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The Once and Future Champion (Baldur's Gate 3/Dragon Age)

I used to think Mizora was quite good at her job, and I suppose she's not bad, but in the process of writing this fic I really had to sit down and analyze a lot of my BG3 experience from a new POV... and I've come to realize that Raphael absolutely blows her completely out of the field regarding being a manipulative bastard of a contract devil.

Not that he's perfect either. He has his flaws, which can trip him up in the endgame if the player does it right. But in hindsight the only thing letting Mizora always stay one step ahead of the player is the scriptwriter being on her side. She loves her gotchas too much and survives largely on pages and pages of legalese. It's as subtle as a sledgehammer.

Raphael, OTOH... he's staying ahead of you most of the time because he's actually competent at this shit. I mean, this fic directly lampshaded that Raphael put Yurgir in a holding pattern for a century with just a six-line contract and selling a rat spell to one of Yurgir's intended victims... and even then Yurgir can't escape that trap without being Raphael's slave forever unless Tav bails him the fuck out.

And even when you can beat him, by God do you sweat blood for it.
 
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"No, two." Wyll's amused voice came to us. "Because look at who I just found in the next room."

We left Jaheira, Isobel, and Zevlor behind to start organizing the survivors and getting them back upstairs to wait for the Harper reinforcements and headed into the back room of the conversion center, where we all broke out in uncontrollable grins at the sight of the last prisoner here. One who had been isolated in a very specially-reinforced containment pod of her own.

"STOP GAWKING AND GET ME OUT OF HERE!" Mizora screeched angrily.

And now it's time for the comedy portion of tonight's entertainment!

I leaned over and whispered a few quick sentences into Karlach's ear, then turned to Wyll. "Wyll, could you do me a favor?"

"Of course. What?" He turned to me-

"Hold still!" I said quickly as I hurriedly snatched his rapier out of its sheath. In the moment of shock that produced, Karlach stepped behind him and pinned him in a chokehold from behind right on cue.

Wait, wha-

"'Should the promised soul refuse obeyance or neglect duty, the pact-holder shall cast the promised in Avernus as a lemure.'" I quoted the clause from Wyll's contract that Mizora had recently threatened him with in her message. "Except now Wyll isn't either refusing or neglecting - he's being restrained against his will, and that means you can't punish him for failing to stop what we're doing. Karlach, if Wyll tries to escape, spellcast, or do anything else, then choke him out right away with a sleeper hold."

Oh of course! She's not negotiating with Wyll here, she's negotiating with HAWKE who is acting on Wyll's behalf. Oh, this changes the dynamic nicely. Because, as with much of this fic, Hawke isn't a rookie Tav who ended up leader of the band of misfits due to being the least dysfunctional. He's in many ways a veteran adventurer by Faereun standards, and he earned his wisdom stat the hard way. And with him on the button, she can't depend on Wyll's '-5 to all rolls to outsmart the devil' debuff.
 
I AM THE HAUNT OF MAUSOLEUMS. THE GOD OF GRAVES AND AGE. OF DUST AND MUSK.

I believe it is dust and dusk actually.
But that aside I am so hyped for this fight. Hawk has been able to cheese and tactics his way through the most difficult fights of act 2 but it is hard to outwit or outtalk a giant effin death avatar. Maybe Varric could but he's not here right now
 
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Not that he's perfect either. He has his flaws, which can trip him up in the endgame if the player does it right. But in hindsight the only thing letting Mizora always stay one step ahead of the player is the scriptwriter being on her side. She loves her gotchas too much and survives largely on pages and pages of legalese. It's as subtle as a sledgehammer.
To be fair, it's not uncommon for con men to be of average or worse intelligence and still get by on fooling people more gullible than even they are. It just means that when they try to outplay someone who's good at the game, they splatter. :V
 
This fic has me questioning why Mizora is even in the game at all.

Raphael is plot relevant.

Mizora is not. At all.

Why is Raphael not Wyll's warlock patron?

Raphael has had his devilish fingers in everything from the beginning and far before it.

1. Raphael built Moonrise Towers via devil pact to the Mason Guild leader.

2. Raphael gave the Astral Prism to Vlaakith.

3. Raphael holds the key to releasing the entity in the prison.

4. Raphael has direct history with the Crown of Karsus and has a unique ending with it.

5. Raphael can give Astarion the secret of the vampire ascension ritual Cazador plans.

Mizora is just a minor player in an already complex weave. She has the downside of being a character connected to the underwriten Wyll.

Imagine this dynamic instead:

Wyll grew up listening to bardic songs of heroism, and he wanted that for himself one day, he just wasn't sure how. When he pushes back the Cult of the Dragon with a warlock pact's help, its with the promise of a heroic song ballad that will be on everyone's lips. Raphael sings in his ears.

Now, Raphael has presence and even greater impact. The choices at the end of the game about how to stop Raphael have direct impact on Wyll.
 
I believe it is dust and dusk actually.
But that aside I am so hyped for this fight. Hawk has been able to cheese and tactics his way through the most difficult fights of act 2 but it is hard to outwit or outtalk a giant effin death avatar. Maybe Varric could but he's not here right now
The Maker left Thedas, nothing says he can't swing by a different sphere if someone prays to him.
 
Because then you'd either have to take Raphael's deal in act three or kill Wyll.
That's one way to end a companion quest, sure. But it's not the only way to do it. In this hypothetical alternate game, one appropriately bad consequence to Wyll's story would be for NO ONE to remember him at all.

You kill Raphael. Wyll becomes nothing in the minds of others, excluding the party. All the songs about the Blade of Frontiers go forgotten. Wyll goes into the final confrontation with the Absolute knowing that history won't be capable of remembering his contributions.
 
If Raphael were Wyll's patron, Wyll would not be in the party because Raphael doesn't give a shit about Karlach. Raphael would have Wyll completely under his thumb and willingly so. Mizora plays to flaunt her dominance. Raphael plays to win.
 
Both Mizora and Raphael think they are smart, but what they have really done is make a career out of winning Russian Roulette.

Every time they swindle some poor bastard on the material plane, they run the risk, that this time will be the time someone with the power or resources to have them killed permanently decides to do just that.

Only reason it doesn't happen more often is because the good guys don't want to disrupt the eternal stalemate of the blood war.
 
Can I just say that Myrkul's entrance is unspeakably cool? Even if he's one of the Useless Three, he has a sense of style. Even if it belongs to an edgelord.

As to the Wyll discussion: Wyll is just Jacob Taylor of BG3, unfortunately. Bland, dumb, no character progression of worth, no substance, black. It's unfortunate, as it's implied he's the main character of a certain official adventure. And he could have so. Much. Content. In act 3! He and Karlach, but mostly him, are the best agents through which we could get quests and lore in the city. But act 3 is act 3. Pity.
 
"He spoke of himself as the Chosen of Myrkul." Gale said grimly. "My mentor Elminster is a Chosen of Mystra, gifted with a spark of her own divine essence embedded with him. And that grants him great power, but also requires him to obey his patron's commands - even when he direly wishes otherwise. I don't understand everything about the relationship that they have but I do know that it is closer even than that of a priestess to their goddess." He sighed. "Your restored life may have been a gift to him from Myrkul, but I fear that your father's own still lies in pawn to the Lord of Bones - and that it continues only so long as he continues to further their will."
within

"Enough!" I swore, blocking out the voice with act of will. "Let's move."
with an act

"We've still got that big area near the barracks we didn't explore." I said. "Hopefully this is the deeper dungeon-" The bio-mechanical iris door squeezed open, and we were confronted by a large obling chamber with multiple pods spaced all around the borders of the room. And I was very familiar with those pods - we all were. Because we'd been trapped in them onboard the nautiloid, when they'd tadpoled us.
oblong

'But 'temporary' can become 'permanent' for you as easy as the push of a button." I held up my index finger dramatically. "So what we have right now is a stand-off. We can't kill you without also sacrificing Wyll thanks to his pact's penalty clauses... but by the same token he's the only hostage against us that you have right now and your current maximum lifespan is Wyll's lifespan plus a few heartbeats, and no longer. So until the stand-off is broken, you can't go anywhere." I smiled. "But we can come and go as we wish, even if we have to knock Wyll out and drag him from this room kicking and screaming." I shrugged. "And then I'll just move your pod to somewhere else before he can come back here, and never tell him where. It's not a refusal to free you on his part if he can't find you. So, how many days, or weeks, or months do you think you can stay stuffed in there before your affairs in the Hells suffer from your prolonged absence? Before your reputation in Hell absolutely craters from having been so careless as to somehow get yourselves imprisoned by mortals and mind flayers? Or just before the boredom drives you mad?" I mentally thanked Raphael - not that I'd ever actually thank him to his face - for setting an example for me with Yurgir, as I hoped what had worked for him there would work for me here.
"But
yourself

"Yes, but the pact was ended first so Wyll's still fine." I shrugged. "And I'm pretty sure that Karlach can tell us how Zariel's court is going to react to a weakened MIzora who won't even be able to do any of her emissary duties on the Prime for however long she's bound in Hell - assuming she even shows up there at all."
Mizora

"Did you not notice? The brine pools in the conversion center were entirely empty of larvae." Lae'zel explained. "They have exhaustively harvested the tadpoles from this hive, well beyond usual levels. And they will certainly have a use for all that they have grown." She looked to the side at a strange bulbous formation growing out of the wall whose multiple glowing ciliae looked like a transluscent jellyfish. "A restoration pod. They can fully restore not only the health but the spells and powers of those who use them, once per day, drawing energy from the psionic collective to do so. A priceless opportunity for us to ensure that we are fully fit for battle against even the strength of those who await us." She shuddered. "I would normally rather die than risk using ghaik technology... but I must acknowledge the truth. We are exhausted, and we are desperate."
translucent

And standing on the elevated inner platform we could see three standing figures in the distance and a fourth one kneeling motionlessly on the ground. One of the three was Ketheric Thorm.The other two were a strange pale woman with long blond braided hair and dressed in horrific-looking blood-red armor, and a young nobleman garbed in elaborate black-and-gold finery.
Deleting either of these duplicates would be an improvement.
Missing space.

Gale's Shatter spell detonated the cluster of necromites at the same time Jaheira resumed her true shape directly behind the mind flayer and viciously slashed it across its hamstrings before shoulder-checking it into the void. It was barely able to concentrate on its psionic powers and levitate itself in mid-air, saving itself from a fatal fall - until with a brush of my templar powers its levitation was disrupted and it fell like a stone into the depths of the earth. Several intellect devourers we hadn't seen tried charging the part, but Lae'zel and Karlach contemptuously stomped them into paste. We spread out, flanking Ketheric on three sides in addition to Aylin and Isobel in his rear.
party
 
Can I just say that Myrkul's entrance is unspeakably cool? Even if he's one of the Useless Three, he has a sense of style. Even if it belongs to an edgelord.

As to the Wyll discussion: Wyll is just Jacob Taylor of BG3, unfortunately. Bland, dumb, no character progression of worth, no substance, black. It's unfortunate, as it's implied he's the main character of a certain official adventure. And he could have so. Much. Content. In act 3! He and Karlach, but mostly him, are the best agents through which we could get quests and lore in the city. But act 3 is act 3. Pity.
If only Wyll had gotten the same post-release care and attention that Astarion has.
 
Man, it is so satisfying to see the characters not bound by game rules and able to actually fix some of these things. There's no possible way to fix Karlach even with Elminsters ear, Selune owing you a favor and a scroll of true ressurection my ass.

Edit: It is also satisfying to see you actually get somewhere lol. I get so excited by all these BG3 fics but they all die in the grove.
 
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Alright, hands up who thinks the collective party members could make a "Why Hawke is Best" fanclub at this point and it would be perfectly canon.

Shadowheart? Smitten. Now make babies.
Lae'zel? Smitten but githyanki smitten.
Karlach? Biggest fan hands down.
Gale? Smitten but bros.
Wyll? Dude is "WHERE HAS THIS GUY BEEN ALL MY LIFE!?"
Withers? Probably wants him as his Champion.
Isobel? Turned up, solved her problems, got her waifu. Best pal.
Jaheira? "You remind me of someone."
Halsin? Bear.

Edit:
Astarion: Nobody cares.
 
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Chapter 27 New
"Oh shit!" Shadowheart swore desperately.

"Spread out-!" I began to order, only for Myrkul to launch his attack before we could even react.

COME.

A terrible force radiated outward from the towering avatar and we were all helplessly yanked off our feet and dragged across the ground towards them. Necrotic energy flared green and writhed across our flesh, and bloody wounds spontaneously tore open on our bodies. Aylin was the only one able to keep her footing and even she could not avoid being dragged from her perch, although she at least was able to control her landing with her wings. Isobel thumped heavily to the ground behind where Aylin stood poised and ready, as Selune's daughter was the only one of us able to counterattack on the first exchange.

"You are not welcome here!" Aylin cried, her greatsword flaring with holy fire as she struck into the death god's flank again again. "Fall, damn you! Fall!"

As I heaved myself to my feet I noted with horror that the corruption I could sense radiating outward from Myrkul was apparently preventing magical healing from working within its radius - any magical healing, as the wounds that Myrkul's attack had caused on Aylin were not closing.

"Aylin, you're mortal right now!" I shouted in warning. "Myrkul's aura is acting like a divine weapon! Watch your defense!"

"Beacon of Hope!" Shadowheart cried, and a wave of renewal pulsed forth from her and washed over us all. I felt the chill of death recede slightly from my bones, and Aylin's regeneration began to function again... slowly.

A flurry of Wyll's eldritch blasts peppered Myrkul, chipping him a bit, and I took a moment to do a quick survey of my allies and their positioning.

"He can't move out of where he's floating in the center ring, he's too big to fit! Everybody except me and Aylin, fall back and switch to ranged!" I ordered.

"I haven't got any ranged!" Karlach cried plaintively as she stepped forward to flank me with her sword bared. "Not that'll hurt that thing, at least!"

"Moonbeam!" Isobel cried, and a great silver light shone down from above to fall directly on Myrkul's avatar. The god's bones began to smolder and crackle, although it was still moving.

"Gale, with me!" Lae'zel cried. With a flare of her psionics she invoked a Misty Step to appear at his side, then she grabbed around his torso with one arm and did a psionically-assisted leap to carry him away from Myrkul and back towards the entrance corridor. Good - our glass cannon was now positioned where he had the best field of fire and where Myrkul couldn't squish him up close-

"Catch!" I tossed Yurgir's infernal hand crossbow back towards Lae'zel and Gale and focused on Myrkul again. Several ichor-coated pods materialized on the platform around us-

"Smash those pods!" Jaheira cried desperately as she started following her own advice. "If you let them hatch then we will be hip deep in necromites!"

"Wyll, that's your job!" I decided. "Keep blasting pods!" His eldritch blasts didn't cost him anything, and they had enough range to cover the battlefield. They'd do much better at chipping away Myrkul's summons and covering all our backs than they would at merely contributing slightly to the attrition warfare we were conducting - better only one or two people be removed from the firing line against Myrkul than half of us or more.

I'd been so busy monitoring the battlefield and calling out orders that I hadn't had a chance to take a swing yet, and Myrkul regained the initiative. With a ponderous two-handed swing the great bone scythe came sweeping inexorably across the outer platform - the avatar was so large and his weapon so long that he had enough reach to area-of-effect the entire battlefield! But if he was going to overextend like that then-

I stepped past Karlach as quickly as I could so that the scythe's arc would reach me first, and put everything I had into a power block as I rooted myself in the Bulwark stance. I swore I could feel my bones crack as the titanic scythe slammed directly into my blade and shoved it backwards into my chest so hard that only my adamantine breastplate saved me from being cut in half. But I'd immobilized Myrkul's weapon just long enough-

"Karlach, hit it with everything you've got!" I called, and with a primal scream of rage she did a full wind-up, then raised her sword in a two-handed grip and brought it down directly on the scythe's haft just behind the blade with everything she had. Her adamantine sword could cut steel as easily as it could butter, and all of Karlach's tremendous strength was now directed precisely at the weakest point of a temporarily immobile target. With a CRACK that echoed off the far walls the Reaper's scythe was reduced to a truncated bone quarterstaff. Thank the Maker it hadn't been some invincible divine artifact-

Myrkul fought on in unearthly silence, not even wasting words on us as he opened his hand and let the ruined scythe fall into the pit, and then his great bone hand reached out and clawed at Karlach. Her sword hit the platform as Karlach fell to her knees, her teeth chattering helplessly as she convulsed in shock. The chill of the grave had ravaged her flesh with frostbite even more deeply than Myrkul's clawed fingernails had stripped the skin from her back-

"Leave her alone!" I snarled and hacked at the target Myrkul had just given me. My blade flared with sacred radiance as it bit deeply into his bones again and again, as I channeled my powers to smite his spirit as well as his body-

"Yes!" Aylin cried, stepping sideways to be directly opposite me on the circular platform so we had the avatar pinned between us. "Keep at him!" Her own blade, blazing with holy fire of her own, rose and fell as relentlessly as mine. Myrkul was definitely feeling the damage we were doing, but he was a long way from defeated-

I dimly heard the blasts of Yurgir's hand crossbow and warlock bolts behind me as Lae'zel focused fire on Myrkul and Wyll focused on burning down Myrkul's summons along with Jaheira. Isobel was pinned in place, maintaining her concentration on her moonbeam spell as it chewed slowly through the Reaper's fortitude and slowly burned his unlife away. Karlach was down to less than half her health and stunned-

"Sunbeam!" Shadowheart's voice called out in challenge as my beloved stood by my side. The Blood of Lathander blazed forth like an arcane cannon, striking Myrkul directly in his chest with an impact that made even him stagger slightly... and which drew his attention.

"When I said we'd do things together, I wasn't exactly thinking of this!" I joked desperately as I interposed myself between Shadowheart and Myrkul. For as long as she could concentrate on maintaining the beam, she'd be doing more damage to the Reaper than any other two of us put together... but by the same token, she'd be the primary target.

"Karlach, fall back!" Isobel cried. "I can't heal you while you're standing close to him! His aura is still blocking me!" Granted that we were all wounded, most of us could still fight for at least a little while longer. Karlach was only one or two more hits away from dying on the spot, though, and needed a recovery now.

At my nod Karlach staggered to her feet and retreated, moving to the left around behind Myrkul to get closer to Isobel. In the face of Shadowheart's threat he had to focus on her, and I had to pray that I could tank all the hits Myrkul was going to throw at her.

"Cloud of Daggers!" I heard Gale cast, and a whirlwind storm of blades of arcane force sprang into being in the center of the pit. The massive, immobile avatar was caught directly in the center of the flensing blades - a man could have tried to dodge, to run out of the area of effect, but the Reaper could only stand there and take it. And the cloud would last as long as Gale could maintain his concentration... and he was safely ensconced at the furthest rear of the battlefield, where the Reaper couldn't reach him. Between Gale's spell and the Blood of Lathander the battle of attrition now favored us- if we could just keep this up for a minute or two more without dying!

ENOUGH! Myrkul roared. His other hand came up, flaring red with a baleful orb of energy. He drew his arm back to toss whatever stroke of doom he was preparing-

"No!" Ketheric's voice suddenly called hoarsely, sounding out from we knew not where - and Myrkul's hand twitched. The momentary interruption was all he could manage, but it was enough - Myrkul's spell was ruined, at least for the moment.

"Father?" Isobel shouted. "Father, we're coming! Just hold on!"

Myrkul hissed and his eyes flared blood-red as he gazed directly at Shadowheart. My heart froze as I realized that I couldn't block this-

Necrotic chill crawled across Shadowheart's flesh, visibly wounding her further, and her face flinched as I felt the corona of an otherworldly terror strike at her mind. My imagination could almost hear the faint sounds of howling wolves as a distant echo, as the Reaper apparently drew forth her greatest fears to break her concentration-

Shadowheart's arms almost dropped, her will almost broke- until I saw her eyes flicker aside to me, and then look back up at Myrkul with newfound resolution. "Crawl back into your pit!" Shadowheart spat. "Earlier today we defied the Nightsinger herself in her own realm, and you still think I'm afraid of dying!?"

Myrkul's response was cut off by a god's shriek of pain, as Aylin suddenly came down from directly above to land heavily on top of his head - and spike her greatsword directly through the roof of his skull with the full momentum of her landing. "WE! HAVE! HAD! ENOUGH! OF! YOU!" she shouted furiously as she struck again and again.

With a terrible cunning Myrkul crouched low, bringing the furious Aylin down with him into the area of effect of the cloud of daggers. Gale's spell tore through her flesh like a threshing flail through wheat. Gale dropped his spell almost immediately, but even so Aylin barely stayed upright along enough to withdraw. She fell back to a defensive position in front of where Isobel was healing Karlach - her own regeneration would get her back in the fight in a turn or two more, now that she was out of Myrkul's immediate aura, but until then there was a grand total of two people within Myrkul's melee range and only one of them was free to move.

Myrkul's hand reached out to squeeze Shadowheart's life from her, and I immediately stepped into the hit. His great clawed fingers blunted against my armor but the chill of the grave flowed into me and almost stopped my heart. I could feel the power of my Oath waning as I burned a whole chunk of stamina negating the magic of the Reaper's death-grasp. The din of battle faded away and blackness crept in at the sides of my vision as he struck at Shadowheart again, and again, and I took the hits for her again and again. I desperately struck back with my blade as best I could, but I wasn't even certain I was hitting anything. Infernal crossbow bolts and eldritch blasts began to pelt Myrkul's hide as Lae'zel and Wyll rejoined the fight, and Gale fired a lightning bolt to augment their efforts. I saw Aylin's wings interpose themselves between me and the Reaper as she helped haul me back to my feet with one mighty arm- a silver flash as Isobel's own magic joined Shadowheart's to bathe Myrkul in the light of both sun and moon- the distinct sound of Karlach's adamantine sword chopping into bone- and a last desperate pull by the Reaper, just like the one he'd first used on us, to try and drag us all down into the pit-

-and then it was over.

I was on my knees, gasping for breath that would barely come, at least as close to death as Karlach had been a minute earlier. The rest of us weren't in much better shape - even our rear rank was still battered, and our front ranks were barely conscious. The only person in the room looking halfway healthy was Isobel, as Myrkul had never directed an attack specifically towards her for the duration of the battle - her only wounds were from having been in the corona effect of several of his wider-area attacks. And I was entirely certain why that had happened-

The horrifying Avatar of Myrkul had dissolved away like the morning dew, and the oppressive aura of death had gone with it. Ketheric Thorm lay on the platform only a few feet away from us, all of his malign power dissipated and gone. The Chosen of Myrkul was no more, and all that was left was a feeble old man.

"Father, hold on! I can heal this!" Isobel was babbling desperately as she pumped all her remaining magic into him.

"No... you can't." Ketheric whispered. "Myrkul... consumed my essence... to manifest. And now he has forsaken me... as I forsook him..." His breath grew weaker and weaker - even Isobel's best efforts, now joined by Shadowheart's own, were clearly not going to keep him alive for much longer.

"Evil always consumes its own in the end." Aylin pronounced grimly. "I tried to warn you, Ketheric."

"Yes... you did." he acknowledged. "Isobel... I'm so sorry..."

"It's all right, Father." Isobel tried to smile at him.

"No, it's not all right." Shadowheart's cold voice shocked us all like the lash of a whip. Why are you sorry, General?" she mocked him heatedly. "Because you didn't get what you wanted? It's so easy to be sorry for that!"

"Shadowheart!" Isobel rounded on her furiously. "How dare you-?!?"

"Because I hurt her." Ketheric interrupted her. "I hurt everyone. I was so selfish... and so afraid..." His eyes closed briefly, and our breaths caught in fear until he re-opened them. "I was such a fool."

Isobel's jaw dropped in realization right alongside Aylin's, as Shadowheart's pose of mockery dropped to reveal a warm, compassionate smile. "Then that's what matters in the end." Shadowheart blessed him.

"Yes." Ketheric smiled weakly back at her and Isobel. "Yes..."

"Farewell, Father." Isobel wept, taking Ketheric's hand in between her own as her fellow priestess similarily clasped Ketheric's other hand.

"Good-bye, little moonbeam." he replied, and closed his eyes for the final time.

The world stood silent for a long moment, as Isobel soundlessly wept and Aylin stood over her like a protective goddess. Isobel murmured a prayer for the dead over her father's body, and then reached up to slowly close his eyelids, one and then the other. We stood back for a moment, and then a moment more, but eventually the press of events had to resume. I reached down to help Isobel up to her feet-

-and then we all froze solid as we could faintly hear someone singing. A spark of silver light, almost too small to see, grew and grew. An aura of light rippled over Ketheric's body, and the faint stench of rot and grave-musk faded away to be replaced by the sweet smell of nighttime air in spring. A similar aura rippled over Shadowheart's head, and we watched incredulously as her jet-black hair suddenly shifted and faded into a brilliant silver-white identical to Isobel's own.

"Mother." Aylin whispered reverently, and went down on one knee in supplication. Selune's unseen yet still clearly present regard swept over us all like a warm, loving embrace, and then She was gone - and Ketheric's spirit with her.

"Did that just happen?" I asked, unable to believe my eyes.

"Ketheric Thorm will not be admitted beyond the Gates of the Moon." Aylin declaimed formally from where she still knelt in prayer. "He has a great many sins to atone for before that can ever be allowed to happen." She turned to look at Isobel and continued, her voice warm and loving. "But against all expectations your father's repentance was sincere. I know not what form his penance will take or in what realm it may occur, but Mother will give him a second chance. And..." She trailed off reluctantly, but continued with her trademark blunt honesty. "And if he had the strength to defy the Reaper himself despite being possessed body and soul, then I have every expectation he will succeed."

"Shadowheart." Isobel said, awestruck. "You saved his soul. Thank you." she sobbed into Shadowheart's shoulder. "Oh thank you so much! I can never repay you!"

"If you want to try, you can start by telling me why this happened!" Shadowheart reached down and held up the end of her now silver braid.

"That is what happens when the Moonmaiden wishes to mark one of her own as a particular favorite." Isobel smiled at Shadowheart's shock, as she fondled a lock of her own silver hair. "I received mine on Aylin's recommendation-"

"That is not why you were rewarded." Aylin broke in amusedly as she regained her footing, in what was clearly yet another repetition of an old married couple argument.

"And you received it for-" A wordless wave of Isobel's hand encompassed her father's now peaceful repose.

"I'm still having trouble believing it, and I did it." Shadowheart agreed dazedly. "Look, can we- can we just skip to the victory party right now? If I get one more surprise today, I think my brain is going to melt!"

"Whatever you want, love." I embraced her. "You've earned it. We've all earned it-"

And then I almost fell down as a dizzy spell hit me, because I'd I tried to move too quickly. "-but if anybody's got any healing spells or potions left, I think we'd better use those first."



Despite Shadowheart's wish for no further miracles today we still had to endure at least one more when we reached the surface and were greeted by the sight of a brilliant blue sky and the golden sun of late afternoon. The lands around Moonrise were level without any trace of the impossible geography of the Shadowfell, and the corrupt vines and darkened plants were gone. And while much barren dirt and dead trees still lay scattered around the first signs of renewed life were already becoming visible - green saplings and fresh flowers, verdant bushes and clean babbling brooks. The Shadow Curse was gone, and all the surrounding lands could breathe the free air again.

The general consensus was that neither the bloodstained halls of Moonrise nor the rotting remnants of Reithwin Town were a fit place for celebration. So first we took care of the wounded, swept the castle and grounds, and other such necessary tasks. Then we gave Ketheric Thorm an honorable burial in the castle graveyard - let Shar keep whatever remnants of the desecrated mausoleum that she cared to. And with all that done, we headed back to Last Light Inn to break out the ale and feast.

Karlach was the first to leave the party to have a private party of her own - I think she was off sharing blankets with Dammon the tiefling blacksmith, but I wasn't sure. Isobel likely wanted to do the same but Aylin was being publicly feted as our semi-divine guest of honor and so they were both caught up in that. Gale had shared several friendly rounds of drinks with us but had then withdrawn upstairs with a whole collection of books and papers he'd borrowed from Moonrise's library, eager to dive into a new research project.

"Are you all right?" I asked Wyll, having noted him drifting away from the party to quietly isolate himself out behind the stable.

"Just worried about Father." he said. "I know what you and Shadowheart said about the necessity of keeping him alive, and you're right, but I can't stop thinking about how he must be suffering right now."

"If it's any consolation, what Gale's been finding in Ketheric's papers about the ceremorphosis process says that tadpoled people are usually not even aware they're being mentally influenced." I tried to reassure him. "His thoughts are still going to be dominated by the Absolute, but unless they blatantly force him beyond all reason - if they order him to stab you, for instance - he'll rationalize what he's doing to himself. So it won't be like-" I trailed off.

"You're usually better than that at being consoling." Wyll replied archedly. "But you're right. Sorry, I just-" he shook his head. "Every day I was under Mizora's thrall I told myself that there was nothing in all the multiverse I wished for more desperately than freedom. And now thanks to you I have it, and I wonder why it feels... not like I expected."

"Bluntly?" I told him. "For as long as Mizora had you on her hook you were only responsible for some of your own screw-ups. Now you're responsible for everything again, short-range and long-range both, after years and years of not having had to think about it. And forgive me, but sometimes I think you're not very good at making life choices."

"You're talking about how I ended up in that pact in the first place." Wyll said knowingly.

"Actually, it occurs to me that you're no longer under Mizora's injunction so you actually can talk about how you ended up in that pact now." I realized.

"You're right, I can!" Wyll raised his eyebrows. "I hadn't even caught up to that part yet. All right..." he sat back thoughtfully as we both took another draw from our mugs. "Before I start, I have a question. If your home were under siege, what would you sacrifice to save it?"

"If? It's been under siege. Both homes." I answered flatly. "The first time, there was nothing we could do but run. The darkspawn horde stretched practically from horizon to horizon, and we were just a small family living in a small village. The second time... well, I've already told you the story of the Champion of Kirkwall." I looked at Wyll. "Both times and every time, I was more than willing to give my life. But even if the most powerful demon on Thedas had shown up to offer salvation with a wave of their hand-" I stopped as I realized that although not precisely a demon, Flemeth had done exactly that. "I still wouldn't have given up my soul. Death is hard, but eternal damnation is far worse." I looked pointedly at him. "Hell, we saw Ketheric come within a bare inch of finding that out the hard way just today."

"You're right." Wyll agreed ruefully. "You are entirely right. But at the time, I saw it differently." He took another thoughtful sip and then continued. "I was seventeen years old. Father had just been elected Grand Duke by the Council, and had to leave almost immediately to make a state visit to Elturel. And that's when the Cult of the Dragon made its move." Already knowing that I'd need an explanation, Wyll didn't even wait for me to ask before he started. "An underground cult who believe in a mad prophecy that 'all thrones will topple' and the world will be ruled by either a conspiracy of draconic liches or else the goddess Tiamat, queen of evil dragons, depending on which splinter sect you ask. A branch of the cult had set up in Baldur's Gate, intending to finish a grand ritual to conjure the dragon queen and unleash devastation upon the city. And a tenday after Father had left a whisper awoke me as I slept, 'Dusthawk Hill. The Queen of Chaos awakens. Come alone.'"

I restrained myself with great effort and just motioned Wyll to continue.

"I grabbed a rapier and set out. It was the dead of night and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, yet not a single star was shining. And when I arrived at the hill, there they were. Five ritual circles of five cultists each, with a totem of Tiamat in the center of each circle. Black, blue, green, white, and red - one for each of her five heads. The first group of cultists finished their chant and with a crack of thunder in the cloudless sky, a dragon's white head began to appear. Tiamat was starting to manifest. "'Tiamat will destroy Baldur's Gate.' Mizora whispered to me. "Grant me your soul, and I will give you the power to save it.'"

I buried my head in my hands and moaned. "Oh Maker, where do I begin?"

"Excuse me?" Wyll said. "Do you have an objection to saving hundreds of thousands of innocent people from destruction?!?"

"No, but- honestly, you haven't once seen where you went wrong in hindsight? Not at any point in the past several years?!?" I goggled at him incredulously.

"What else could I possibly have done?" Wyll demanded.

"First off, whenever they say 'Don't bring anyone', that is precisely when you ALWAYS bring someone!" I ranted. "Unless it's your lover inviting you into her bedchamber or having to use the chamber pot, there are very few legitimate activities that suffer simply from the presence of more people you trust!"

"Uh-" Wyll tried to interrupt.

"And then there's the positively fantastic amount of doublethink it takes to take an anonymous warning of danger seriously enough to run out in the middle of the night solely on its prompting, while simultaneously not believing it enough that despite being the son of the city's ruler and sleeping in a fortress with an entire army of Flaming Fist who'd probably believe the Grand Duke's son if he told them he'd gotten an anonymous tip of impending doom enough to at least send one platoon of men with him, you still leave behind all the potential help in the world to go get stuck in all by yourself!" I finished. "No, I don't have any objection to your deciding that you didn't want the city to get burnt to ashes by an evil dragon goddess. I have quite a few objections, however, to the fact that you would never have been in such an impossible position in the first place if you'd just used one tiny scrap of common sense for five whole seconds!" I tried to calm myself down. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you. I just- dear gods, so much suffering you could have spared yourself if you hadn't treated life like some romantic ballad where the lone hero can blithely run at impossible danger and escape without a scratch. You were a nobleman's son, and from what you've said he was also a noteworthy military commander before being ennobled. Even at seventeen, you should have learned better by then."

"Oh really? How wise were you at seventeen, Hawke?" Wyll said. "I might have had the ill fortune to have a passing devil involved in my youthful folly, but I'm willing to bet you weren't always a paragon of sagacity either!"

"Wyll, my younger brother wasn't foolish enough at age seventeen to get caught out like you did. And when Carver was that age he slept with two girls on the same day." I said flatly.

"I don't really think that compares-!" Wyll began.

"When our family lived in a farming village of less than six hundred people. And both girls were cousins." I ruthlessly drove over him.

"... seriously?" Wyll jawdropped.

"I consider it one of the greatest diplomatic feats of my career that I actually managed to talk them both down from strangling him, and even then I think he only survived because we were both home on leave from the army and we had to report back before the weekend was over." I sighed. "He died two years later. I'd never actually told him that I envied him for being able to pull it off, even though he got caught out almost immediately." I chuckled sadly. "I wish I had."

"You think of me like a younger brother, then?" Wyll said lightly.

"Sometimes you certainly give me ulcers like one." I joked back. "Look Wyll, no one can possibly doubt your heart. Your intentions are perhaps the purest of any man I've ever met." I looked at him. "But on Thedas we had a saying about the road to hell being paved with good intentions." I gravely delivered the same advice generations of old sergeants had given young cadets, even if I fulfilled only one of those qualifications. "It's good to be brave. It's better to think... both for you, and for the people whose lives depend on your decisions."

"Is that's why you fight the way you do?" Wyll asked me. "So... pragmatically? Because at times you're the most honorable man alive, and then other times you're as ruthless as a pirate. It occasionally gets a bit confusing."

"I'm always ruthless." I admitted frankly. "It's just that sometimes I'm ruthless with other people and sometimes with myself." I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. "And I do believe in honor. Not as the prideful, status-obsessed thing I've seen the more... pageantry-preferring type of nobles define 'honor' as-"

"I know exactly the type you're talking about." Wyll agreed.

"But as a more personal commitment, a clear bond of integrity? Certainly. Things like that are part of what separates men from animals. Or forms a shared set of beliefs, of expectations, that allows civilization to exist and peace to be enacted even between people who don't have personal bonds of trust to rely on." I shrugged. "But far too often that sort of honor gets confused with... I don't know, giving second or third chances to people you already know will just try to murder you again. Or deliberately refusing to position yourself for advantage not because it would be bad but because it would look bad."

"I think I understand." Wyll said.

"You know, by the end of this we're either going to have rescued your father or else- not have rescued him." I diplomatically stepped away from the less pleasant outcome. "But in the first instance your father's going to welcome you back home - especially now that you can tell the truth to debunk Mizora's lies - and in the second instance your father's disapproval will matter little in his absence and your having helped save the city, especially if Councilor Florrick vouches for you once she knows the truth. What I mean is, the carefree days of the 'Blade of Frontiers' are likely going to draw to a close in the near future. House Ravengard will need you once again."

"Time to stop thinking like a brave boy, and more like a responsible officer and nobleman?" Wyll looked at me knowingly.

"Not right now, but soon." I agreed. "So maybe start to prepare yourself."

"You've given me a lot to think about, Hawke." Wyll agreed solemnly. "And deservedly so."

"I have." I nodded, as I reached out and pulled him to his feet. "But you can do that tomorrow. For tonight, grab yourself another drink and see if you can find someone else who's in a celebratory mood. You've earned it."

"Like Karlach found Dammon earlier tonight?" Wyll chuckled knowingly as we headed back to the party. "You know, I almost wonder if one of us shouldn't go rescue him?"

"Blacksmiths tend to be very sturdy fellows with lots of endurance." I joked back. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Then I think I'll follow your advice. Have fun on your own moonlight stroll, Hawke." Wyll teased me, as he stepped towards the impromptu dancing circle that had inevitably been set up near one of the bonfires.

I did the rounds once more and made sure Gale was doing all right - he really didn't seem to be comfortable amongst large groups of people socializing, but to each their own I guess - and then felt free to indulge myself. But before I could, I happened across a certain pair of people hiding around the back corner of the main building-

"Isobel. Aylin." I greeted the happy couple.

"Hawke!" Isobel greeted me in turn. "... please don't tell me somebody wants another speech or another toast or another blessing or anything. This is the first privacy we've gotten since the party started!"

"Then I will absent myself expeditiously." I agreed expansively. "I just wanted to ask you if you were staying here to help rebuild the land around Moonrise Towers. I already know Halsin intends to."

"No." Isobel said. "I may be the heir to what's left of Moonrise, but I don't want to stay there any longer. Not after all the misery that's stained its halls, or the revelation of what it was built on top of this entire time. They might have to tear the entire castle down in the process of finally burning out all traces of that illithid hive." She sighed. "No, the land and the community needs rebuilding, but I can safely leave that in the hands of Halsin and the druidic circles. Moonrise Towers was a glorious achievement in its time... but that time is past."

"I don't disagree. But if not there, then where will you go?" I asked.

"With your permission, we would accompany you." Aylin offered. "The evil that possessed Moonrise Towers has been vanquished, but the true threat of the Absolute and the Dead Three still threatens both Baldur's Gate and the Realms entire."

"We'd love to have you along." I agreed. "But tomorrow is when we'll all get together to talk strategy. Tonight we rest, and recover, and celebrate."

"Indeed we must!" Aylin agreed. "Now if you would kindly be off, my love and I wish to be alone. We have been separated for far too long, and it is time and past time that Isobel and I take succor in each other's bodies and words."

"Ayliiiin!" Isobel wailed helplessly while blushing red as a sunset. "You can't just say things like that!"

"Good night, you two!" I said and absented myself as expeditiously as I'd promised and more.

But honestly, Aylin had the right idea for tonight. I headed off to that certain spot by the river, and sure enough, my own silver-haired maiden was waiting for me.

"There you are!" Shadowheart slurred cheerfully with the pronunciation of someone who was distinctly two and a half sheets to the wind. "Sorry I got started without you, but-" she hiccupped.

I realized that I was probably not going to be as fortunate tonight as I'd hoped, but my main emotion was concern that Shadowheart had felt a need to get this drunk rather than frustration at a missed opportunity. We'd just had a quite frankly miraculous day today, and Shadowheart normally stayed as sober as a magistrate, so why-?

"Are you all right?" I decided on the straightforward approach, accompanied by a comforting arm around the shoulders.

"Mmm hmm." she murmured, leaning affectionately into me.

"Long day?" I ventured.

She took another pull of red wine straight from the bottle and looked up at me. "I'm drunk."

"Yes, you are." I agreed.

"Not going to ask me why I'm drunk?" she wheedled me.

"I think I just did." I replied.

"Ah." she nodded. "Sorry. I'm just-" she waved one hand helplessly. "It just all caught up all of a sudden." Her voice turned downcast. "They raised me to hate Selunites. To be afraid of them. All sorts of propaganda, for years and years and years." She rubbed her right hand in- ah, that was just phantom pain, not an actual flareup of her curse again. "Even used conditioning." She held up the right hand for me to view. "Pretty sure this was meant to help b-brainwash me." she slurred.

"I was starting to worry about that as well." I agreed.

"So my whole life I'm trained to hate and fear Selunites - trained like an attack dog - and now I am a Selunite." Shadowheart agreed. "And I could just not think about that during all the rush and the danger and dead gods trying to kill us all today. But now we've stopped and my thoughts just keep starting? If that makes any sense?"

"It makes perfect sense, love." I kissed her on top of her head. "So am I listening tonight, or am I helping?"

"I'll be fine." Shadowheart insisted. "I just want a little time to process it."

"If you want to do this yourself, you can." I told her softly. "And if you're afraid to do this alone, you won't."

"I love you so much." she said happily, and we sat together silently for a while before she eventually continued. "Thank you. That helped a lot. I think I'll be fine now."

"Do you want me to help you inside?" I asked her.

"M'not that drunk." she insisted. "And no. I think I'll just stay out and watch the moon rise for a while. Say my first real prayers to her. Just let it... sink in."

"If you need me, I'll be right inside the inn." I reassured her. "Good night."

The main taproom was actually dark and quiet, all of the celebrating having been moved outside along with most of the booze. After all, all the Harpers and tieflings had already been trapped inside this inn for days - with the Shadow Curse gone, they'd much rather enjoy the new exterior view than look at the same old walls they already had cabin fever from. But there was still a low fire in the hearth, and a silhouette sitting in front of it.

"Not enjoying the party?" I asked as I pulled up another chair alongside and sat down.

"At my age?" Jaheira scoffed gently. "What do you think?"

"Oh, you're not that old." I flattered her, before continuing more flippantly. "You're ancient. I'm amazed you made it this far into the evening without falling asleep."

"Oh, it's like that then?" Jaheira teased me back. "This from a stripling boy who can barely raise a decent beard?"

"I'm amazed you even remember what a beard is, Grandma." I scoffed.

"Hah!" she snorted into her wine. "Do you know how long it's been since I've worked with anyone who actually dared to sass me?"

"Been the HIgh Harper of Baldur's Gate for a long time, then?" I asked.

"Too long." she agreed soberly. "Treasure your adventures and your true companions while you have them, Hawke. If you survive, then all too soon you will be looking back on them only as memories."

"Absent companions." I topped off her drink and poured one out for myself, and then raised my cup in the old soldier's toast to the dead.

"Absent companions." Jaheira echoed, and we drank. "I remember when I was your age and also gallivanting around the Realms with a crew of misfits and oddballs. Barely surviving fights with maddened gods and up to our ears in evil cults, just like you. Your young friend Karlach said that she was raised on all the stories they told of us... well trust me, they don't tell the half of it."

"I wonder what stories they'll tell about me and my crew, if we survive." I agreed. "Of course, judging from my prior experience at being in a story, I probably won't even recognize most of those people."

"No you won't." Jaheira agreed. "Once you turn a bard loose on a story, they can never resist the impulse to improve it."

"Some day I'll have to tell you about my best friend Varric." I agreed wholeheartedly. "He wrote most of the stories about me, and I never stopped being amazed at how consistently he could spin an unrecognizable narrative out of true events he'd been present for."

"I've never heard a story about you before." Jaheira asked me curiously. "Where are you from?"

"That's right, I don't think that ever came up with you." I shrugged. "Well, I don't mind spending tonight telling you the tale... as long as you trade me your own."

"Fair enough!" Jaheira agreed. "So... it all began in a tavern-"

I groaned and threw a roll at her from the nearby breadbasket. She caught it out of the air and bit into it with an arrogant flourish.

"No, really!" she insisted with a grin. "The year was 1368, and it was the Friendly Arm Inn on the road between Baldur's Gate and the city of Beregost. I was a young Harper then, on one of my earliest missions, and we were supposed to meet an old friend and contact of ours named Gorion. However we did not know he'd recently been killed, so his young ward showed up to attend the meeting in his stead. That was my first meeting with Abdel Adrian, who would forever be known as the Hero of Baldur's Gate. And the beginning of what history would later call the Bhaalspawn Crisis-"



Author's Note: I built a whole lot of anticipation for the Avatar of Myrkul fight, and I hope I stuck the landing. The problem is exactly what the one poster said - there wasn't much of a way Hawke could outclever or finesse this opponent, at least not once he'd taken care of the basic battlefield positioning. So soon enough it just devolved down to 'We facetanked everything he threw and kept hitting him until somebody fell down', and you can only get so many paragraphs out of that. Man, fight scenes are hard. People talking is so much easier.

Amusingly, several of the actual in-game cheese strats were also used in this fic - while the Apostle of Myrkul hits like a truck and radiates an aura that neutralizes all magical healing, it's also very large and can't move from the square it spawns in. Which means your Cloud of Dagger, Wall of Fire, and other spells that you normally don't use because it's impossible to actually hit anything with them all have a use here. Just pop the big AoEs, keep your casters alive long enough to concentrate a few rounds, and he'll fall over and die from like the 60hp a round you're doing to him.

And yes, Ketheric Thorm gets the Darth Vader ending. I just didn't have the heart to go with the canon 'And then he damned himself eternally, the end'. The other two of the Chosen triad are just nasty people through and through, but Ketheric had a legitimate tragic element to him. As one of my best friends said, 'When you partner an Abyssal Exalted with two Infernal Exalted, it's not surprising which one is the only one that still has a streak of fallen nobility in there somewhere.' Also, cripes, Aylin desperately needed some humanizing - her canon portrayal gets one good scene, her intro, and then rapidly falls off a cliff. So Oath of Vengeance paladin or not (which is actually her character class), she's not going to try and redeem the villain herself but neither is she going to interfere with or spit on anyone else who is. Hence in this rendition Ketheric actually realizing that Myrkul's endgame is going to destroy what he fought for and him resisting Myrkul's possession from the inside, as well as being saveable at the end.

I also gave the big redemption win to Shadowheart. I was considering giving it to Isobel, but the convo just didn't flow right that way. But hey, sometimes somebody is too emotionally close to the patient to see the full scope of the problem. And sometimes you need someone who got a thorough education in psychological corruption to know best what it takes to redeem people.

Oh, and the silver-hair thing in the game for both Selunite Shadowheart and Isobel is actually just 'priestesses of Selune often use hair dye'. And I found that incredibly banal, hence what I'm doing.

Updates will probably slow down for a bit because now I have to actually start outlining Act 3, which is going to be a MUCH more complex job than the first two acts. Acts 1 and 2 could stay relatively close to the canon rails simply because it's too early in the narrative for the butterflies to change much, but we've spent twenty-some chapters casting 'Summon Mothra' so eventually I have to actually do something original. Which means I not only need to load my savegame and replay act 3, I need to replay it from several different angles and then brainstorm how to mangle that bangle. But I don't feel my muse running out of steam just yet - I have several big moments from act 3 already storyboarded, I just needed to finish building a whole superstructure around them.

And yes, that is entirely the story of Baldur's Gate 1 and 2 that Jaheira is going to be telling Hawke. Because sometimes a pair of veterans just want to sit by the fire and tell war stories. (The name of Abdel Adrian for the protag is taken from the novelisation.)
 
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Oh, and the silver-hair thing in the game for both Selunite Shadowheart and Isobel is actually just 'priestesses of Selune often use hair dye'. And I found that incredibly banal, hence what I'm doing.
Mm, the hair colour being a gift from your deity does appeal more from a magical viewpoint.

Glad to see Ketheric isn't eternally damned, he was starting to repent by the end there.
 
And yes, that is entirely the story of Baldur's Gate 1 and 2 that Jaheira is going to be telling Hawke. Because sometimes a pair of veterans just want to sit by the fire and tell war stories. (The name of Abdel Adrian for the protag is taken from the novelisation.)
Oof, yeah, the novelization... I think most of my problems with BG3 ultimately stems from the fact that it's a Baldur's Gate game beholden to said canon, and that all of the cool characters have grown old and somewhat useless (or dead). You are really good at actually writing competent characters, though, which is a balm for my soul.

I'm not saying Jaheira should have soloed the bossfight, summoning a deva to free the other deva, before popping Greater Deathblow followed by Greater Whirlwind to instantly slay the level 11 (which is 12 or below) avatar of Myrkul if any of the ten attacks she gets to make next round connects, but I sort of want to see it as an omake the more I think about it.
 
- her own regeneration would get her back in the fight in a turn or two more,

A little too meta there perhaps?

"No, it's not all right." Shadowheart's cold voice shocked us all like the lash of a whip. Why are you sorry, General?" she mocked him heatedly. "Because you didn't get what you wanted? It's so easy to be sorry for that!"

"Shadowheart!" Isobel rounded on her furiously. "How dare you-?!?"

"Because I hurt her." Ketheric interrupted her. "I hurt everyone. I was so selfish... and so afraid..." His eyes closed briefly, and our breaths caught in fear until he re-opened them. "I was such a fool."

Isobel's jaw dropped in realization right alongside Aylin's, as Shadowheart's pose of mockery dropped to reveal a warm, compassionate smile. "Then that's what matters in the end." Shadowheart blessed him.

"Yes." Ketheric smiled weakly back at her and Isobel. "Yes..."

"Farewell, Father." Isobel wept, taking Ketheric's hand in between her own as her fellow priestess similarily clasped Ketheric's other hand.

"Good-bye, little moonbeam." he replied, and closed his eyes for the final time.

Of course Shadowheart would be able to recognize why the 'why' mattered, and why it was so important to voice it, after what she's been through over this adventure. And she'd have the acting chops to make it work.

A similar aura rippled over Shadowheart's head, and we watched incredulously as her jet-black hair suddenly shifted and faded into a brilliant silver-white identical to Isobel's own.

"If you want to try, you can start by telling me why this happened!" Shadowheart reached down and held up the end of her now silver braid.

"That is what happens when the Moonmaiden wishes to mark one of her own as a particular favorite." Isobel smiled at Shadowheart's shock, as she fondled a lock of her own silver hair.

Oh, and the silver-hair thing in the game for both Selunite Shadowheart and Isobel is actually just 'priestesses of Selune often use hair dye'. And I found that incredibly banal, hence what I'm doing.

I mean, sure, hair dye is plausible, but this is a fantasy setting! Plus it means that we get the hilarity of Selune visibly going 'This one. This is a good girl. I like this girl' less than 24 hours after Shadowheart admitted the truth she'd been trying to deny about Shar, and that makes for a cute flustered cleric :p

"First off, whenever they say 'Don't bring anyone', that is precisely when you ALWAYS bring someone!" I ranted. "Unless it's your lover inviting you into her bedchamber or having to use the chamber pot, there are very few legitimate activities that suffer simply from the presence of more people you trust!"

"Uh-" Wyll tried to interrupt.

This entire sequence is the perfect followup to Hawke and the others, (except Wyll due to contractual obligations) outmaneuvering Mizora last chapter. Detailing how Wyll ended up in the mess to begin with, and detailing how stupid he was about it! And the fact he hadn't looked back and acknowledged his mistakes. Wisdom stats only work if you USE them Wyll! Also, amusingly, you ended up showing how Raph was superior to Mizora again. Compare his scheme to get Mol contracted to this. Yes, it failed here, but only due to outside influence, and it was still more subtle and thought out, with fallback plans.

"Wyll, my younger brother wasn't foolish enough at age seventeen to get caught out like you did. And when Carver was that age he slept with two girls on the same day." I said flatly.

"I don't really think that compares-!" Wyll began.

I'm gonna have to agree with Wyll-

"When our family lived in a farming village of less than six hundred people. And both girls were cousins."

I retract my statement.

"Ah." she nodded. "Sorry. I'm just-" she waved one hand helplessly. "It just all caught up all of a sudden." Her voice turned downcast. "They raised me to hate Selunites. To be afraid of them. All sorts of propaganda, for years and years and years." She rubbed her right hand in- ah, that was just phantom pain, not an actual flareup of her curse again. "Even used conditioning." She held up the right hand for me to view. "Pretty sure this was meant to help b-brainwash me."

Ah, it's all catching up to her. Hopefully she's able to get some guidance. She's got a lot to work through, I imagine some of those early 'prayers' will be just streams of thoughts as she voices to someone she now knows is watching and listening to her specifically.

"Some day I'll have to tell you about my best friend Varric." I agreed wholeheartedly. "He wrote most of the stories about me, and I never stopped being amazed at how consistently he could spin an unrecognizable narrative out of true events he'd been present for!"

... Gods, can you imagine Varrics reaction to this adventure?
 
I mean, sure, hair dye is plausible, but this is a fantasy setting! Plus it means that we get the hilarity of Selune visibly going 'This one. This is a good girl. I like this girl' less than 24 hours after Shadowheart admitted the truth she'd been trying to deny about Shar, and that makes for a cute flustered cleric
Just try to imagine how much copium Shar is huffing at this very moment. :p
 
Just try to imagine how much copium Shar is huffing at this very moment. :p

"That little traitor-"
"-that you brainwashed into serving you-"
"SHUT. UP. That little traitor goes and shows... ugh... mercy... to a fallen enemy! And gets them to repent their sins enough for the soul to get a chance at redemption?!"
"With a little good acting on her part. That 'scorn' hit him where it hurt, gave him the push to get the rest of the way. I think I'll let her keep that trickery domain, she's earned it."
"LET HER KEEP IT?!"
"Well, she uses it for a good cause, and she's got a good heart under all that trauma you pointlessly inflicted on her."
"AND THEN YOU CONGRATULATE HER FOR IT?!"
"Well, good deeds should be acknowledged."
"I HATE YOU!"
 

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