! I think there's a wheelbarrow over there, marked props for murder schemes - let me just - no, stop pushing, you'll knock us all - ooof!”
“You know, Shadowheart,” Astarion said. “I rather like watching Wyll sweat. He does it in such a dignified way, just glitters of sweat on his abs. Do you feel the same? Or just…pity, knowing your big strong knight is weaker than our wizard?”
“Why don't you go and help?” Shadowheart asked him. “So we can see if you're stronger than the wizard?”
“Why are we using me as a measure of physical strength?!” Gale snapped, trying to get out from under Halsin's unconscious body. “Seren, stop screaming at the idea of being under a man! My word, between this and the swift plans to move in with Shadowheart I'm beginning to think you're a stereotype!”
With a mixture of plant growth, Tenser’s Floating Disk, and hernia-creating force, Gale and Seren managed to get Halsin out of the pit that was the Bhaal temple, the streets of Baldur's Gate shaking around them as they carried him up through the dark and the blood and the dirt and back into the light of day.
Shadowheart and Astarion had followed behind, bickering in a comfortable, half-sibling way. Like…distant half-siblings. Not quite close enough to play knife-tag like Seren and her siblings, but close enough to snip at each other in a biting but witty way.
(“That cranium rat has your hair, Shadowheart.”
“Very funny. That one, there, with its head exploded, is what you'll look like if you make fun of my hair again.”)
Halsin had woken up when the light hit his face and looked up at his saviors with amazement. He'd managed to walk himself into the inn, and sat in the corner he'd shared with Minthara, silent and thoughtful. Minthara did not look pleased that he was back.
(“But,” she’d said, something vulnerable in her eyes,“I am glad you dispatched Orin.” and Seren had squeezed her shoulder in a silent, tight-lipped way, a grim expression on her face.)
This could be their last night together, as a group. Shadowheart didn't know what to do with herself. But Wyll had lent her a book a few days ago. Another smutty romance. Mermaids featured heavily, but there was a twist: one mermaid was a vampire. So she sat down to read, trying not to think too hard about it: this could be her last night of being with them. One of them might die tomorrow, and not come back. If they won, what if they all split up? What would happen to their little crew, when the threat was no longer so looming? Her eyes kept moving over the same lines, not taking in any information about the vampire mermaid and his incongruous six-pack. What if this was it?
“You know,” Karlach said, interrupting her anxious thoughts, lying down on the floor in front of the fire, curling beside her. “I never asked you how your relationship was going. Y’know, now you're together together. And it's not a fling.”
“You haven't,” Shadowheart lowered the romance novel and realised she'd been reading over a graphically smutty part over and over. A pity she hadn't paid any attention; the little she could see was immensely enjoyable. “What did you want to ask?”
“Not about your relationship specifically,” Karlach said. “But in general. There's some stuff Lae’zel doesn't get - or doesn't want to admit to getting, even now! And I need someone to get it, you know? Stuff I missed for so long about being able to touch.”
“Like what?”
“You know when you're cuddling someone,” Karlach said, stretching.
“Yes?”
“And they get super wet, just from the cuddling?”
“Hmm,” she said, trying to think if that had ever happened. She cast her memories back - each one vibrant, taking up more space, three months of memories being far less compressed than forty eight years of memories could be - and found a little night where she and her lover had laid side by side, tangled up. And as she'd kissed her, her thigh had ended up between her thighs and - yes. Yes, there had been that sweet wetness, the heat. Where had that been? The Underdark, she thought. No, the shadow cursed lands, another dark place without sun. She turned the memory over in her mind, and thought, Shar cannot take this from me now. Even these petty, mortal moments are mine and mine alone. Even if I die tomorrow, I will have had this. I will have had these friends, and my lover, and time with my parents. And I remember it all.
And she smiled widely and said, “it's a nice feeling.”
“f*ck yeah,” Karlach said. “It's the best feeling in the world.”
As though summoned, Seren climbed over the back of the chairs by the fire, a sick, haunted look in her expression. Halsin was following her. “I'm sorry,” he said. “Did I…perhaps I might have taken things the wrong way!”
“He just confessed to me,” Seren told Shadowheart. She gestured between Halsin and the other Half-Elf and said, “I have a lover.”
“I know that! I can smell Shadowheart on you,” Halsin said.
Seren stood up and said, “put up your dukes.”
“What?”
“I think I have to fight you. Put your dukes up, man!”
“Is there something wrong with what I said?” He looked at Shadowheart and said, “Would you be willing to share?”
“Karlach, stop laughing,” Shadowheart said, prodding the tiefling with her foot.
“Do you know how that sounds?” Seren was continuing.
“But you have been so kind,” Halsin said. “Uncursing the shadow-cursed lands for me-”
“For the Raven Queen.”
“Reuniting Thaniel!”
“See above.”
“Saving the grove!”
“To spite a drow,” Seren said, gesturing at Minthara. “Who is my very good friend now.”
“Rescuing me from Orin!”
“It was the decent thing to do,” Seren told him, exasperated. “Is everyone on this coast so mean and bisexual that the moment any sentient red flag is nice to them, they want to f*ck them into next week? Don't answer that,” she added, when Shadowheart, Karlach, and Halsin all opened their mouths. “Anyway listen, apologies Halsin, but I do now need to physically fight you.”
“Ah,” Halsin nodded sagely.
“Not as foreplay,” Seren said.
“Oh,” he said, looking more disappointed now.
“What's going on here?” Gale asked, coming over. He looked between them and said, “oh dear, letting him down gently?”
“A misunderstanding,” Halsin said.
“Ha! It happens,” Gale said, a hand on his arm. “Come on, old boy. We'll go for a walk and talk this over. No need for any of us to fall out!”
They disappeared out of the room, leaving Shadowheart with her smut novel, Karlach cackling on the ground, and Seren sniffing the back of her hand, trying to work out what he meant.
After an hour passed, Seren said, “they're not coming back tonight, are they?”
“Why wouldn't they?” Karlach asked. Lae'zel had come over and had been convinced, gruffly, to cuddle with Karlach and let her lay her head on her chest. Karlach was cuddled up, making it difficult for Lae'zel to finish inspecting her weapons. Lae'zel was trying her best anyway.
“Oh, I can think of one reason,” Shadowheart said. Subtly, she added, “I'm sure Gale is…exploring Mount Halsin.”
Tara burst into the room, all fury and anxiety. “I was just asked to leave Mister Dekarios’s presence! While he was in danger nonetheless!”
“What happened to him?” Seren asked, already on her feet and grabbing her sword.
“He was being mauled by a bear!”
Seren put the sword down and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I'm…going to bed.”
But she stayed up a little longer, worried about Gale. This late at night, Astarion was still awake, watching Wyll, who was sitting with Yenna as she slept.
“Do you like people much?” Astarion asked her, pouring himself a glass of wine.
“I don’t trust people easily,” Seren said, which was truthful. “I suppose that means I don’t like a lot of people.”
“I don’t like a lot of people either,” Astarion said, sipping the wine.
“Makes sense,” Seren said.
“But I like him,” he said, as though the words confused him. “I want to…keep fooling him into liking me. Foolish, isn't it? It's the only reason I keep the child around,” he added, looking at Yenna, next to Wyll.
“It's not the only reason.”
“Perhaps not,” he admitted. Astarion brooded over this, eyes dark.
“I saw the children,” Seren said. “In Cazador’s lair, the ones we released. All of them her age.”
“Vampires aren't supposed to feel guilt,” Astarion said, but he looked lost as he said it. “And to an extent, I…I don't. I view humans as…as cattle. Ready to be slaughtered! Just as any mortal views any prey animal,” he added, giving the vegetarian beside him a sidelong glance. “I shouldn't feel guilty. But…perhaps I do. Perhaps I…feel guilt. It's useless trying to get away from it. Looking after one child won't bring back the Gur's children. You…you've killed children before, right?”
“No.”
“Ah.”
“You'll live a long time,” Seren said, after a while. “You can't pay back all those lives all at once. But this is…it's helping to repay your debt. I think. If you have a debt of one thousand gold pieces, looking after Yenna - that's one gold piece paid back.”
“Ugh,” Astarion said. “That will take far too long.” But he swirled his drink thoughtfully, before walking over to join Wyll. Wyll looked up at him with pure joy, his remaining eye sparkling with wonder; Astarion's expression softened into a smile.
They’ll be alright, Seren thought, and felt peace.
Halsin stumbled in that morning bright and early. Gale followed him, limping slightly.
“Had a conversation with the trees this morning,” Seren, already awake, said over coffee and a copy of the morning paper.
“I've no interest in hearing a word of judgement from you!” Gale cautioned her.
She gave a little shrug and looked back at the paper as he found his way to the fire.
“The trees spoke to me this morning,” Jaheira told him, when he gingerly sat down beside her. “They did not like what they saw, Gale.”
“So,” Karlach said, sitting beside him. “Man or bear?”
“I don't think you have any right–”
“The trees told me,” Jaheira said.
“They told me too,” Seren said, over coffee. “They were pretty shocked.”
“Very judgemental, these oak trees,” Jaheira agreed. “But the badgers? Far worse.”
“There's a squirrel out there who wants you to pay for his therapy bills,” Karlach agreed. “Did you know I can speak with animals too?”
“I…did not know that,” Gale admitted. He tried to squirm, but moving was still a little uncomfortable.
“I'm not healing you,” Shadowheart informed him as she put on her armour. “We have to strike at an elder brain today.”
“Ah,” said Gale.
Seren said, “need a hand?” And when he reached out for her, she slapped his hand the way she'd done when he was first trapped in the portal, but this contained a lay-on-hands charge, enough to make his poor backside feel a little more comfortable.
“Thank you,” he said with relief. “Usually I'm on top,” he added, just to her. “But when you're dealing with a literal bear-”
“I wish only to undo the healing I just did,” Seren told him, fervently.
They went together into the bowels of the city, past the Bhaal temple and its horrors. They walked through dripping caverns until the cranium rats ran thick underfoot, biting and snapping at their feet, climbing over one another, jumping into the water and swimming towards the brain.
They took a boat. A small one had been tied up, and they went in small groups, one person rowing, the others keeping watch, until they were all across.
They found the remains of two thieves who'd tried to breach this place; Seren tucked a teddy bear into the arms of one and said, “I'm getting a little sick of all of this tragedy.”
“Not far now,” Shadowheart said. “And we'll be able to end this tragedy at least. Then it'll just be a story for a bard to tell.”
“One last kiss?”
“And a last one after that!” Shadowheart said. “And another last one after that, I hope.” The kiss was warm and long and sweet, like spring and summer. And when she pulled back, she found Seren wrapping a cloak of protection around her. “Keeping me safe, my love?”
“You're my future, after all.”
But even with the stones from the three chosen - Bane, Bhaal, and Myrkul - they could not tame the elder brain when they faced it. A portal to the artefact - the parcel of the astral plane kept within - opened up, and they were pulled in by the Emperor, who had managed to twist the narrative to serve its own purposes. If they could not beat the elder brain, perhaps they could join it in being mindflayers.
“Leave it to the three buffoons to f*ck up their own plans so badly,” Jaheira grumbled, ignoring the Emperor. “Ah, Minsc. Calm your hamster's squeaking!”
“Boo,” Minsc said, seriously. “We cannot just kill this Emperor mindflayer. It is talking! It would be rude!”
Seren was looking at the Emperor as it spoke, face carefully blank. The Mindflayer said, you plan something else? This is the only way.
Be brave, Shadowheart thought. Be strong, be brave. Don't do what he wants. Be strong. Be brave. We can still have our happy ending.
Seren had a noble streak, a longing for personal freedom; would she take the offer from The Emperor, if it meant guaranteeing their freedom from the Elder Brain?
Be smart, she thought, trying to reach her. Please, be smart.
“Listen,” Seren said, purposefully drawing out her words as Lae'zel skirted around behind it. “Mr. The Emperor. My head is…so small. There is no space in it for thoughts of…violence…or betrayal…or murder…or deceit…you can trust me. I am your very good friend, or my name isn't Rhea Dancer.”
Shadowheart rubbed the bridge of her nose.
I…can…read…your…mind! The Emperor telepathically shouted. I am speaking to you through telepathy! I can see you planning to free the Githyanki prince, and then murder me!
“Ah, well,” Seren said, the expression on her face unchanging. “Would've had you going there, if it weren't for the telepathy!”
Lae'zel smashed the bonds keeping Prince Orpheus, the Son of Gith, imprisoned.
You are a fool, the Emperor said. And you will die. I shall face you with the elder brain.
“Guess I'll just kill you when I see you!” Seren told him, still smiling.
The Githyanki prince had been freed, Orpheus. “One of you must become a mindflayer,” he said, which wasn't all that much different to what the Emperor had said.
“What?” Seren said. “No.”
“We could probably grab Omeluum and be back quite quickly,” Astarion agreed. “We have boots of haste and speed potions!”
“Let me do it,” Karlach said. “I'm dying anyway-”
“No,” said Lae'zel, before she'd finished speaking.
“It has to be one of you,” said Orpheus.
“Why?” Gale asked.
“Because,” said Orpheus.
“Time me,” Seren said, “I'll go grab Omeluum–”
“Not enough time,” the Githyanki prince said. He leaned back and turned into a mindflayer. “Now we can face the elder brain.”
“f*ck me absolutely sideways,” she said, gesturing at the mindflayer who stood where Orpheus had. “How did you do that?! And why couldn't you wait about ten minutes?!”
“So this is the upper city,” Karlach said, hands on her hips, looking at the carnage.
“I do not understand why the patriars live in such luxury,” Lae’zel sniffed, kicking over some rubble from a destroyed mansion. “It makes you soft and yielding.”
Astarion sighed wistfully and said, “it does, doesn't it?”
“If I live through this, we'll all take the time to come back here,” Karlach said. “And I'll let you beat up all the patriars you want to remind them to be less soft.”
“I would like that,” said Lae’zel and it was clear that she'd choked up from emotion.
No time, said Orpheus, rushing them along. Let's kill the brain.
“Githyanki efficiency,” Jaheira grumbled. “Has nobody heard of stopping and smelling the flowers?”
“We smell them with extreme efficiency and identify all useful information from them,” Lae’zel informed her.
“I can talk to flowers now,” Seren told Gale. “They tell me horrible stories, Gale.”
“You're…not going to let this go, are you?”
They managed to kick in a door and found…everyone.
Nine-Fingers Keene. Duke Ulder Ravengard. A Kobold someone had let in, that the party was happier to see than Duke Ulder Ravengard. Counsellor Florrick and the Flaming Fist. The Harpers. That strange flying elephant with a backstory that linked to Karlach's for some reason. Isobel and Aylin. Volo! Dammon, who'd outfitted their Owlbear into a tank of a thing, covered in armour. Barcus Wroot. Rolan and his siblings. The Gur. Mizora, for some reason. Yurgir! All the people that they'd helped over the months together. All those who'd put their faith in this little band of misfits and been rewarded.
“Perhaps a speech,” Duke Ravengard said. “For the heroes of Baldur's Gate.”
“You ought to say something,” Seren told Wyll.
He took a deep breath and stepped forward, and for the first time in seven years, Wyll’s city welcomed him with open arms.
After meeting with their allies, they'd been sent to lead the assault on the castle where the elder brain had set its defences. But the castle was, in technical terms, really f*cking defended, and they were huddled back behind a wall, trying to judge how to approach it.
“Perhaps I ought to get another shield,” Seren murmured, doing a different sort of mathematics to her usual kind. “Shadowheart, are you sure you can't go back to where it's safer…?”
“I'm staying here, actually. You'll certainly die without me.”
“Two shields?” Wyll questioned, looking over the battlefield. “And Shadowheart's right, you know.”
“Three shields,” Seren murmured. “Four? Five. If I can learn telekinesis…”
“In the next six seconds?” Wyll asked.
“If I get hit by one of those mindflayers more than once I'll go down faster than Gale at MILFs Drink Free night at the Yawning Portal,” Seren pointed out, a little bitterly. They'd gotten through so much. That her own frailty might be their undoing hurt.
“I see you're improving your metaphors,” Shadowheart told her, wrinkling her nose as she mentally rolled through her list of spells - how to protect, how to heal, how to rain holy fire over the battlefield and get them to safety.
Seren looked down at the list she'd pinned to the inside of her shield.
Go down faster than Karlach at ladies night at the blushing mermaid
Go down faster than my twin brother in general
Go down faster than Lae'zel something about muscles
Go down faster than Gale ???? MILFs or bears?????????? Yawning Portal.
Go down faster than ??????
“Yes,” she lied. “That one was improvised, even. Hold on.”
She brought out another piece of paper. She'd written a Todo list on it.
- Take out the soldiers on the walls.
- Distract the middle group
- Run like hell and hope for the best.
“We're quite good at the third,” Astarion said, rubbing his chin.
Seren stuck this todo list over her metaphors, on the inside of her shield. And Shadowheart said, “we're fighting for our epilogue.”
“We're fighting for a nice long rest,” Seren agreed, and looked so tired, even though it couldn't have been later than midday.
The waves of enemies seemed unceasing. How had Gortash and Orin slipped so many nasties into the city? And how had they kept them so quiet?
They'd had to abandon the assault on the walls, instead focusing on running, occasional help from their allies getting them through. They'd charged helter-skelter up the twisting stairs of a castle filled with the elder brain's strange, reaching tendrils.
They crammed into the little room at the top of the tower, Karlach carrying their leader like luggage by the back of her chainmail, dropping her once they were safe. Seren crawled away, leaning back against the wall behind her, utterly winded. Too many hits from too many attackers. Shadowheart leaned down, ready to restore her the way she'd had to do at the beginning sometimes, when she'd still been suffering from resurrection sickness.
“I'm alright,” Seren told her, still out of breath. “I just need a moment.”
The others were preoccupied, planning out what came next. Shadowheart leaned down, almost on top of her, and pressed her nose to her lover's throat. She gripped the front of her now badly stained linen tabard, hands balling into fists, and said, “you smell awful.”
“I'm sorry, my love.”
“All that mindflayer blood.”
“There's a few of them,” Seren said, apologetic. She rubbed Shadowheart's back, small circles, and said, “I love you. Will you keep me alive?”
“Of course.”
“And if I die, take me to Neverlight Grove. Let me break down there. I miss my friend, still.”
“You won't die,” she said, but kissed her, and gripped her armour tighter. “You really do smell terrible. Do I smell like that?”
“A little,” she said, politely, which meant, my eyes are watering from love and also the rancid mindflayer and goblin blood covering us both. “Think of the long bath we can take after this.”
“Will you scrub my back?”
“You'll sparkle when I'm through,” Seren promised with a little laugh.
Karlach sat beside them. She didn’t look well. Something in her vibrant red was starting to fade, like a light burning low. “I don’t get it,” she said. “Why didn’t you let me be an mindflayer. I could keep going, if I was. Free the city. Be a hero.”
“You’re already a hero.”
But Karlach wasn’t quite there. Shadowheart felt alarm grip her; while the rest of Karlach’s body was fading, the light behind her chest was burning brightly. “Karlach,” she said, voice half a warning.
“What was it like?”
“Disappointing, at first,” Seren said, understanding immediately what the question was. She opened and closed her hand and said, “But then I felt…relief. No expectations. No demands. All that awaited me was…freedom.”
“You weren't scared?”
“Maybe I ought to have been,” she said. “But I found that…it was hard to have the energy for fear. All I had room for was relief. I did all I could at the time. All that was left to do was let go. Morgan held my hand in the womb before we were born. And he held my hand as I slipped away. It felt…complete.”
“I'm not scared,” Karlach said. “I'm mostly angry. I don't know what to do with that anger. There's nothing left, is there? Mum and dad are gone. He took my heart. Once I'm gone that's it. Nobody left to remember. It'll be like we never existed at all.”
“You will not be lost,” Seren said. “We’ve been dead since they put those things in our heads, my love. We’re going to keep making death fight to claim us. Right to the very end. There's always a twist in the tale. We'll find a way.”
“I don't think there is, with this one,” Karlach said, a hand on her chest.
“Never say never.”
“You can be flippant. You're not the one dying this time! You're not the one left with all this…anger! And nowhere to put it, now. Now that Gortash is gone.”
“I'm not being flippant,” Seren said. “I believe we can find a cure.” She touched Karlach's hand gently and said, “and I swear to you. If we don't - if what you fear does happen - my next oath will be against Zariel herself. And I know I won't be alone in marching down there. Every one of us would die for you - has killed for you. We love you.” And then, because it seemed like this was a particular sore point, she said, “You will not be a footnote in the annals of history. They'll be publishing books you'd never read about you. Everyone will know your name. I'll make sure of that.”
And Karlach smiled and it was long and warm and sweet, like an epitaph and she squeezed her half-elves to her chest and said, “Thanks, for everything.”
As they climbed up and out of the dark, looking up at the elder brain floating above them, Gale said:
“Mystra wants me to kill myself here.”
“f*ck the gods,” said Seren.
“I did,” Gale said. “And look where it got me.”
“You’re a good man, Gale. I’d prefer for us to take our chances,” she said.
“And what if we fail?”
This was a hard decision to make. She looked up at the dark sky above, and said, “detonate.”
He nodded too, understanding. If they were falling, they were dead anyway. Better to wipe them from the world than allow the parasites to take hold. To his surprise, she hugged him tightly; he held her too, his cheek on her head. “Live through this,” he said.
“That depends on you living through it,” she said, sounding a little offended.
He didn’t want to let go. But the brain lay above them.
It was time.
“More than likely, each of his puppets are engineered to counter us directly,” Seren observed. Standing here on the brain itself, the emperor had conjured visions of their guardians, here to face them. A psychological torture, a kiss goodbye. “Amara was an eldritch knight; smarter and stronger than me. He'll have picked that up, no doubt. Really, we ought to play any fight against her with spells - she'll inevitably attempt a counterspell. When she does that, Gale can reign down hellfire and she won't be able to stop him. Gale,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “Are you alright with killing my ex?”
“I'd be honoured.”
“Karlach,” she said. “What of your guardian would he know?”
“I dunno,” Karlach admitted. “Mine's not real. Pretty sure that’s 100% my wankbank material.”
“It's hard to imagine a halfling so be-titted as the one we see before us,” Seren agreed. “Astarion?”
“Also imaginary.”
“Makes sense,” she said. Astarion's dream guardian, a fairytale prince dressed in white, had several tools designed for vampire murder. “Looks like radiant damage. Wyll still has infernal warlock spells–”
“I was going to focus my fire on that guardian regardless,” Wyll said, quite coolly. “As for my own,” he hesitated and said, “I would prefer that someone else take care of her.”
“Eh,” said Jaheira. “I'll handle it.”
“I shall help,” Minthara told him, kindly.
“Thank you,” Wyll began.
“I love matricide,” she continued, with a wide smile.
“I can probably throw the halfling dream guardian pretty far,” Karlach said. “And some of the rest.”
Shadowheart stared at her own, a drow woman. Minthara said, “Shadowheart, if you did like drow so much, why did you never join me in my tent when I requested it of you?”
“I believe,” Shadowheart said, very slowly, “she was supposed to represent my…to represent my Mother Superior. A woman I walked into a suicide mission for, once. I would have done anything for her.”
“Ah! Viconia! Say no more,” Minthara said, a wide smile stretching over her features. “I shall attend to her. What pleasures we have - what delights we have been granted! We have slain Orin, I get to murder an elder brain, a representation of a companion’s mother, and a DeVir! Heheheheh. Tymora smiles upon me.”
“You know that theory we had,” Karlach said, looking out over the Dream Guardians, “that they were someone we wanted to save us?”
“Hmm?” Seren asked, eyes locked on those of the familiar blonde eldritch knight. This was the difference, she supposed; Amara’s eyes had always been lively, burning with the light of liberty, and this puppet’s were blank and empty.
“Who's Gale’s supposed to be? I figured it would be Mystra.”
“Looks like an armoured version of…” Seren threw Gale a look. “Is that Vajra Safahr? The Blackstaff of Waterdeep?!”
Gale had the modesty to look a little evasive. “There's…there's small differences…”
“There's a real person who looks like that?” Karlach asked, whistling.
“The most powerful mage in Waterdeep, outside of Elminster and Laeral Silverhand.” Seren frowned, spinning her sword in her left hand, channelling her new oath, thinking of her love for Jaheira, of Shadowheart's new home, of the light and green and beautiful chaos of the feywild. Her sword arm lit up with a prepared smite in the name of death and memory. “The youngest to ever achieve the title of Blackstaff. Someone I'm guessing our friend Gale did not approach about his issue,” she added, but there was a half-laugh in her voice.
“I didn't want her to think less of me,” Gale admitted. “When I thought so highly of her.”
“We'll tell her together,” Seren told him, firmly.
“I’d like to meet her,” Karlach said. “Especially if Gale's gonna ask her out.”
Both Seren and Gale winced at this. “You're more her type,” Seren said. “She likes a…bit of rough, you know?”
“Frequently picks up sailors,” Gale added.
“Loved the miners, when she visited us on diplomatic missions,” Seren agreed.
“You know an awful lot about the Blackstaff of Waterdeep,” Karlach observed, hefting her great axe in one hand, rubbing her chin with the other. “Did you…”
Gale had raised his eyebrows. “What part of you're her type Karlach makes you think Seren had a chance with her?”
“Mate…” Karlach nearly dropped her axe. “Did you get swerved by the Blackstaff of Waterdeep?”
“WE NEED TO BE CONCENTRATING ON THIS FINAL BATTLE WITH AN ELDER BRAIN,” Seren yelled, misty stepping away to smite Shadowheart’s guardian.
“At least it's not Barcus,” Shadowheart muttered, exasperated, summoning spirit guardians and a sphere of pure flame.
“Or a sword,” Lae’zel said.
“I told you that in confidence!” Seren snapped, from somewhere on the battlefield.
“I suppose I can’t return her,” Shadowheart sighed, and used heat metal on one of the guardians, before calling Dame Aylin down to wreak bloody destruction on the mindflayers that blocked their path to the brain. "She's my knight, for better or worse."
It was a terrible fight, long and difficult. But soon the elder brain’s servants lay dead at their feet, and Seren had smited the elder brain into submission. There was no sense of triumph left in her; she was tired, and in pain, and she kept thinking of Jaheira, who had done this dance with Bhaal over and over and over and over for a century and a half.
How did you end something like this? How did you break this cycle?
The blood had yet to dry on her face as the elder brain screamed. Orpheus was holding concentration, bringing it down, readying it for death. And she kept thinking of something Minthara had said, a month and a half ago. She had to breathe through her mouth because the blood had stopped up her nose. The Drow’s words kept coming back, floating to the surface.
Think about it properly…apotheosis rituals require faith, and when you have control of the cult of the Absolute, they will have faith in you. And when you return to your kingdom, it will be easy to paint you as immortal - the princess that returned from death, unchanged. Easy to get those peasants to believe too. We could make you a true god.
A true god could stop this from ever happening again. Could take on Shar, take Mystra to task, flick Vlaakith away like the bug the lich was in the grand scheme of things. Punch Lolth in the face. Bury the dead three. Getting her brother back would be easy. Smiting her father.
It was so easy to choose peace when things were peaceful. But they'd been fighting through the guts of Baldur's Gate for what felt like days, time stretching; god-made horror after god-made horror forcing them back. How else was she supposed to make sure such a thing never happened again? She had to do this, didn't she? She had to ascend. She had to do what Minthara had said; take control of the cult. Perform the Apotheosis ritual the Raven Queen had once failed, her father had once failed.
And in making such a sacrifice, ensure something like this would never happen again.
She turned back, hand on her sword and when she looked into Shadowheart's questioning eyes, the words I’m sorry died on her lips. She could hardly mouth them. She turned back, a coward drawing her sword, and a ringing smack upside the head spun her entire world view.
“None of this now,” Jaheira said, very calmly, and put her into a headlock, her wiry muscles reminding Seren that while Jaheira was an archdruid, she was very much also a fighter of significant reputation. “We do not make decisions about godhood when we are stressed. Yes?”
“Yes,” she said, watching broken hearted as the elder brain imploded, and her last chance to kill her father and definitively protect her loved ones from any immortal harm faded from the world.
The sky split in half; the world tore itself apart. They fell into the Sea of Swords, sinking below its waves; Shadowheart, only recently having learned how to swim, remembered with panic, a sudden flash - had it been only two years ago that the king of the Storm Giants had been locked in the sea here? That Umberlee’s krakens had fought storm giants, just off the coast?
But the light of the moon maiden shone through the sea, which was odd, as it was mid-afternoon. But even underwater she heard Dame Aylin’s booming voice, “TO ME, ADVENTURERS, HEROES! FOLLOW MY LIGHT!”
And she had managed to doggy paddle - ugh, Isobel could not see her doing that - back to the surface, awkwardly managing to get to the shallows. At some point a shark grabbed her, and she realised it was Jaheira, pulling her along.
It took both Wyll and Lae’zel to pull Karlach out of the water. On the pier, she collapsed to her knees, shaking. Seren had to be dragged along too, but Minsc had taken care of that, throwing her over his shoulders as he peacefully swam a breaststroke, humming as though this was perfectly normal. Minthara climbed out of the water, not needing help despite her heavy armour. There was a large smile on her face as she said, “Vengeance completed. Hehehe. It is only the weak willed who are not satisfied by violence.”
“I hope Aylin doesn’t hear you,” Shadowheart murmured.
“This is it,” Karlach said.
“Don’t do this,” Wyll said.
“Stay with me,” Lae’zel said, the words tumbling out of her mouth like the shards of her broken heart.
“I can’t,” Karlach said. “It’s happening. It’s all falling apart now. But we did a good thing, didn’t we?”
“Enough of this!” Wyll cried out. “Karlach, we’ll go to hell together! We’ll fix your heart, together!”
“And when we’re done, we shall break the lich queen’s hold on my people together,” Lae’zel told her, half a whisper.
“We’ll make a group trip of it,” Astarion said, trying to cover himself; now that the parasite was dead, the sun burned him again, sizzling his skin, and Wyll threw his cloak over his lover’s head, trying to keep him safe. “Now, let’s go, wherever we’re going!”
Karlach looked at them, and Seren thrust a bad thumbs up at her, and said, “If you can’t beat the sh*t out of Zariel now, nobody can.”
Karlach coughed, body barely hanging together, going supernova in heat and said, “f*ck it,” shakily. “I’ll go if you’ll go with me.”
Then there was the tight shifting of magic as they plane-shifted, popping into nothingness.
“Gosh,” Seren said. “Yenna was quite close to those slu*ts. We ought to tell her they went to hell.”
“You could perhaps word it more tactfully.”
“But it would be less fun if I did.”
“It would.”
A crowd was forming; Gale was on his hands and knees, searching for bits of the crown of Karsus. He sighed and said, “It’s lost, I suppose.”
“Leave it lost,” Seren said, leaning back into Shadowheart. “No point in finding it again, for a woman who wanted you to die for it.”
“How else can I be her chosen once more?” Gale asked.
“I’m going to give you some pamphlets,” Seren said. “For the Raven Queen. I think you’ll find them very interesting.”
But Yenna had burst through the crowd. She looked at the burst of flame and dust where Karlach, Wyll, Lae’zel and Astarion had been and said, “Where’d they go?”
“Yenna,” Seren said, down on one knee, hands on her shoulders. “Listen, I…sometimes people come into our lives. And they change everything, make everything better. Even if they're only there for a little while.”
“Oh no,” Yenna said, fearfully. “Does this mean I have to move into Old Woman Jaheira's work house?”
“My what?” Jaheira asked, a dangerous edge to her voice.
“Astarion told me about it,” Yenna said. “He said, if anything happened to him, Seren's horrible decision making was probably why. And that I shouldn't trust you, because you're mostly evil? And that Jaheira would make me slave away making her martinis and watering plants in her work house, and I should instead run to the place on this map marked Astarion's New House, steal everything not nailed down and sell it all.”
“That's Cazador’s mansion,” Shadowheart observed.
“Oh, sweet Yenna. Dear girl,” Seren said. “Astarion's still alive! For now. Not for long, though.”
“Where's that diabolist?” Jaheira grumbled. “It is time to make another trip to Hell.”
“Paladins clear up pretty well in hell,” Yenna said. “That's what Astarion told me.”
“We really do!” Seren agreed, pleasantly.
“Clerics too,” Yenna added. “And druids, probably.”
“You are correct, little one,” said Jaheira. “About this, at least.”
“So why did none of you go with them?”
“I am very old and very tired,” Jaheira said.
“Hmph! They did not ask me,” Minthara said, darkly.
“They forgot I was here,” Halsin said.
“Who are you?” Yenna asked him, politely.
“Frankly,” Seren said, “I just want to sleep in a lockable room for the first time in about ten years.”
“And I'd like to sleep with her,” Shadowheart said.
“I certainly hope so! It would damage my evening plans if you didn't.” Seren patted Yenna’s arm, and said, “come on, I know someone who can look after you while you wait for your foster dad to get back. Oi! dickhe*d! Yes! You!”
The knot of Flaming Fists turned. Her brother Simon pointed at himself, but she was looking past him.
“Ulder Ravengard! You want to make up for being a bad dad?” She pointed at Yenna, and said, “this is your grandchild! Or thereabouts! A child your son is responsible for! Look after her til he gets back. And no throwing a bunch of weighty expectations on her shoulders! Be a good dad! Be kind! Be gentle!”
Ulder recognised Yenna from his time at the tavern. His face softened. And he said to Seren, “Don’t you ever speak to me that way. You are the disinherited youngest child of a backwater kingdom. In fact, I hereby strip you of your royalty, at least while you’re here in Baldur’s Gate. You are nothing but a bard to me, Seren of the Dragonspine Mountains. You have no family name, no power here. You mean nothing other than what you have done for Baldur's Gate. I intend to speak to the Lord's Alliance, and to have our agents mobilise and take over your little country, and ensure that a person of your family lineage never rules there again. This is my first decree, as returning Grand Duke.” He closed in on them, and Shadowheart, weak from the fight, was reminded that Ulder Ravengard had won his title on the battlefield; he was broad and strong and clad in mail. But when he brought his hand down, it was gentle, a pat on both of their shoulders. He crouched down beside Yenna, and said, “I’ve needed someone to teach me how to cook for a time. And my office has the perfect spot for a cat to sleep.” He put his hand on her shoulder and said, “Shall we go home?”
Shadowheart breathed out and said, “That could have backfired.”
“Yes,” Seren agreed, but she was smiling, and looked like a weight heavier than Ulder's armoured hand had been taken from her shoulders. She jumped down off the pier and onto the cold sand beach of Baldur’s Gate harbour, more of it revealed as the tide drew out; debris from the mindflayer invasion littering the sea. And she began to walk towards where she knew the sun would set and Shadowheart followed her, to dinner, and a hot bath, and a warm bed, and all that came after, together.
And she said, “A lifetime ago, I followed you on a beach, in the wake of a mindflayer attack.”
“We started this together, didn’t we?” Seren said. “I’m glad we’re ending it together.”
She reached out, and Shadowheart took her hand and said, “Forever.”
