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In the midst of landing her victory blow on an absolutely terrifying, ice-breathing dragon, an annoyingly familiar raven decides to make its presence known.
“I’m busy,” Tav hisses. “Do you mind?”
It ignores her in favor of landing on her shoulder. Hells, the accursed creature has the gall to begin pecking her face incessantly. “I’m so sorry,” she tells her dying victim. “I have to take this.”
“Please, do go ahead.” The dragon says politely.
Tav blinks. “I didn’t know you could speak.”
“Does it possibly make you want to kill me less?”
“Not exactly,” she says apologetically, and rams her spear into his scaly head. Perhaps she might have reconsidered if it hadn’t buried an entire fishing village under ten feet of ice and snow. The raven crows loudly and flies into the air. It drops a heavy, cream-colored envelope on her head. Along with … other things.
Oh, gross.
“You’re literally a familiar,” Tav says incredulously, scrunching up her nose. “Surely magic doesn’t defecate.” She swears, that damned creature is smirking at her. It flaps a few more times before disappearing into a puff of vanilla-scented smoke. Cursing under her breath, Tav fumbles with the letter. The familiar scrawl is almost enough to calm her nerves slightly.
Hello friend,
I hope you have been keeping well. My deepest apologies for how long it has taken for me to write my latest missive. Tara has been facing some … shall we say, complications, as of late. My hands have been rather full. However, it is all settled now. Nothing a good Potion of Sleep and calming draught can’t fix. Not for Tara, of course, heavens no. I would never dream of medicating her.
Anyway, our good friends Lae’zel and Shadowheart are getting married. You are, of course, invited. It will be a traditional affair – Lae’zel promises a “wonderous selection of the finest Githyanki warriors” to “do battle amongst a backdrop of burning mortal bodies”. Supposedly, it is their idea of wedding entertainment. I am not sure if Shadowheart agrees with that. Wedding preparations have been rather chaotic, to say the least. This could very well turn out to be the wedding of the century, or the most pointless battle ever. The event is supposed to happen in a tenday, assuming they don’t murder each other in a fit of rage first.
Alas, I will have to conclude my letter here. With any luck, I am sure I will be updating you on all that has happened with our merry band of lunatics in person soon. I do hope you will return, even if just for a few days. We all do. Your escapades have really been quite the talk of town, back home. Granted, there is nothing as interesting here in Baldur’s Gate (not anymore, at least!) but perhaps some peace and quiet is just what you need.
Always by your side,
Gale
Tav folds the letter up and tucks it into her pack. How long had it been - five... six... fifteen years? Fifteen, she realizes. Fifteen whole years since the destruction of the Absolute. Fifteen years since she left Baldur’s Gate to rediscover her own identity, of being on the road and seeking out one adventure after another. She had stayed behind to help repair the city but had left shortly after. With everyone busy and Karlach gone to Avernus with Wyll, it felt rather empty. To an extent, she wishes that she had followed Karlach. Now, lying awake at night, Tav finds herself thinking of the quick moments between them many years ago. The stolen touches that were all too few and far between, not for lack of trying, the long, drawn-out conversations that they would have until dawn. Deep down, Tav knew that it was never meant to be forever. She just did not expect it to end so soon.
Needless to say, leaving Baldur’s Gate had been a tearful affair, but it was what had to be done. Along the way, she had encountered many small strongholds, once held together by the cult of the Absolute, now stitched together by remaining fanatics. They needed her help. She would keep telling herself that. Always one more adventure. Always one more excuse to distract herself from the loneliness of the city. There is nothing waiting for her at home.
But perhaps it was time she returned.
~`~`~
Baldur’s Gate is exactly how she remembers it to be. The smell of illicit roasted goblin, drunkards pissing in the alleyways and the screech of angry wives behind far-too thin walls. There is truly no place like home.
She picks her way through the mid-day bustle and ducks down a flight of uneven stairs, leading towards the docks. A few more paces, and the sounds of the city fades, slowly melting into a low chatter of voices coming from The Blushing Mermaid, and children playing near the beach. Down another treacherous flight of stairs, and she is at a familiar doorway. Shifting her pack onto one shoulder, she removes her keys and unlocks the heavy, rusted padlock. The gate swings open, and for the first time in over a decade, she is home.
Her entire house is spotless -thanks to Gale, she thinks, he is far too good at reading her- and there is a fresh vase of flowers on her small dining table. Damned wizards and their tendency to just … misty step into places. A note sits on the table.
Welcome home! It reads. I am currently dealing with some business in Rivington, but I will be back before dusk tomorrow. You must be exhausted – I have left some supplies in the pantry for you. If you are up to it, I will be dining at The Laughing Goat in the evening. I hope to see you there. P.S. The others have been informed of your return. Not my doing, mind you.
The note is unsigned, but the distinct smell of meddling in the air points to a certain wizard.
Tav pulls open her pantry door. It is filled with cheese, tea and pigeon meat jerky. Rather similar to what she suspects a certain tressym enjoys. Oh well. Food is food. She unwraps a stick of dried meat, and chews on it idly as she walks through the house. It’s small but airy, with tall ceilings and a large glass door leading out onto a balcony that overlooks the ocean. The floors are a pale birch, slightly darkened with age and disuse. A small archway leads to the bedroom. Another door leads to the bathroom.
It's not grand – nowhere near as imposing as Gale’s tower, or as lavish as Astarion’s palace, but it was home. It was hers. After years of travelling on the road, cramming herself into grimy rooms above noisy taverns and sleeping in tents – she was finally home.
Suddenly exhausted, Tav crawls into her bed – clean sheets, Gale you are an absolute treasure – and closes her eyes. Just for a minute, she thinks. Then I will unpack.
~`~`~
A minute turns into an hour. And then more. Until she is woken up rudely by someone pounding on a bedroom door. Her instincts kick in, and she is out of bed and wielding a knife in a second. She opens her door, and breathes a sigh of relief.
Astarion stands in her living room, clad in a beautifully embroidered black doublet and looking rather out of place amongst her shabby decor. He hasn’t aged a day, and even fifteen years on, Tav still finds herself slightly breathless whenever she looks at him. Having put down the stiff leathers from their adventuring days, he looks far more at home in finery than armor, and possibly twice as stunning. She thinks that if she hadn't been dealing with her own boatload of trauma when they first met, she might have even considered dating him at some point. She hopes that he has been able to heal as well as she has. Although … Gale has informed her in one of his letters that becoming the Vampire Ascendant seems to have at least papered over it a bit. Wait, how is he in her house?
“Did you pick my lock?” she asks disbelievingly.
“Hello to you too, darling,” he says icily. “Imagine my surprise when my … contacts informed me that you crossed the city checkpoint today. I’ve missed you terribly, you know. Rather impolite to simply disappear for so long, even more so to keep your dear friend so woefully uninformed of your return. Why, I could have been dead, and you would have missed the grandest funeral to ever grace the streets of the city.”
“You’re already dead, idiot,” Tav says, still slightly caught off-guard. “I didn’t expect to be home either. Trust me, I am just as surprised as you are.”
“I suppose I will let it slide,” he allows generously. His eyes crinkle humorously. Taking a step forward, he sticks out a hand hesitantly. “I am glad to see you again, Tav. Welcome home.”
“None of that,” she says, and wraps him in a warm hug instead. He smells nice, she thinks. Very much unlike what one would think a walking corpse would smell like. Gives good hugs too. She feels him grin against her shoulder. It is almost as though he can read her mind.
“Father,” a clear, lilting voice pipes up from somewhere behind him. “Why have you brought me to this terrible place? I think I might get fleas. Is that our dinner for tonight?”
“Shush,” Astarion says hurriedly. “Sweetheart, it is not nice to say such things out loud, remember?”
Wait, what?
“Father?” Tav asks.
“About that,” Astarion coughs. “I may have acquired a … spawn? Not the kind that Cazador made me, mind you, but like … a child?” He laughs awkwardly. Perhaps he is aiming for casual, but it comes out as more of a manic little giggle. “I wasn’t going to bring her, but the little imp snuck out of the palace and tailed me here.”
From behind the vampire, a small face appears. It is the spitting image of Astarion – pale skin, pointy ears, red eyes and sharp teeth. Except instead of his light curls, her hair is a shock of black, dark ringlets tumbling haphazardly down her back. Her grin is a mirror of his. It is rather frightening.
“Wow,” Tav says. She eyes the child warily. “I did not know vampires could … reproduce.”
“Neither did I,” Astarion says fondly. “Imagine my surprise when I woke up one day with this little beast growing in the womb that I also did not know I had.”
“You … carried her?” Tav must have eaten some poisoned mushrooms. She didn’t actually make it to Baldur’s Gate and was probably dying in a pit somewhere in the Underdark, ready to be resurrected by myconids. That was the only plausible explanation for this nightmare.
“Of course,” he replies proudly. “All me. And Wyll, I guess. We are engaged, did you know? I’m sure Gale has told you that in one of his soppy letters.”
Gale had not, in fact, told her. Any of it.
“He did not,” she says faintly. “Neither did he tell me about …”
“I am Eris Ancunín-Ravengard,” his offspring chirps, completely oblivious to the crisis Tav is in. “I am 6 years old. Pleased to meet you!”
Oh god. There are two of him now. The child is holding out its hand. Tav takes it numbly.
“Lovely manners,” she says faintly, and Eris beams. “It is nice to meet you too, Eris. I am Tav.”
“I know!” Eris says excitedly. “You are a hero! I have read all the stories!”
“Stories, eh?” Tav grins. “I have plenty more to tell you, if you would like to hear them.”
“Yes please!” Eris claps excitedly. “Now, now!”
“In a bit,” Astarion interjects. “Eris, sweetheart, go … play pretend, or something. Let the grown-ups speak for a while.”
Eris scrunches up her face. She looks like she is about to cry. “Play pretend?” She stamps her foot.
“Or something,” Astarion says helplessly. “I don’t know, use your imagination.”
“I don’t want to! I want stories! Now!”
“Young lady, behave.”
“Behave,” she mocks. Tav watches faintly as the tiny menace chomps down on her father’s thigh. Fangs and all. Astarion yelps.
“Fuck! Eris! We don’t bite without asking first!”
“You said a bad word! I’m telling Daddy!”
“You go right ahead and do that, young lady. I’m telling him that you bit me.”
“You are a vampy too, Father, you don’t count! I could have bitten Miss Tav instead, but I didn’t!”
Hold on a second. “No one is biting Miss Tav,” Tav says hurriedly.
“Well duh,” Eris says. “You didn’t give me permission. I’m not ‘tupid.”
Astarion pinches the bridge of his nose. Tav reaches into her pack and pulls out a piece of glass. It was charmed by a warlock in Neverwinter to play various musical notes when tapped. Tav was never very musically inclined, but it had given her hours of precious comfort when she was alone on the road. She hands it to Eris. “You can make some beautiful music with this,” she says. “Try it out.”
“Be careful with it,” Astarion says. Eris sticks out her tongue at him, but takes the glass carefully. “Thank you, Miss Tav,” she says, and scampers off. “That little brat is going to give me frown lines,” Astarion grouses.
“I can’t believe you have a kid,” Tav says. “You are practically one yourself.”
“I’m literally a century older than you,” Astarion says. Tav shrugs. “I get what you mean, though,” Astarion continues. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m not quite cut out to be a parent either.”
Tav looks over at the mini vampire spread across one of her threadbare couches. Her tiny brow is furrowed, a little fang poking out as she prods at the glass curiously. She is almost the spitting image of Astarion, and Tav is reminded of the many nights when they sat side by side in the firelight at camp, pouring over dusty tomes in search of information about illithids.
“I don’t know,” Tav muses. “I think you seem to be doing an okay job.”
“It is all Wyll,” Astarion says. “He keeps insisting on boring things like manners and kindness.”
“Speaking of which, how is he?” Last she had heard, he had returned from Avernus after a year or so with Karlach. Tav remembers receiving that particular missive from Gale, remembers the raw panic she had felt at the thought of her friend alone and dying. She had come close to marching herself back to Baldur's Gate to demand an explanation from the man himself, until she actually finished reading the letter. He had returned at Karlach's request - as it turned out, a prolonged visit to the Hells was not the most ideal for a fragile human body. She had no clue that he had somehow fallen in bed with their resident power-starved vampire, though.
Astarion’s face lights up. Evidently his new favorite topic, Tav thinks. They sit for hours, chatting, even as the sun begins to set. Tav learns that he and Wyll are engaged, that they are waiting to have a summer wedding, and that he has gone back to practicing the law, albeit with far more kindness than he is comfortable with, thanks to Wyll. She learns that Wyll is running for the next election, and that people love him as much as they did Duke Ravengard, but he still feels the need to prove himself worthy. She tells him about her adventures. During that time, Eris had come over to listen, crawling onto Astarion’s lap. His arms had come up to automatically stabilize her, and Tav couldn’t help but notice how he rubs her head gently, how her tiny fists clutch the fine fabric of his shirt. As they talk, Tav realizes that there is no trace of the terrifying creature that Astarion had become after the ritual. Short of his usual snark, there is no longer any actual vitriol behind his words, no more murder in his eyes. He looks happy, alive.
They are interrupted by a gentle snoring behind them. Eris has fallen asleep. Tav catches him smiling at her fondly. “I best get this little pup to bed,” he says, standing up. “Lord knows she gets cranky if she doesn’t get her rest in a bed full of goose-feather down.”
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Tav says. Astarion picks up his charge gently, and Tav follows him towards the door.
“Welcome home, Tav,” Astarion says. “Don’t be a stranger, alright? If you don’t come by the palace someday, Wyll might skin you before I do.”
She bids him farewell, and he disappears into the night.
~`~`~
She wakes up to the sound of ocean waves and newspaper boys peddling the day’s press loudly on the streets. A quick glance out the window confirmed that dawn had broken about two bells ago. As she pads into her living room, she spots a note shoved under her door.
Sometime this year, maybe? It reads. Below, an address, underlined twice.
It is a rather long walk, but Tav turns down a carriage in favor of enjoying the city air and sights.
The coordinates lead her towards the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate. Close enough to hear the hum of the city, but far enough that the smell of fresh dew and grass was more prominent than halfling piss. Shadowheart’s home was a stunning pile of dark brick and sweetly scented night orchids, cobbled together into a large, sprawling cottage. In the yard, Tav spots an unnecessarily imposing suit of githyanki armor. She knocks on the door. The knocker is another intimidating piece of steel that glints somewhat threateningly. Before Tav can inspect the metalwork any further, the door swings open.
“Tav!” Shadowheart exclaims. “You actually came. Come on in! Lae’zel is still at her creche, but she will be back soon.” Tav follows Shadowheart into her home. The space is massive, but somehow wonderfully cozy. Tav spots a massive fireplace, intricate rugs and overstuffed couches.
“Your home is gorgeous,” Tav says. Shadowheart beams.
“Lae’zel says it is weak and sentimental. Yet, she insists on living here with me,” she says smugly. In the background, she hears a few faint moos. As Shadowheart busies herself with the kettle, she continues speaking. "She has started her own creche, have you heard?"
Tav nods. It was one of the few things Gale had actually told her.
"It's rather revolutionary," Shadowheart says, excitement seeping into her voice. "It's run in a far more humane manner than any other creches, and is the first to actually practice the concept of mercy."
"How have her kin taken to it?" Tav asks curiously. Shadowheart turns around to hand her a steaming cup, and seats herself on a worn couch across from Tav.
"Very well," she says. "At the start, they followed her largely due to her success in leading the fight against Vlaakith. Now though, the Gith are starting to embrace a more tolerant way of life." She smiles, her eyes alight with unmistakable pride. "I have actually met some of the instructors at her creche. They are far kinder than you would expect, and I think you might actually enjoy their company. You'll get to meet them at the wedding."
“Speaking of which - how is the wedding prep going? Congratulations, by the way.”
“Terrible,” Shadowheart replies cheerfully. “We are about to kill each other before the marriage has even begun, but I’m sure Gale has told you that already.”
“He did mention something of that sort, yes.”
“What a darling. He updates you on our lives so religiously. Really, I tell him that we should just leave you in the dark as punishment for ditching us so soon,” Shadowheart says teasingly, without any malice. Tav thinks about Eris. “Oh, don’t worry. I was plenty surprised last night.”
“You’ve met Eris, then?” Shadowheart says, pushing a plate of biscuits towards her. "Biscuit? Homemade." At Tav's hesitation, she winks. "Don't worry, Gale made them."
“I did,” Tav confirms. “And yes please, thank you. I had no idea about her.”
“Gale probably did not know how to tell you that Astarion is a parent now. Can you imagine? Hello, dear Tav, how are you, my tressym nibbled on my couch today, by the way did I mentioned that we have a baby dhampir in our midst now? How is the weather on your end, by the way?” Shadowheart laughs. “Selune bless his soul.”
“Seeing Astarion with a kid was the last thing I expected from him,” Tav admits.
“To be fair, he was a mess. You were gone by then, but he was spiraling really bad,” Shadowheart said. “Decades of trauma probably catching up with him. He had so much, but also nothing at all. Didn’t know who or what he was. The rest of us were busy too. Wyll was in Avernus with Karlach, I was with my parents. Lae’zel was setting up a new creche up north. It was hard enough for any of us to speak to him. No one wants to hear him rant about taking over the world after we had just ridded it of a threat, you know? He was almost manic. Add on his newfound Ascendant powers, and you have the recipe for a mass Goblin genocide.”
“Was that what happened?”
Shadowheart nods. “Despite everything, I think some part of him was still intact. He did not want to be like Cazador, but he had this urge to kill and conquer. He holed himself up in that terrible palace for over a year, before something snapped." She pauses, and winces delicately. "Next thing we know, he went on to raid one of the remaining Absolute camps by himself. Mostly goblins, a few elf-fanatics. Some were drow.”
Tav baulked. “That couldn’t have been easy.”
Shadowheart shakes her head. “Tell me about it. He got through almost the entire camp before the remaining stragglers called for backup. They managed to capture him. Locked him up in a sussur-bark cage so that he couldn’t access his arcane powers. No misty step, no gas cloud. Before we could even react, Wyll went after him." She grins, and laughs almost fondly. "Much like a devil in shining armor. Rescued our resident vampire lord and helped him clear out the rest of the camp. According to Wyll, Astarion tore through the entire mob with nothing but his teeth. Gouged himself on goblin blood in some weird bloodlust frenzy and then came onto Wyll, right in the middle of the carnage.”
Tav blinks faintly. “Like, sex?”
“Like sex,” Shadowheart confirms, wincing. “I suppose all that blood made him a bit frisky. Maybe Mizora stole a bit of Wyll’s sanity too, because he actually accepted. They ended up having a … dalliance while surrounded by goblin corpses.” She coughs delicately. “Anyway, Astarion lands at my door about a week later in absolute hysterics, demanding that I ‘check him for a womb’. I tell him that I am a cleric, not a gynecologist, and I have no desire to start.”
“How did he take it?”
“About as well as you would think,” Shadowheart says. “He went full Ascendant-mode and threatened to burn my house down, along with everyone I loved, if I didn’t help him.” Tav winces. “Oh, dear.”
“Thankfully, Lae’zel was around. She was dropping off some books about Gith culture – they are oh-so fascinating, honestly. Anyway, she clocks him over the head and threatens to skin him alive if he even tries to make good on his words. It was beautiful.” Shadowheart looks a bit dreamy. “She is beautiful.”
Gross, Tav thinks. But also kind of cute. “I never thought I would see the day where Lae’zel comes to your rescue.”
“She is full of surprises,” Shadowheart winks. “Apparently, even the great Ascended Asshole did not want to deal with an angry Gith. Anyway, after they both stopped threatening murder on each other, Lae’zel realizes that Astarion was with child. Smelt it, or something. There was a lot of shouting and howling. I think Astarion passed out, although you absolutely did not hear that from me. Four months later, Eris was born. No prizes for guessing who fathered it. Don’t ask me the details of the birth too, please.”
“I don’t want to know, believe me,” Tav says. Gross. Vampire reproduction. She shudders.
“Wyll immediately proposed to Astarion. Ever the gentleman, he wanted the child to grow up in a complete household. Astarion turned him down - he only wanted to marry someone that he truly loved. What an absolute sap. On the bright side, he spent so much time co-parenting Eris with Wyll that he forgot that he wanted to take over the world with his fancy new powers. Earlier this year, Wyll proposed to Astarion again. This time, he said yes. They are disgustingly happy together.”
“And no new spawn slaves or random killings?”
“Nope,” Shadowheart confirms. “Wyll wants to raise the child right. Also wants to take over his father as Duke. Astarion would never admit it, but he loves Wyll too much to do anything that might ruin his chances at leadership.”
“And how about you?” Tav asks. "I noticed that your parents don't live with you anymore." She peers out the window deliberately with an exaggerated squint. "Did they turn into cows?"
"No!" Shadowheart laughs, before her smile becomes slightly strained. "My mother is not doing very well. We have tried to be patient - even Lae'zel, believe it or not - but the sounds and bustle of the city grew to be a bit too much for her to handle. Eventually, I got them a place somewhere further up north, in a rural village. There are more cows than people, but she seems far more lucid there."
Tav bites her lip. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'm glad she's at peace now, though."
"Me too," Shadowheart says. "It got a bit lonely after they left, so I got two cows. If you venture a bit further out, you might find a crop garden and a few chickens, too."
Tav nods. "I can ... imagine." She hadn't pictured Shadowheart as a farmer, but between the glow of her skin and the faint freckles on her cheeks, Tav thinks it suits her. Suddenly, a thought crosses her mind.
"I can't picture Lae'zel milking a cow," she says.
Shadowheart winces. "This is actually my third pair of cows. Lae'zel killed my first. She swears it was an accident, but I am not convinced that you can somehow accidentally stab a cow fifteen times."
Tav hums thoughtfully. "She's awfully fierce, but even she wouldn't partake in idle slaughter."
An awkward cough. "It did leave her a little ... something in her boots."
Tav stares back, flummoxed. "I see."
"It's not that bad," Shadowheart says defensively. "I think it was justified, even. Besides, I lost my second pair because Astarion was having ... pregnancy cravings."
Ugh. "Please don't ever mentioned Astarion and pregnancy in the same sentence ever again." Tav fights the urge to gag, and groans as a mischievous glint lights up her friend's eyes. “Tell me about you and Lae’zel," Tav says hurriedly.
The cleric beams. Crisis averted.
“Thankfully, our story is far less dramatic,” Shadowheart says. “Good thing I am a better-adjusted member of society. Religious trauma aside. As is Lae’zel.”
Tav wouldn’t exactly call Lae’zel well-adjusted, but ah well. Semantics. “How did you two get together?”
“She knew a lot about unorthodox pregnancies. I suppose it comes from Gith egg-laying or whatever. I ended up having to become Astarion’s unwilling cleric-gynecologist, Lae-zel would somehow show up anytime he came around. She knew a lot more than me. She would never admit it, but she helped him a lot more than I ever could, either.”
“That is rather sweet,” Tav says, pleasantly surprised.
“She is very sweet, in her own way,” Shadowheart smiles. “I am lucky to have her. Astarion would sometimes stay until quite late. Wyll was always out of the city on diplomatic missions. Back then, he was still trying to prove himself as more than just Duke Ravengard’s son, you know? I think on some level, Astarion was a bit lonely. To be honest, I didn’t mind the company. Lae’zel would stay too. She had a small forge set up in my garden, and would stand there oiling her armor or sharpening her sword, all whilst staring at him through my windows. To this day, she insists that it is quieter to work at my place, compared to the noisy creche. I think she was just afraid that Astarion would snap one day and kill me.”
“That explains the Githyanki metalwork hanging all over your house,” Tav says. Shadowheart grins. “Stunning, isn’t it? So many people pass by and ask if they could buy it from me. Of course, I say no. How can I put a price on my beloved’s craft? Anyway, her creche is pretty far. And by far, I mean half a day’s trek away. I would always offer to let her rest at mine and leave at dawn. One thing led to another, and suddenly, I accidentally find myself getting married to an amazing and brave githyanki warrior.”
“Accidentally?” Tav raises an eyebrow.
“Well, you don’t deliberately try to mate with a githyanki, do you? They know lust, but not quite love. It started out purely physical, but then I fell in love with her. And her, with me.” Shadowheart sighs dreamily. “I am so happy I did not kill her at camp. She loves like she fights – with such passion and raw vigor.”
“Right,” Tav says. “How … lovely. Honestly, I can’t believe I am saying this but the two of you might be the most normal thing I have seen since returning.”
“Of course,” Shadowheart says, her eyes suddenly shifty. “Perfectly normal. No surprises there.”
“Right,” Tav says. “No surprises … right?”
“None at all,” Shadowheart replies. “I mean, what could be worse than Astarion having a child?”
“Exactly,” Tav says. “I mean, I suppose Lae’zel showing up suddenly with a child might be able to top that. Good thing that isn’t happening.”
“Right, yes. Of course not!” Shadowheart says. “We don’t have a child.”
“Perhaps one day,” Tav says. “I can’t quite imagine Lae’zel with maternal instincts, but perhaps they might develop with time.”
“Very true,” Shadowheart nods eagerly. “Well. Anyway. I heard on the grapevine that you took down a dragon on your own? Tell me about it.”
Tav regales her old friend with stories. As dusk begins to creep in, Tav stands up. “I’ve got to get back to the city before nightfall. I’m supposed to be meeting Gale. It was wonderful to see you, Shadowheart. I am happy that you and Lae’zel found each other.”
“So am I,” Shadowheart says. “I’ll be in town quite often in the coming days. Wedding prep - you know how it is. Care to join me for lunch someday?”
“I would be insulted if you did not seek me out,” Tav replies warmly. Shadowheart hugs her goodbye. Tav steps out the door –
- and nearly bumps into a firm wall of githyanki.
“Tav,” Lae’zel says. “You have returned from your battles. You look well. Strong,” she adds approvingly. “I heard that you have done well for this land. Your absence was regrettable, but I applaud your commitment to your own duty.”
“Lae’zel?” Shadowheart pokes her head out of the door. “I … did not expect you home so soon.”
“My dear betrothed,” Lae’zel says. “These young warriors miss their mother. I too, have missed your gentle touch.”
From beside her, two young githyanki break free from Lae’zel’s hands and dash forward. They jump onto Shadowheart, both talking over each other so excitedly that Tav can’t catch what they are saying. Tav turns to face Shadowheart so quickly that she gets whiplash.
“I said we don’t have a child,” Shadowheart tries. “We have two.”
Mushrooms. Definitely poisoned mushrooms. Poisoned mushrooms tinged with wayward dark arcane.
“It was my duty to nurture the egg that you pilfered from that creche,” Lae’zel said. “How fortuitous that we were blessed with not one, but two strong offspring. They will be raised to be as strong as the finest warriors, and as brilliant as their mother.” Lae’zel looks proudly at Shadowheart.
Perhaps this is a prank, Tav thinks faintly.
“Look at the time,” Shadowheart says hurriedly. “Mustn’t keep Gale waiting.” She snaps her fingers, and a doorway appears. “Oh, look. A dimension door back to town. Where did that come from? No matter. You should get going!”
“You and I are going to have words,” Tav says, and steps through the shimmering arcane field. The last thing she sees is Shadowheart wincing in the distance.
~`~`~
Tav ignores Gale’s outstretched arms, instead choosing to hold him by the shoulders and pin him with a steely glare.
“Do you have children?” she asks. “Or …a child?”
“Gods, no,” Gale says. “I do have some … baby tressym though. I recall mentioning in my letter that Tara was facing complications. Turns out, she was pregnant. Not my doing, of course. I’m not a savage. I have no idea what nasty creature managed to mate with a creature as magnificent as her, but I have my hands full enough with her children. No need for any of my own to join the fray, thank you very much.”
“Thank god,” Tav says, slumping into the booth. She allows Gale to hug her cautiously. “Today has been … enlightening, to say the least.”
“I believe you have met young Eris, then?” Gale asks. “A charming young lady. Very much unlike her callous father. Looks a lot like him, but her personality is all Ravengard.” He hands her a menu. Tav takes the heavy parchment from him, and thinks about how Eris bit Astarion. Somehow, she finds it hard to believe what Gale says.
“She is very cute,” Tav allows. “I stopped by Shadowheart’s today. Saw Lae’zel on my way out.”
“Ah. You must have also met Va’akos and Qilra,” Gale says. “I admit, I had all but forgotten about that Gith egg. I am not surprised that Lae’zel has kept it all this time. One wouldn’t think that she could raise such fine children, but then again, we did not think her capable of love either.”
“Shadowheart and Lae’zel seem to have done quite well for themselves,” Tav says. “I think Lae’zel even smiled at me.”
“Parenthood does weird things to you,” Gale says. “Can’t say it is for me, but I suppose it is not all bad. For Githyanki, Va'akos and Qilra are as close to regular as you can get. That is, if you ignore the mild case of bloodlust that they seem to have developed. Va'akos is growing up to be a brilliant scholar, I can tell. We read together, sometimes. Qilra is a bit more mischievous. She gets along with Eris like a house on fire. Sometimes literally."
He gestures for a waitress to come over. They place their orders, and the food arrives a moment later. “Magic,” Gale says. “This place is owned by warlocks. Not quite sure what sort of pact encourages the operation of your own eatery, but I’m not complaining.”
Tav takes a bite of her grilled fish. It is wonderfully spiced and perfectly cooked. Magic sounds about right. The two of them eat in silence for a while.
Finally, Tav looks up at him. “I pictured so many different scenarios in my head. The return of the Absolute. The streets filled with vampire spawn. Hell, perhaps the Gith would have finally taken over us. I was just not expecting this.”
“Fifteen years is a long time,” Gale says gently. “People change.”
"I can tell," Tav says, placing her fork, down. "I would have thought that you would have returned to Waterdeep by now."
Gale smiles at her, his eyes crinkling. The years had been kind on him, and he had aged rather well. "So did I. I returned to Waterdeep briefly, but I must confess that after so many weeks spent in close company with others, being once again bereft of human contact proved to be rather ... trying."
So he was lonely, Tav thinks. Just like me.
"I found myself returning to Baldur's Gate with startling frequency, to the point where Tara got rather cross with my prolonged absences from our home. Believe it or not, it was Lae'zel who eventually convinced me to move here proper."
Tav feels her eyebrows shoot to her forehead. "How so?"
Gale smiles fondly. "You've heard that she has her creche quite near to the city, yes? I was rather doubtful about the logistics of operating one so close to a major city, but she was the one who told me that sentiment, when forged with the right people, can often prove beneficial to one's health and focus."
"I would be inclined to call you a liar, but she seems to have softened a bit," Tav admits.
"That's right," Gale agrees. "Change. It's good for the soul, don't you agree?" His eyes drift off to the side quickly, before refocusing on Tav. She narrows her eyes.
“Any other changes I should look out for?” she asks casually. Gale takes a slow, deliberate bite of his food, and Tav kicks him under the table.
"Ouch!" He grouses. "You loon. Your manners are worse than the kids." Tav smiles up at him serenely, and he sighs heavily. “I think you’ve met the worst of it. Karlach has returned from Avernus. Her engine is all fixed up. She’s out of town right now, but will be back in a few days, I believe. I think she would be thrilled to see you.
Tav ignores the skip in her heart. She thinks she would be thrilled to see Karlach too. “Has she started seeing anyone?” she asks carefully.
“Not that I know of,” Gale says, smiling knowingly. “Perhaps you can ask her out. You always did look a bit enthralled by her.”
Perhaps Tav will. Gale is not wrong. “I never managed to thank you for offering to take in Scratch and the Owlbear." She pauses, before looking at him hopefully. "Is the Owlbear still alive?"
"They both are," Gale says, and Tav chokes on her food. Last she checked, dogs rarely lived beyond 15 years. And she was quite sure that Scratch was a dog. Wasn't he?
The confusion on her face must have been obvious, because Gale immediately launches into an explanation. “They did not adapt very well to my tower,” he says apologetically. “Tara did not quite appreciate having them around either. In the end, Astarion offered to take them in.”
“He didn’t … you know, eat them, did he?”
“Heavens, no,” Gale says, before biting his lip. "Uh. Eris did, though. In her defence, she was teething. She sort of ... turned him. By accident, of course."
"Oh," Tav says numbly. "I didn't know dhampirs could turn others."
"She can do a lot of things that she shouldn't be able to," Gale says, and he frowns, as though recalling some far-flung memory. Tav makes a mental note to ask him about that another day. "I believe it could be because of her father's Ascendant powers. Anyway, those two charming beasts needed space. He had plenty of that in his palace. I think he was a bit lonely too.”
“I’ve heard,” Tav says. “So they are alive and kicking?”
“Very much so. Eris adores them. The owlbear is kind of large, even without Dammon's armor. Absolutely terrifies the palace staff, but it is as gentle as ever. I am quite sure Astarion is more likely to eat the staff than the owlbear.”
Tav swirls her wine in her glass. “Looks like I won’t need another glass tonight then,” she says. “In all seriousness, I am very happy for all of you. I can’t quite think of a better outcome after the whole tadpole situation. How is Halsin, by the way?” They were never quite the closest – he did not spend much time on the road with them, but in the few conversations they had shared, he was always one of the easiest to talk to amongst everyone in their party. She would have thought him to be a rather good father.
“Oh – right, Halsin,” Gale says. “Don’t tell me he has kids too,” Tav laughs. Gale sucks in a breath.
“Well … technically but also not quite?”
Tav takes a deep breath. “Is there anyone who hasn’t decided to create offspring?”
Gale wrinkles his nose. “I believe … Scratch has yet to find a mate?”
“Gale.”
“Present company too, of course, but after Mystra, I consider myself strongly aligned with Tara. She needs my assistance right now, more than ever before.”
“Gale.”
“What? Fine! Halsin kind of had kids … with a bear?” Gale winces slightly. “I’m really not sure how that works out … but … he has a bunch of cubs now. It was all pretty recent. The cubs are only a few months old.” Somehow, that is the least weird thing Tav has heard since returning to Baldur’s Gate. “How?”
“You know how he is. Feeling so close to nature. He spends a lot of his time traversing the forests in one of his wildshapes. No one knows the specifics, but I believe he probably met a really nice female bear and … one thing led to … another?”
“Where is the female bear now?” Tav can’t believe she is asking this.
“It is very sad,” Gale replies glumly. “She got hunted for meat by some poachers. He chased them off before they managed to get to the cubs. Halsin was distraught.”
Tav blinks. “Oh. That is very sad indeed.” Gale nods gravely. “He spent the next month encouraging everyone to go vegetarian. We all tried to be supportive. Have you ever seen a vampire eat a salad?”
“I suppose you have eaten weirder things,” Tav muses. “Boots, even a circlet here and there …”
“Watch it,” Gale says, without malice. “Halsin moved the cubs into his home. Honestly, we are all still not quite sure where he lives. I would imagine in a big tree somewhere, but what do I know? He shuffles between here and the grove quite a fair bit.”
Tav pictures Halsin traipsing through the woods, a row of bear cubs behind him. She fights the urge to giggle. “Bear cubs, tressym babies, a vampire child and two gith kids?” she says instead. “Never in my wildest dreams could I have thought of this.”
“And that is all we have for now,” Gale says. “You can imagine the family dinners. Pure, utter chaos. Once, Eris tried to bite one of the cubs. You would think she would have learnt from the Scratch incident, hmm? For the first time, something she bit actually bit her back.”
“Oh dear.”
“Indeed,” Gale nods. “Speaking of which. We gather at the Elfsong Tavern every fortnight for a meal. Call it nostalgia, but it is always nice to have company. Sometimes, the tieflings from the Grove join in too. The kids adore it. You should come – if anything, there is bound to be some chaos that will amuse you.”
Family dinners? With children? It all sounds so dreadfully domestic. A far cry from swinging her sword at a ferocious beast or knifing down gnolls from the back.
“Count me in,” Tav says.
~`~`~
“MISS TAV!” Eris screeches. “You came!”
“Volume,” Astarion says tiredly. Eris sticks her tongue out at her father and launches herself at Tav, who nearly falls backwards. Behind her, Qilra waves shyly. Thankfully, Wyll appears and catches her from behind. “Darling, we don’t throw ourselves at people.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” Eris says. “I was excited to see Miss Tav.”
“I’m excited to see you too,” Tav says, setting Eris down. The young girl beams and scampers off, Qilra by her side, the duo presumably off to terrorize someone else.
“She never listens to me,” Astarion complains. “Why does she never listen to me?”
“She has too much fun riling you up,” Wyll says, kissing his lover on the cheek chastely. “Honestly, she gets that from you. A taste of your own medicine, if you will.”
“She looks happy,” Tav offers. “I think that is all that matters.”
“She does, doesn’t she?” Astarion says. “I think … that is all I could ever hope for. We are doing our best, I think. I hope that is enough.”
“It is,” Tav says reassuringly. “She is an absolute joy.” As though right on cue, one of the barmaids lets out an unholy yell. “That little brat just bit me!” With an almost collective sigh, the three adults look over.
“Awfully bold of you to call Qilra ugly when your nose looks like that!” Eris stamps her feet, her tiny nose scrunching up. For a moment, she looks scarily like her vampiric parent. By her side, Qilra raises her chin and stares down at the barmaid. “Inferior human,” she hisses. “I will gut you.”
“Is this little creature a … vampire?” The barmaid sounds hysterical. "Oh, god!"
In a flash, Astarion is at the counter. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says smoothly. “How would a vampire even sire a child?” He grabs Eris in one arm, Qilra in the other. “I’ll just take these two rascals, shall I? Here, some gold for your troubles.” Muttering under her breath, the barmaid snatches the bundle from the counter and stomps away. Tav watches as Astarion drags the struggling children across the room, presumably to hoist them off onto someone else.
“He is kind of good at this, in his own way,” Wyll says. Strangely, Tav is inclined to agree. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Karlach hanging out near a few tieflings. “I’ll be right back,” she says, and Wyll waves her off with a knowing smile.
Making her way through the tavern, she walks past Astarion and Lae’zel. “We do not engage humans in battle,” Lae’zel hisses. She is stood tall, with her arms folded. The last time Tav saw her like that, she was staring down the face of a mindflayer. “Let this be your final warning, child.” Qilra sits on the ground, her arms crossed. “Her neck was so soft. It would have been easy!” she argues. Lae’zel gives her a warning glance. The child huffs. “I never get what I want!” In the distance, Tav sees Va’akos snickering. When he meets her eyes, he quickly looks away, his head firmly fixed onto the book in his lap.
Beside her, Astarion is crouched on the ground with Eris. “We ask for permission before we bite,” he repeats. “I don’t need to tell you this twice, darling.” Eris scrunches up her face … and promptly begins to bawl. Frowning, Astarion leans forward … and howls right back. Lae’zel stares at him disdainfully. “I am amazed that your kind has lived as long as it has,” she says. Eris stops screeching, her face warped into an angry scowl. Astarion shrugs. “It worked, didn’t it? Oh, stop frowning darling, it will age you prematurely.”
Eris squints. “What, like you?”
Wonders never cease to amaze, Tav thinks. She hurries away from the two angry parents, and Halsin waves at her. She walks over to greet him.
“It has been a while,” he says. “I have heard much about your adventures. Have you met my wonderful brood?”
Behind him, three young sun bears are wrestling playfully on the ground. “Beautiful children,” she says. “What are they called?”
“Their names are beyond our comprehension,” Halsin replies. “Besides, I prefer them to develop their own identity, free from the constraints that comes with being given an identifier.”
“Ri …ight.” Tav says. “Of course. No, that makes complete sense.”
“I’m glad you agree,” Halsin smiles warmly. “If you really insist, you may call them Terra, Roc and Pyre.”
Really, nothing should faze her at this point. “Stunning,” she says politely. Halsin looks pleased. “I’ll be back,” she says. “I just need to –“
She looks up, and locks eyes with Karlach. “Soldier!” she shouts. “You have returned!”
“Off you go,” Halsin says, his eyes twinkling. “I will not interfere with young love.”
Smiling gratefully, Tav nearly trips over herself as she jogs towards the tiefling.
“I’ve missed you,” she says. “You’ve been fixed.”
“I’ve been fixed,” Karlach agrees. “And now, I can give all the hugs I want, forever. Or, at least, until I die of old age.” Tav laughs and jumps into her arms, closing her eyes. The tiefling smells faintly of smoke and cinnamon. It is an indescribably comforting smell. Perhaps if every cultist had experienced a Karlach-hug, Tav thinks, they would be less inclined to be assholes.
When they finally break apart, Tav’s face is flushed. “I’m so happy to see you,” she says, a bit teary-eyed. “I’m sorry I could not come to Avernus with you.”
“I had Wyll,” Karlach says. Her eyes turn serious. “Besides, it would have made no sense for you to come along. The place is treacherous, even to seasoned travelers like yourself. You went on to carry out a noble purpose. I’ve heard of the many smaller villages that you saved from leftover Absolutist zealots, the many beasts that you have slain. Don’t think me so selfish as to deprive others of your aid, just so I may have your company on my own personal quest.”
Tav feels like crying. Kind, sweet, understanding Karlach.
“Let me buy you a drink,” she says instead. “We have a lot to catch up on.”
~`~`~
Coming back was not that bad, Tav decides. Her belly is full from amazing food, her back doesn’t hurt from lying on the ground and she has a standing date with an amazing person. I could get used to this.
“The wedding’s been pushed back,” Shadowheart says, sliding into the seat beside her. “By about another tenday. Lae’zel accidentally scared away our caterer. I understand if you are no longer able to attend. Lots of beasts to slay, and whatnot.”
Lots of beasts indeed. Tav looks around the bustling hall. Karlach is running around the room, Eris on her back, and Va’akros and Qilra hanging off each arm. Lae’zel and Astarion are sneakily feeding Halsin’s cubs with a blood-bag while Wyll pretends to not notice. Gale and Halsin are comparing notes on their four-legged offspring. Scratch is chasing Tara’s baby tressyms around playfully, their not-so-little-anymore owlbear cub hot on his heels.
She thinks of the upcoming wedding. Of the stunning flower arrangements that Shadowheart had excitedly shown her, nestled inside Gith-made vases. Va’akos and Qilra scuttling down the aisle, throwing petals everywhere. Scratch being the best ring-bearer ever. Karlach by her side, dressed in a finely tailored suit. The idea of not being there for it makes her chest ache. The city is no longer lonely. It is filled with life, and family. A family that had taken root from the ashes of what remained, formed by a group of misfits that had nowhere to go. A family that she had neglected for far too long.
“No rush at all,” Tav says. “In fact, I think I will be staying in Baldur’s Gate for a while.”