Blood, Tainted - Batheir - Baldur's Gate (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Life took a dark turn for Virren as she found herself stranded on the Sword Coast, next to a crashed ship infested with dead, crazed, mind-flayers. With Shadowheart, a cleric she had freed during their escape, by her side, they sat on their asses, watching as smoke billowed up into the air.

“Well, this is particularly awful,” Shadowheart remarked dryly, voicing Virren’s own sentiment. They had both narrowly escaped the horrors of the ship, washing up on the same beach, battered but alive.

Virren could only nod in agreement. “Yes. Yes it is.”

Her mind raced, trying to make sense of how she went from sneaking back home to the House of Knowledge to waking up in a nightmarish pod, tadpoles being forced into her eye, burrowing their way down into her skull. She could feel it wriggling now- sifting through her brain, her thoughts, her memories. It was all a blur, a terrifying blur that had toppled her life upside down in a moment.

As the two of them sat on the beach, surrounded by the wreckage of the ship and the eerie silence of the coast, Virren’s thoughts drifted back to her life before the chaos. The House of Knowledge had been her sanctuary, a place of learning and arcane discovery. She had pursued the forbidden arts of necromancy in secret, finding solace in the depths of the underground library.

But now, all that was behind her. In the matter of what, 16 hours, her focus had shifted to survival. The tadpole inside her were a constant reminder of the imminent threat of transformation into mind-flayers- a gruesome act Virren had read about years ago. She never though she’d have to fear it for herself. All she knew now, was that she needed to find a way to rid herself of them, to reclaim control. She had survived that dreadful crash, but now what?

“Any ideas on how to get out of this mess?” Shadowheart asked, breaking Virren’s thought.

Virren sighed, glancing around the desolate beach. “Not yet. But we can’t stay here. We need to find help, or at least some answers.”

Shadowheart nodded grimly. “Agreed. Let’s hope we stumble upon something useful before those things inside us take over.”

Virren swallowed hard, the bitter taste of fear lingering on her tongue. The mere thought of being subjected to the will of those mind flayers sent a shiver down her spine. To have her autonomy stripped away, her thoughts and actions no longer her own—it was a terrifying prospect that she refused to entertain for long. Clenching her fists, she pushed the unsettling notion to the back of her mind, focusing instead on the present moment.

With a shared resolve born of necessity, Virren and Shadowheart rose to their feet, their movements synchronized. Together, they cast a wary gaze towards the unfamiliar landscape that stretched out before them, the fading light of day casting long shadows across the rugged terrain. The world seemed vast and daunting, every shadow hiding unseen threats waiting to pounce. For Virren, she seldom left Baldurs Gate- being out in this… nature unsettled her. It was unfamiliar.

Despite their shared peril, Virren couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that gnawed at her insides. She and Shadowheart hardly knew each other—bound together by the chaos of their escape from the mind flayer ship. Yet, there was an unspoken understanding between them, a mutual acknowledgment of the dangers they faced and the need for companionship in the face of adversity.

Shadowheart was a puzzle, her demeanor guarded and her motives unclear. Virren sensed something… hidden within her, a darkness lurking beneath the surface. But she was in no place to pry or probe. She’d simply have to trust her- her instincts told her that the cleric was a valuable ally.

“I wonder what happened to that Gith. What was her name?” Virren mused, breaking the tense silence that hung between them.

“Lae’zel, I believe. Or something similar, it was a bit chaotic with her slashing and all,” Shadowheart replied, her voice tinged with a hint of wry amusem*nt.

“A good fighter though,” Virren remarked.

“Indeed,” Shadowheart agreed, her gaze turning back to the path ahead. “Shall we?”
“Lets go.”

Virren and Shadowheart trudged through the wilderness, their senses on high alert for any hint of danger. The forest seemed alive around them, with the rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds creating a soothing backdrop to their trek. As they walked, Virren felt the tension in her muscles gradually ease, the rhythmic motion of their steps lulling her into a sense of calm.

The sunlight filtering through the canopy above cast shifting patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor, painting the scenery in shades of green and gold. It was a beautiful day, despite the circ*mstances, and Virren couldn’t help but appreciate the serenity of their surroundings.

Their conversation was sparse, but the silence between them was comfortable, punctuated only by the occasional sound of their footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Virren found herself feeling oddly grateful for Shadowheart’s presence, grateful for the companionship she provided in the midst of their shared ordeal.

Back at the House of Knowledge, Virren had always kept to herself, preferring the solitude of her studies to the company of others. As a necromancer, she had grown accustomed to being an outsider, wary of revealing too much of herself to those around her. But now, as she walked alongside Shadowheart, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of camaraderie that she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

It was a strange feeling, but a welcome one nonetheless. For the first time in what felt like ages, Virren allowed herself to relax, if only for a moment, and simply enjoy the simple pleasure of having someone to share the journey with.
The feeling lasted all of two minutes.

Voices echoed through the trees, punctuated by one that stood out above the rest—a grating, angry Gith accent unmistakably belonging to Lae’zel. Virren and Shadowheart exchanged a knowing glance, their instincts tingling with caution. Shadowheart’s hand instinctively drifted towards the hilt of her spear, a silent signal of readiness. Virren, on the other hand, adopted a more relaxed posture, though her nerves danced beneath the surface.

“We owe it to her to see what’s going on,” Virren reasoned, breaking the tension with her pragmatic approach.
“I suppose we do,” Shadowheart conceded, her tongue clicking in disapproval.

With a shared understanding, they hastened their steps, the crunch of leaves underfoot matching the quickening of their heartbeat. As they emerged into a small clearing, their eyes fell upon a tall, triangular watchtower, with Lae’zel confined within a cage hanging ominously from its frame. Virren couldn’t help but scoff inwardly at the absurdity of the situation—putting a fierce warrior like Lae’zel in a cage seemed like a futile attempt at containment.

Virren took the lead, stepping forward with cautious determination, despite the skeptical glance cast her way by Shadowheart. “Um. Helloo0!” she called out tentatively, her voice breaking the tension like a fragile thread.

The two Tieflings standing guard whirled around, weapons raised in a defensive stance, their faces contorted with suspicion and hostility. Virren instinctively raised both hands in a gesture of peace, her throat tightening with apprehension. “Yeah, um—we’re not here to fight,” she stammered, shooting Shadowheart a subtle look of encouragement, though the Cleric remained poised with her spear.

“Don’t take another step towards us! Why are you here?” The male Tiefling barked, his weapon held defensively as he eyed Virren and Shadowheart with suspicion.

Virren held her ground, her expression calm despite the tension in the air. “Me and my friend are traveling, but we got lost. We heard voices and came to see…” She trailed off, hoping to convey their harmless intentions.

“Are you trying to reach the Grove?” the female Tiefling called out, her voice tinged with cautious curiosity as she kept her weapon raised, though it lowered ever so slightly.

Virren’s mind raced with possibilities—civilization, of some sort? Perhaps there would be a healer there, someone who could look into their precarious situation. “Yes, but, well, we’re terribly turned around! I blame her,” Virren added with a playful jab, thrusting her thumb over her shoulder towards Shadowheart. The Cleric rolled her eyes in response. “Could we, um, come closer? It’s kind of hard to yell across the field.”

The two Tieflings exchanged a wary glance, silently debating, before finally gesturing for the two travelers to approach. Shadowheart looked hesitant, her grip tightening on her spear, but Virren offered her a reassuring smile, urging her forward. Lae’zel watched silently, her eyes boring holes through the front of Virren’s robes.

“Why do you have that Gith chained up?” Virren asked sweetly, her voice taking on a falsely innocent tone. “She looks awfully mad.”

Lae’zel hissed in response. “She looks like a threat, that’s why. And that’s all you’ll get from us,” the female Tiefling stated firmly.
Virren nodded, her eyes widening in feigned understanding. “I see. Now, about the Grove, do you have any directions?”
“Sure do, but you two may want to keep your distance, or hurry up. Rumor says that the Grove is going to be sealing itself shortly,” the male Tiefling warned.

Hmm, odd. But it wasn’t their problem if they were quick enough to find a healer.
Shadowheart cleared her throat, reminding Virren of their purpose here—to save Lae’zel. “We’ll keep that in mind. But, um, that Gith up there, well, she’s actually our friend. She’s part of our group…”

The two Tieflings immediately raised their weapons, their hostility palpable. Virren knew it was time to drop the act. In a flash, she mustered up her magic, bringing forth the Magic Missile spell she had been practicing. With a calculated gaze and a smirk on her face, she unleashed it—one missile hitting the rope that held Lae’zel’s cage, and the other two bursting at the Tieflings.

Shadowheart, already poised for battle, lunged forward, impaling the female with her spear. The male Tiefling, knocked back by the spell, roared with rage and raised his weapon, lunging towards Virren. She stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the blades. Cursing herself for her clumsiness, she tripped over her own feet and fell hard on her back.

The male Tiefling advanced towards her, his weapon raised menacingly. f*ck. f*ck! The male advanced towards her- weapon raised, as Shadowheart whirled. Too late. But- before he could strike, a blade sliced through his neck, sending his head rolling across the ground. Blood sprayed across Virren as the body slumped over. As the head came to a stop a few inches from her foot, she looked up to see Lae’zel stepping into view, her Githyanki armor glinting in the sunlight.

“Chk. You are clumsy, girl. If I were not here, your intestines would be dripping across the field,” Lae’zel remarked coolly.

Virren let out a nervous laugh, relieved by Lae’zel’s appearance. “Guess I owe you one, huh?” she quipped, trying to mask the shakiness in her voice.

Lae’zel offered no response, her gaze intense and unforgiving. Virren scrambled to her feet, brushing the dirt and grass off her robes. She stole a quick glance at Shadowheart, who was cleaning the blood off her spear with practiced efficiency.
“Thank you, Lae’zel. We are in your debt, despite being the ones to free you in the first place.” Shadowheart acknowledged, her tone quipped.

Lae’zel grunted in acknowledgment, her attention already turning back to the looming tower. “Let us not waste any more time. We have a long journey ahead,” she declared, striding away from the tower with purpose. “I am your best chance at survival. Let’s go.”

Virren and Shadowheart exchanged another glance, the weight of recent events settling heavily upon them. Virren could feel her heart still rapidly beating in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Flecks of blood dried across her face. Well, their little duo had now turned into a triad, and with Lae’zel’s formidable presence, they stood a better chance of navigating the dangers ahead. As they fell into step behind the Gith warrior, Virren couldn’t help but wonder what other challenges awaited them on their journey.

~

The three of them traveled down one of the numerous beaten trails. Virren hoped they would come across a river or something soon, so she could wash the crusted blood off her body. Both Lae’zel and Shadowheart were similarly marked, but neither seemed very phased by it. Virren supposed they were used to combat—unlike her. Oh well, she’d have to learn on the road. And perhaps stay away from melee combat; she was a good spellcaster, but not much use in close combat. At least, that’s what Lae’zel had barked at her.

As they continued, an odd, purple, swirling circle appeared up ahead. It radiated an aura of magic, and Virren could see symbols swirling within it. As they neared closer, a hand abruptly popped out of it, gesturing frantically at them.

“Please, if you will, help me!” A voice emanated from the hole—deep, rustic.

Virren hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should trust it. But without a second thought, she surged forward, grasping the hand and pulling. A large figure tumbled out of the purple hole—robes and a tumble of brown hair flashing before her. The hole rapidly closed, and the man—a human—stood up, brushing off his robes.

“Thank you. I was falling for hours,” he exclaimed with a relieved sigh.

However, Virren’s relief was short-lived as a sudden, searing pain ripped through her skull—a familiar sensation she had felt when she met both Lae’zel and Shadowheart on the ship. The man, it seemed, was similarly affected, hissing through his teeth and doubling over in pain. Virren’s eyes widened as she realized the truth.

“You were captured too, weren’t you?” she asked, her voice tinged with both sympathy and concern.

Gale’s mouth hung open in shock. “Yes, I was.”

Their trio had turned into a quadruple with the addition of Gale, the man Virren had tugged out of the Weave. He, too, found himself in a similar situation—captured, tadpoled. Naturally, he became part of their group, bound together by their sharedcirc*mstances.

~

“I wonder if we’re actually going the right way,” Virren mused aloud, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling into her bones. It had been a long, sh*tty day, and all she wanted was to rest and not have to fight off anything else for the next couple of days.

“We will travel for one more hour, then rest,” declared Lae’zel, her voice resolute as ever. Virren stifled the urge to groan; Lae’zel was as tough as they came. Sighing quietly, she trudged forward, resigned to follow the orders of their relentless leader.

Then, there was a flutter of leaves. Virren wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for Shadowheart’s sudden halt, her hand instinctively reaching for her spear.

Before she could react, a body collided with hers, sending her crashing to the ground with a thud. Cold steel pressed against her throat, silencing her with a menacing threat. An arm wrapped around the back of her head, settling right behind her neck. Body weight pressed against her.

“Shh, sh, sh, sh. Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours,” the intruder soothed- his voice was hushed, caressing her.

Virren swallowed hard, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain the others could hear it. As the assailant’s gaze flickered towards the rest of their group, Virren could feel the tension in the air thickening. Shadowheart and the others stood back, weapons drawn but hesitant to make a move that might escalate the situation.

“We need her alive,” Shadowheart snarled, her voice laced with a warning. “Or I can show you just how messy things can get.”

Despite the danger, Virren couldn’t help but notice the man’s striking appearance. With his white-silver hair cascading around his face and his piercing, steely gaze, he exuded a dangerous allure that both intrigued and terrified her in equal measure.

“Promises, promises. But I have other business, I’m afraid.” His blade dug a little deeper. “I saw you on the ship, didn’t I?”

Virren tried to struggle free, to wrench herself from the elf, but his grip tightened, using his hips to push her further into the dirt. Her poor robes. “Nod.”

She complied, dipping her chin down, wincing against the cold steel.

“Splendid. Now, you’re going to tell me exactly what you and those tentacled freaks did to me.” Gale looked like he was going to vomit.

“Y-you have it backwards! They took me prisoner just like you!” Virren managed. She slipped her hand underneath his arm, grasping against it, pushing the dagger away from her throat ever so slightly.

“Don’t lie to me, I- Agh!”

The same, splitting feeling tore through her skull once again. Her mind twisted, and suddenly—she was looking through unfamiliar eyes, prowling through the darkened streets—the same ones she had slipped through for so many years. She tried to grasp the memory, to go deeper, but it faded like a dream slipping from her grasp.

The elf groaned again, his face contorted. “What was that?” He sounded ragged, his breaths quickened. “What’s going on?!”

“Just put the knife down, and I’ll tell you!” She managed.

The male blinked, then released her.

Gently, as if not to spook him, she slid away, feeling his arm retreat from under her. Virren staggered to her feet, feeling dizzy.

“You’re… not one of them. They took you- just the same as me. And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies.”

Well. That was a quick 180. Talk about whiplash.

“Glad to see we’re all caught up, now,” Virren replied, her voice laced with a simmering frustration. This man had just ambushed her, put a knife to her throat, and was now acting as if it were all a casual encounter? It was infuriating. She wanted to stomp her foot in frustration. Or better yet- thrust it between this man's legs.

He stood taller than her by a good amount, his posture casual, a smirk splattered across his face. Still, outrageously beautiful.

“I’m out of wine and flowers, so I hope an introduction will suffice. My name is Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.”

Virren’s eyebrows shot up. “So was I.”

“Is that so?” he waved his hand, “we clearly move in different circles.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“Do you know anything about these worms?”

That, she did. With a sigh, she launched into a hasty explanation of the worms, the Mind-flayer transformation, and their current quest to find a cure. Astarion’s eyes sparked with interest. He mentioned something about turning into a monster, which sent a queasy sensation churning in Virren’s stomach. Against her better judgment (though really, she felt like she was going crazy), Virren extended an invitation for him to join their group. Lae’zel hissed in the background, Gale’s mouth opened in protest, but she shot them a dirty look. She was the one who almost got killed; she could make the decisions.

“Well, I was thinking about going about this alone. But I suppose I’d better stick with the herd and better our chances,” he conceded, his head dipping slightly, arms splaying out into a bow. “I accept.”

Virren nodded, turning to the group. “Now. We are going to make camp. I’ve almost died twice today, and frankly, I’m tired and grumpy. Let’s go.”

To her surprise, nobody objected.

She wondered how this Astarion, the beautiful male, was going to fit into their group.