#baldurs gate minthara | moonselune (2024)

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Matron!Minthara x Forced!Betrothed!reader

CW: murder, gore, suggestive scenes

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

GIF by coolseabird

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The days following that night brought a shift between you and Minthara. The tension that had once crackled like a live wire between you both began to ease, replaced by something more complex—an uneasy truce, perhaps, but one laced with a thread of understanding. Despite this, your magic remained an uncontrollable tempest, its power unpredictable and dangerous, and the rebellion you had orchestrated still lingered in Minthara’s mind.

You threw yourself into the task of planning the upcoming ball that House Baenre was hosting, hoping that focusing on the details would keep your mind from the chaos within you. However, you found yourself constantly having to step away from your work, retreating to a quiet corner to try and reign in the wild surges of magic that threatened to escape. Servants watched you with growing concern, whispering among themselves as they saw the strain in your eyes, the way your hands trembled ever so slightly as you fought to keep your power in check.

“Should we fetch a healer, my lady?” one of them asked, her voice laced with worry.

“No,” you replied, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Really.”

You weren’t fine, and they knew it, but none dared to press the issue further. They simply nodded and stepped back, continuing their tasks with a wariness that hadn’t been there before. Another servant approached you, bowing slightly as he spoke. “My lady, it is time to get ready.”

You sighed, the thought of facing another night of maintaining your composure exhausting you further. Still, you nodded and made your way to your quarters, mentally preparing yourself for the evening ahead.

When you entered your room, you found Minthara already there, in the midst of getting dressed. She was wearing a gown of deep crimson and black, the colors of House Baenre, the fabric clinging to her form in a way that accentuated every curve. You hated to admit it, but she looked beautiful, a sight that stirred something complicated within you.

Minthara caught your gaze in the mirror, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in your weary expression.

“You look like you’re about to drop,” she remarked, her voice casual but tinged with concern. “Have you used any of your magic today?”

“No,” you replied quickly, your tone firm. “I’m not risking hurting anyone, and I’m not going back to the depths of the Underdark. I’m handling it.”

Minthara’s lips curved into a bemused smile, but she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she stepped closer to you, her hands reaching out to help you with your dress. At first, you wanted to tell her you could manage it yourself, that you didn’t need her assistance. But as her fingers deftly worked the clasps and fastenings, you found yourself appreciating the help more than you expected.

When she was finished, you picked up the necklace—the collar—and passed it to her, a flicker of irritation flashing in your eyes as you did. Minthara caught the look but said nothing, taking the collar from you and stepping behind you to fasten it around your neck. Her touch was gentle, almost tender, as she adjusted the pendant to rest perfectly against your skin.

As she secured the clasp, she leaned in close, her breath warm against your ear.

“It suits you,” she murmured, her lips brushing the shell of your ear before pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. You sighed, rolling your eyes at the words, though you couldn’t deny the shiver that ran down your spine at her touch.

“We have a ball to attend,” you reminded her, trying to maintain your composure.

Minthara stepped back, her hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer before she released you. When you looked at her in the mirror, she was smiling—a smile that was all too familiar to you now, one that sent a chill of anticipation down your spine. It was a smile that promised something more, something you knew you wouldn’t like.

“Indeed we do,” Minthara replied, her voice laced with excitement. The look in her eyes as she turned away left you with a sense of foreboding. You had known her long enough to understand that nothing good ever came from that smile. And yet, despite the unease that settled in your stomach, you couldn’t help but feel that whatever was coming, you would face it head-on. There was no turning back now.

The ball was in full swing, and you found yourself in the center of it all, surrounded by guests who lavished you with praise. Compliments flowed like the wine being poured into goblets—your dress, your necklace, your impeccable taste, all admired by nobles and sycophants alike. It all blended into one monotonous drone, a never-ending stream of empty flattery that only added to the pounding in your head.

You had thought the pain couldn’t get any worse, but it had. The dull ache had transformed into a relentless, searing agony that pulsed in your temples, your neck, and down through your shoulders. It was as if your entire body was on edge, teetering on the brink of something you couldn’t control. You kept drinking wine, hoping it might dull the pain, but no matter how much you consumed, it was as if the alcohol refused to take hold. You were still painfully sober when Minthara noticed and cut you off, her eyes sharp as she took the goblet from your hand.

Before you could argue, Lesaonar appeared at your side, his usual grin plastered across his face. With a quick glance around to ensure Minthara wasn’t watching, he slipped you another glass of wine.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his tone light, but there was genuine concern in his eyes.

You glared at him, not trusting yourself to speak without lashing out. The pain, the pressure, the noise—it was all becoming too much. Lesaonar opened his mouth to say something more but then caught sight of a young woman across the room, his expression shifting from concern to something more playful.

“Who is that?” he asked, his voice filled with a sudden eagerness. You followed his gaze and recognized the woman instantly.

“That’s Minthara’s second cousin, Melinoe,” you replied, a strain in your voice as you tried to manage the pain. “One of their best fighters.”

Lesaonar immediately straightened, smoothing his clothes and adjusting his stance, smoothing his hair out. “She is stunning,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite everything. “She’ll eat you alive, Lesaonar,” you warned, shaking your head.

Lesaonar winked at you, his grin widening. “At least I’ll die happy,” he quipped before striding off in Melinoe’s direction, his confidence radiating off him in waves.

You watched him go, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. But the moment of levity was short-lived. As soon as Lesaonar disappeared into the crowd, Minthara materialized at your side, her hand darting out to snatch the wine from your grasp.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, her eyes narrowing.

“Having a drink,” you replied, your voice sharper than you intended. The pain in your head was getting worse, and your patience was wearing thin.

“We’ve talked about this,” Minthara said, her tone laced with irritation. “You’re not drinking anymore tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, your hand twitching with the urge to snatch the goblet back from her. “I’m fine, Minthara. Just leave it.”

“No, you’re not fine,” she snapped. “And we’re not going to make a scene here.”

“We wouldn’t be making a scene if you’d just let me—”

Before you could finish, the doors to the grand hall burst open with a thunderous crash, cutting your argument short. All heads turned towards the entrance as a group of armed figures stormed in, their weapons drawn and eyes blazing with a fanatical intensity. The room fell silent, the music dying out as guests scrambled to make sense of what was happening.

You recognized them immediately—the Seldarine extremists, a faction of elven zealots who had long opposed Lolth and everything she stood for. They were known for their ruthless attacks on drow strongholds, and now, it seemed, they had come for House Baenre.

Chaos erupted as the extremists fanned out across the room, their leader stepping forward to address the crowd. You could feel Minthara tense beside you, her hand instinctively reaching for the weapon she always kept hidden beneath her gown. Your own heart pounded in your chest, the pain in your head forgotten in the face of this new threat.

“Daughters and bastards of Lolth,” the leader spat, his voice ringing out across the hall. “Tonight, your tyranny ends.”

The room was frozen in shock, the guests too stunned to react. But you knew what was coming next, the violence that would inevitably follow. Minthara’s eyes locked onto yours, a silent understanding passing between you. You were hosting the ball, it was up to the two of you to deal with the vermin.

The air crackled with tension, and you could feel the magic within you stir, responding to the imminent danger. It was as if the tempest inside you had found its purpose, the chaos outside matching the storm that had been building within you for days.

The Seldarine extremists began to make their demands, their leader stepping forward with a sneer on his face.

“Hand over your young,” he declared, his voice ringing out with a fanatic’s conviction. “Free the innocent from Lolth’s grasp, or perish!”

A murmur of shock rippled through the assembled guests, but before anyone could react, you began to laugh. The sound echoed through the hall, loud and unrestrained, cutting through the tension like a knife. It wasn’t a nervous or incredulous laugh but one filled with a dark amusement that sent shivers down the spines of those present.

Without realizing it, you stepped forward, the crowd parting around you as if making way for the force of your presence. Minthara stood just behind you, her eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and pride as she watched you take command of the room.

You wiped a tear from your eye, your laughter dying down into a mirthful chuckle as you addressed the extremists.

“Really?” you said, your voice carrying an almost mocking tone. “You storm into the most powerful house in Menzoberranzan and demand we hand over our young? Or we perish?”

The extremists bristled, their leader snarling in response. But before he could shout something back, you raised your hand, and with a flick of your wrist, your magic surged forward, silencing them. The power within you, which had been simmering and bubbling under the surface for days, now practically hummed with anticipation, eager to be unleashed.

Your head no longer throbbed with pain; instead, it was filled with the intoxicating hum of your magic, a melody that sang for blood, for retribution. You could feel the eyes of every guest on you, and you relished the attention, the power that coursed through you as you let your magic flow freely.

“Fools,” you murmured, your voice dripping with disdain as you surveyed the extremists. “You’ve chosen the wrong house to make demands of.”

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you began to work your magic. It wasn’t enough to simply kill them; they needed to be an example, a warning to anyone who might think to challenge House Baenre—or you.

One by one, you picked them apart, using your powers to tear through their ranks. You transformed some of them halfway into driders, letting the grotesque transformation begin but not complete, so they died in agony, caught between two forms, their bodies breaking under the strain. The sight was horrifying, and their screams echoed in the grand hall, but you felt nothing but satisfaction as you watched them suffer.

Others, you mutilated with strands of divine silk, wrapping them in a web of your making, tightening it around their bodies until their blood seeped through the silk, leaving them to bleed out slowly. The silk shimmered in the dim light of the hall, beautiful in its deadliness, and you made sure everyone saw just how delicately you wielded your power.

Minthara watched, her eyes wide with awe, a twisted smile of approval playing on her lips. She had seen you use your magic before, but never like this. This was a display of pure, unrestrained power, and she could hardly tear her eyes away from the spectacle.

As the last of the Seldarine extremists crumpled to the ground, the silence in the grand hall was deafening. Blood pooled on the marble floors, the once pristine surfaces now stained with the crimson evidence of your wrath. The oppressive tension that had gripped the room during the attack remained, but it had shifted—no longer the tension of fear, but of awe and trepidation directed at you.

The power coursing through you was exhilarating, intoxicating. The pain in your head had vanished, replaced by the euphoria of having unleashed your magic in all its terrible glory. But as the adrenaline began to fade, you felt the toll it had taken on you. Your hands started to tremble, and the room swayed slightly as exhaustion threatened to drag you down. The power that had surged through you now felt like a weight, pressing down on you with the intensity of a thousand voices, each one whispering for more, demanding more.

Before you could stumble, Minthara was at your side. Her strong arms wrapped around you, holding you upright with a firmness that was both reassuring and infuriating. She was steady, her presence grounding you, but you could feel the tension in her grip, the realization that you had just displayed a level of power that even she had not fully anticipated.

“You’ve done enough,” she whispered, her voice low and meant only for your ears. “Let’s get you out of here.”

But before you could respond, a group of female nobles caught your attention, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. They were from rival houses, lesser in power but always eager to curry favor with the Baenre family. Yet now, seeing your vulnerability, they smelled blood in the water.

One of them, a tall, elegantly dressed woman with a sneer that barely hid her amusement, spoke up to the room.

“Such a display of power, from the mistress,” she drawled, her voice dripping with mockery. “But it seems she's exhausted herself. Perhaps the Matron should not have chosen her Mistress from the pits of the underdark."

The other nobles who hoped to undermine you snickered, their eyes gleaming with barely contained contempt. It was a grave mistake.

Minthara stiffened at your side, ready to lash out, but you stopped her with a raised hand. The anger that had begun to simmer within you flared into a blazing inferno and the violent adrenaline came racing back with a vengeance. How dare they? How dare they question your strength, your authority, after what they had just witnessed? The very thought of their insolence made your blood boil.

“You dare to mock me?” you hissed, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. The nobles faltered, their smug expressions faltering as they realized the extent of their miscalculation, they had not expected you to make such a miraculous recovery.

Before they could react, you unleashed your fury upon them. You didn’t need grand gestures or complex spells—your power flowed with the ease of a predator toying with its prey. The first woman, the one who had spoken, found herself lifted off the ground by invisible tendrils of magic, her limbs splayed out as if on display. The others screamed, scrambling to flee, but they were no match for you. With a flick of your wrist, they were frozen in place, held by your will alone.

You could see the terror in their eyes as they realized there would be no mercy, no escape from the wrath they had provoked. You took your time, savoring the fear that radiated from them as you twisted the magic around them, each tendril tightening like a vice. Their screams echoed through the hall, blending with the shocked gasps of the onlookers.

Their deaths were not quick. You made sure of that. They suffered, their bodies contorting in unnatural angles as the magic tore through them, leaving them bloody and broken. The crowd watched in horrified silence, too terrified to intervene, too mesmerized by the brutality to look away.

As the last of the nobles succumbed to their fate, you felt a surge of energy flood back into you, as if their deaths had replenished the power you had spent. It was as if the blood they spilled had been a sacrifice to your magic, a dark offering that Lolth herself accepted with delight. The weakness that had threatened to overwhelm you was gone, replaced by a renewed strength that coursed through your veins with an exhilarating intensity.

Lolth was pleased.

You straightened, the tremor in your hands gone, the exhaustion replaced by a cold, focused determination. You turned to Minthara, who was watching you with a mixture of pride and something else—perhaps awe, or maybe a flicker of fear. It didn’t matter. You had shown everyone here who you truly were, and there would be no forgetting it.

“Meet me in our quarters,” you commanded, your voice leaving no room for argument.

Minthara inclined her head in acknowledgment, her eyes gleaming with approval.

“As you wish,” she replied, her tone reverent, almost hungry.

Without another word, you stormed out of the grand hall, your steps echoing in the stunned silence that followed. The doors to the hall slammed shut behind you, sealing off the carnage and the whispers of fear that would undoubtedly follow in your wake.

The night was not over, but for now, you needed to be alone—to let the tempest within you settle, to revel in the power you had unleashed and the chaos you had sown. You could feel the eyes of the nobles on your back as you left, the weight of their fear and respect settling around you like a cloak.

They would not forget what they had seen tonight. Neither would Minthara. But as you ascended the stairs to your quarters, one thought lingered in your mind, clear and cold:

You were no longer just a force to be reckoned with—you were a storm, and all who stood in your path would be swept away.

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As the door to your quarters slammed shut behind you, the tension that had been simmering throughout the night reached a boiling point. The remnants of the ball, the bloodshed, and the raw power you had unleashed still thrummed through your veins, a dark symphony that pulsed with every heartbeat. Your quarters, once a sanctuary, now felt charged with an energy that had no outlet, a storm contained within four walls.

Minthara walked in, her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were sharp, calculating as they traced every step you took toward her. She was no fool; she knew why you had summoned her, and the anticipation of the confrontation crackled in the air between you.

“You planned this,” you said, your voice low and laced with accusation. There was no question in your tone—only a statement of fact. “This was the fruit of your manipulations, wasn’t it?”

Minthara didn’t flinch or deny it. Instead, she met your gaze with a calm, steady look that spoke of someone who had nothing to hide.

“And if it was?” she replied, her tone as cool as her expression. “Would you be angry, or impressed?”

“I would be impressed,” you admitted, your voice tinged with bitter amusement, “if I weren’t so vexed by it.”

Minthara’s lips curled into a faint smile, one that held neither apology nor regret.

“I hope you’re not looking for an apology,” she said, her voice smooth and unyielding. “You won’t get one. You looked divine tonight, ethereal. The pain you’ve been suffering is gone, and I’m your wife. I won’t apologize for doing what was necessary to see you in your true form.”

You laughed, the sound echoing off the walls, dark and mirthless.

“Grateful? Like I should be grateful for this?” you asked, your hand gesturing toward the collar around your neck. The collar that had been a symbol of control, of submission. The collar that had marked you as hers. Without waiting for her response, you reached up and grasped the collar, your fingers tightening around it. With a surge of power, you pulled it from your neck, and it disintegrated in your hold, crumbling into dust that slipped through your fingers.

Minthara’s eyes narrowed as she watched the collar disintegrate, but she didn’t move. If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. Instead, she watched you with an intensity that was almost predatory, as if waiting to see what you would do next.

Emboldened by the dark power that roared through you, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you and Minthara. Her eyes flickered with something that might have been caution, but there was also desire there, simmering just beneath the surface.

“There are other ways to claim me, you know, ways for me to claim you,” you said, your voice dropping to a husky whisper as you stopped inches from her. Your breath mingled with hers, the air between you charged with anticipation.

Minthara’s eyes darkened, her pupils dilating as she took in the challenge in your gaze, the power that radiated from you like heat from a fire. She reached out, her hand cupping your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over your skin. Her touch was possessive, yet tender, as if she was savoring the moment, the power shift between you.

“Then show me,” she murmured, her voice a low, dangerous purr that sent a thrill down your spine.

That was all the invitation you needed.

With a growl of desire, you closed the remaining distance between you, your lips crashing into hers with a force that was almost violent. There was nothing gentle about the kiss—it was a clash of wills, of power, of dominance. Minthara responded in kind, her hands tangling in your hair, pulling you closer as if she couldn’t get enough of you. The kiss was fierce, frenzied, a battle for control that neither of you was willing to lose.

The dark power within you surged, feeding off the intensity of the moment, amplifying every sensation until it felt as if you were drowning in it. Your hands roamed over Minthara’s body, fingers digging into her skin as you sought to claim her just as much as she sought to claim you. There was a desperation in your movements, a need to assert yourself, to prove that you were not just a pawn in her game.

Clothes were torn away with little regard for their worth, discarded carelessly as the two of you moved toward the bed. The room seemed to blur around you, the only clarity found in the heat of Minthara’s body against yours, the taste of her on your lips, the sound of her breath mingling with yours.

You pushed her down onto the bed, your hands pinning her wrists above her head as you leaned over her, your hair falling around your faces like a curtain. Her eyes were wild, pupils blown wide with desire, her chest heaving as she looked up at you with a mixture of defiance and need.

“You think you can control me,” you whispered against her lips, your voice a dangerous murmur. “But there’s a fire within me that can’t be tamed.”

Minthara’s lips curved into a wicked smile, her teeth grazing your bottom lip as she pulled you down into another searing kiss. “I don’t want to tame you,” she replied, her voice breathless yet filled with conviction. “I want to burn with you.”

And burn you did.

The night was a blur of passion and power, of dominance and submission, the lines between the two blurring until you were no longer sure where one ended and the other began. The dark magic within you flowed freely, unchecked, feeding off the intensity of your connection with Minthara. It was as if the power itself had become an extension of your desire, heightening every touch, every kiss, until it felt as if you might shatter under the weight of it.

But you didn’t shatter. Instead, you rose higher, the power lifting you both to a plane of pleasure that was almost transcendent. Minthara’s cries of pleasure filled the room, mingling with your own as you both lost yourselves in the frenzy of the moment.

When it was over, you lay together, bodies entwined, the remnants of your passion still simmering in the air. The power within you had settled, sated for now, but you could still feel its presence, a dark, comforting hum that resonated within your very soul.

Minthara’s fingers traced patterns on your skin, her touch gentle now, almost reverent. She looked at you with an expression that was equal parts admiration and respect, a look that told you that, in this moment, she saw you as her equal, her partner.

“You were magnificent,” she murmured, her voice filled with a rare softness that you had seldom heard from her.

You smiled, a small, satisfied smile that held the knowledge of your shared victory. “So were you,” you replied, your voice low and husky.

For a moment, you simply lay there, basking in the afterglow of the night’s events, the tension between you eased by the understanding that had been forged in the fire of your passion.

But as you closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep in Minthara’s arms, you knew that this was only the beginning. The power within you was still there, still waiting, and the game between you and Minthara was far from over.

There were still battles to be fought, still power to be claimed.

And together, you would face them, side by side, as equals.

You wake slowly, the haze of sleep lingering in your mind like a soft, comforting fog. Your body feels heavy but not unpleasantly so, as if still buzzing from the events of the previous night. The memories come back in fragments—the thrill of your power, the fear in the eyes of the nobles, the way Minthara had stood by your side through it all. You shift slightly, realizing with a start that for once, you've woken before her.

Minthara lies beside you, her face peaceful in sleep, a stark contrast to the fierce warrior you know so well. Her silver hair is tousled, spilling over the pillow and onto your chest. The sight stirs something deep within you, something you had been reluctant to acknowledge, but could no longer ignore.

Careful not to wake her, you gently draw her closer, slipping your arm around her waist and pressing her against you. She nestles into your embrace unconsciously, her breath warm against your skin. You allow your head to rest on her chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing, the rhythm soothing your still racing thoughts.

Your fingers find their way to her hair, stroking the silken strands with a tenderness that surprises even you. As you do, you feel the weight of what has been growing between you, something far deeper than mere physical attraction or the alliance forged in the heat of battle. Without needing to say the words, you know what it is—what it has become.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. The gesture is intimate, far more so than any you've shared before. It’s as if by doing so, you’re acknowledging the bond between you, even if you’re not ready to say it out loud.

The kiss seems to stir her. Minthara shifts slightly, her eyes still closed, and she mumbles in a sleepy, teasing voice, "Are you trying to assassinate me?"

You chuckle softly, the sound low and warm in the quiet of the morning. "If I were, you'd already be dead," you reply, your tone light. "No, I’m just showing you a bit of affection."

One of her eyes cracks open, glinting with mischief as she regards you. "Affection?" she echoes, feigning shock. "Perhaps that display of magic last night affected you more than I originally thought."

You laugh, shaking your head at her teasing. "Don’t be ridiculous," you say, giving her a playful shove. But instead of moving away, Minthara only presses closer, her arms winding around you as she nuzzles against your neck.

For a moment, you simply hold her, enjoying the rare quiet and the warmth of her body against yours. The foolish words of "I love you" hover on the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out before you can stop them. But just as you’re about to give voice to them, the door to your chambers swings open with a forceful bang, shattering the intimate moment.

The High Priestess of House Baenre strides in, her expression stern, eyes blazing with barely contained fury. The tension that had been momentarily absent returns in an instant, filling the room with a palpable charge.

She doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. "You’ve caused quite a stir," she begins, her voice sharp. "Your little display of power last night—what were you thinking, child? You’ve drawn far too much attention to yourself and to this house."

You can feel Minthara stiffen in your arms, but before you can respond, she sits up, fixing the High Priestess with a glare.

"Is that why you’re angry?" she demands, her tone cold and unyielding. "Because of the recklessness, or because you’re worried that people might start to believe she’s more powerful than you?"

The High Priestess’s gaze snaps to Minthara, her eyes narrowing in warning. "Mind your tongue, Minthara. This is not a game. There are forces at work that you do not fully understand."

"And you do?" Minthara shoots back, her voice dripping with challenge. "Or are you just afraid of what it means if she is more powerful?"

The High Priestess ignores Minthara's provocation and turns her attention back to you.

"People will start to ask questions about your power, about who you really are," she says, her voice lowering as if the walls themselves might be listening. "And if they find out that you are related to Eilistraee, it will cause chaos."

A cold, bitter laugh escapes you before you can stop it. "Eilistraee? Is that what you think?" You meet her gaze evenly, your voice steady and firm. "I am a descendant of Lolth. And even you would be wise to remember that."

For a moment, the High Priestess falters, her composure slipping just enough to reveal the doubt lurking beneath. But she recovers quickly, her expression hardening. "Be that as it may, the Seldarine will not care. If they realize who you are—what you could stand for—there will be a reckoning. For you, and for this house."

With that, she turns on her heel and sweeps out of the room, leaving behind a silence thick with unresolved tension. Minthara sighs deeply, the sound filled with frustration and exasperation.

"I much preferred it when the High Priestess was more involved in our sex life than in our political one," she mutters, her tone dry.

Despite the gravity of the situation, you can’t help but laugh. "Careful," you warn, your voice light. "She might hear you."

Minthara smirks, finally relaxing against you once more. "Let her. We have more important things to worry about."

You nod, your thoughts racing. The High Priestess’s words had been meant to admonish, to warn, but they had only solidified your resolve. Whatever was coming—whatever reckoning might be on the horizon—you knew you would face it head-on, just as you had everything else. And as Minthara settled against you once more, you realized that you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

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Dismissing the High Priestess' words with ease, a lightness in your step, you get dressed, opting for one of the new Baenre-colored outfits. Minthara had returned to her duties, dealing with the aftermath of last night. Humming a tune, you make your way through the grand halls of House Baenre, greeting the servants and nobles you pass. Their surprised glances don’t bother you—in fact, they amuse you. Today, nothing could bring you down.

Your wanderings take you to the dormitory where the younger girls of the house reside. As you enter, the girls look up from their morning routines, eyes wide with excitement. They swarm around you, eager to hear about the events of the ball last night. Their questions come rapid-fire, each one more enthusiastic than the last.

"What was it like?" one of the girls asks, eyes sparkling with awe.

"Did you really fight off those intruders all by yourself?" another chimes in.

"Is it true you made a noble’s head explode just by looking at them?"

You chuckle, feeling a warmth in your chest at their admiration. “Yes, yes,” you say, holding up your hands to quiet them down, “but that’s not why I’m here today.” You glance around the room, a playful glint in your eye. “I’ve decided that training is cancelled.”

The girls gasp, exchanging shocked and excited looks. Before they can process what that means, you continue, “Instead, we’re going on an excursion. Into the Underdark wilderness.”

Their excitement is palpable, and they immediately start chattering amongst themselves, rushing to get into their armor. The thought of an adventure, especially one led by you, has them buzzing with anticipation. As the girls prepare, Tirael, steps in. She looks at you with a mix of concern and respect.

“Mistress,” she begins carefully, “while you do not need the Matron’s permission for such an excursion, it would be wise to inform her of your plans.”

You wave off her concern with a dismissive gesture. “Minthara will understand,” you say confidently, your mood too buoyant to worry about the repercussions.

Tirael hesitates for a moment, clearly weighing the options, but she can see that your mind is made up. With a respectful nod, she acquiesces. “As you wish, Mistress.”

The girls, now fully armored and armed, line up excitedly, ready for whatever lies ahead. You can feel their energy feeding into yours, and as you lead them out of the dormitory, you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement yourself. The Underdark wilderness is vast and dangerous, but with your newfound strength and control, you’re confident that today will be yet another testament to your growing power.

As you march through the halls, the girls trailing behind you in a disciplined line, you can’t help but smile. Today is going to be a good day.

Then the young girls, who were just moments ago buzzing with excitement, suddenly stiffen, their postures snapping to attention. You follow their gaze and spot Minthara approaching, her presence commanding immediate respect and fear among the younger drow.

But you? You pay no heed to the tension around you. With the same buoyant energy that has been carrying you all morning, you glide over to Minthara, your smile unbothered by the weight of her stern gaze.

"Minthara, darling," you say, your voice light and teasing, "the girls and I are heading out for a little adventure into the Underdark wilderness. You should come with us. It’ll be fun.”

Minthara regards you with a mixture of amusement and irritation, a brow arching as if to silently question your audacity.

“I have work to do,” she replies curtly, her tone leaving little room for argument. You sigh dramatically, rolling your eyes with an exaggerated flair.

“Ah, always the diligent one,” you say, turning your back to her as you begin to walk back to the girls. “The matron is too boring to join us, girls,” you announce loudly, causing a few of the girls to giggle nervously. Then, in an exaggeratedly loud whisper, you lean towards them, “Really, she’s just a scaredy cat.”

The girls’ eyes widen in shock and amusement at your audacity, while a few stifle their laughter behind their hands. Minthara, standing behind you, lets out a huff of frustration, her lips curling into a thin line. She’s clearly irked by your teasing, and you know just how to push her buttons. You glance over your shoulder, giving her a playful wink, fully expecting her to stand her ground and scold you in the process.

Instead, Minthara’s eyes narrow, and in a tone dripping with challenge, she snaps, “Fine. I’ll join you, but don’t expect me to rescue you if you get into trouble.”

The girls, barely able to contain their excitement, exchange eager glances. The thought of the matron joining them on such a dangerous outing fills them with both trepidation and a fierce desire to impress her. You simply smile, pleased with yourself for goading her into coming along.

Once outside, the group mounts their spiders, the massive arachnids clicking their mandibles in anticipation. As you make your way to your own mount, you notice Minthara getting ready to take her place atop her spider. An idea pops into your head, and with a mischievous grin, you swiftly slip in front of her just as she’s about to mount.

Without a word, you take the reins from her hands, feeling her sharp intake of breath as she stares at you in disbelief. For a moment, the air between you is thick with tension, her ruby eyes boring into yours with a mix of shock and irritation.

“How bold of you,” she murmurs, the words carrying both a hint of admiration and a clear warning. You simply grin up at her, unbothered by the potential consequences.

“Well, you know me,” you say with a playful shrug.

Minthara’s gaze doesn’t waver as she snatches the reins back from you, her expression unreadable. But instead of shoving you aside, allowing you to fall into the dirt, she surprises you by allowing you to remain where you are, in front of her on the spider. She clicks her tongue, commanding the spider to move, and it responds instantly, its legs moving with eerie grace as it carries both of you towards the Underdark wilderness.

The girls, now even more eager to impress with Minthara in attendance, follow closely behind, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear. You can’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction. Not only have you managed to drag Minthara into your plans, but you’ve also secured a spot in the best seat possible—right in front of her.

As you lead the procession into the dark expanse of the Underdark, you can feel Minthara’s presence behind you, solid and reassuring, even if tinged with annoyance. The wild, untamed energy of the Underdark beckons, and with your wife and the young Baenre girls in tow, you’re more than ready to face whatever comes next.

With the spiders securely tethered and the guards standing vigilant, you lead the group toward a narrow crevice in the stone, hidden away from prying eyes. The girls, wide-eyed and full of nervous excitement, follow your every move, their whispers barely audible over the distant echoes of the Underdark. You pause at the entrance, throwing them a mischievous wink before stepping into the darkness. In an instant, you drop and disappear from view.

Minthara’s eyes narrow as she watches you vanish. Though wary, she quickly gestures for the girls to follow her.

"Stay close and don’t wander," she commands, her tone leaving no room for disobedience. With that, she steps into the crevice, vanishing into the shadows.

A split second later, Minthara finds herself freefalling into the abyss, the sensation of weightlessness both startling and exhilarating. Just as quickly, she lands softly on a bed of thick, sponge-like mushrooms, their surface yielding beneath her feet. She takes a moment to steady herself, her eyes adjusting to the dim light that begins to illuminate her surroundings.

What she sees takes her breath away.

The cove is a hidden gem within the Underdark, a secret sanctuary bathed in the ethereal glow of bioluminescent fungi and crystals embedded in the cave walls. The light reflects off the surfaces, casting a myriad of colors that dance across the stone. Spiders, each one appearing as though they were sculpted from precious gems, scuttle about, their bodies shimmering with the same bioluminescence that lights the cave. The webs they spin glisten like threads of silver, catching the light in a dazzling display.

Minthara, typically so composed and fierce, finds herself momentarily awestruck. This place, so secluded and beautiful, is a stark contrast to the harshness of the Underdark she’s accustomed to. She barely notices you as you walk by her, a smile playing on your lips as you help the other girls make their descent.

One by one, the young drow leap from the crevice, landing on the soft mushrooms with quiet gasps of surprise and wonder. Their usual bravado and discipline give way to wide-eyed astonishment as they take in their surroundings. Once everyone has gathered, you turn to them, your voice firm but soft.

“This is a sacred place,” you say, your tone commanding their attention. “Be quiet, don’t touch anything, and stay close. We are guests here.”

The girls nod eagerly, their eyes darting around in awe as they follow you and Minthara deeper into the cove. The atmosphere is thick with anticipation, every footstep echoing faintly against the cave walls. The deeper you go, the more vibrant the glow becomes, until you reach the heart of the cove.

There, in the center of the chamber, sits the Spider Matriarch.

The creature is enormous, easily towering over even the largest of the Baenre guards. Her body shimmers like she’s been carved from a single, flawless diamond, each facet catching the light and reflecting it in dazzling arrays. Her many eyes, each a deep, dark gemstone, survey the intruders with a cold, calculating intelligence.

Minthara immediately steps in front of the girls, her hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her weapon. Her protective stance is unwavering, even as she recognizes the power and majesty of the creature before her. She spares you a glance, questioning, as if asking whether this was all part of your plan.

“Wait here,” you instruct, your voice calm and steady. You step forward, moving with deliberate grace toward the Spider Matriarch. The air is thick with tension as you approach, the girls watching with bated breath. Minthara’s grip tightens on her weapon, ready to strike if necessary.

When you reach the Matriarch, you lower yourself into a ritualistic bow, your movements precise and respectful. The chamber is silent, the only sound the faint rustling of the smaller spiders as they move about their webbed domain. For a moment, nothing happens, and the tension in the air is almost unbearable.

Then, slowly, the Matriarch’s massive body shifts, her many legs relaxing as she acknowledges your presence. The danger passes, and the aura of threat dissipates, replaced by a silent understanding.

You straighten, turning back to the group with a beckoning gesture. “It’s safe,” you say, your voice breaking the silence. “Come forward.”

The girls, still wide-eyed with wonder, hesitate for only a moment before they begin to move, their steps tentative as they approach the Matriarch. Minthara is the last to follow, her eyes still sharp and alert, but there’s a new respect in her gaze as she looks at you.

As the group gathers closer to the Matriarch, you can see the awe in their faces, the reverence in their movements. This experience is one they will carry with them, a memory etched into their minds as they step further into their roles within House Baenre.

And as you stand there, surrounded by the luminous beauty of the cove, you can’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. The Matriarch, the wonder in the girls’ eyes, and even Minthara’s begrudging respect—all of it reaffirms your place, your power, in this world beneath the surface.

You reach out, your hand gentle as it strokes the crystalline surface of the Spider Matriarch’s body. Her hard, gem-like exterior glimmers under your touch, refracting the light in dazzling patterns across the cave walls. At first, she remains still, her many eyes observing you intently. Then, to the amazement of everyone present, the Matriarch begins to nuzzle into your hand, her massive form shifting closer, almost like an old friend seeking comfort. The connection between you and the ancient creature is palpable, a silent understanding that needs no words.

The girls are utterly captivated by the sight, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief. You can feel their eyes on you, watching every movement as if this were some sacred ritual they had been granted the rarest of privileges to witness. The youngest of the group, hesitant and unsure, clings to the edge of your cloak, her small fingers gripping the fabric tightly. You turn to her with a warm, reassuring smile.

“It’s alright,” you whisper softly, your voice soothing. “She won’t harm you.”

The girl looks up at you, her wide eyes filled with uncertainty, but she nods. Encouraged by your words, she takes a tentative step forward. One by one, you introduce the girls to the Matriarch, guiding their hands as they reach out to touch the massive creature. Some of the older girls are more confident, their hands steady as they make contact with the Matriarch’s gleaming form, while the younger ones are more apprehensive, inching closer only after your gentle reassurances.

“See?” you say, your tone light and encouraging. “She’s as gentle as she is powerful.”

The Matriarch remains still, her calm demeanor helping to ease the girls' nerves. Gradually, they relax, their initial fear giving way to wonder as they realize just how special this moment is. The younger ones, still slightly wary, nevertheless follow your lead, stepping closer to the Matriarch and letting their small hands glide over her gleaming surface.

You then look over at Minthara, who has been quietly observing the interaction. Her usual stern expression has softened, and there’s a faint smile playing on her lips—a rare sight indeed. You can see something playing on her mind as she looks at you and the girls, but you simply cannot place it. You beckon her to join you, a silent invitation that she accepts after a moment’s hesitation.

Minthara approaches the Matriarch with measured steps, her hand extending to touch the creature’s side. The Matriarch doesn’t react with the same familiarity she showed you, but she allows Minthara’s touch, her massive eyes meeting Minthara’s in what seems like an acknowledgment of respect.

One of the older girls, emboldened by the experience, remarks with a grin, “I think this is the first time I’ve seen the Matron smile when someone didn’t get hurt.”

A ripple of laughter runs through the group, lightening the mood even further. Minthara’s smile deepens just a fraction, and though she doesn’t respond, there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes.

As the girls begin to explore the cove, playing with the spiderlings that scuttle around them, you and Minthara find a quiet spot to sit together, watching the scene unfold. The atmosphere is peaceful, almost serene, the cove’s natural beauty providing a rare respite from the harshness of the Underdark.

Minthara glances at you, curiosity evident in her gaze. “How did you come to know of this place?” she asks, her voice quieter than usual. “Of these creatures?”

You lean back slightly, your eyes tracing the delicate patterns of bioluminescent fungi on the cave walls as you consider your response.

“My mother,” you begin, your voice steady but laced with old, buried emotions, “used to abandon me in the wilderness when my powers became too much for her to handle. She called it a test, a way to teach me control, but it was more about survival. Either I would learn to control my magic or I would die out there, alone.”

You pause, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you recall those early days, looking back on the horror like a funny joke. Minthara’s eyes darken, however, her expression hardening at the thought. But she remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

“It was during one of those times,” you say, your gaze drifting to the Matriarch, “when I was left to fend for myself that I found this place. Or maybe it found me. I was dehydrated, half-mad with exhaustion, my magic out of control. I remember stumbling through the dark, barely able to see straight, when I came across this cove. It felt like a dream, or maybe a hallucination brought on by desperation.”

“When my magic finally calmed down, when I was no longer on the brink of death, I made my way back to the house,” you continue. “But the cycle would repeat. Every time I lost control, every time my power threatened to consume me, I’d end up back here. The Matriarch became my sanctuary, a place where I could regain control, where I could be myself without fear.”

Minthara is silent for a moment, processing what you’ve told her. Her gaze shifts to the Matriarch, who remains still and watchful, her crystalline eyes reflecting the glow of the fungi.

“Your mother was a coward, it is an honour to have slain her, one albeit I wish I reserved for you,” Minthara finally says, her voice low but firm.

If she was more thoughtful of her words she would have realised that perhaps bringing up the fact that she murdered your mother, may 'ruin the moment', but she didn't care, and it seemed neither did you. (Somewhere, Kyorlin was seething for no particular reason).

Minthara continued, “She couldn’t face your power, so she left you to fend for yourself. But I’m glad she did. If she hadn’t, you might never have found this place.. And you might never have found your way to me.”

Her affection effects you more than you were prepared for and you feel a light blush grace your cheeks as Minthara reaches to hold your hand. are a mixture of truth and a comfort you hadn’t expected. You feel a strange sense of relief, as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Despite everything, despite the pain and the harshness of your upbringing, the hand life had dealt you, something good had come from it.

You smile, a genuine warmth filling your chest. “You’re right,” you say softly. “I did find my way to you.”

Minthara’s expression softens even more, a rare and precious sight. “And for that, I am grateful,” she murmurs, her thumb carressing the top of your hand.

The connection between you two feels stronger, real. Your eyes are mesmerised by hers and before you realise what you are doing, you lean forward and press your forehead against hers. You can see Minthara panic slightly, unused to such genuine tenderness towards herself, something that was innocent - not a product of lust. You softly kiss her lips, and Minthara's eyes flutter shut, basking in the warmth of your touch. This kiss is chaste, tender, and when you pull away you rest your forehead once more on hers. Words settle on your tongue, screaming to be said, the three little words you knew would change everything once spoken, that dared to escape you this very morning. Your breath hitches in anticipation as you go to start your confession.

"Minthara, I-"

"-Mistress, Matron, look what we found!" A small group of the younger girls approach you, the youngest clasping something in her hands. You smile and move away from Minthara, your attention soley on the girls, not on the maelstrom of emotions that were pounding in your heart. You didn't look back to Minthara, but if you had, you would see her continuing to stare at you wistfully, as if pretending to hear what she was hoping you were going to say.

"What is it ladies?" You ask, your cheeks still a faint red and you smiled bashfully at them. The youngest shows you her open palms and nestled in them is a red crystal with black streaks running through it, and it is vital to note, that it is shaped as a heart.

"We uh, we uh thought you and the matron might like this, because it is our house colors." The young girl told you, her eye flicking nervously to Minthara, as if she expected her to suddenly smack it out of her hand, and scold her for such juvenile thoughts.

"This is beautiful and a perceptive find. Thank you." Minthara said to them, softly taking it out of the girls hand and putting it up to the light and admiring it as it shined. "We will cherish it, won't we wife?"

"We will, thank you ladies." You smile and nod to them, the girls are overhwelmed with surprise and they bow their heads before scampering off, as if not to test their luck. Before you can turn to Minthara and ask her if perhaps she hit her head on the way down here, or if she accidentally inhaled some sort of rogue fungus, Minthara speaks first.

“It was good of you to bring the girls here, but I must ask why?” she asks, running the crystal through her hands, nodding toward the young drow who were now completely re-absorbed in their exploration.

"They needed to see this," you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of your intentions. "To understand that there’s more to power than just strength and fear. There’s beauty in it too, a kind of grace. I wanted them to see that, to feel it, to know it."

Minthara is silent, her gaze turning inward as she contemplates your words. The harsh lines of her face soften as she looks back at the girls, watching them with an unreadable expression.

“You’ve given them a gift today,” she murmurs, almost as if she’s speaking to herself.

A genuine warmth spreads through you as you smile at her, the gesture unguarded. “We’ve given them a gift, Minthara. You agreed to come, after all. I doubt they would have been half as excited if you weren’t here.”

She lets out a huff, a sound meant to mask the warmth your words bring her. “Only because you called me a scaredy-cat,” she mutters, though the faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth betrays her.

You laugh softly, the sound mingling with the distant echoes of the girls’ laughter. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

Minthara rolls her eyes, but there’s no real irritation there. Instead, she hands you the heart-shaped crystal the young girls had presented to the both of you. "So, tell me, Princess of Spiders, what type of crystal is this?"

You chuckle at the playful endearment and take the crystal from her, turning it over in your hand as if appraising it. "As the most regal Princess of the Spiders, I can assure you, this is no ordinary crystal."

Minthara lets out a breathless laugh, her smirk widening. "Oh, don’t tell me it’s imbued with some mystical power. Is it filled with the power of love?"

You hold her gaze, your expression completely serious. "Oh no, dearest, this is most definitely a crystallized human ear."

Minthara pauses, her smirk faltering as she searches your face for any hint of a joke. When she realizes you’re not jesting, her eyes widen slightly before she snatches the crystal back from you, inspecting it with ruthless scrutiny. You can’t help but chuckle at her reaction.

"When these creatures are done with their prey, they crystallize the remains," you explain, your tone matter-of-fact. "Think of it as their method of preserving rations."

Minthara’s gaze sweeps over the cavern, taking in the glittering crystals that adorn the walls. "So you’re telling me that this cove—covered in what I assumed were beautiful crystals—is actually adorned with corpses and carcasses?"

"Yep," you confirm with a casual shrug.

She shakes her head, a wry grin spreading across her face. "This outing could not get any better."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The bioluminescent glow of the fungi intensifies, casting a mesmerizing light throughout the cove. The girls, who had been laughing and playing with the spiderlings, are now starting to show signs of exhaustion. You know it’s time to leave, to return to the more controlled chaos of House Baenre, but you’re reluctant to break the spell of this serene place.

You start gathering the girls, calling them to attention with a gentle but firm voice. They gather around you, still chattering excitedly about the day’s adventure, the Matriarch, and the spiderlings they’ve befriended. As you prepare to lead them back out of the cove, a sudden movement in the corner of your eye catches your attention.

A group of larger crystalline spiders, adults by the size of them, scuttle into the cove from a darkened tunnel. At first, it’s easy to dismiss their presence—they’re simply returning to their home—but then you see what they’re dragging behind them. It’s a creature, half-alive, its body twisted and broken, eyes wide with terror. The spiders are efficient in their brutality, their fangs piercing flesh with practiced ease, venom paralyzing their prey even as they wrap it in silken threads.

The scene is vicious and savage, the spiders working with a kind of natural precision that is both horrifying and, in a way, beautiful. The cycle of life and death, survival and dominance, all playing out before your eyes. The girls, who had been so carefree moments before, fall silent as they notice what’s happening. Their wide eyes are glued to the scene, shock and fear rippling through the group. You see this as a teachable moment, one that they won’t soon forget.

“This,” you say, your voice carrying the weight of the lesson you’re about to impart, “is what happens if you do not show respect to these creatures. They may seem playful, even gentle at times, but they are still predators, deadly and merciless.”

The girls exchange nervous glances, the realization dawning on them that the same spiderlings they had been playing with not long ago will one day grow into the very creatures before them. The spiders continue their work, oblivious to the audience they’ve garnered, their focus solely on their prey.

The youngest among the girls, who had been clinging to your side most of the day, looks up at you with wide, scared eyes.

“They were so nice to us,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly. “But they could have...”

You nod, acknowledging her unspoken fear. “They could have,” you confirm, your tone gentle but firm. “But you showed them respect, and they returned it. That’s how you survive in the Underdark. Respect, understanding, and knowing when to fight and when to retreat.”

Minthara, who has been silently watching the scene unfold, steps forward, her presence commanding and reassuring.

“Remember what you’ve seen today,” she adds, her voice steady. “This is the world we live in. Strength and respect are what keep us alive. Never forget that.”

The girls nod, absorbing the gravity of her words. They’ve seen brutality before—life in the Underdark ensures that—but this is different. This is a reminder that even in a place of beauty, danger is never far away. It’s a lesson that will stay with them, shaping their understanding of the world they inhabit.

You give the signal, and the group begins to move, following you and Minthara back toward the entrance of the cove. The mood is more somber now, the earlier excitement tempered by what they’ve witnessed. The spiderlings, now forgotten, retreat into the shadows as the girls file out, their small, bright red eyes watching from the darkness.

As you help the last of the girls out of the crevice, you cast one final glance back at the cove. The Matriarch watches you, her massive eyes reflecting the light of the fungi. There’s a sense of finality to the moment, as if the cove itself is bidding you farewell, a silent promise that it will be here when you need it again.

Minthara is the last to leave, and as she emerges from the crevice, she pauses beside you, her gaze lingering on the entrance to the cove.

“You’ve taught them more today than they’ll learn in a hundred lessons back at the house,” she murmurs, her voice carrying a note of admiration.

“I hope so,” you reply with a smile. “They need to understand the world they’re growing up in. The dangers, the beauty, and the balance between the two.”

The journey back to House Baenre begins as the group mounts their spiders, the creatures responding to their riders with a mixture of familiarity and respect. You move to the front, confidently claiming your place in front of Minthara on her mount. The large arachnid shifts beneath you, its many legs moving in a fluid rhythm as you take hold of the reins. For a moment, Minthara hesitates, watching you with those sharp, discerning eyes, but she doesn’t object. Instead, she leans forward into your back, her presence a warm, reassuring weight as you guide the spider forward.

The ride home is quieter than the journey to the cove. The girls, though still chatting amongst themselves, are noticeably subdued, their minds clearly occupied by the lessons learned and the sights witnessed.

As you approach the gates of House Baenre, the familiar spires rising ominously against the cavern’s ceiling, the girls’ spirits lift slightly. They’re exhausted but content, their excitement tempered by the day’s events. You dismount first, helping the youngest of the girls down from her spider before turning to Minthara.

"Are you going to join us for dinner?" you ask, the hope in your voice betraying your desire for just a bit more time together before the responsibilities of your respective roles claim you.

Minthara smiles softly, but there’s a note of regret in her expression as she shakes her head. "I’d like to, but there’s work that demands my attention today."

You nod in understanding, though disappointment tugs at your heart. "I’ll see you later then," you reply, letting her go without further insistence. She watches you for a moment longer before turning towards her study, her steps purposeful and brisk.

The evening passes quietly as you join the girls for dinner. Their energy has returned somewhat, and the meal is filled with chatter about the day’s adventure. You smile, encouraging their enthusiasm, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Minthara. When the meal ends and the girls are finally sent to their beds, you retreat to your chamber, expecting Minthara to join you soon.

But as the hours stretch on, and she still hasn’t come to bed, a knot of worry forms in your chest. Something doesn’t feel right. You slip out of bed, your feet barely making a sound as you move through the darkened halls of House Baenre. The path to Minthara’s study is familiar, but tonight, it feels longer, the silence more oppressive.

When you reach the door to her study, you hesitate, a sense of foreboding washing over you. Slowly, you push the door open, and the sight that greets you makes your blood run cold.

Minthara is slumped against her desk, her breathing labored as she struggles to pull a dagger from her abdomen. Her fingers, slick with blood, slip against the hilt, and a pained grimace mars her usually composed features. On the floor beside her, a dead brutalized Seldarine assassin lies motionless, a testament to the viscious fight that had just taken place. Minthara's eyes light up when she sees you, and as if she now knows she is in your hands, she collapses in a heap, her own spilt blood bathing her.

You thought you had felt fear before.

But not like this.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

mwhahahahahahahahahhahahaha

did you really think it would all be sunshine and roses? In this series?!?

I think we can officially ascertain that we are now in the lovers era. I am so SO excited for the direction I am taking this series and I think you guys will love it too!

I think this is the fluffiest chapter I have written for this series (I'm writing this and just remembering the brutal murders I wrote at the beginning - whoops!)

Anyway, let me know what you guys think, i love and cherish every like and comment. Love you all !

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

^As a note; I want to again thank every person who has bought me a coffee, I am in my struggle era rn with unemployment and being completely independent. I also want to thank every single person who has left a nice comment either on a post or in my inbox, all of you are truly the reason this blog keeps running and I stay sane. So thank you.^

taglist:

@mimetoist @h-doodles @mimetoist @thepotatoislost @needyformilfs @longjohnsilverfish @spacezombiez @les-bee @gaysindistress @morganaspet @wineredsea @coratheninth @i-must-say-thats-quite-gay @trappedinafantasy37 @alicelufenia

#baldurs gate minthara | moonselune (2024)

FAQs

Which companions do you lose if you recruit Minthara? ›

If players raid the Grove with Minthara, two of their other companions, Wyll and Karlach, will permanently leave the player's party. Players can complete the “Defeat the Goblins” side quest and choose not to side with Minthara by saving the Tieflings.

What to say to Minthara BG3? ›

In any case, these are the required dialogue options for the Baldur's Gate 3 Minthara romance:
  1. "Yes, I'm yours, Minthara."
  2. Click on your bedroll and pick Minthara.
  3. "Do as she says."
  4. "I want you."
  5. This leads to a sex scene.
Sep 5, 2023

What happens if I tell Minthara where the grove is? ›

After telling her of the grove's location, fast travel back there and take a long rest. When you wake up, you will be able to speak with a tiefling leader to warn them of Minthara's imminent goblin ambush, and plot a fiery retaliation in response.

What happens if you loot Minthara? ›

If you've done this correctly, knocking Minthara out will leave her as a lootable body but still alive. This will meet the requirements for the Halsin questline and tell the game that you've cleared out the Goblin Camp even though she's still alive.

Is it worth having Minthara as a companion? ›

Recruiting Minthara comes with consequences, including the inability to recruit Halsin and the risk of other companions leaving the party. Minthara brings versatility as a Drow Paladin and has humorous dialogue moments, making her an interesting addition to an evil playthrough in Baldur's Gate 3.

Is it possible to recruit Minthara without killing the Tieflings? ›

Before this patch, players needed to maneuver their way through a series of bugs and turn the Drow into a sheep to get her into their party without killing the Tieflings, but now you can simply knock Minthara out while taking down the Goblin Camp.

Does sleeping with Minthara affect companions? ›

Con: Recruiting Minthara Locks Out Other Companions

Possibly the biggest con to romancing Minthara is losing Halsin, Wyll, and Karlach as companions and earning the disapproval of Gale and Shadowheart.

Does romancing Minthara affect other romances? ›

Note that there are consequences in choosing a romance with Minthara. Gale and Shadowheart will strongly disapprove of your actions, and Wyll will dislike it so much he will abandon your party. Halsin will reject you, and you will have difficulty recruiting Karlach as well.

Can Halsin and Minthara be together? ›

Halsin and Minthara are two opposing companions in Baldur's Gate 3. Halsin represents the good path, while Minthara is very evil-aligned. Their intended quest lines involve thwarting the other. But by keeping both stories unresolved, it becomes possible to recruit the pair together.

Can you knock out Minthara bg3? ›

The most important part of the entire process is that Minthara gets the 'Temporarily Hostile' status before you knock her out. If you don't see the status, she won't be recruitable. If done correctly, she'll be knocked out instead of dead, completing the related quest for Zevlor while still keeping her alive.

How to betray Minthara? ›

After giving Minthara the location of Emerald Grove, she will be found outside of its entrance (the player will have to long rest for this to happen after talking to her). When there, the player can betray her, or if the entrance of the grove happens to be locked, she will attack the player when she sees them.

Can you take mintharas armor? ›

You'll need to defeat Mithara during the Save the Refugees quest to obtain her armor. Alternatively, you can convince Minthara to join your party, and she'll come equipped with Spidersilk Armour. However, getting on her good side requires killing a town full of innocent Tieflings and druids.

What to do with Minthara? ›

You can defeat Minthara by killing her or knocking her unconscious. To knock her unconscious, you must: Toggle Non-Lethal damage, located in your character "Spellbook" under Common Abilities. Strike Minthara with a melee weapon attack.

What are the consequences of siding with Minthara? ›

Siding with Minthara will earn the disapproval of Shadowheart and Gale. You will not be able to recruit Halsin to your party, even if you've rescued him from the Goblin Camp, and Wyll and Karlach will leave the party.

Does Karlach leave if you side with Minthara? ›

Baldur's Gate 3. Any way to get Minthara without karlach or wyl leaving the party? Nope. If you want Minthara you have to side with her and the goblins which will make Karlach and Wyll leave.

Can you convince Minthara to be good? ›

So according to this article I just found, it's possible to recruit Minthara as a good guy by knocking her out at the goblin camp, going to moonrise towers then going back to the goblin camp, turning her into a sheep (Sheepthara lol) then dominating her, going back with her to moonrise and triggering her trial.

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