#bg32025

The Year Of Prompts

January - New Year New You Pick a new character, trope, or pairing. Something you haven’t tried before. Make it a challenge to do something new and different! February - Romance Novels Go for something romantic, or if romance isn’t your cup of tea try something around the Necromancy of Thay instead! March - Marching Forwards March to your goal to finish a WIP or LongFic, or March into a new world by making something in an AU! April - Fools Rush In Make something humorous, something fun, whether it’s based on a meme or a joke pairing or just something with a bit more whimsy and some laughs~ May - Maybe? What If? Reverse a trope or reimagine a part of the canon - what if things were different? 

June - June Bugs Create something centred around a game glitch or exploit, past or present! July - Why Would July To Me? A piece around lies, deceptions, and other ways the truth can be twisted or obscured. August - When In Rome… A piece themed around the customs of specific races, backgrounds, regions, or Guilds. Are they followed or broken? That’s up to you! September - Seven Deadly Sins Pick one, or more, of the classic “seven deadly sins” and see how that can relate to one or more characters or tropes. October - Days of the Dead Create something around a character death, a memorial, a lingering ghost, or find a way a character might cheat their death or be brought back from it~ 

November - Gnomevember Either create something centred on Gnome characters from the game, or the other story points around them (Steel Watch, Iron Throne, Runepowder, etc) December - Season of Giving Create a surprise gift for someone in fandom, or write a piece around a gift being given by or to a character or characters!

Rules

The rules are very simple!

Create your piece in 2025, preferably within the prompt month but if you post a little early or late that's fine too!

All pieces must be your creations or a collaboration - No AI or chatbot content

You are free to work in whatever medium you like for each and every prompt!

Set your own goal - you can do a short 100-500 word minific, some simple sketches, or write a whole 10k word one shot epic, or draw a full page comic. What matters is that it's a goal YOU want to achieve!

There will be options to submit prompts and fill prompts in the AO3 collections - this is entirely your choice! You can take a prompt if you like, work on something you had already started, or create something entirely new!

Have fun!

The Goal

The aim really is simple - to set some targets, and work on at least 12 things this year so at this time next year you can look back on your progress and celebrate your achievements. If you miss a month or turn in late, that's fine! Do what works for you!

AO3 Collections

For those of you that would like to, there will be a parent collection for the year event as a whole and some sub-collections for each month to allow us to keep everything nice and organised. It's completely optional if you would like to put your work on AO3 or not - you're more than welcome to just keep it on Tumblr or wherever you usually share your works!

This event is for you to use however you feel best, to inspire creativity, working towards manageable goals, and trying something different.

Social Media Tags

Use the tag #BG32025 if you would like to! I don't know if anyone else is using this one but I'll cross my fingers that we're the only ones~ Feel free to share the event and please do support each other through our creativity! A character or pairing or kink or trope might not be your cup of tea, but let's celebrate how it is there for someone else who might really enjoy it, and keep a positive and passionate view whilst respecting boundaries by tagging works appropriately as always <3

The Battle Beer Bard and The Githyanki Fighter Aka Take me to the limit Aka Super Training Aka Astarion's and Shadowheart's Gossip Wine Club of Elves

Was it the whiff of beer wafting from his breath or simply the flashing aggression stemming from whatever unresolved issues he might have had, but whichever of the two things prevailed and set the human adventurer up for a fight, it left him standing mercilessly in the way of the companions, where he had previously been hanging onto his beer mug, half unconscious at his table.

"Are you running after your friend Zevlor?" hissed Aradin with a grim face, his stature blocking Saulus, Astarion, Lae'zel and the rest of the companions from marching on.

"Friend is always such an ugly word that I don't like at all," Astarion wrinkled his nose in the background, his eyes paying more attention to his nails than to the battered adventurers in front of him, whose ragged appearance and smell were more familiar to him than he would have liked. As much as he wanted to count himself among the patriarchs and nobles and had looked up to the High Hall, in the end, his dealings had ended with the rabble and pirates in the harbour. Not very glorious or honourable. But at last, they did throw the more exciting parties, he had to admit.

Nevertheless, he would not tell Shadowheart where his nightly escapades had taken him; not everyone needed to know how inglorious and dull his life had been under his master. His own memory, which was so vivid and which he could never erase, was enough for him. So it was nice to be able to play a little.

But his playful objection was ignored for good or worse and after a quick glance at Aradin's eyes and even more at his tense shoulders and hands, his lips wet from beer, the tiefling bard Saulus – like all of them, fresh off the nautiloid ship a few days ago – took a step forward and smiled reassuringly:

"We're actually trying to stay out of the internal problems here and want to get on with our own business, but Kagha from the druids wants us to talk to him again on their behalf. We definitely don't want to get involved any more than necessary and then go our own way."

The smile on her lips and the conciliatory gesture of her hands seemed to fall on deaf ears with Aradin, but Saulus was still in good spirits, while Lae'zel was already hissing and rolling her eyes in the background. Even without a tadpole, one that knew here well could hear the thoughts of the warrior from distant lands, or rather stars, more loudly.

"Oh, really?" the adventurer raised an eyebrow, arms crossed in front of his chest, and gradually Barth and Remira began to shift uneasily, the latter at least as bad-tempered as he was.

"But of course!" Saulus grinned, gesturing towards the foaming beer mugs the human gang had left behind on the table in the corner, "I'd also prefer to be able to smash a few pints in peace and do nothing else. I mean, we can still do that together, can't we?"

"I hardly think we need any more of your kind here," came the disparaging reply from the brown-haired curly-headed man, his lips curled in disgust, and his colleague Barth's agreement did not escape the group's notice.

"It's good that no one here is dependent on anyone else's approval," hissed Lae'zel, and as her tongue darted forward as nimbly as her slender neck and agile silhoutte, the bard quickly shook her head and her fiery eyes scanned the Githyanki's hand, making sure it did not reach for the sword.

"It's all right, Lae'zel."

"And with which army does the horned one here intend to get through if we don't allow it? We want peace and quiet here and don't want to hear any more of this druid and tiefling nonsense, and certainly don't want to see it," Remira agreed, glancing intimidatingly at Saulus.

"Are you sure you have this under control?" Astarion whispered to her, "because otherwise..."

"We're just passing through. You do your thing, we'll do ours."

"And what if we don't feel like letting you through, huh? What then?" the adventurers continued to provoke them, and Aradin stared down at Saulus as if she had personally slammed the gate in his face or spat in his beer. He wanted to take it out on them now, or the tiefling's non-confrontational manner provoked him even further to torment them.

"This is our corner and you have no business here, so get lost with your entourage, little bard!"

"We don't want any trouble with you. There's no reason for it," she said calmly, diplomacy on her tongue, while Astarion and Lae'zel had nothing but contempt in their eyes and murder on their fingertips. But starting a fight here would end up in a full-blown battle, given the powder keg the grove was sitting on. Figuratively speaking. (Saulus hoped at least; By now everything seemed possible to her)

Diplomacy, no trouble, they could all be friends, open hands extended in peace... all this and the smile on Saulus’ lips died the moment Aradin suddenly grabbed for her tin whistle flute, which she always carried on her belt.

“No trouble, huh, lass?”

He held it in front of her nose and broke it in two.

"And what will the flute girl do about it? What are you going to do now, hm? Come on! Or is the little bard sad now?" he teased her with a feigned voice, the provocation in his sparkling eyes and angry face knowing no boundaries.

"Maybe she can play a few tunes or spells on something else," Remira laughed to her companions, but the tadfools paid no attention to that.

Astarion and Shadowheart had gasped sharply when the flute broke before Saulus’ eyes, and they were still holding their breath while Saulus herself could only hear the words of the human in front of her as if through a veil.

She could only hear his "What does the flute girl want to do about it? What do you want to do now?" muffled through a rumble, a rustle and a whistle.

Every smile had died from her face, replaced by a hard mask. Hard, bare stone that turned into a sea of fire and determination the second her fist snapped forward, before Aradin had even finished grimacing at her.

Leaning towards her with a provocative grin had been a mistake, because without warning, a perfectly executed straight punch slammed into his cheeky face, springing from between his two hands, which were now holding the two halves of the flute in front of her nose.

The sound of her knuckles hitting his nose was as melodious as the two flute pieces that immediately fell from his hand to the floor.

Aradin didn't have time to hold his nose, and after a painful groan, he wanted to start swearing: "You damned—"

He didn't get any further, because Saulus’ wrists followed up with two more double jabs to his face before his brain had even properly processed the first blow. This was immediately followed by a jumping knee strike, and her hands rammed his face right into her upcoming knee. Then, in the same movement, she delivered a firm side push kick with her already slightly turned hip, finally knocking him a good distance further back to the ground, where he remained lying.

It was Astarion's slender figure, complete with silver curls, that loomed over Aradin as he bent over him with his arms crossed behind his back.

His lips played with an expression at least as mischievous as the one that sparkled in his red eyes. Highly amused, Astarion's reaction to the sight of the adventurer lying on the ground was only too fitting. It was nice to be able to look down on him and see his swollen face, which must have felt instead of heard.

"Perhaps I should have mentioned that her stage name is Battle Beer Bard," Astarion grinned down at the attacker and tilted his head, making his grin shine ten times brighter, "even though I call her Saulus of Always Wet. Of the Southern Always Wets – and I'm trying to establish this as a stage name."

"Astarion!" her voice snapped shushing and the same amount peeved as Saulus stared at him, her mouth agape in shock, hoping to shut him up and prevent him from saying anything else.

"What?" The vampire just grinned back, knowing damn well what it and her problem with it was.

"If he had paid more attention to stage names at the beginning, my foolish good man, then this might have ended more favourably for you and you would have been less rude, wouldn't you agree?"

Astarion turned his gaze from Aradin to Barth and Remira, who made no move to continue the fight and start a mass brawl.

Lae'zel and Saulus almost regretted this, because the two women, now in a heated state of mind, would have had no problem fighting a battle that went beyond man against man.

"Keep your hands up!" Lae'zel yelled sternly at Saulus, "No matter how tired you and your arms get, you must always keep your hands up to block. Your opponent knows no mercy. That's why the muscles in your arms need to become much stronger to be more enduring."

“Why do we do this whole thing again?” asked the bard's whining voice rhetorically, accompanied by a slight gasp, due to the additional training session Lae'zel had scheduled for her, which now felt for her like it had been going on for ages.

The small Githyanki training camp was set up in front of the warrior's tent, but according to her, a true fighter didn't need much to train. Just their own strength, their muscles, a shadow, maybe a training partner and the ghaik training dummy.

"If we had trained more often lately, as we did in the beginning, you would have killed that man with just one punch instead of knocking him out with a few." "I had no intention of killing him, Lae'zel, and I certainly wouldn't have wanted to kill him with one blow."

"Chk! Nonsense, everyone wants to know the one-punch method, don't talk tsk'va! It was just a lack of training because you've been distracted by your romantic adventures lately instead of focusing on your fighting skills." "Lae'zel, I normally fight with two hand crossbows. Hand-to-hand combat is usually not my daily hobbyhorse.” "I don't know what that has to do with hoping and horses, Saulus, but you can lose your weapons – then you're left with nothing. You can have too little magical energy. But you can never lose your body. No one can take away the weapons of your muscle power, so you are always armed and never defenseless. Or do you expect your new lover here to defend you if you lose your crossbow? I hardly think so, I wouldn't count on it." "I heard that, Lae'zel!" cried Astarion, the man in question, from his tent, in front of which he stood nonchalantly, coquettishly swirling his goblet of wine, which kept him company but enjoyed little of his attention.

Lae'zel and Saulus put on an entire play, or almost an entire moving picture, for him, and he didn't even have to pretend to be interested in his wine, because neither of the two women had time to pay attention to how much and what exactly he was observing, so he could watch unabashedly until he did just that:

He enjoyed it as pure entertainment, watching Lae'zel treat their bard like a little horse that should run faster.

Of course, he was as indifferent and unimpressed as possible, which worked extremely well when you had facial features like his, along with pointed ears and even more pointed teeth.

He reacted indignantly to the verbal jab from the Githyanki warrior, who claimed that he would neither defend Saul nor be able to do so, to involve him in the training with scorn and insults, even though he was only an innocent bystander. "Good!", Lae'zel hissed back, and her sharp eyes, which were in no way inferior to her sharp tongue, glanced ice-cold and burning at the same time at the vampire, who was standing far too smugly in the background far for her liking, staring uselessly into their backs as if she wouldn't notice, no matter how much he stuck his voluptuous nose in the wine goblet.

"If you want to change that, you can join in," suggested the current combat instructor, keeping her eyes on Saulus, giving her a hand signal to do another set of her exercise, and with a deep breath from her bardic lungs, she immediately fell into another push-up, jumped up, and delivered three kicks of varying heights to the mind flayer training dummy.

"It's all right, I'm in good hands here. Besides, I'll never lose my dagger. I'm always on the safe, protected side," the vampire with silver starlight hair waved off flamboyantly and sipped his wine.

"Are you sure you don't need some combat training?" Shadowheart grinned coquettishly, having just returned with a new bottle of wine and now unabashedly taking a seat at the front of the "audience row".

"Tze, please," the vampire rolled his eyes, which were the same colour as the wine he was sipping, theatrically, "keep talking like that and I'll show you how little I need it." "I'm just saying. Lae'zel seems to be more of the 'I'll save you from danger, my love' type. Not that it's absolutely necessary, but isn't Saulus secretly a little bit into this kind of kitsch? From what she's read and written herself, this impresses her," she pointed to the warrior who continued to mercilessly improve her form, "certainly more than that," Shadowheart made an abstruse circular gesticulating motion over Astarion himself.

"Shadowheart, sweetheart, hand out of my face, or it's off, understood?" the vampire smiled sweetly with his head tilted, but his eyes no longer sparkled sweetly.

"Bob under my hooks," instructed the warrior Saulus, in her own sign a student of the College of Swords, and the bard ducked under Lae’zel’s side blows, as commanded in a semicircular movement and was glad when the Githyanki fist passed her by, whether it was just demonstrative sparring or not. She often preferred it when Lae'zel just gave her instructions and watched and corrected her form, rather than intervening directly, because her instructions were actually relentless enough.

"Try to land a rear elbow strike against my temple," she commanded, and the combat figure began again with Saulus throwing a blow with her forearm in the direction of Lae'zel's head side.

"Now turn your hip for a roundhouse kick, a cross punch, another kick and a last powerful punch. Quick and powerful! Go!"

Quick and powerful – literally. Lae'zel got what she demanded, because the sequence of her drill followed without further ado and without any more baby steps on her part. Although she easily blocked all of Saulus' practice punches and kicks, she quickly forced the bard to react to the sequence and duck under her blows in order to take into account the sequence Lae'zel had called out and perform what she had learned, paying attention to what her opponent was doing and perhaps also learning what she saw in her eyes.

"Rotation!" the warrior reminded her student from Faerûn, "you use your arms to punch, but rotate your body through your legs, so lift up your heels!"

"And since when have you been speaking up for Lae'zel?" came after a period of observation from Astarion's slightly shiny, soft lips, and the vampire tore his gaze away from the melee and gave outed Sharran a sceptical sideways glance, his eyebrow raised questioningly when she had suggested that the warrior was a better example of support in danger than he was.

"You've condemned me to get along with her," the black-haired half-elf laughed briefly, before her emerald eyes regained that look of inscrutability and mischief, "but despite that, I will not trust her for that very reason and will remain particularly wary."

A delicate swirl of her hand caused the red juice from fermented grapes to briefly swirl in her goblet, appearing at least as meaningful and meaningless at the same time as the words that had come from her Shar-worshipping lips.

The sun had long since passed its midday zenith and was gradually beginning to change colour. The bright, clear light was joined by more and more shades of orange, which caught in Saulus’ sweat.

Sweat that reflected on the skin of her chest.

Sweat that slowly beaded down her thighs and calves and even covered her arms.

Lae'zel gave her nothing, and if she did, it was only lessons and an increased pulse in her heart.

"Now practise your punches and kicks at full power on the training dummy. Mind your breathing at the right moments as you do it with your singing, it pulls your abs in and keeps them tight, always be aware and in the moment," Lae'zel gave the next instruction and stood next to her training dummy, arms crossed, her gaze stern and assessing. Nothing would escape her watchful eye.

But Saulus couldn't let that make her nervous; she was so busy moving and breathing, sweating, striking, punching and kicking that Lae'zel's watchful eye was simply there, her voice simply became a natural element, a note in the overall melody of these drums of war pounding in her veins and chest.

"Your enemy is hitting you with a lead jab," Lae'zel called out clearly but calmly, watching sharply as Saulus raised her right forearm to her forehead to block, "rear cross counter at you!"

The so-called battle bard reacted with a rear block of her other arm protecting her face, then she immediately slipped right and left to get closer to the figure, her hands always by her head, her chin low.

"Excellent, the form of your slips is perfectly bent forward. Now use this moment and your proximity to your opponent for a powerful blow and knock them out," Lae'zel praised the correct instinctive execution and gave the next instruction for the devastating blow to the hoped-for victory.

The position offered Saulus the perfect opportunity to land a powerful hook on the training dummy, first to the body and then to the head.

"Keep going! Now more velocity, more power! Think about the rotation from your legs," instructed the Githyanki teacher.

Hot and heavy breaths began to escape from between Saulus' lips every time one of her body parts collided with the training dummy, but she didn't take her eyes off it, staring at it as if it were actually something evil, and the longer this sweaty exercise continued, the more she believed it. Her lungs and limbs cried out for a break, because the warrior definitely didn't allow her to catch her breath, pushing the bard from one exercise to the next. There wasn't even time to take a sip of water because they were constantly busy performing some combat drills, muscle build ups or cardio burn outs in between.

Saulus' heart was working overtime, and so was her head, especially her head. She only noticed how tense her body was and the glistening beads of sweat rolling down her forehead from time to time, when she wiped her brow and gradually gasped for air, but she was too focused on following Lae'zel's lavish instructions, despite all her whining.

After several rounds of these repetitions, Saulus threw two elbow strikes at her fixed enemy and her mean forearm flew down at the head of the puppet before she turned her hips for a side push kick.

"I see your knees are in line with your toes, hips are down, keep it that way!" Lae'zel nodded, not dissatisfied. Not as dissatisfied as a Githyanki warrior could be with a bard from Faerûn.

"How many more repetitions of this round, Lae'zel?" panted Saulus.

"Don't let up. You keep going until I tell you to stop. Battle the elements, your mind, your body, then you can battle enemies."

"Should we watch this any longer?" Astarion asked the cleric next to him, after the warrior's wisdom had gradually become a little too precocious for him. It might be quite funny to watch Saulus jumping up and down, but K'liir's commanding tone was less than pleasant to his sensitive elven ears.

"Well, I have a pretty good view," Shadowheart replied with a satisfied smile and poured herself another glass of wine without taking her eyes off Saulus, who, with deep, throaty sighs, was giving all she had to literally put a stop to the fictional ghaik.

Exhaustion slowly sapped her stamina and her breathing became increasingly intense, but she was all the more motivated and, with the cries of a true warrior, she gathered her courage again and delivered the next blow to the mind flayer with an angry "Argh!" from her throat.

"Now we finish off the muscles of your core and legs," commanded the voice of the combat instructor, as if Saulus wasn't already completely finished off.

"Lae'zel," sighed the Tiefling in theatrical surrender, grimacing, "I was finished for sure over half an hour ago!"

"Chk! I see you are standing just fine, so less talking, more action. So, you will bring your knee up across the body, touch the inside of your foot and that three times very quickly, followed by a powerful cross body punch against the ghaik. Do you understand me? You will not stop for 90 seconds and not until I tell you to stop. Start now!"

"Can you explain to me why I'm fighting a mind flayer with my fists? That doesn't make any sense!" Saulus said against her rapid breathing as her leg lifted tirelessly, but it quickly began to feel very tired, which shocked her. After a few repetitions, a few seconds, her leg had become several kilos heavier, as if someone had hung on to it, and as if the fibres of life inside were gradually beginning to burn. As said, it was disturbing, to say the least. Was she really lacking training, or was she already overexerted?

"Assume that the illithid, with just a wave of its hand, has robbed you of all your weapons; they are out of your reach. But you have managed to corner it, to bring it to the ground, whether with your spells or your fighting skills. Now it is weakened, incapacitated, alone and isolated. Now you finish it off! Use your imagination, you always have so much of it, chk!" Lae'zel scolded her, sounding almost surprised and reproachful.

Saulus was already convinced, and with a determined, grim expression, her fists flew across the room and collided with full force against her padded opponent, while her vocal cords emitted a deep, sharp, rumbling "Argh!" as she exhaled.

"Are you sure you don't want to join them, Astarion?" The question from the lady in black was more of a skillful trap than an actual suggestion. Furthermore the twitch at the corner of her mouth, accompanied by an appraising sideways glance, was just waiting for a reaction from the vampire, who was unfamiliar with honest reactions. "Why should I?" “Lae’zel seems to be enjoying all the fun of tackling Saulus so unabashedly on her own. I bet she can think of a few more ways to help; whispering instructions into her ear and giving supportive position," she grinned into her wine goblet with a big gulp as Astarion looked at her with a shocked expression and she got exactly the reciprocation she had hoped for before, but he immediately regained his composure and blinked nonchalantly as always.

"I'm very happy with my position with Saulus, thank you. She would also assure you that. I don't need any jumping jack astral warrior games for that. But thank you very much for the advice, Shadowheart. Even if you can keep your unasked, unsolicited nonsense to yourself. Or would you like to join this women's grapple guild? Go ahead. I'll be happy to watch; it'll only make it more interesting for me. I'm sure there are a few bets to be made on that."

The cynicism not only rolled off his tongue, but also sparkled in his eyes, which glowed like the evening twilight and the red embers of a night-time fire. Sarcasm always sharp on his tongue and his sharply cut lips, he continued casually:

"I've never understood this barbaric duel. Except in a gambling den between pirates and scoundrels, betting on it if you like sweat and blood with bad wine."

"You call the open-hand fighting style of the Githyanki barbaric?"

"When you could settle a dispute with dance, with the stroke of a fine blade? Yes." "Well," Shadowheart grinned and filled Astarion's goblet with wine, "I can certainly see what Lae'zel finds so appealing about the training session, because she has never deigned to teach us anything."

The raised ash-grey eyebrow of the elf of vampiric unnaturalness gradually turned away from Shadowheart to assess Lae'zel, who was hissing in her unique timbre of voice her instructions at Saulus.

"Good, you are leaning forward, that is excellent for a powerful punch to knock it out. Use it to finish it! On your last punch, I want you to try to send the figure flying or punch its head off or its chest through with one punch, just as you should have done with the human today!"

"Lae'zel, I'll say it again, I didn't intend to kill the guy!" intervened Saul, her eyes fixed on the lifeless opponent made of fabric, leather and straw.

"What's the matter, Saulus, does being so closely bonded with the bloodsucker make you soft? Is he rubbing off on you? You should at least be able to kill for what he needs to live. Or is that exactly the problem? Because he needs his prey alive, you are forgetting how to kill without hesitation," hissed the githyanki, almost too maliciously smug, her eyes sparkling provocatively.

"Lae'zel, I can still hear you, that wasn't necessary. What's your problem?" Astarion called over from his tent, giving the lady from foreign stars a brief, puzzled gesture with his hand and shaking his head exaggeratedly, his face slightly contorted.

"What's her problem?" he muttered, partly to himself and partly to his wine companion in black beside him in the square of innocent spectators.

"She seems to think you're weak."

"I've noticed that, super investigator Shadowheart. Why and what she cares, I wonder."

The cleric's black braid wiggled as she chuckled softly at the sight of the elf, who didn't even seem to notice how he was puffing himself up a little and his eyes were beginning to sparkle darkly. And they could look really mean, just as his mouth could twist into a really nasty grimace.

Since she was only half-elf and, fortunately, part human, she now understood what humans meant when they said how damn angry high elves could look, even over the slightest thing, as if they had bitten into a lemon.

"Keep it tight with intention and purpose behind every move. Go the full distance or go home!" the fighter from K'liir spurred on her student of the day, her expression as ironclad as the metal of her sword.

"What if there is no home?" came a quiet gasp from Saulus as she continued to attack the training dummy with a coherent, effective sequence of punches and kicks.

"What?"

No further reaction but another vocalization mixed with her breath, a vocalization of her strength and fighting spirit that should keep pushing her forward:

 “Haryaaa!” Saulus motivated herself to push her body and mind beyond exhaustion, beyond sweat, and punched through the pain. Her lungs connected again with her vocal cords, her throat and, figuratively speaking, managed to connect all this with her fist, her snapping muscles and her spirit, which drew new courage and wanted to hit the opponent, even if he wasn't real at the moment, as hard as she could. Every new sound effect she put into the fight gave her new hope, new strength, new endurance to continue.

"Back to your standing cross body knee ab work with the punch combo, now the other leg and arm!" Lae'zel shouted the drill again.

"And what good is this endurance training for my legs supposed to do me exactly?" Saulus gasped between her reaches to her foot and the punches across to the side.

Whether she doubted the fighter's teaching methods or simply wanted to quit because she couldn't do it anymore at this point was something anyone had to decide for themselves.

She more or less tirelessly quickly raised her left knee to tap the inside of her foot with her right hand, finally gathering strength for the rotation and the blow against the Mind Flayer doll with her right arm. The emphasis was on more or less tirelessly, because she tried to hold on, even though this exercise turned her legs into heavy stone blocks within a few seconds. It was granite she was trying to lift, and her mind couldn't comprehend this ridiculousness, yet at some point she just wanted to cry out, "I don't want to do this anymore!" But something else in her mind still wanted to somehow succeed.

"You must train until your muscles fail so that your muscles never give out before your opponent's. Being persistent in battle means being superior. You can win simply by managing to hold your sword longer than the other person or, in the truest sense of the word, by standing your ground. Your legs must carry you, Saulus. It could be the deciding factor for you to hold out longer, to be more agile. A healthy mind can only reside in a healthy body anyway, which is why all Githyanki are fit, whether they go into battle or not. So let's go!"

"I will! Argh, take this ghaik!" shouted the bard at the dummy's unchanging expression, as her cross-body punch landed with a dull thud on his stuffed face with all her accumulated conviction after rotating her body.

"Don't tire her out too much, Lae'zel, or she'll be useless tonight!" the pale elf's distinctive voice rang out mockingly across the training ground as he swirled his wine goblet after moistening his lips with relish.

"Maybe that's exactly her plan," giggled the cleric next to him, holding her chalice steady so it wouldn't spill. "At least, that's what I would do."

"Who would have thought that you women are so resentful," Astarion shook his silver head in disbelief.

"I could have told you that right away," Shadowheart just shrugged, "besides, what are you complaining about? With all the leg muscles our warrior is building up with her training with Saulus, you can only benefit from it. Unless you have no use for her new strength in her thighs, then I offer myself, I could think of something..."

Astarion's eyes grew wider and wider at the dark cleric's words, until they were like a large, sparkling blood moon that had risen above his slightly open mouth.

"Oh oh oooooh," he exclaimed, and an ecstatic grin stole across his lips as vivid images began to play out behind his eyes, in his head. His brain didn't need an illithid connection to Shadowheart to conjure up similar fantasies and images to hers, as her words had sparked them before they became a small, colourful, lively fire.

He ran his tongue over his lips and pushed away further dream images, because dreams were just dreams, and in the end, he didn't know who else was peeking into his head. It was bad enough that tents offered anything but acoustic privacy.

He quickly leaned over to his conversation partner with raven-black hair and replied snidely to her comment that she would take advantage of Saulus’ newly gained muscles, which he did not appreciate: "Not if I can help it."

It sounded at least as serious as it did playful. However, it only sounded playful because it came from Astarion's distinctive voice, which always sounded like he was on stage, but even a threat on stage was a threat.

"Your last punch needs to have as much power as your first one. Keep your pace, don't get slower. Be steady with power and always watch your form and technique!"

A heavy sigh was the Tiefling’s response, who was praying inwardly that her companion would finally call out the cue to end. After all, the warrior had "promised" that this would be the finishing exercise to burn out her muscles towards the end. Well, that had happened long ago, along with her head and lungs. Everything in Saulus screamed to stop, and so she had to find a way to keep going. She tried to transform these voices back into the warrior's sound effects and force her breaths to become firm "Hya and AH!" as if she could regain strength and, in the end, simply buy herself time to get through it all.

"One more and knee all the way up, make sure to touch the inside of your foot!"

"Lae'zel, I can't anymore!" wailed the bhaal battle beer bard, her face a testament to the torture, her own legs becoming a curse to her, but still doing her reps until she was ‘allowed’ to stop. "Come on, three more and that's it!" "Lae'zel!" sounded the name of the warrior over Saulus' lips like a lament, but the bard never stopped moving once.

Not once until she made it, she did the three last reps after the last rep Lae'zel promised her, but then it was truly over and it felt like tasting ambrosia.

Finally being able to stop moving was like rain after a heatwave, but her pounding, beating heart told Saulus how amazing she could feel, to accomplish all of that.

With a smile that graced her scarred lip, the fighter from Crèche K'liir approached her heavily breathing student. "See, you made it. I only made you do it because I knew you had three more in you. I knew your singing lungs could bear some more. I am not asking more from you than you can give. You have to exploit the capacity of your body only yourself, Saulus, to realise what you can achieve. Then you will surpass yourself again and again and, in the end, everyone else. Except me and the other githyanki, of course, but for a bard, that was very good."

"Since when are you so good at hand to hand combat? I thought you were a swordswoman," Saulus said, grabbing a towel from one of the nearby crates, dipping it in a bucket of water and wiping her forehead, chest and neck before patting herself dry. "As a Githyanki of the Crèche K'liir, I was taught all the arts of combat from an early age, whether it was fighting with a greatsword, knife fighting, or defending myself with my hands. We Githyanki master all elements. Those of the mind and body unite within us. We are excellent scientists as well as poets and writers, to which you devote so much respect and time."

The explanation fell from her lips as she demonstrated perfectly flowing cool down static stretching movements to the bard - as perfect as her kin was in Lae'zel's eyes. "Then why don't we sit down together for a moment of poetry, Lae'zel? I'm up for a poetry battle if you prefer," laughed the bard in her heart and truly in her profession – insofar as one could call the current jingling of coins a profession, but at least she could earn something without a life-threatening assignment or stealing it from someone's pocket.

"But I always fight to win, losing is not an option for me”

"Regardless of the envious, resentful tiring her out and badmouthing me, in the end Lae'zel is doing me a favour by training Saulus to be even more persistent and untiring for my nocturnal…doings…of upcoming shift of plans" he grinned broadly at the cleric of the dark domain, ran his finger over his lip and tried to pick up on her earlier positivity and see the advantages that the whole thing could bring him, while he placed his goblet on the table next to his tent. Saulus had grabbed a large towel and gone to the river. Astarion didn't want to have his hands full unnecessarily when she returned and he had found a suitable comment for the training that he could use to draw attention to himself. "She's definitely not doing that for you," Shadowheart replied, referring to Lae'zel's endurance training, "but to have the opportunity to spend time with her. If I were you, I'd keep an eye on it when Lae'zel gets so close to her and proves how well their bodies harmonise. I really thought you had a little more imagination, Astarion."

The arrogant tone of the half-elf with the braid immediately soured the face of the high elf with curls of the completely opposite colour, like a freshly harvested lemon. Especially since he couldn't quite follow her reasoning. He didn't see the problem with letting the bard train with the githyanki warrior; the looks from Shadowheart, who was watching, were much more offensive to his no less offensive eyes.

Even though Astarion could see the whole thing in his mind's eye without thinking any further about it, and it was enough for him to dissuade everyone else from thinking any further. The fantasy in this camp was gradually becoming a little too much for him. "Great plan to beat her up. What kind of approach strategy is that? Even if our Astral gecko is into combat sweat."

"Don't you notice how incredibly nice and empathetic Lae'zel is to our Saulus in this training session?"

"Empathetic? Nice? She's almost destroying her! You call that nice?!"

"Yes, but the way she treats her and talks to her, can you compare that to the way she treats you or me? Not to mention her comments at the beginning. That was extremely motivating and encouraging."

And then Astarion gradually saw what had displeased him here from the beginning and had seemed strange to him.

Of course, Lae'zel routinely insulted the local culture and praised the Githyanki without adding anything else to smooth things over, but today Saulus had received nothing but "well done" within the context of the species and even something resembling a smile, which was more than enough encouragement. The fighter said she didn't give compliments, she just observed and noted when someone did a good job. Fair enough, but Shadowheart was right, her oh-so-objective observations, which had been extremely varied and almost frighteningly motivating, had focused solely on Saulus.

The vampire narrowed his eyes before opening them wide and putting on his usual grin.

What did he care about one or the other?

He could change it quickly anyway, he could outdo everything and everyone and beat them in any game he wanted. Shadowheart could talk as precociously as she wanted, this little smartass witch.

But in the meantime, she was much quicker and bolder with a new plan, cutting off Astarion's path and any possible words when in the truest sense of the word battle beer bard returned from the refreshing river to wash away the last strains of today's training.

"How about we open a bottle of wine after all that effort, Saulus?" Shadowheart smiled seductively and waved the dark green bottle with its head-turning delicacy even more seductively.

"Tempting, but I think wine is counterproductive after such strenuous physical training," Saulus said sensibly, but the way she pursed her lips showed that she said it reluctantly and not wholeheartedly.

"I think you deserve it after such a workout!" Shadowheart's sweet mouth argued conclusively and convincingly, which immediately made the bard grin.

"You know I can't say no to a bottle of wine anyway," laughed Saulus.

"No, no!" Astarion's voice suddenly intervened, almost shrill, "you're right, and Lae'zel would say the same thing, that this goes against her training plan. Alcohol and training don't mix! You'll ruin your progress and wear yourself out. You don't need a hangover on top of your sore muscles. There'll be wine another time!"

Like a barrier, the arm in the white linen shirt with ruffles and lacing landed around Saulus' shoulder and pulled her discreetly in his direction.

"You should rest yourself and your body after all the exertion. I would be willing to loosen up your muscles a little so that you are not quite so exhausted tomorrow," said the elf with stars in his hair and promises in his eyes, putting all his seductive talent into his voice and the expression on his face, over which he had once again pulled his tailor-made mask of velvet, silk and marble, because he thought that this was what people found appealing and convincing in order to do what he wanted.

"Resting is probably the better idea, I really feel like my body is on fire," Saulus admitted embarrassed, and without perhaps noticing it, allowed the vampire to gently guide her in the direction of his tent with a slight pressure of his arm, while his sparkling ruby eyes couldn't resist casting a sharp sideways glance at Shadowheart, "and that's very nice of you to offer, Astarion. But I hope you realise that you don't always have to do this, yes? I mean, not always this, me doing something for you. We can just spend time together."

There was that look again.

Far too intense and honest, those flaming eyes forged in Avernus between Styx, poetry and dancing butterflies flickered to minor notes in the deep red lakes of his dead rubies, which protected the abysses of his tormented soul.

A window that Astarion liked to keep tightly shut.

But then Saulus always stared at him like that, and he felt that little flame penetrate his red window panes, felt its warmth as it approached and tried to peek inside so that it wouldn't be so dark and lonely in there. For a moment, it was a nice feeling, until Astarion remembered that he shouldn't like it, that he had to be careful. He was the player and the hunter, and she was the prey, not the other way around, right? He made the rules.

And part of his rules was not to share her with any of the other women, otherwise they would ruin his efforts and steal the attention that was meant for him.

"Saulus, my darling, I enjoy the moment just as much when I take care of you so that you feel good. Let me play the selfless benefactor as if I were doing it out of kindness, to preserve my dignity," a sweeping hand gesture, as well as a charming grin on his seductive lips underlined his statement, while his eyes winked at her lambently, making any resistance and arguments useless.

"As selfless as you were during the Tiffy Taffy incident?" "Don't start with the Tiffy Taffy incident. Didn't you promise me you'd keep your sweet little mouth shut about it?"

Astarion couldn't resist giving Shadowheart another slightly venomous look over his shoulder, and if he had been as resentful as the female companions of the camp, as he had previously described them, he might have stuck his tongue out at her if he had been less than 200 years old. But as everyone knew, you were only as old as you felt, as people said.

Which people? It didn't matter. Astarion would say that from now on, anyway.

But he didn't need to stick his tongue out at her, as there was never any doubt that after the nights they had spent together, Saulus would show interest in anyone other than him and go with them. That was obvious.

Or was it?

Or was it?

📸 this beautiful VP is by the wonderful aristenfromwarsaw 💜 wanted to include the amazingness just so bad 😊

January - New Year New You

Pick a new character, trope, style, medium, or pairing. Something you haven't tried before! In the first challenge of this year I invite you to try something brand new, something you haven't done before! This could be a new technique, a different medium, a character or pairing you've never tried before, a kink or trope you've never tried before. As long as it's something that is new to you in one way or another, that's it!

The new year is often a time for trying something different and seeing how it goes, so use this to see what else you might be capable of!

Optional Suggested Prompts

If you usually create NSFW, try something SFW (or vice versa!)

Pick a character you've never created anything for

Spin a wheel or roll a dice to work out a new ship to try

Try a new art style or technique

Use a specific colour pallette

Include a kink or trope you've not used before

If you normally write, try a little art! No pressure to be perfect

If you normally make art, try writing something! Have fun~

Make 2 different versions of a piece that contrast in some way

Try a new program or tool for creating

Try a new writing technique (eg, drabbles, dialogue only)

NOVEMBER - Gnomevember

A piece centred on any Gnome characters or storylines! Gondians, Ironhands, Steel Watch Foundry, The Underdark Runepowder, Tavs, Durges, OCs...

The challenge this time centres on all those who are great and small.

You could also look at the quests that involve them, like the Steel Watch foundry, 

the Iron Throne, and the Underdark Runepowder Issue, 

but try to keep more of the focus on the gnomes than other characters for this month~

And, of course, Gnome Smut November is a very welcome way to take on this prompt!

- What really happened with Barcus and Wulbren pre-BG3?...

- After Zanner Toobin has been rescued, where does he go?

- Zhentarim Phase is a known gambler... Explore his story!

- Sweet Husband hours with Beldron and Lunkbug

- How does Laridda deal with the breakup with Philomeen?

- How did Bearclaw, Baff, and Lobo end up working for Aradin?

- What else did Rossina and Grout do on their interrupted date? 

- What if Gimblebock and his crew found Withers? 

- Who would make the best new "friend" for Barcus post-game?

- Explore Nubaldin's time in the House of Hope in Avernus 

- How does your Gnome Tav/OC react to the gnome conflicts?

"And I'm telling you, it's another alien parasite! So, we'll cut his head open and out with it before it infects us all," Lae'zel hissed vehemently.

"It's not and we don't cut anyone up. So put the knife away, Lae'zel," Gale admonished the Githyanki as she grumbled.

"It's pretty obvious that he's in love. You don't have to be a genius to come up with it. But no wonder none of you recognize the signs," Astarion explained, accompanied by a smooth expression on his face that said it was stupid not to recognize this immediately.

"Chk. Because you're such an expert when it comes to love," the warrior of K'liir scoffed ironically, rolling her eyes a little at the smug vampire, who had the audacity to portray the rest of the group as stupid.

"Oh yes, I am," he breathed in his sonorous voice.

"Astarion, I didn't mean love in the physical sense," Lae'zel pulled a contemptuous face in his direction.

"Oooh... well, then...", the white-haired elf shrugged his shoulders in surprise.

She would have loved to show him how she normally reacted to insolence, but she could already see Gale's raised index finger mentally in front of her. And so she would have to break two fingers, not that she would mind.

But as a good Githyanki, she needed neither her muscles nor her sword, and her tongue silenced opponents. Or allies. Or something like allies. The white-haired elf was a questionable companion.

But he probably thought the same about her.

All about her.

"After all, a better suggestion than looking for parasites in his brain just because he sometimes wants time for himself and sighs dreamily," Shadowheart chimed in appropriately and wrinkled her nose contemptuously without looking at Lae'zel, "don't get me wrong, if he turns out to be a danger, then we can still do this slicing thing and I don't think there's time for dreamy sighing, because we have more important things to do. So we should talk to him about the fact that we lack his sword if he gets distracted."

Karlach's voice sounded almost gentle, which seemed like an incarnate intervention of positivity in the pack of accusations and wild theories: "Guys, he's been through a lot lately. The stupid bitch Mizora who figuratively put horns on him..."

"Literally."

"What?!"

"You mean literally not, figuratively speaking, put on horns. Since he really got horns and not the proverbial horns like a horned husband, for example," it was the Wizard of Waterdeep who interrupted the infernal warrior for a short lesson.

"Anyway...", Karlach continued and her blazing eyes gave Gale for a moment an expression that could have ignited him, "...a lot has changed for Wyll and he has to deal with a lot. It's normal that he's acting a bit off and needs time for himself. Give him the time. We won't grow tentacles tomorrow or a goblin will split our heads because of that. I'm here!"

"Why not curious at all, Karlach? Do I hear some disappointment that you are not the beloved, to whom our folk hero sneaks away?" the vampire grinned venomously like a snake into her world.

"Haha, very funny, fangs. What's that supposed to do?!"

"So, what's the plan now?", Lae'zel's dagger flashed in the middle of the group, ready for action and blood, "do we kill him now or...?" "No, we're not going to kill him!" Gale exclaimed vehemently. "Not yet...", Astarion grinned smugly with a sly sideways glance.

Gale's brown beard was rubbed briefly in a displacement activity of his hand's thoughtfulness, as if they could whisper a solution to him: "But otherwise, Shadowheart does have a point..."

"Of course I do."

"We can just talk to him. Calmly, of course, and ask if something is bothering him, or if there is actually someone who is distracting him from our urgent current mission, as a change in his usual pattern of behavior has not gone unnoticed by us. And that without knives and sharp-tongued comments, as we have already noticed."

"If we want to ask him if he has a lover who keeps him from his sword-wielding task - at least his sword-wracking task to help us - and I can guarantee you that it is because a blind man can recognize this from a spectator petrified; then this should certainly not be the single wizard with a cat who has been left behind and who mentions his ex in every second sentence."

"She's not a cat!"

Could her teeth, which pressed on her lower lip, suppress her giggles? Aristen very much hoped so. The blonde elf - storm sorceress as her mark - knew it wasn't appropriate to laugh at the elf's nasty side blow, but unfortunately it was funny. Because he was so astute.

If it really was a crush that drew Wyll away from them, then he would probably take at least one piece of advice from Gale. His success rate did not draw a good balance, at least from what they had heard. And they had only heard Mystra all the time.

"We will certainly find someone whom Wyll confides in. In the end, we can only ask him. After all, it's his business and he doesn't owe us an explanation," the blonde elf interjected to swallow a laugh and possibly saved Astarion from a fireball from Gale.

"Honestly, fangs. When it comes to honest and upright feelings, you only know as well as..."

„… how far it is described in a cheap three-copper novel," Shadowheart finished Karlach's thoughts and managed to sound snippy and disinterested at the same time.

"Do I sense jealousy in your voice, Karlach? Because I don't spend time with it unnecessarily things, but can take care of the real fun?"

The barbarian's hands were a little to slow, as they reached for Astarion's collar, Karlach's clenched fist pointed menacingly in his direction. Blazing. Burning. "Hey you little..."

"Oh and not to forget to put on the list: No one with a short exploding temper should talk to him," Astarion added coquettishly as he ducked away from Karlach, just for Shadowheart standing in front of him in a second.

"I will talk to him!"

If someone needed to be inquisitioned, she was the right person for the job. She would definitely get Wyll talking.

"Maybe we'll let someone talk to him who is more…sensitively, gently and understandingly on the subject of love, Shadowheart," Saulus the Tiefling Bard smiled in her direction, who had seen the questionable enthusiasm of the Sharan flash in her eyes. "Hmm, I am gentle and understanding," the cleric grumbled and grimaced. "May I suggest something?", it was once again Astarion's voice that wafted playfully through the group like a symphony and that probably only he himself never got tired of hearing. At least this thought pierced the ponytailed head of the black-haired woman when the theatrical pitch sounded again and it must have happened to several of them, after all his pointed, mocking comments of the day.

And all this before noon!

"How about our little bard and very own sorceress?"

 "I don't know, Astarion. Shouldn't Wyll come to us voluntarily with it? I mean, I can ask him if you want to, but that's really none of our business. It's not as if he's putting anyone in danger," Aristen answered him slightly uncertainly, and her choice of words and tone of voice harbored a lot of diplomacy and restraint.

"Of course you just ask. And believe me, the business of our Blade couldn't be less of my interest. But if he's the one who makes such a big secret of it, then he's forcing us as a tight-knit group to find out what's going on with our companion, isn't he? You and Saulus simply listen to him and randomly lead him in the right direction. Come on, you are exactly the right ones for the job."

Seductive like a bottle of sparkling wine by candlelight and the sing song of a succubus, the vampire's arms wrapped around the shoulders of Aristen and Saulus, the lips of the pale elf in the middle of the two women played around his fangs with an encouraging smile that should convince them of his proposal.

"You two are good team. Do the rest of our formidable group agree with me, that this is a task for our two lasses, here? I mean they are a good combo, aren't they?"

"Chk, I'm fine. It can't get worse than the wizard or the cleric."

"While I pull the proverbial dagger out of my back Lae'zel – and put the real one away once and for all, we won't need it – I'm happy to leave this task in the empathetic hands of two ladies."

"I didn't know we needed to be a lady for this, but okay. Fine, let our little soldiers do this. And how did you imagine the non-committal squeezing, star?"

Silver curls swayed a little back and forth between the bard and the sorceress, while his ruby eyes sparkled at the two of them and behind his grin Gods knows what happened.

"Astarion?" Saulus repeated his name instead of an answer from his tongue between his pointed fangs. "Pardon me, I was distracted for a hot second," shook the elf's white head, anointed with moon colors in stars, and tore his hunter's gaze away from the two women.

"How about this...", and again the companions put their heads together as if they were a group of conspirators and possibly, they were.

Conspirators against Wyll?

Conspirators against love? It was yet to become apparent.

Maybe Ravengard just had a stomachache – which Karlach objected again and received an exaggerated disapproving shake of the head.

Perhaps a little gossip was much more interesting for some than they gave it. No matter how the sensitivities of the new travel companions were, secrets and gossip, suddenly made it much more exciting and desirable to find out something about it.

….

"I'm sorry that our promised sword lesson is only taking place now. Somehow I've found my mind very busy lately," Wyll Ravengard's tone alone would have been enough to apologize for everything, no matter what he had said about it. The sincere, gentle gaze of his eyes—as unequal as they might be—made any resistance impossible. Resistance was futile.

"Since I've had those devilish horns on my head, I needed some time to myself and didn't want to scare the Tieflings and children in the grove with them."

"Wyll," as dew slid down from a leaf in the morning hour, a soothing smile rolled over the lips of Saulus the Tiefling Bard, "they have all the horns themselves. None of them should be shocked. You're no less of a hero for them, I'm sure."

"It's nice that at least one of us can be sure about this" The sigh from the lip, the throat of the Blade of Frontiers, came deep from his chest, where his heart and his sorrow sat. But despite all the grief, his shoulders and the horns on his head didn't seem so heavy and somehow... light. At least from the outside.

"And if you need time for yourself to get used to it, then that's absolutely fine, Wyll. No one can expect you to welcome Mizora's punishment with open arms. After all, you have always endured all of this very patiently," Aristen said appreciatively.

"Thank you! And my I add, it is nice that we have you joining us. A pleasant surprise. I thought you were more focused on your magic and less interested in the use of weapons."

"I thought it couldn't hurt to watch you and learn something in the process. You never know when the magic will be blocked and you'll be left with nothing but a blade," the words of Aristen the storm sorceress turned as truthfully as the thorn tendrils around the Emerald Grove itself, "furthermore, you are the best person to contact when it comes to combining powerful spells and weapons."

"Well, you won't have to stop at just watching. When I see how extremely good you are with the knife when you help our Gale cook, then you definitely have hidden talents for the sharp blades," Wyll smiled charmingly and each of his two eyes had its own special shine.

"I also focus more on my hand crossbows, but it can't hurt to deepen the handling of the rapier and longsword. And we've seen you so little in the last few days...", furtively like a thief in the night, her flaming tiefling eyes flitted briefly over to the blue of the blonde high elf, "... maybe we can talk a little afterwards. Especially about the things that occupy you as much as you said earlier..."

…

There they are!

Blowing bugles, drums, shaking gates breaks the silence

Chaos breaks loose through tumult - startled crowd running through each other.

This would have been the equivalent of Aristen coming back to the camp and the traveling companions literally rushing towards her, only less violent. This was replaced with much more curiosity.

"She's back!"

"And? What did you find out?"

"He really seems to have grown fond of someone," Aristen answered calmly in the face of the storm of questioning that descended on her, although the pressing voices flowed over her like a roaring wave of the sea.

"Yes, darling, I already know that. Who, who is it? Does he have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Or," Astarion smiled pointedly and the elf face was a mirror for malice and misfortune, as if he were not a bearer of old elven blood, but of old gods' blood and the reincarnation of the god of mischief, list and evil, "a very grotesque something? Oh, that would be wonderful!"

"He didn't say who it was and whether we knew the person." A twitch of narrow shoulders under blond hair, however, stopped his malicious giggles and visibly darkened his face, at least the two red rubies of his eyes wore dark shadows. The porcelain smile and face quickly wore its usual masquerade again.

"So I know just as much as before," the sigh from Astarion's throat was ready for the stage, as was the hand movement he shook out of his wrist, not to mention the rolling of his eyes.

"You are welcome to ask him yourself if you think he will tell you more," Aristen suggested to him honestly and completely calmly. It was obvious that the other elf didn't seem to respond to his theatricality, which didn't stop Astarion from teasing her any further. But he may not have teased at all. Possibly he answered perfectly normally, but his way of emphasizing things made it difficult to interpret them completely objectively.

"No offense, I just thought you'd be more useful, darling."

"In any case," the blonde seemed to overlook his tone and the content that rolled over his tongue, because like a lie that glided over a blade, you never knew what was meant seriously and what wasn't, "Saulus stayed with him and they wanted to write a little poetry for his crush. I thought it would be best that I leave her alone with him. Maybe he will become more talkative."

…

"I don't think she's the kind of person you can impress with poems and songs," Wyll smiled bashfully and scratched his head, a clearly skipping action, he was nervous to talk to someone about his love and apparently relieved at the same time to be able to share it with someone, "but I would like it so much. Simply because my heart and my head don't stop singing when I think of them."

Embarrassed frustration slipped from his throat and the young Ravengard heir shook his heavier head vehemently and buried his face in his hands, which had already had to bear so much responsibility. In truth, they only wanted to write tender words of love.

"Argh! This may all sound so terribly cheesy to you. I'll make a fool of myself."

"A fool is one who is ashamed of his feelings and hides them. So far, they have only ever been your strength, so let them be the difficulty you lead, the armor that strengthens you and the shield at your side. That's why no one can resist serious poetic words, Wyll. No matter how good or how bad, it's all about sincerity," Saulus had spread her lyre and writing paper in front of her and the Warlock. Her words were a testament to her sincerity and possibly also to digression, distraction and short attention span, because she was no longer really interested in eliciting the secret, but she really wanted to write something with Wyll that he could recite to his beloved.

"At the court of Baldur's Gate, my father actually only ever upheld the practical knightly virtues: Justice, insight, strategy and courage. Before and after the introduction to society at court, it was always the most important concern of my father that I get along on my own and know how to behave in difficult situations with reason and above all with the sword. Although I know exactly which cutlery has to be in which place and which dance steps are performed, so as not to bring the Ravengard name into disrepute at a reception and ball, this was certainly less my father's attention than that of the chamberlain, who seemed to have his dear trouble with us."

Bringing the name Ravengard into disrepute.

The expression on Wyll's face, that slowly found its way on it, like a veil in the wind on a gray, rainy morning, was unmistakable. Even less so was the sparkle it stole from his eyes and replaced with something else.

But like a helping hand, The Blade tore himself out of the thoughts of gloom and continued with a returning smile and the soft sound of his voice close to a poem itself: "Nevertheless, the service of high courtly love is also part of the artistry of a knight and should not be neglected. Even if not, I was happy to dedicate myself to it. As a child, I read books that made me dream of adventures. Later stole books from the adults in which they did not let me stick my nose. Until you could read romance novels as you wanted as a really mature young man. Although I don't know if my reading of poetry books has made me a good poet. But I think it's a beautiful art and I would like to express my feelings in words that are more beautiful than just the common language. Because it's like making a picture, singing a song and an expression of liveliness. Impulsive passion and zeal, not only in the heated fight with the sword and sweating bodies."

A mischievous and slightly embarrassed laugh slipped over Wyll's lips, as if he had something to apologize for. Perhaps this was his secret guilty pleasure. In Keeping Secrets, however, Wyll was only semi-good. At least his own. He kept a lot to himself, like the thing with the son of the current Duke of Baldur's Gate and being a Warlock and hunting Karlach because of it, but it didn't take much convincing to get him to spill the tea. The Warlock with his hellish Mistress was quite a wild card because of her. But probably no more than the rest of the group.

"If you tell me what they look like, I can help you find timed rhymes for a sonnet on it."

If Saulus hadn't been so good at such a thing, you would probably have seen the tension at the tip of the horns and its flickering flames in her eyes. Even if she had to refrain from biting her lower lip, because of how much Wyll blocked off revealing any details so far. He shut off.

Tight as a safe.

Astarion might have been the better choice for the job after all, it pierced the bard's thoughts.

Aristen and she had not learned from him what she looked like, nor her name, nor whether they had seen the lady before. But at least they knew that it was a lady and that there was a lady. To destroy Lae'zel's theory of another parasite.

"The appearance is not important. In no respect. It is not the eye that makes me feel secure and close. For her, too, the pure appearance is a superficiality without meaning and she does not attach any importance to its praises. She's not like our Astarion."

It now took a little more self-control and a sharp tooth on her tongue to prevent the disappointment from entering Saulus’ face from chin to the tip of the horn after Wyll's actually so beautiful execution. Then he could look at her as gently as he wanted, for the bard it meant another failure.

Saulus knew that if she continued to dwell on the subject, she would lose credibility. Consequently, she had to leave it at that for the time being.

Astarion might have stopped his "I'm not really interested" casual scam and started shaking and yelling at Wyll, while Lae'zel shone the brightest lantern in his face and didn't stop hissing questions. Pretty hot and bright, isn't it? Are you thirsty? Yes? There's nothing until you spit out what we want to hear! She didn't even want to start acquiring answers from Shadowheart's methods.

Aware of this, Saulus realized that it could have been far worse than their failed attempts. A quite mild relief that nestled around her mind and heart during this realization.

"What have you already written so far? You meant that you had already started a little," Saulus took up the topic again and dissipated espionage thoughts from her head, but rather got involved with the heart's often the Blade of Frontiers.

Another embarrassed smile with a red glow on his cheeks followed from Wyll, which could not have been more endearing and charming as he stroked the back of his head in embarrassment. He seemed at least as insecure as he was excited to communicate, she recognized that in his eyes. Or the one eye that really belonged to him.

The Warlock was rarely known like this. Ravengard wore his heart on his sleeve. He was always honest and shared his thoughts openly. The only thing he did was that he packaged negative thoughts more benevolently and diplomatically, because he was rhetorically adept.

At least as skillful and proficient as with the sword.

Did he get this from his father or did he have himself to thank?

It was at least not surprising that Wyll could easily win over a woman. Saulus didn't understand why it wasn't easy for him to continue the behavior that had brought him there. But as mischievous as he sat in front of her—more the young nobility who stole and read dreamy books than a fearsome warrior—it was probably his heart and what it did to his mind and his tongue as soon as the chemistry in it began to go crazy.

A tadpole wiggling around in that area was for sure not helpful.

But wait! Who knows, maybe it was. A mindflayer wouldn't have such problems. Butterflies in the stomach. And the madness of love in the brain.

Love sickness.

No doctor could help.

Did it help to call a bard?

Certainly not!

Saulus literally heard the nagging voice of the pale Astarion in her head mocking her.

Imagination or was the worm and thus really Astarion wiggling around in her skull and making fun of her?

"Not so much. Or at least I don't know if it's good," Wyll's voice sounded uncertainly and made the bard focus again, snapping her out of her thoughts, "but that's what I really feel."

"And that's good enough and all that matters." "You say. What if she doesn't like it?" "I thought she didn't care about superficialities? And she likes you. So she likes everything you present to her. Little secret: The gesture counts. So let's hear, Ravengard, Blade of Sonnets!"

"Wherever I look, only vanity and sorrow, but the sight of you struck me with force, it struck me down like lightning, directly into my heart", the breast of its sign swelled with pride or is it much more love? This at least made his whole face and eyes, whether stone or not, shine as Wyll loudly recited the poetic words of his heart. "And: Flowers, meadows, fields, trees remind me of you even.

But I don't really know about the middle part and the end. And I should probably still rhyme it correctly, shouldn't I?", words of true doubt or did the Ravengard son hide his light under a bushel without realizing it? Because the bard smiled enthusiastically at him.

"Wyll, that's just right! Everyone wants to hear something so beautiful," the young Warlock exhaled relief at this statement of the bard and joy conjured it up on his lips. Wyll Ravengard was someone who, when he smiled, he smiled with his whole face and yet he seemed so harmonious and calming. In principle, he was in good contrast to the Tiefling bard who was generally there for every prank without asking for long, simply because "YES and OKAY" was more part of her vocabulary than "NO". But even the reason and calmness of one Ravengard had its limits of competence. Apparently, he reached his limits with Tieflings.

So this moment together with parchment and quill was a special one.

And a particularly beautiful one, as Wyll found.

To find beauty even in the storm, in the dangers and the approaching death and catastrophe of its impending ceremorphosis, was an endeavor of his. It was not for nothing that swamp flowers grew. You just had to look.

HEY!

A snap of the Warlock's fingers tore him out of his thoughts, to tell the bard to write them down, and soon the parchment filled with the outpourings of thoughts of Wyll Ravengard. It was an interesting feeling to see her quill swinging through the air in front of him, the tip scraping across the sheet as his words were written down. His words significant enough to be written down. From someone other than himself.

Wyll couldn't help but smile at the sight of his thoughts turning into written words.

He had tried poetry before and to be honest he would like to perform it. Only the opportunity since he had become the Blade of Frontiers was rather small. But perhaps his speech to the Tiefling children was also a kind of poetry to stir up courage and encouragement.

What was a war speech, a battle cry to motivate men before the fight, but poetry? A bloody sonnet of slaughter and glorious honour and victory, if you had calculated correctly and had enough brave, strong men at your side.

But Wyll didn't want to talk about battles and the fight, didn't want to think of it now, and certainly didn't want to write about fights. It was this irrepressible feeling of warmth, security and happiness that he felt. A feeling that took his breath away, robbed him of his senses, made him dizzy, turned his head. He could not equate it with anything but love.

"How about we bring in a little bit of all the changes you've been through. From the son of a duke, to the Blade, to Warlock looking like the devil he serves because he has refused their orders. You've been through a lot lately. That would leave a bigger mark on most people. In the sense of exhaustion. You, on the other hand, grow with every failure and obstacle without calling a heart of bitterness your own. That's remarkable, Wyll."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me that you say this and see it that way. But too much of an honor. I only act according to what I think is right and feel. Everyone has a moment of sadness and weakness. You can indulge in it, but only for a moment. One evening, perhaps. But not anymore. After that, you have to go ahead again and look up. Open your eyes to what you have and what is there. Otherwise, you miss the beautiful moments, otherwise you miss out on what good you can do, otherwise I would have... missed her." Dreamily, the words rolled from his lips, dreamily all his thoughts and his gaze veiled at the memory of her closeness. Attentive Tiefling eyes could observe this more than well and pondered about his words and especially about how he had spoken the words and then suggested: "How about something like this: The honour of heroic deeds must pass away like a fever dream. Can anyone then survive the game of time? What is all this that we consider delicious? What is it worth?"

Horns and poetic minds continued to stick together for a long time, while the quill continued to dance over the parchment, leaving its trail of ink.

…

"Now spit it out: Who is Wyll dating? Why is he so windy? Does he want to get married and leave the group and we finally stop dragging his useless butt with us like the last few days?", the Inquisition, led by Astarion, pulled the bard aside after her return to the camp.

"Don't make a fool of yourself, fangs. Wyll does not leave the group. He wouldn't just let us down."

"Karlach, we know how much you shy away from the truth from your affection for him, but let go of disillusionment and wake up! Only bare facts help here and if Wyll is not a helpful member of this group, then he is just ballast. Regardless of its entertaining other beautiful sides. And I don't mean that bad at all, Karlach. Then you don't have to waste your time anymore and I would not like to see a tall, cheerful and above all strong girl like you, unwillingly troubled", the way the elf leaned towards the fiery barbarian was a theatrical farce, but whose intention could be at least as true as exaggerated, because he sounded too eager for a lie, "I'll get you someone better. Someone hotter – literally if you want. That blacksmith boy! Yes?! What was his name? Dammon? I'll get him for you. Do you want him?"

Aristen, as an almost unanimous reflection of the other companions, drew a face that clearly said: Astarion, no!

Even if there was a suppressed crooked smirk about his crazy nature underneath and no shocking head-shaking of a Gale or epic eye rolling of a Lae'zel. "Soldier, that's really nice of you – at least I think so – but no thanks. It's not about that. When will it finally go into your curly head? Have you forgotten: No touchy. So all I do and care about is my friends like in my F R I E N D S. And would crush everyone's skull coming near them. Their heart and hurting it, counts as well to it. That's why. So get it into your cloudy head, paley. Counts for you as well if you ever get a heavy heart."

"Well, he is probably more than safe from that. By the black lump of stone, filled with iridescent hot air, what he has instead of a heart", Shadowheart's voice a testament of teasing malice disguised under casualness.

"Tze," the elf hissed only halfway over and almost made a grimace in her direction before his nose stretched almost higher than his forehead in the other direction with his arms crossed.

Gale, meanwhile, blinked in disbelief and wondered where he had taken a wrong turn in life to deserve all of this. Sure, he had done a lot wrong, extremely wrong, and he knew exactly what and when. But this...he really didn't deserve that either. He couldn't even sigh anymore about the behavior of his companions. Would he ever have met such people in Waterdeep?

Lae'zel's eyes would eventually get stuck in the back of her head because of all the roles, even if it amused her a little despite her arrogant, annoyed demeanor. Outdoing the others with her wordplay was as much a victory as doing it with their sword, and another victory for the Githyanki race. Clearly superior Githyanki race.

"Did Wyll tell you who he was meeting with?" asked the calm, soft voice of Aristen and glided through the group as if she were the only one with the last bit of logical sense. Not that she thought so, but any outsider would have assessed it that way at that moment. Because Gale seemed to have given up somewhere along the way or was too busy with Mystra or eating magic boots.

Pardon, consuming magical weave.

"Unfortunately, not," the groans of the group slid almost like a tidal wave of disappointment towards the mainland named Saulus, "and I strongly doubt that his brand-new flame is someone we don't know. After all, we've been together all the time since the crash."

"And again, I don't hear anything that is not clear to me from the beginning. So, you were completely useless, to be exact," no one else but Astarion could have said it so bluntly.

"Hey!", she couldn't think of a better defense on the clear insult of the vampire and if you were honest, it wasn't even a defense, but a lot of surprise that was written all over her face. Was it a verbal sneak attack or more totally front? At least it stung.

"No wonder that he didn't trust you any more than he did with Aristen, after all, you haven't been a cornucopia of love ballads so far, but your display of songs is full of mockery songs, drink songs, dirty limericks and questionable renditions of our experiences."

"HEY!" the Tiefling Bard exclaimed, disarmed, her arms outstretched. But angry and offended, her gaze seemed only for a second. The muzzle she pulled with her mouth under her big eyes made her look much more like a sad fawn, or like a small sad baby goat, if you looked at the nature of her rune horns.

"Yeah, nothing against your songs, darling. If you ignore the fact that you had to mention that I got stuck in a spider's web, Wyll and I emerged like real heroes in the fight against the phase spider. Not that I'm even remotely interested in such a thing. Just as little as in Wyll's talk and if it didn't seem much too exhausting to me, then I would take care of it myself, because apparently you have to do it again yourself if it is to work. As always. Because the rest of you are useless, no offense."

Gale was seriously considering activating the orb right now. Then he wouldn't have to endure all this anymore, it would almost be worth the sacrifice. Lae'zel and Shadowheart sparkled down on the elf and it would have driven them crazy how similar they looked. His theatrical hand gesture and raised chin, however, was followed only by himself, because Saulus had turned her Tiefling eyes to the blonde High elf and only shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head:

"Does he think we just sat around and painted each other's nails?"

"I don't know. But sitting around and only taking care of the nails, that's what he knows best," Aristen answered her in an equally calm tone, but her blue eyes couldn't avoid a mischievous sideways glance at Astarion at the clear verbal elbow smack. "HA! Not bad! You filthy, thorny rose," the sneaky, sharp rogue laughed deliciously amused and then looked at his nails definitely delighted and not offended, "thank you for noticing my well-groomed nails. Care requires work. It's nice if it doesn't go down and is rewarded"

"How about we let Saulus finish talking, maybe there would be a few interesting novelties when writing poetry with Wyll," suggested the sorceress with the blond hair and the blue elf eyes.

"Yes, that's what I wanted to say. Definitely more meaningful than listening to useless vampire ramblings," Lae'zel interjected, arms crossed, her eyes hard and rigid, but close to rolling again.

"I don't like to agree with Lae'zel, so I agree with Aristen," Shadowheart coquettishly gave her voice before Gale also said nodding or probably more digressed again: "Just like our new acquaintance Raphael would say: The devil is in the details. A good poem cannot be written in general. This should be done least of all through love. Thus, in the end, Wyll may have revealed details that could lead us to a conclusion as to which person it could be."

"Gale, didn't we want to let our bard darling Saulus talk?" Astarion reminded him after his two rubies had rolled around in his head.

"I don't want to know who he's meeting with, but I know when he'll meet someone tomorrow," Saulus continued emphatically in Astarion's direction, whose curious nose she could have given this information long ago, if he hadn't constantly interrupted her by insulting comments and putting her down how useless she was.

…

After Lae'zel had reminded them again that there were more important things and that their group could do very well without Wyll (and without Shadowheart), they stocked up on supplies after a fight with a few gnolls and tried to find new clues to the whereabouts and the way to the Githyanki crèche in the Grove. Time was pressing, the warrior said outside her world, protector in a prism or not. There was no guarantee of how long this stasis of non-transformation would last. Furthermore, she would have to learn more about the artifact and its inhabitants. But there was usually not much time to think, because as soon as they were on the road, one unplanned event after the other took place. A butterfly effect like a whole swarm. No moths. Or more like a whole giant moth.

"Where's Wyll?", Dammon's – to his chagrin makeshift forge – lured them with new sharpened steel, the repair of their armor and a short update where they should look for infernal iron, and Aristen's blue eyes couldn't see Wyll anywhere far and wide, even before he had started to talk to Karlach about iron again.

"Hang around over at Auntie's again, maybe he needs another healing potion," Shadowheart just shrugged her shoulders and had way bigger eyes for a light chain mail.

The bard's ears literally flashed crackling to the tip and Saulus followed the elven eyes of Aristen, but unlike her, she watched Wyll meticulously buying healing potions.

The heritarian Avernian flames blazed in her eyes as they wandered back and forth between Ethel and the Blade, back and forth... slowly back and forth during their conversation.

They narrowed into slits before the bard tore them open and exclaimed:

"Oh my gods, Wyll likes Auntie Ethel!"

"He doesn't!"

"Yes!"

"Don't talk nonsense."

Astarion leaned back to have a look at the whole thing and after a second of observation, he casually stated: "Oh yes, he does."

Shadowheart had dropped her chainmail. Just like all the attention gradually went in the direction next to Okta's cooking pot to Auntie Ethel's "Lotions & Potions" booth.

"You're right," the Shar disciple nodded after observing Wyll's gestures a little.

"A bold choice," Gale murmured not only into his proverbial beard before clearing his throat to speak up, "how can you judge that by watching them from a distance for a few seconds? That lacks any logic."

"Oh Gale, poor, sad, cold bedded Gale – that you don't see that doesn't surprise me in the least," neither Astarion's hedonistic facial expression paired with feigned pity, nor his stage-like use of his vocal cords with timed emphasis would have been needed to know that the white-haired elf was speaking.

"I'm sorry to have to agree with Astarion, Gale. Shouldn't you be familiar with the fact that there are non-verbal signs of affection that simple minds can't hide," the dark cleric explained to him and Gale grimaced a bit and was about to interject that Shadowheart herself would probably not be better at hiding her affection from others and should stop throwing stones from the high horse. Along with the vampire. Who sat on a whole parade of horses. But a parade of pirates and criminal vagabonds.

"You're right, you can clearly see that he's flirting with her," Saulus interrupted the pompous pictures of comparisons the Wizard wanted to make and so he could only answer to her:

"Saulus, you also believed that when the Zhentarim offered a drink after the rescue out of polite phrases, he was flirting with you."

Shrugging shoulders and a loud "Tze", Gale got the answer, "pff, prove me wrong!"

"Apparently, the old thrush really has more than we thought," Astarion grinned in Ethel's direction and filigree fingers rubbed over his pointy chin, only with difficulty did his grinning lips cover his sharp fangs, "I wouldn't have expected that. Each his own taste of course. But I didn’t expect this taste from him. But who can blame him? I mean years of experience has the fun and dexterity to offer." A twinkle in his sparkling eyes and a clear wave of his hand over his own body made it clear to everyone that he was talking about his own high vampiric age.

"Astarion, stop trying to make this about yourself and shut up," Lae'zel intervened from the background in a firm voice. Calm as always, but with a firmness that she would make him do so if he didn't follow her "suggestion".

"Maybe he's just polite and nice to her. You know what Wyll is like," Aristen interjected, and Karlach's one-and-a-half-horned head nodded in agreement.

"I know that some of us were against the plan to follow Wyll on his date, but now we definitely have to. We know when it is and also roughly where, so all we have to do later is go after him and then we'll know for sure!" the vampire decided.

Democracy was not dead.

Because now everyone wanted to know if it was true, even if it was only to win a bet on who was right or not.

…

"Wherever I look, only vanity and sorrow,but the sight of you struck me with force,it struck me down like lightning,right into my heart.

From noble blood, to outcast by fate's cruel game,

but the pact I made under the night's stars is my burden and nothing else to blame. The Duke's son fell, yet rose with hellish fire,But in your eyes, I found a new desire.

Yet love ignites what hell could never claim,And lights a new path what was once full of blades and scars.Though horns may sprout and shadow veil my face, the sweet name of love upon my tongue arose.

The honour of heroic deeds must pass away like a fever dream.Can anyone then survive the game of time? In this endless stream?What is all this that we consider delicious? What is it worth?"Gold, wealth and honor? Or even love? Because this would be a treasure true.Flowers, meadows, fields, trees remind me of you.And may they always lead me to you."

"Oh you sweet little, petal. You didn't make yourself all the fuzz to write such beauty for your Ethel?"

"You deserve to be courted, like a maiden. Who if not you? You, who always just want to help all people. You, who are only thought of when someone wants something from her. You who see something beautiful in all things and don't judge anyone. I wanted to find a way to express what I feel for you and how I see you."

"I've never heard more beautiful words. Oh, you're really special, my brave Blade. Something very special."

…

"I can hardly understand anything from over here," murmured Aristen the storm sorceress, crouching in the bush that provided cover for the companions, "and I'm barely have any space, make room, Shadowheart."

"I can't go anywhere, we don't have more space because of Saulus' opulent Tiefling ass."

"Thick ass yourself!" Saulus hissed back on the spot.

"Darling voluptuous glutes is a compliment, it was compliment," Astarion's soft voice defended the cleric in a whisper.

"We can't get any closer, or they'll see us," Gale whispered from the crouch, curiosity won about his stiff, bent knees.

"I could cast a hiding spell, then we can dare to get closer and don't have to eavesdrop so much. Because I think I hear your breaths more than what Wyll says," Aristen suggested.

"A sorcerer spell? I'd rather not. This only ends in a beacon that can be seen for miles or in the end we turn into a cloud of fog. If then I take over the magic, no offense, pure security. But anyway, I think it's too late now, she would notice that if we started doing magic here."

"I have to say it's not going the way you promised me," Lae'zel's voice sounded unimpressed from the background.

"Nobody promised you anything and now shush!"

…

"The last days with you were and are very special, my dear Ethel," Wyll's smile over the tea table on the sunny terrace of the teahouse of the sunlit wetlands, was brighter than all the green of nature and the rays of the sun combined.

For a long time he had not worn a smile after his father had disowned him. But he had found it again, every time he could help someone. Nevertheless, shadows had returned over his head, on the missions of Mizora. These orders had nothing to do with heroism or helpful deeds. Again and again, the Blade had dark moments. Moments of loneliness that he couldn't share with anyone. Possibly not wanted to.

Either to be a burden to no one or because he didn't have anyone and didn't trust anyone strong enough in the end?

But since Auntie Ethel had come into his life, he had really gotten to know her, this had changed. He was no longer lonely. This feeling of being able to share everything with her was overwhelming. Love had found its way into his life and had changed so much.

He had changed.

The young Ravengard put his thoughts into words for Ethel, who looked at him patiently with a slightly wrinkled smile.

„… and that's why I don't want this time to end," Wyll ended his remark.

"But don't they call you The Blade of Frontiers, my sweet son? Is not the whole Swoardcoast your domain to protect and not only this wilderness and my little swamp?"

…

"Eww what did she say?! I can't believe it," Astarion suppressed a rattle.

"She didn't talk about her wetlands you pervert!", Shadowheart corrected the thoughts of his silver curly head and gave him a light slap on it.

"Psst, Wyll is talking!"

…

Wyll looked around: The terrace of Auntie Ethel's Teahouse. A refuge in the countryside. In nature. A place of peace and tranquility. No problems, no fights. Just take a deep breath. Take a deep breath.

A reminiscence of everything that meant peace, goodness, balance and hope.

Just as her hand signified hope, and as if he could show and convey his thoughts to her, he seized her hand and looked resolutely into her eyes:

"Staying here with you is a future I can imagine. Because I can't imagine a future in which I'm separated from you."

"You sweet thing! You'd give up your days as a wandering legend just for your Ethel?"

"I've realized that there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. I'd love to live here with you, it's not a price I have to pay or any sacrifice, my beloved. It's just a win. Besides, I don't give up on myself. I am still the protector of this area. Trouble and quarrels always find their way and as we have seen, this area needs more than just a defender."

The ruined villages in the surrounding area, dead Tieflings, goblins and druids were witnesses to Wyll's true words and there might have been one less house on fire if a savior like him had been on patrol.

"Oh my dear petal, I may have built here a little refugium for my own, but believe me: Auntie Ethel is at home everywhere. So, if your path takes you out into the world, I'm happy to be with you on the journey."

…

"It's definitely too tight here, someone is sitting on my tail," Saulus murmured and desperately tried to push the others a little to the side with her shoulders.

"Chk, you would have even brought Karlach with you, who would have set the whole bush on fire," Lae'zel reproached them.

"You can compensate her afterwards because she wasn't allowed to come with you," Shadowheart only came to mind.

"Guys, when you're watching someone from the bushes, you're supposed to keep your mouth shut," Astarion hissed at the others, his furrowed brow a testament to his growing impatience with the others' poor sneaking and hiding skills.

"Someone has experience crouching and eavesdropping from the bushes," Saulus grinned provocatively in his direction, giggling amusedly at her own joke.

A jabbing elbow from the rogue was the response. "How about you shut your little snout?"

But he hadn't expected the bard's knuckles to nudge back. "Shut your sweet little snout!"

"How about you both shut your mouth?!" Gale interrupted the ensuing scuffle.

"Um, guys...what are you doing here?" Wyll's voice, sounding directly in front of their hiding place, not to mention his stature looming over them, sent a flash of electricity through their limbs without the aid of a lightning spell.

Only Astarion wasn't the only one who remained frozen after the shock had made them flinch; he nudged the Tiefling bard forward: "Saulus wanted to see you! About the poem!"

"Um, yeah, exactly...I was worried you might need some musical accompaniment..." She fumbled with the small flute she almost always kept in her belt as a spare, as she approached Wyll, still a bit uncertain.

"She was so worried about whether you were reciting everything correctly and wanted to rush in as a secret souffleuse. Aristen here wanted to accompany her," he pulled the blonde with the pointy ears onto his shoulder, "and I can't let two ladies wander through this wilderness and some wetlands alone. So I had to accompany them, right? Self-evidently."

Astarion's recital left no room for argument. At the end of it, he casually gestured behind him with his thumb: "Yeah, and Gale and the rest just came along without being asked. You know how it is; you just can't get rid of them."

"So mean," the Wizard of Waterdeep pouted. Made up excuse or not, it sounded seriously.

"So," Saulus the bard waved her short flute, "do you need any musical accompaniment?"

"No, but thank you. I've already recited my prose."

Wyll's wandering glance over the entourage of his questionable friends didn't quite reveal whether he believed Astarion's excuse or not. In the end, it wouldn't make any difference anyway, at least not for the remaining companions.

"Did you bring your friends, petal? Why didn't you say so? They can come in for some tea. But it's more polite to knock on the front door, my dears."

"Apparently, your poem has already caught you in an overripe swamp flower. What interesting company, Wyll," Astarion smirked in his usual manner, his elven eyes wandering over Auntie Ethel, who at first continued to smile at him good-naturedly, but her words that followed sounded quite different:

"Someone should really wash your mouth out with a hard soap, young man! Be careful, cheeky remarks always come back to haunt you."

Her voice retained its usual twangy, sing-song quality, but she still hissed her words to Astarion with such emphasis that it sounded a touch like a threat, or rather an ominous promise.

The vampire's pointed face briefly went through a theatrical drama: on the one hand, amusement at her spiteful reply, on the other, natural indignation and malice at her affront, followed by indecision between rising above it or retorting sarcastically. He seemed to be still considering whether it would be a good idea to seriously take on the old eccentric.

"As usual, Astarion misspoke," Gale intervened soothingly, to which the vampire only gave a disapproving, offended hiss, "and we didn't mean to disturb you. So, we'd best be on our way."

Under the watchful eyes of the warlock and Auntie Ethel, the mage practically urged his companions to leave, as some would have gladly accepted the invitation to tea and asked curious questions. But this seemed to him likely to end in total chaos, especially given Astarion's current mood. He was no longer of any use on a diplomatic mission outside of the bushes. Had he said this out loud, Saulus would surely have found something to laugh about again; now Gale simply wanted to get his companions back to camp so they could reflect on the revelations without becoming childish. Because no matter how extraordinary Wyll's decision was, it was his decision, right? Still, none of their business.

Unless he really wanted to leave them...what would be about Mizora? Would she be happy about that decision?

But what happened next could probably be described as a series of unforeseeable events:

On the way back to the camp, they encountered two men looking for their sister because she had gone to the Wetlands to make a deal with a Hag, as revealed in a letter she had left them.

…

"It was clear to all of us that Auntie Ethel was a crone. But a hag HAG. Like in 'I eat children'-hag, that's a bit more intense," said the vampire—the vampire of all people, echoing everyone's thoughts.

But Aristen thought of something else and said: "Maybe she is more of a Rodzanice than a hag."

"Is this some warlock mission he has to do?" Karlach raised her hands and shoulders almost desperately in disbelief, her face a mask of sheer confusion, "it has to be!"

"Should we contact Mizora? Maybe she's behind this," Aristen the high elf sorceress continued explaining, that way they would have certainty about a theoretical warlock mission.

"We're not talking to Mizora!" Karlach practically hissed.

"Meow, Karlach," Astarion laughed, making a scratching paw movement with his hand.

"Shut up Astarion!" the hellish barbarian scolded him unmoved, earning rolling vampire eyes.

"Gods, calm down," he simply sighed, unable to understand why she couldn't laugh at herself. Something Astarion never could, as long as it didn't concern him. But woe betide anyone who did...

"Maybe he just doesn't know," Aristen shrugged.

"I don't know if that makes things better," Astarion murmured, "and shouldn't he have noticed it at their little meetings, since he's already talking about love and writing sonnets for her at night?"

"Before we spend too much time discussing this, we'll go to him, tell him, and most importantly, get him the hell out of there!" Karlach slammed her hand on the table.

"And if there really are any problems, I'll get us out of there in seconds with a portal," Gale assured confidently.

"Well, I don't really want to rely on Gale and a portal, let alone go anywhere near one. No thanks!" Astarion swaggered.

"No offense, Astarion, but put your sarcasm into your little rogue pocket."

His fanged mouth stood open in piqued, offended shock about Gale’s response.

...

"Look, who's back already! Did you miss your Auntie Ethel and your little friend? I already said that you can join us, even if I really appreciate the time, we have for ourselves."

The look Ethel gave Wyll after greeting the abruptly appeared group was definitely affectionate. Teasing glances between two lovers. This triggered completely different feelings in Shadowheart, and she began to make a dry gagging sound.

"I think I'm going to throw up," she choked from the background.

"What's that brat saying back there?!" Ethel hissed dangerously.

"Friends..." The emphatic tone of Wyll's voice suggested the not-so-unusually famous passive-aggressive Ravengard streak, with which they had occasionally met, and which hit you unexpectedly like lightning on the thunderbox. You were completely defenseless and only noticed it when it was already too late. Saulus, in particular, had fallen victim to it many times before. Wyll's latent passive-aggressiveness, not the lightning.

"...it's kind that you seem to be barely able to stand it without me, but you could certainly grant me a little privacy."

"We encountered two men—Demir and Johl—who showed us a letter from their sister Mayrina," Gale of Waterdeep interjected, trying to speed things up before Lae'zel began to unsheathe her greatsword, "and were on their way to save their sister from the fatal deal with a hag regarding her late husband."

To Gale's surprise, he found no surprise in Wyll's reaction; instead, he simply sighed, his eyes expressing the distress of a topic they were already familiar with and could no longer hear. The wizard wasn't the only one who hadn't expected this.

"Yes, Demir and Johl, I've already spoken to them and told them not to take their worries about their troubled sister out on Ethel. She would never do anything to harm the girl. On the contrary, everyone always seeks help from her, which she offers so generously, and then she's condemned as an evil witch because someone wants to profit from her again? That's not right! And why? Because she lives in the forest and knows about potions? I thought we'd overcome such times."

Astarion's raised index finger was silenced, along with his mouth, which was about to make what one could only assume was a snippy comment. Saulus cautiously reached for his finger and quickly shook her head, wide-eyed and with a twisted mouth.

"The girl was here voluntarily because she was so desperately looking for help, but which she simply couldn't find. Oh, there isn't. I told her about possibilities like a staff that might have had some effect, but she didn't really like any of that. I couldn't really help the poor thing either, but to demonize me because I want to help people in need is quite something."

Neither anger nor annoyance graced Auntie Ethel's face; instead, it was the pure sadness that washed over her eyes, the result of many years of experience and life. Sadness and disappointment that hurt her deeply.

"Fortunately, I was there to point out the men's false accusations, and that you're now making the same accusations really disappoints me, friends. I thought you were better people, and if you didn't trust her, then at least you could trust me and my judgment," the warlock's words hit the group with the full force of his disillusionment.

Step, parry, and the blade stroke again! "Ouch," Saulus grimaced, hurt, and practically felt the blade's sting.

The warlock's arm gently wrapped around Ethel's shoulder, pulling her lovingly and protectively toward him, while his left hand faithfully and firmly clasped hers, her gray-haired head leaning against his shoulder.

"I will never allow anyone to treat her like that again. I won't tolerate any ill-regard for Ethel either!"

"Come on!" Astarion practically burst out, his delicate hand pointing pointedly at the lovers. "You don't really believe this farce, do you?! And you can't seriously expect us to buy into any of it!"

"Wyll..." Aristen's composed voice emerged from the background, and her fine figure moved in front of the vampire, "...if you're happy, that's the most important thing, and no one questions it. But there's an illusion in these wetlands, in this teahouse, that's clearly palpable, and we wonder if you've noticed it too. I think that's what Astarion wanted to say."

"I did not..." muttered the smirking vampire, offended, and seemed unwilling to accept any help from the beautiful elf. Apparently, Astarion wanted to be transformed into a pale frog today.

So it came the illusion began to fade, revealing Ethel’s true face:

Not only was her face more of a grotesque grimace, truly sprung from the horror stories of fairy tales designed to frighten children, but her entire figure, apart from two arms and legs, barely resembled that of a humanoid.

A hunchbacked witch.

Literally and in the flesh before them.

Born from the swamps in which they stood, whose mud seemed to practically pump through her veins and whose meshwork covered her somewhat skin-like skin. A macabre green thing, fused with nature, not in a picturesque way, but only in a grotesque way.

It might be superficial to judge them for their appearance, but her wide mouth with its sharp teeth grinned only too maliciously and screamed "child eater."

That's what they saw.

That was what they all saw, all except Wyll Ravengard.

His eyes, red and stone white-grey, rested with gentle love on the face of Auntie Ethel the hag. His hand gently followed the gaze of his kind, loving eyes. It snuggled against the hag's green cheek, and she snuggled joyfully against it.

"They say love is blind. But I've always seen her true face. No illusion could deceive my eyes and my heart, because I see her for what she is. Because she sees me for what I truly am. We don't want to change each other."

"Why would I ever want to change you, my sweet love bug?" her long finger with a claw of a nail booped playfully on Wyll's nose.

"And that is why you are even more beautiful to me in your true form."

"Oh come on!" the silver-haired vampire sighed, whispering dramatically to himself, and rolled his eyes as if they would never tilt back into his skull.

"She showed me people can change. Not every monster is a monster. Like me. Wouldn't I be not a monster to the most, with my devil horns? But not to her. And I was wrong to judge myself so quickly over other creatures. Seeing through her eyes showed me a whole new beauty and love for the world and all of its inhabitants. Not just those who others decide to be worth. Worth of life. Worth of love. She showed me a new kind of love."

It seemed as if it lifted every burden from young Ravengard's heart to finally no longer have to keep it a secret, but to share his love with his friends. Even if they didn't understand him and he had to put their prejudices aside, you could see how much he was living this moment of truth. Finally, no more hiding.

Auntie Ethel and Wyll looked longingly into each other's eyes, as if the moon would miss the stars and as the sea adored the moon from below.

"I have hidden and bent myself long enough through the pact with Mizora. This love should finally belong to me alone. Come here!"

He invited her closer with a knowing look. Wyll's loving hands, which rested on the hag's cheeks, pulled her face toward him as he pursed his lips.

"Eww, gods no!" the companions cried in near unison and turned their faces away, except for one, whose eyes lit up and who leaned forward with his mouth wide open to get a better look at the "show":

Astarion – whose fangs sparkled with excitement in his large grin.

"I have to see this!" he grinned from ear to ear, watching as Wyll tilted his head and closed his eyes to press his lips to the hag's.

"Okay, no! No, this is too perverted even for me!" cried Astarion, as he hastily covered his face with his hands in a panicked frenzy to avoid having to watch the whole thing. The hag's tongue probably wrapped around Wyll's was something even he didn't want to witness.

In the middle of it, however, the two were torn apart, as Karlach's strong hand suddenly shot forward: "Okay, that's enough!"

She grabbed Wyll and pulled him with her: "Go wizard, do your wizard thing! Let's get the fuck out of here!"

"Give me my warlock baby back!"

Ravengard was pulled along by the collar, then landed under Karlach's arm and she jumped with him in a high arc through Gale's portal as if a whole pack of goblins and imps were chasing them at once, until the portal swallowed them and closed behind the group without so much as a "goodbye."

...

"Guys! What's going on?!" Wyll cursed like a scoundrel back at camp, giving his companions a completely stunned look.

But he also received a look of disbelief thrown back at him from the others' faces, only the warlock couldn't understand it at all. For him, the others' behavior was completely out of line and required an apology.

"If you're worried about me, fine. But now it stops being sweet or annoyingly endearing, it's just annoying! I don't know how I can apologize to Ethel for you, or what I should even think of you when you behave like this."

Shadowheart remained unfazed by his tirade and outright outburst, at least not in the context of the young Ravengard, whom one never really saw angry or anything like that. He never raised his voice or lost his temper. He was always the epitome of calm and poise. That he could get so angry was new, but it left the cleric with no choice but to cross her arms and wrinkle her nose: "Wyll, no offense, but you've definitely taken a blow to the head. Be thankful we're trying to help you and we're not leaving you to die as hag food."

"Why can't you still understand?" And his anger turned into haunting despair; he really wanted to convince them and make them understand.

"Can't you see that I've finally found someone who doesn't judge me or take advantage of me? I was raised to serve the greater good: The Gate, the people – only to end up serving a devil. Fitting, isn't it? Because I can, right? To serve as a soldier for others. Father never really asked what I wanted. So, it has come that the devils and demons came and took my soul in a contract. Again, someone just took. My father cast me away without trusting me. Maybe I forgot along the way what I really want for myself, because I always put the needs of others at first place. I don't know if people ever saw me – really saw me – if I didn't help them, if I didn't fight for them. "

The look of his eyes swept through the group, resting on each of them, and their expression easily cast a feeling of shame and disgrace over each of them. The disgrace, the sadness, the feeling of being lost – everything that Wyll felt. Everything that he was revealing to them here.

"And what did I fight against? What was imposed on me. I was no better, and I didn't question what lay behind the appearance. Devilish, demonic appearance. I wasn't better. If you're not like me, then you must be the enemy, because a book once said that all witches are evil, right? Because everything with horns is a devil and devils must be killed, is that so?”

His eyes laid on the two Tieflings.

“She shows me my faults without mocking me or making me feel stupid. No, but simply enriched...happy. Finally understood and settled. I was so lost after Mizora took my humanity, and yet I don't cry for it, because the decision to spare Karlach was the right one. And I would make it again a hundred times in every lifetime. Just as I hope to meet Auntie Ethel again and again."

While Shadowheart remained untouched, Karlach could no longer. If she hadn't been so warm, and if the tears hadn't immediately evaporated as they rolled down her cheeks, she would have cried tears down her cheeks as she lowered her gaze, stricken and moved.

“Wyll, darling, you just sound completely crazy!" Astarion had no problem saying what he thought, and as usual, he believed he was saying what everyone else was thinking.

"I'm starting to care less about what you think! And I'm going back to her, and either you let me through willingly or I'll make room..." The warlock's tone sharpened, and his hand slid dangerously towards his rapier until, out of nowhere, he toppled forward and, lay down on his belly…snoring.

Surprised eyes wandered to Gale, whose hands were still gently wrapping the weave after casting the sleeping spell.

"I think," he cleared his throat briefly, "it's time we persuade him more forcefully to stay here."

"With the greatest pleasure," Astarion, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel grinned simultaneously, looping a rope around his wrists and ankles.

"Maybe not quite so tightly, Lae'zel," Aristen ventured, seeing the Githyanki binding his feet.

"So what do we do now?" Saulus asked, her gaze instinctively going to Gale.

"The Hag clearly put a spell on Wyll. So how do we break it, wizard?" Astarion nodded, chiming in.

"Hag's magic isn't exactly my specification," Gale admitted sheepishly, while his tone also hinted that they should have been aware of that themselves, because it was a fairly obvious, logical fact. At least to him.

"What a miracle. You're usually the expert on all sorts of magic," Aristen muttered, only loud enough for Gale to hear but could have ignored.

Saulus, however, didn't miss it and absolutely not ignored it.

Her eyes widened, and a loud "HA!" echoed from the back where she stood, "Hahahaha woohoo! She's given it to you, Gale!" she cried, laughing loudly. The wizard from Waterdeep had pointed out to the Sorceress Aristen at every opportunity that sorcery wasn't real magic. He deserved the comeback.

Astarion, of all people, uncharacteristically intervened as the voice of reason, saying in a calm voice: "As much as I like to take every opportunity to harp on about the fact, we have a useless wizard with us..."

"Hey!" protested Gale, not missing the insult beneath the apparent rescue. Friends like Astarion didn't need enemies, and Gale, meanwhile, pulled the proverbial knife out of his back.

"...just as much as we should be looking for a solution to this...problem," the vampire continued undeterred, "not that I care where Wyll puts his blade in his free time, but if it prevents him from concentrating on using it in combat, then I do care. Usually, he's always eager to be on the front lines, solving all the monsters and problems. If he doesn't do that, it all falls on us, and we're stuck in this wilderness for longer. That makes it less of a challenge to free him from that witch."

"Maybe he really does like her," Karlach objected.

"Darling, are you blind or stupid? Have you even looked at her? She's a witch! You don't like them! And even if someone in yours or our bard's vivid imagination did..."

"Hey! Why?!" Saulus protested, looking confused at the unnecessary jab. And she couldn't help but notice Gale grinning in her direction. She planned to straighten the elf’s curls later, for the audacity to confuse her with Alfira or—gods forbid—Volo.

"...WYLL doesn't like them. He slaughters every monster," Astarion finished his thought.

"Neither you, fangs," Kalach emphasized, "suddenly not so stupid anymore, eh, smartass?!"

"Gods, can someone explain to her that they're not the same thing," Astarion shrieked, almost desperately.

"Actually, she has a debatable point, Astarion," Gale objected logically, only making him despair even more.

"Well, as long as she's not a goblin, there's a possibility. At least with those, we can be sure he'd never willingly tolerate them," the bard shrugged.

"Really Saulus, this again?" Shadowheart sighed.

"I'm sorry I can't forget the fact, that he wanted to exterminate all goblins, parents and children, but portrayed me as the morally reprehensible one when I didn't immediately offer condolences to the goblin child talking about his dead parents. What bullshit! I mean, he probably killed his parents. Including that we wanted to sneak up on the goblin leaders incognito, and after all our persuasion, the first thing he did was tell the priestess to her face that we should kill her and make her scream. After he ripped me off outside in front of the goblin kid who tried to grab my horns."

"Saulus, I think you're missing the point," Aristen smiled knowingly. But loving and reassuring.

"But..."

"I understand," she gently touched her arm, "just let it go and get over it."

A familiar sigh rippled through the group, and it was Lae'zel who drew attention. Her face, with its barely existent nose, was twisted in annoyance and anger, her sinewy arms crossed. Anyone who knew her, or Githyanki in general, even slightly, knew that she was tired of this sitting around arguing. The warrior could only take pleasure in action. Well-thought-out and planned, with meaning and understanding, yes, but still action!

Either something was done now, or the topic was ended, and she would have known immediately how to end the topic most quickly.

"I think we've wasted enough time on this already. We should have been looking for my crech in the meantime, or have you forgotten that we have tadpoles in our brains? We should be working on that!"

"Lae'zel Fey magic is truly something not to be underestimated. Bewitchment. Classic enchantment magic. A spell twinned with his essence; but it could also be something totally different. A potion, a talisman – too many options," answered Aristen, the sorceress who definitely didn't want to give up on Wyll so easily. If he had been in love, she would have been the first to congratulate him, but before the whole thing, she had witnessed a hundred times more potential and tension between him and Karlach than between him and the strange aunt. The swamp reeked of rotten magic and illusions, the brothers, her sister… something was wrong.

"What in the nine hells?!" Suddenly, something stirred from Wyll's direction, and after the sleep spell had worn off, the warlock began to realize his situation and pull at his bonds. "Untie me immediately!" He cursed and was about to start tossing and turning, but Saulus was already there, saying in a gentle voice, "Hey buddy...", sitting down on the bound Wyll's backside, "It's okay, we'll take care of you."

It took a few moments for him to calm down and stop fidgeting. So he changed his tactics and smiled sheepishly at his companions: "Guys, seriously? That's not necessary, is it? We're all friends, you don't have to tie me up."

"It seemed different earlier," Lae'zel retorted, provocatively sticking her pointed, bony nose at Ravengard, who was lying prone beneath Saulus.

"If you're really worried about me leaving you, that's not a problem! I've spoken to Ethel about it, and she knows we're looking for a solution to be freed from the tadpoles, and she would accompany us on our journey!" he explained, almost too happily, as if that could settle all the disputes.

"Yes, because that was my biggest concern, that Auntie Ethel wouldn't be able to accompany us," sarcasm dripped from Astarion's mouth. The vampire simply couldn't suppress another roll of his eyes. After this day, his and Lae'zel's eyes would hurt so much from rolling them all.

Meanwhile, Aristen had made a decision: "Before we try any spells on Wyll, I suggest we go to the source that can definitely solve this:

Auntie Ethel."

...

Auntie Ethel's lair, thick with illusion, rot, and glowing fungal light. Reeking of hag's magic, especially now that the illusion around her own person was gone.

The sight of her was still a scary one for the group, and they all agreed: Wyll hadn't lost his heart to her, not willingly.

While one half was convinced based on her looks, the other was convinced based on her fake smile.

The air smelled of weavemoss, autumn crocus, and decay. Nevertheless, the party once again entered Ethel's sanctum.

"You all have some guts to show yourselves here again. I hope you came with an excuse and my darling boy in tow!"

"Cut out the dramatics, we know very well you did something to our friend, and we won't leave without you releasing him from your shady love story!”, Shadowheart snapped with a straight back, just like all the others. They weren't in negotiable mood, that much was clear. The time for peace and negotiations was over, at least as far as Lae'zel was concerned, as she wanted to cut the witch in two immediately. But Gale had taught her better that she shouldn't underestimate the monster.

"Release? I don't know what you're talking about, you feisty little brat," Ethel spat, slowly losing her patience. The loving look faded. In fact, her gentle, loving nature was completely replaced without Wyll at her side.

"Love songs don't usually involve domination charms with whips and chains and rotting mushrooms, Ethel. I'd know—I've written both. Or something like that," said Saulus the Tiefling bard, stopping herself before losing the plot; plucked a few strings of her lyre to activate the weave and cast a spell over her two crossbows before swinging the instrument over her shoulder, already reaching for a bolt to notch.

Gale agreed with sharp disdain to further harass the hag and corner her:

"Your hag's magic is all around this place. But layered with something...older. Foul. Ethel, what have you done?"

Auntie Ethel just grinned, viciously, slyly, and not the least bit worried. Her green skin strangely and suspiciously flickering with its scaled texture.

"Oh, don't be so grim, you wet blankets. The precious Wyll came to me on his free will and behalf, that poor misunderstood lonesome dear. All I offered him was love and attention. Something none of you ever gave him."

“Lies,” Lae’zel hissed with a voice full of fury and stepped forward, her blade already raised, “let him go you crone, or I will cut you down before your next lie slithers free.”

“Be careful petal, before you hurt yourself with that sharp thing”, only mockery escaped the grinning mouth of Ethel

“Undo the spell, hag. Or your next kiss will be from lightning,” threatened Aristen the storm sorceress, her eyes already crackling with arcane energy that was slowly beginning to twitch around the tips of her thin fingers.

“Ha! That was a good one, darling!” Astarion laughed at the on point line of the sorceress, briefly breaking his tense fighting pose with the grim look before immediately slipping back into it.

Ethel's cackles turned into a furious roar, and she spit in the direction of the party, that was ready to defend their companion Wyll:

"Fine! Let's end this farce! You want him? You'll have to take him from my dead, cold claws! But I guess it will be more the dead, cold claws of you all, and you will reek and rot as mud in my swamp, like the shite that you are!"

Spells began to fly, and Gale shouted: "Silence her, Shadowheart!"

But too late, before the cleric could cast the silencing dome over the witch, her bizarre skin began to shimmer a strange green again, and suddenly she disappeared, only to reappear in several places at once.

Mirror Images.

"Damn it, where did she go?!" Shadowheart's voice rang out desperately, her hands ready to form the spell.

"Tsk'va, that pathetic cheating coward!"

“Focus on where she stood!”, Saulus’ voice echoed to her friends. Her eyes hadn't left the Hag for a second, so she exactly pointed to the spot where Ethel had been standing a split second ago. “Just cast Silence in that area anyway, Shadowheart, then she won't be able to try any new tricks. She couldn’t get too far. And Gale, cast something flammable into the area; it'll reveal herself to us.”

The College of Swords Bard found new use for her Bardic Inspiration to perform a Slashing Flourish weapon action with her crossbows to keep the mirror images of Ethel on their toes. This flourish maneuver allowed her to aim and shoot with two bolts at once at each crossbow, which whirred through the tension-charged air.

Doubts held the wizard captive as to whether it was such a good idea and whether the bard was standing far enough away. But there was no time for hesitation and arguing. Immediately after the cleric's silencing dome appeared and seemingly nothing happened except that Ethel's mirror images continued to attack her with claws and poison mist, he cast a raining fireball down.

"Ardē!"

With venomous, malicious hisses, the real Ethel became visible, shaking herself at the very edge of the sea of ​​flames that had fallen from the sky at Gale's command. But her screaming, spitting, and arguing were all in vain; she was still within range of Shadowheart's silencing spell, and thus all her evil gurgling remained stuck silent in her throat. At which point she stretched out her spindly fingers and pointed at the cleric.

Two of her mirror images surrounded her, one slashing with claws, the other casting a spell of confusion to force the half-elf to the edge of a cliff and tumble her down.

Aristen used her storm magic to summon a thunderstorm overhead, the lair crackling with primal energy as the lightning struck the copies of Ethel, freeing Shadowheart from their grasp.

Meanwhile, the real Auntie Ethel dashed out of the area of ​​the silence dome to reclaim the power of her own spells, but in doing so, she ran into the open arms — or rather, short swords — of Astarion. The Rogue had used the time to get into position unseen and completely calmly and silently. As calculated, it paid off, and his two blades descended upon her.

It was a hard, dangerous fight.

Gale cast Counterspell against Ethel's Dominate Person to thwart her plan, confuse someone else, or make them fight against their friends.

The Tiefling bard fired precise bolts that burst into magical chords and drilled with sonic damage into her green flesh. Until she staggered and coughed as one of Ethel's foul green clouds burst at her feet, blinding her vision and sending her staggering from the caustic poison.

The air was charged not only with tension, but also with electricity, and Aristen came to Saulus’ aid, using her storm power to swirl the hag's poison and acid aside before her lightning bolts leaped to the malevolent fey creature like an ominous chain of blazing doom.

Lae'zel unleashed her Great Sword, raining down slashing attacks that would strike down giants, supported by a holy flame from the back and Astarion's bone-breaking and flesh-toring arrows that shot from the string of his longbow with deadly precision, as well as brutal power and speed.

"ENOUGH!"

The growling voice of Auntie Ethel roamed through the place, coughing and spitting as she staggered backward.

"You became quiet an inconvenience for me, you little maggots," she shouted with a tongue as evil as her very own soul and heart. No sign of love left.

"Stop it right there. I swear if you kill me, your warlock friend remains bound. My curse is laced into his very soul. But if you let me go, I'll release him. Willingly."

"Who could trust the words of a hag?!", Shadowheart spat at her.

"You have no choice but to believe me," Ethel grinned broadly, her long claws twitching.

"Can that be true?" Lae'zel's ever-serious gaze shot to the wizard of the group for confirmation of Ethel's words about her magic, but the warrior remembered Gale's "failure" with Fey Magic and turned away to the sorceress. "Aristen?"

Disappointment wasn't even a word for what glittered in Gale's brown eyes, as he had already raised his index finger and opened his mouth to offer Lae'zel an explanation. Losing his trust as the group's #1 Magical Consultant hurt his ego even more than the orb in his chest, evident in the slight pout he pulled as he lowered his finger, completely unnoticed by Lae'zel.

"Normally, the spell disappears with the caster. Unless she did something else. A cursed object or something," replied the blonde high elf with blue eyes. “Right, Gale?”

“Yes, right. To kill would end her power, but to risk Wyll’s life as we don’t know the details is a cost to high”, the wizard enthusiastically nodded, happy to share his thoughts. 

"I thought, with your wormy group, it wouldn't hurt to have someone on my side, just to be on the safe side. And I thought you might be useful to me if you continued your work here. So I asked the well-behaved boy to carry a few potion crates for poor Auntie Ethel, and while I was at it, I secretly put a bracelet around his wrist. All you have to do is take it off and burn it along with this powder."

The hag's long fingernails fished out a leathery pouch that looked as ominous as its contents probably were.

"Swear on your foul magic, that this breaks the curse, or I will break every bone in your disgusting body!" the warrior of K'liir continued. She was in her element — action and not reaction.

"100 percent guaranteed effect. More than your swords and blades," the hag grinned. Strangely scheming.

“It better works, because when it doesn't, I will come back and you will pray that we had killed you. Because I will burn down the entire swamp, and that's just the beginning, and now vanish from our sight. Forever!”

Lae'zel roughly grabbed the leather pouch and ripped it roughly from Ethel's hand to take it for herself.

“You are too loud, girl. You have what you wanted, now leave my swamp and kiss my little petal from me one last time.”

...

"Next time, we shoot first and charm later," Saulus stated while entering the camp, counting her remaining bolts of her crossbows.

Aristen nodded in agreement while sighing: "Let's just hope there isn't a next time."

"Oh my darlings, there is always a next time. But I am sure, something like that will NEVER EVER happen again," Astarion grinned at the two pointy-eared ladies.

"You're back!" Karlach cried joyfully when she heard their voices and ran a little towards them. "Please tell me you've accomplished something!"

"To preempt Gale's long story: Yes. We also found that Mayrina girl later and freed her, but that doesn’t help with our Wyll-problem ", Shadowheart chimed in, and the companions gave Karlach a summary while they immediately went to the still-bound Wyll, so as not to waste any time and to break the curse of the hag immediately.

Gale pushed up the warlock's sleeve, revealing a bracelet made of twisted willow branches.

"By Mystra's nose, indeed," breathed the brown-eyed wizard, amazed with the others' breath on his neck.

He broke the cursed thing, smashed it to the ground, sprinkled the nasty, suffocating powder from the leather pouch over it, and after a brief flame from his fingers, the bracelet burst into flames.

The nightmare was over.

Or was it?

All eyes turned to Wyll Ravengard, who was still lying tied up on the ground.

"Wyll... buddy...how are you doing?" Saulus asked, cautiously approaching him, an uncertain smile on her scarred lips.

"Any...feelings?" Astarion dared to ask, emphasizing the word "feelings" as if he'd never said it before in his life.

"What's with all this impertinent questioning? You were with Ethel, right? How is she? Is she okay? Don't hurt her, or I swear..." He started to thrash around again, but was stopped by Saulus, who squatted on him again. "Whoopsie, let's not do that, shall we, Wyll?"

"Chk, the bitch cheated on us!"

"For fuck's sake, I can't believe it."

"Just untie me and let me go to her!"

"It's not you speaking, Wyll. It's her magic. Fight it," Gale pleaded urgently.

"No, I want to listen to my heart!"

"I've had enough!" Astarion grumbled.

"Me too! Stupid istiks!" Lae'zel hissed, truly fed up.

"Great! Now what?!" Saulus sighed, crouching on Wyll.

"We'll go back to the hag and finish this. No one betrays a Githyanki," Lae'zel was determined, perhaps less for Wyll's sake than for revenge, and the thought that Ethel fooled them, lied them in the face.

"Then on to round two!" the bard jumped up from Ravengard, only to see Astarion waving his hands and shaking his silver head wildly.

"Have fun, but without me! You're welcome to do that, but I'm out! I've had enough! This time I'm keeping watch over our love-struck Sword Coast watchdog," and with these words, Astarion plopped down on Wyll's backside, where Saulus had been squatting.

"Ugh," the air was forced from the Warlock's lungs and throat as the Rogue sat down on him, and Wyll wheezed breathlessly: "Astarion, could you sit somewhere else? You're a little heavier than Saulus."

"Well, beauty weighs," the elf laughed, throwing his head back as he bent his hand.

Saulus just turned around with her arms outstretched and shaking her head, before deciding to let it go and not take it as an insult, but simply as a compliment he'd directed at himself, and set off with the others back to the swamp. Meanwhile, they could still hear Astarion's voice:

"And don't be like that, Wyll, I could have sat on your face. Or would you prefer that?"

...

"Look who is once again my guest: The cat dragged in a pile of knuckle-dragging gobshite! But I didn't invite you, you little snots," Ethel shouted as angry as any existence could be, as the party stood again at her door, her face a grimace of disgust. Or even more so than it already was. Wyll would have been enraged by this comparison!

"Save your breath, hag, your lousy hoax has been exposed. Now bring me the real antidote!" Lae'zel wasted no time, the tip of her blade already aimed at Ethel's pointed, bumpy nose. Which only elicited an unsteady twitch of the witch's green, algae-covered eyebrows before she whistled a laugh between her sharp piranha teeth.

"I have no idea what you're babbling about, you naughty little frog brat," she hissed at the warrior of K'liir, her voice practically screeching as her lip trembled in anger. Ethel had had enough of the group. Her hooked nose was fed up, if you will.

"Bracelet gone up in flames; our friend is still head over heels for you; is something clicking? Now just set him free or we'll have to find out how well witches really burn," Karlach intervened, her hand clenching her axe, but it was the licking flames around her hair and the look in her eyes that seemed really threatening.

"Stop bothering me, afterbirth of a worg! I gave you everything to break my curse. So how dare you to show up here again?!"

The growls, the hag's snarls, and the fury with which she spat out the words was a bit frightening, especially the way she began to rear up with her long arms.

"In fact, it didn't work," Gale stepped in, "the deal was to release him."

"And how is that my problem, hm?", Ethel leaned forward and tilted her head grotesquely, looking more like a strange dog at the moment, "if you're too stupid to do something right? Maybe your little warlock lapdog just loves Auntie Ethel so much, ever thought about that? And now...piss off you nasty naughty petals, you will never bother me again! You will never bother anyone again. Bye bye."

A snapping gesture with her screwy clawed fingers and the figure of the hag dissolved before their eyes, just vanished, just for a bunch of snarling Redcaps to appear and surround them.

"Aaah Redcaps!" screamed Saulus in alarm as she flinched and jumped on one leg as if their were spiders on the ground that she definitely didn't want to touch.

...

"And how did it go?"

Astarion's question would only seem like a farce to someone who saw the rest of the group returning to camp:

Shuffling, dejected, shoulders slumped, disheveled, and some with blood spattered on their cheeks.

Equally important was the way he asked:

Well, it was his usual nonchalant, sing-song voice that he had chosen, but considering the faces looking back, his own chosen smug grin spoke volumes.

"Untie him," Gale simply sighed in surrender, pointing to the flat Wyll on which Astarion was still perched, and whose request he hadn't complied with.

"What?!"

"Untie him," the wizard simply repeated, and the elf reluctantly complied, twisting his full lips slightly crookedly, always containing as many sarcastic remarks as they did seemingly insincere compliments.

"What happened then?", he pressed onward to know.

"Ethel said her hag spell had already been broken and that she had kept her word. There's nothing we can do," Aristen explained the situation to him.

"Outrageous! I may be bewitched; I may be under a spell — the spell of love — but I am not cursed!" Wyll shouted, tearing off the last scraps of rope and rubbing his wrists.

"And then she disappeared forever," Shadowheart added, sighing heavily as she sat down on her stool to rest her feet.

Nothing came of that.

"And she's set a horde of Redcaps on us to tear us apart so-"

"WHAT?!" Wyll's cry interrupted Saulus’ lament, "My Ethel is gone?! No!"

The Blade began to run, lips still murmuring words of adoration. The remaining companions followed him, although Astarion and Shadowheart were only reluctantly chasing after him, Aristen involuntarily staying at their level, and Lae'zel cursing that she couldn't believe the speed the power of love gave him, because she should have caught up with him by now.

"Soldier wait!"

But Wyll was unstoppable, which caused Karlach to grab a solid piece of wood as he ran past, "Sorry, soldier," and hurl it into her friend's path from behind.

The wooden stick got caught between his fast-moving feet, the warlock began to stumble, and Karlach grimaced apologetically and pityingly as he fell to his knees.

That was Lae'zel's moment to intervene before he started sprinting again too quickly, but when she grabbed his shoulder, the feeling of almost like being a hunter who had caught their prey, the triumph vanished and as Wyll began to sob.

"Um, Karlach, can you please help," Lae'zel calling her follower over, pulling Ravengard up.

"Wyll, buddy, what's up? We're here for you."

"You aren't! You scared off my girlfriend. And now I wanted to see if she maybe packed her things at her "Lotions & Potions" stall. And you're even trying to stop me from doing that."

Combined with Gale's heavy panting, which was now catching up with the group, and Astarion, who was definitely strolling up in a more than less relaxed manner, the companions now clearly realized that they had walked to the Emerald Grove. So Ravengard had indeed been drawn there.

"Wyll," Karlach refrained from placing her hand on his shoulder, because the charred spot wouldn't help at all now, "Ethel is gone. She also doesn’t sell no more potions at the grove. But remember why she did it. Because she was a hag. And why is she gone now? Because she was an evil hag who only had evil intentions. Evil. Remember? You hate evil! And you more like nice ladies with a heart of gold."

“Or more like a heart of fire,” Astarion whispered in the background, his hand in front of his mouth, grinning as he nudged Aristen and Saulus with his elbow and waggled his eyebrows, causing the bard to once again suppress a laugh, so she huffed a laugh through her nose.

“Shhh,” Aristen gently poked her elbow back to silence him, so as not to disturb Karlach, but with a big fat grin onto her elven lips.

“How can love be bad or evil, Karlach?” responded The Blade, “just as she is not blind. Since I lost my eye, I've seen more than ever. Happiness, joy, understanding. I've stopped judging and started questioning. Where I first saw only an enemy in a hag, I have found love. A happiness that would otherwise have been forever denied to me, out of sheer stubbornness and blindness.”

Even Gale sighed deeply and laid his head with its thick brown hair and the scattered gray strands — now one could guess whether he owed these to time, Mystra or the orb, or perhaps his mom and Tara — in his hand. As beautiful as he would have found a bard's tale in which a warlock falls in love with a hag and they both overcome the forces of good and evil and all prejudices, he still knew that it wasn't true. Wyll and Ethel could have been happy; at first glance, an unlikely couple, but what others thought should never concern you, Gale respected that to the highest degree.

But he had been with the others at the fight at Ethel's lair and she had enchanted the Duke's son, had admitted it. It couldn't be that she had enchanted him for nothing, surely?

That Wyll was already in love with her and she had gone to all the trouble for nothing.

Or...or was she?

Gale trimmed his chin and rubbed his beard. "Why did Wyll have to trigger the butterfly effect by helping Ethel carry the potion crates? Couldn't he have told her to find someone else to do it for her? Then none of this would probably have happened," the wizard sighed, before shaking his head and answering his own question, "but Wyll is too nice for that."

"Yes, that's right, he's too nice for that”, Saulus nodded in true agreement, because no others words could be truer and at least for that thing, they could be sure at the end of this lunatic day. The bard's nodding agreement turned slowly into a perplexed stare, and the smile on Saulus' lips disappeared. Gale's statement had set in motion a thought process that spread burningly in her flaming eyes beneath her horns.

From the outside, little was discernible from the gears that were loudly turning and squeaking inside her brain, only her twitching expressions and furrowed brows.

"Karlach!" the Tiefling suddenly broke out of her trance, almost startling the rest with her abrupt intervention, since they had, of course, continued their conversation when Saulus had mentally checked out. "Punch Wyll in the stomach!"

"What?!" Karlach hissed in disbelief, her face twisting in confusion. "Fuck, no!"

"You have to punch him in the stomach as hard as you can!" the horned bard continued to insist vehemently.

The remaining companions frowned, no less confused, not understanding what she was getting at or what this was all about. What good would knocking Wyll out do now? Or was she so euphoric that she was taking resentful revenge for the incident in the goblin camp?

"I won't punch Wyll," Karlach shook her head in incomprehension without even a second's hesitation. The opposite of this was Lae'zel, who stepped forward boldly, her practiced and steely Githyanki fist already clenched and raised as a monument, a metonymy of determined hardness and pain:

"I'll do it!"

Only a spell of 'time stop' could have later said which came first: Lae'zel's fist burying itself in Wyll's gut with a dull thud, or the wide-eyed looks of the other companions in completely useless attempts to move, to avert the inevitable. Then Ravengard's full breath, which the Githyanki warrior had punched out of him and which, with a pain-filled choking, then caught halfway in his throat.

Wyll coughed and choked under the force of Lae'zel's fist, which probably wanted to pierce his gut. He spat briefly, and there was a clunking sound from the ground.

"Lae'zel!" Gale and Aristen shouted in unison, supporting poor Wyll, who was almost about to fall forward. The groaning sounds he made, far from the Blade of Frontiers, now reminded him more of a zombie, thanks to the Githyanki warrior.

Sparkling ruby ​​eyes watched the proceedings with undeniable glee.

A throwback to Chaos.

"Lae'zel, didn't you want to know why we should hit Wyll?" Karlach raised an eyebrow as she patted the slowly rising Blade on the back reassuringly.

"Chk, what for?" she hissed, unfazed. "Besides, he took it all right and is still standing. Not everyone can say that after taking a blow from a Githyanki."

"Perhaps you could say that a little less maliciously," Astarion's voice intervened, smugly and unhelpfully.

"Yes, as the right person is saying that," Shadowheart's accusatory wit caught him.

A finger raised in the air interrupted the banter:

"Wyll would like to know why he should be punched," he said, groaning.

"I assume it was about that," Astarion's finger, as treacherously as his swirling tongue, pointed to the ground, "whatever landed on the floor with such a nice 'clank' after Wyll spat it out."

However, his attentive silver-curled head with crimson-red eyes that missed nothing was only the second to bend down, observing.

Hazel eyes of Gale were the first to, along with Saulus, examine the object that had been pried out by the blow to the warlock's stomach, somewhat suspiciously.

"By Mystra's waving robe, what is that?!"

"Why don't you let Astarion hold it? I thought sticky fluids are his thing," Shadowheart's snarky comment was almost missed under the nonchalant, casual tone of her voice. But only almost.

"Um, EXCUSE YOU?!" It wasn't even remotely offended, the way Astarion's voice shot up several octaves as his elven face twisted in a completely unelven inelegant way.

If Shadowheart's comment hadn't been so mean, Aristen would have almost laughed at how much Astarion now looked like an exotic shorthair cat, the way he pulled his nose. Instead, she suppressed a laugh and eyed the round thing with the others, which, "thanks" to Lae'zel's blow, was no longer in Wyll. Because apparently, it definitely had no business being there.

"Is that from Auntie Ethel?" she preferred to concentrate on that.

"That looks like one of her talismans to me," Gale agreed with the blond sorceress, nodding, his brow still furrowed in thoughtful analysis.

"One of her evil hag eye boogaloos. That in the stomach of our warlock, and there she has a deviant, head-over-heels puppy. No offense, Wyll," the Wizard of Waterdeep added afterwards.

"So she lied to us?"

"Big surprise: A hag lied! Quite shocking," Astarion did an act of pure sarcasm with tone and face.

"But why poising him with her spells and her charms? That does not make any sense," Shadowheart interjected logically.

"Because she didn't do it on purpose, just as she didn't lie to us. It was all a stupid coincidence, I think," Saulus the bard spoke again. "I think Wyll swallowed the hag talisman by accident. And didn't notice or think about it, because he's just too nice."

"And how the fuck that, lil pup soldier?"

"Gale pointed it out to me: Okta's cooking pot is right next to Auntie Ethel's potion stand. You remember how she offered us her gray porridge to keep us fed? If one of her cursed hag's eye trinkets accidentally fell into the pot and landed right in Wyll's bowl, he'd never complain about how disgusting it tasted or that he'd bitten into something hard and weird. He'd just swallow it and eat it because he's too polite to tell an old cook that the emergency ration she's sharing with us tastes horrible and inedible."

"In the name of Lady Shar, and that's what you thought of?"

"Like I said: It's Gale who thought of it and brought it to my attention," she smiled appreciatively in Gale's direction, "he knew it was Wyll's decency that triggered the butterfly effect. I just brought up the suggestion for boxing."

The Tiefling let out a short laugh, which was reflected in her eyes and almost to the tips of her horns, if that were possible.

"No wonder this whole love spell or curse — however you might call it — was so powerful and effective with this double enchantment. Truly most interesting. Again, no offense, Wyll," Gale analyzed.

"We can be glad he's doing so well after such a double enchantment. I mean, there could have been a danger that this dose of Fey magic would have blown his brains out," Aristen frowned, glad that The Blade of Frontiers had once again proven itself resilient. Another scar? One that wasn't visible?

"How do you feel, Wyll?" Karlach leaned over to the young Ravengard to check the most important things. Did he remember everything? Was it really all over now?

"Gods...What did she — ?" He shook his horned head vigorously "I am fine, Karlach. Only...only ashamed. I remember. All of it. What happened," he shivered, grimacing over his face, "and especially how I behaved towards you. Disgraceful. You were on my side the whole time. Most of you."

"Yes, especially me! Don't forget that!" the rogue grinned broadly from the background, his fangs bared, to emphasize once again that he didn't like Wyll, even though he, like everyone else, had been on board the whole time. His motives notwithstanding. He might fool himself; it had only been out of curiosity. They wouldn't just leave each other behind like that. None of them, for any reason.

"You're back, my friend. Good we have our blade not hanging loosely on our side, only a shell left of their former self. We need you. For everything to come. And we need you as you are for yourself, Wyll. Your words of courage and balance went missing these days," smiled Gale gently and visibly relieved.

"No! Let's see if this is really over," snapped Astarion and he dragged the slightly protesting Wyll into sight of the old Tiefling cook Okta, where he pointed at her out of hearing reach, "now: Would you do her?"

“Astarion, what?!”

“Answer the question!”

“Well NO!”

“Then everything is fine again,” the elf nodded happily and let go of the warlock, who grumbled about the vampire, adjusting his collar, but the Tiefling bard was already grinning her way into Astarion's world and tilting her head toward him.

"Would you do her?" she asked with a voice that suppressed a joking giggling.

"What?" he snapped offended at her.

"Would you do her then? It seemed like you just wanted to make sure you eliminated any competition," she continued, grinning with her Tiefling fangs over both of her pointed, pierced ears.

"Haha, Saulus, you absolute freak, how dare you," Astarion said, jutting his sharp chin in mock offense, before a grin spread across his lips and his ruby-red eyes squinted back at her amusedly, because he actually always found her humorous comments and jokes quite funny.

"Okay, let's just agree that no one finds out about this," Wyll sighed, putting a hand over his face that he buried and wished would never resurface, and he began to shake his head vigorously in shame, "okay?"

"I don't know, Wyll, you said a few things there, maybe you should stick to those insights. They weren't bad, there's still something to be learned from them," Shadowheart suggested him playfully.

"Guys!"

"We won't say anything," the others reassured him.

"I wish I could forget and burn my eyes out," moaned Ravengard, who, as a self-proclaimed monster hunter with a reputation, clearly had problems with everything that happened. He was traveling with a Tiefling - who should have been killed by him due to his pact  - as well as a vampire spawn. He was getting further and further away from a path...which was probably nothing but meaningless words and smoke and mirrors. Because meaning had virtue in what one gave meaning.

"Our dream visitor could erase our memories," Saulus interjected, completely casually.

"What can they do?! How do you know that?!" Astarion practically jumped up, which made the bard blink uncertainly as if she'd said something she shouldn't.

"What did they delete before? Saulus, answer me!" the vampire shook her, while the Tiefling clenched her teeth.

"I am just glad it is over," the warlock continued seriously, skillfully ignoring the nonsensical commotion of the two pointy-eared, sharp-toothed creatures in the background, "it is so that it seems I am always on a leash. It seems I should be used to it."

A deep sigh escaped his lips and the young Duke’s son cast his gaze to the ground.

What did he learn from this story?

"Ah soldier, don't be sad. We keep an eye on you. Everything will be better, I promise," the barbarian smiled, her big, famous, beautiful Karlach smile on him.

"You deserve better, Wyll. Like we all," Gale nodded at him.

"You really do, Wyll," Aristen smiled gently.

Shrugging shoulders lifted beneath white curls: "Look at it this way, now you have experience and great pick-up lines if you really find someone hot."

"Astarion, I think it would be appropriate if you just kept your mouth shut," Gale said in a pleasant tone, yet pleasant. Already speaking Fireball in his mind.

"Gods, you're all sensitive today."

The vampire's snippy tongue and the rest of the banter were interrupted by the familiar scratching sound of a quill on parchment, absorbing ink.

The bard was writing far too eagerly in her little book.

"Um, Saulus, what are you writing?" Wyll asked, slightly alarmed, and suspicious glances slid in her direction.

With a bright, enthusiastic look, she held out her bard's book:

"My latest song: Hag's Love."

➹a/n:  Like so often, what I did is the fault of Agata 😁 My partner in crime 😉 Love ya my darling 😘 She said write a rare pair.  That is what I made out if it 😄

So it is a bit of the March AU prompt as well, because it as an alternative or parallel camp with two Tavs 😉 But I wanted for my Saulus and her Aristen to get to know each other and have a little adventure together 😁

And because they are both there, there is no flirting with Astarion or mentioning who is with him 😉 For the pansexual polygamous Saulus it would be no problem at all to have a relationship as three 😄😂 But the heterosexual monogamous Aristen would to have some loud words to say about that, so nothing will come of it 😆🤣

Did you hear that, Halsin! This especially applies to you! Get out of bushes! No threesomes for you! 😆😆😆

(I don’t now why it is my headcanon that Halsin lurkes in bushes for couples to jump on threesomes 🤣 He brought this upon himself! 😂)

(P.S.: I imagined Aristen coming to the rescue of Saulus when Astarion shook her at the end.)

I said No Wylls war harmed in the writing of this fic…well maybe a little bit 😅 (*looking at Lae’zel*)