Shadowzel - Blog Posts
Sooo I heard there was some demand for more shartwolf
My Girl (Chapter 6 - Baldur's Gate 3 fanfiction)
I've made it my personal mission to brighten up everyone's Mondays with a little bit of fluff. And this one is REALLY fluffy. If Lae'zel saw how soft I've made her in this one, she'd kick my ass. Enjoy!
Ship: Shadowzel
WC: 1,291
Warnings: None (unless mentions of unborn children count)
Istik life has definitely taken a toll on her, Lae'zel thinks as she takes a walk around the yard of Crèche Zav'rai. How was she able to grow up in such an environment with her sanity intact? Even though this place is a lot less strict than K'liir ever was, it feels unbelievably oppressive. Not a single moment to be on her own. Being a stranger doesn't help. While she assumes most members are used to her presence, she can't shake the impression that she's being constantly watched and judged. While she washes herself in the communal baths with young students. While she eats in the tiny canteen packed with loud, unruly children who are forever attacking each other with food projectiles. While she goes out to get some fresh air as the aspiring soldiers train. One day, out of sheer boredom, she asked the sa'varsh to let her practice with them; she can't recall a more frustrating experience in her life. She's positively out of practice.
According to the ghustil, she's only been there for nine days, but it seems like a hundred years. It's hard to keep track of time after spending most of it drifting in and out of sleep, high on whatever painkilling potions they were giving her. Since they decided she was healthy enough not to need them and allowed to leave Am'aari's office, her stay in the crèche has been extremely tedious except for the very few times Shadowheart has come to see her. She's still working her two jobs and taking care of the house and the cats, which doesn't leave her with many hours in her hands. Besides, now that night falls earlier, the streets of Baldur's Gate are not safe for a woman by herself; no matter if said woman is adept in radiant magic and knows how to use maces and daggers.
Tsk'va, she can't wait for that godsdamned egg to hatch already.
Looks like, in the end, it's only one baby. Good. Last time she visited, Shadowheart asked her if she was sad about the other two she gave birth to. She isn't. From her reads about the differences between her people's pregnancies and other races', the bond between an istik mother and her child is formed much earlier, already in the womb. Some experts theorize that this is due to the absence of eggs, which make it possible to sense the child's movements and heartbeat. Moreover, Lae'zel is aware that she and Shadowheart are not equipped to raise more than one hatchling.
She sits on the steps of the main entrance and winces, rubbing her breasts. They are fuller than ever, and strangely sensitive. There's a dull, yet persistent pain in them from producing milk. Her whole body is heavier, her endurance and nimbleness considerably lower than they used to be. She needs to start exercising soon, to get back in shape. Yet for the first time in her life, she's too self-conscious to train in front of the other gith.
It's cold outside. She should have put on that borrowed cloak, but wearing clothes that reek of someone else makes her nauseous, and that one is particularly strong. Or perhaps her senses are excessively sharpened. She embraces herself; her skin, too, has become more vulnerable to the ever-changing Faerûnian weather.
“Jhe'stil?” a high-pitched voice behind her calls.
It takes her a moment to realize they're addressing her. She turns around to face a young githzerai and nods for them to speak.
“Ghustil Am'aari sends me,” the youth says. “Your presence is required in the infirmary.”
In the infirmary? She's already been checked up today. What could they possibly need from her? Irrelevant. She rises and follows the child.
“Did she tell you what I am needed for?” she questions.
“Something happened in the hatchery, I believe.”
The hatchery! Lae'zel's heart misses a beat. Has the egg finally cracked open? Or has anything happened to her child?
Her chest tight with trepidation, she enters the ghustil's office without knocking.
All the blood in her veins begins flowing again when she notices that familiar blanket in the healer's arms. Shadowheart brought it the very first time she visited. Holding onto it every night before falling asleep has been more comforting than Lae'zel will ever dare to admit; the only familiar scent in this strange place.
“This is your daughter,” Am'aari tells her. “All cleaned and checked up.”
The weight of that tiny bundle alone is enough for Lae'zel to feel overcome with emotion. And as soon as she looks down, a symphony explodes inside her. Her baby is completely hairless, with skin the same chartreuse color as hers, dark freckles painting her cheeks. She hasn't opened her eyes completely, but those clumsy hands, balled into small fists, grope the air, as though wanting to touch and explore the whole world.
She's perfect.
Never before has Lae'zel seen anything that beautiful. Not the most picturesque sunrise. Not the sea of stars from the back of a red dragon. Not even Shadowheart's smile.
Finally, she understands what Emmeline, Exxvikyap, Isobel and all the other mothers she knows were talking about. The urge to protect such a helpless creature, to hold her and never let go. The incredulity that she created such a precious being. The feeling of seeing a part of her own soul reflected back at her.
The rush of love is so intense she could burst into tears.
“We have called for your partner,” the ghustil says. “My apprentice has been sent to inform her.”
Shadowheart will be here soon. They'll finally be able to go home.
To take her home.
From Lae'zel's point of view, time stops. Everything around her fades away. All she can see is that cute face, that minuscule body expanding with every breath. She traces the apple of her cheek with her fingertips, marveling at the softness. Gingerly, she removes the part of the blanket that's covering the child's head and kisses it. Her nostrils widen, catching the mesmerizing scent of her skin.
She smells like home. Like life. Like all that's pure and beautiful in the world.
And to think that she didn't believe in love until she fell for Shadowheart. This is even stronger, brighter. A warm, blinding light with the force of a thousand suns.
When Shadowheart arrives, she doesn't know how long she has spent there, sitting on one of the infirmary beds with the little one on her lap. Only when she – reluctantly – lets her wife take the baby from her arms does she notice how sore and numb she is. An adorable sound escapes Shadowheart's mouth as she takes in the sight of their newborn daughter.
“She's so beautiful!” Shadowheart coos. “Have you thought on a name?”
Quite honestly, Lae'zel hasn't. She did have a lot of time to think during those long days of waiting, but it seems as though any of those ideas have vanished from her mind.
“No,” she admits. “But I have thought that we could give her an elvish name. Or a human name. Something of your choice.”
“Hmm. I'm not sure about that.” Shadowheart bites her lip. “She looks so much like you! And she carries my family name, anyway. It'd be a crime not to give her a gith name.”
“Chk. I will not give her my name. We will not become like one of those istik families in which every member is called the same.”
“Agreed. I didn't mean that, of course. Aren't there any gith names that have a special meaning to you?”
How is she supposed to find only one word to describe someone that means the whole world to her? None of them would do her justice.
My Girl (Chapter 5 - Baldur's Gate 3 fanfic)
I'm here! And someone else is as well 😲
Yups, this is the one in which Lae'zel gives birth. Are you ready?
Ship: Shadowzel
WC: 1,272
Warnings: some of the eggs don't make it. It also gets a little angsty, but it's basically what you'd expect from a story about childbirth.
Read under the cut or on AO3. Comments and reblogs will make me very happy!
Shadowheart paces up and down the corridor. Goes down the stairs. Then back up. Leans against the feeble railing and counts the metallic pipes creeping up every wall. And the iron beams holding up the ceiling. What a hideous place! She pities the members of Crèche Zav'rai, forced to live in such depressing surroundings.
Her glance keeps returning to the double doors behind her back. They're way too thick and robust to let any sounds through, so she has no way to know what's happening on the other side. How many hours have gone by? Is Lae'zel alright?
It was the middle of the night when Lae'zel woke her up. Her thighs were moist and there was a sharp pain in her lower stomach. According to what she had read, those were unmistakable signs that the eggs were coming. So they hurried out to the crèche despite the rain pouring down and the darkness; too nervous, too excited to notice. Much to Shadowheart's surprise, those gith have been rather hospitable to them both. They've allowed her to borrow a few clothes and take off the ones she was wearing while they dry near an old furnace that is now used for forging swords and spears instead of steelwatchers. Now all she can do is pray that the doctor and her assistants are as competent as they were polite. Or hopefully more.
Through the high, distant windows, she can see that the day is dawning. Soon the halls are filled with steps, instructions she can't understand and the sounds of different tools. Every now and then, small groups of young gith walk past her, giving her curious looks. Some seem surprised, some wary. Of course. She must be one of the few – if not the only – istiki to have ever set foot in there. Even Orpheus seems to be watching her closely from the painting on the wall.
She muffles a yawn with the palm of her hand. The chairs in the makeshift waiting room – which is technically just the landing in front of Am'aari's office – look anything but comfortable, but she lets her full weight collapse atop one of them. She's exhausted. If it weren't for the nervousness of not knowing how her wife is, she would have already fallen asleep. A part of her thinks it's ridiculous. Why shouldn't she be allowed to be in the same room while Lae'zel gives birth? Especially when it's not a usual birth. The vision of Lae'zel cradling her own stomach – which at this point looks comically big and round compared to the rest of her – and holding back a grunt as she bends makes her wonder if that's what her parents' hens experience whenever they lay eggs. On the other hand, if she recalls correctly, githyanki eggs are a considerable size, much closer to an owlbear's than a chicken's. Squeezing one of those out must be excruciating.
No. She mustn't think of that. Lae'zel will be fine. Her people will take good care of her. They won't let her die. Unless they consider dying at childbirth another form of terminating the frail.
That last idea gives her chills.
Breathe in. She'll be alright. She's as tough as they come. If she's made it through the pregnancy with no complications – extreme mood swings and reckless ideas aside – she'll make it through this. She's fine. She's fine. She's fine.
The incurable wound in the back of her hand flares. It hadn't bothered her in months. Shar must have forgotten about her, after all. The pain is not as intense as it used to, merely a sting, and it doesn't come with fragments of traumatizing memories. Perhaps Selûne's wicked twin is only reminding her to embrace loss. Or feeding on her dark emotions.
Such assumptions are crossing her mind when the opening door startles her. A young gith pokes their head out.
“She is ready to see you now.”
That sounds like good news – a sign that she's still alive and conscious. Quite honestly, that's what matters most to Shadowheart. Her legs shake as she stands up and follows the doctor's apprentice inside.
Lae'zel is lying in a narrow bed, drenched in sweat. Although there are no visible traces of it, the metallic stench of blood lingers in the air, barely disguised by soap. Her wife's eyes are no more than slits, like a sleeping cat, but her face brightens as soon as she sees her. A hand reaches for Shadowheart's weakly.
“How are you feeling?” Shadowheart asks.
“Exhausted. Dazed.”
Her cheeks are flushed and her brown hair sticks to her head, damp and darkened. Shadowheart's thumb caresses Lae'zel's knuckles.
“Does it hurt?” she wonders.
“Now? It does not,” Lae'zel responds, her voice small and raspy. “I have been given some concoction to numb the pain.”
“That's good.”
Even nodding seems to be a big effort for her. Their hands still touching, Shadowheart bends down to plant a gentle kiss on Lae'zel's lips. Apparently, she doesn't have the strength to return it, but her tired smile grows wider. Ghustil Am'aari's steps approaching distract them from the conversation.
“May I speak to you for a moment, istik?”
“Her name is Shadowheart,” Lae'zel corrects.
Shadowheart can't help but grin at that. It's sweet that Lae'zel acts protective of her even in such a state. Nodding at the doctor, she squeezes her wife's hand and trails behind the healer. Once outside Am'aari pushes the heavy door closed.
“Lae'zel has laid three eggs,” she informs. “Two of them are too small, but the third one looks healthy, so the likelihood of it hatching is high. This is normal for a first-timer.”
A certain relief invades Shadowheart. She may have had a few months to mentally prepare for the possibility of more than one child, but it's still daunting. At the same time, she feels a pang of pity for the two hatchlings that will most likely never make it. How will Lae'zel feel about it once she's lucid? Will she mourn their loss? Call herself a failure for only being able to bring a single hatchling into the world? Hopefully not.
“We have decided to keep Lae'zel here until the egg hatches,” Am'aari continues. “We think it is best for her to be under observation, and for the hatchling to have its mother nearby when it arrives.”
“I understand,” Shadowheart responds. “Can I stay with her?”
“I am afraid not. As a new crèche, our resources are rather limited.”
A jolt of anxiety courses through her innards. Being separated from Lae'zel, especially in such a delicate moment, terrifies her. Not being able to comfort her when the effects of that potion wears off. To hold her when she wakes up in the middle of the night in that unfamiliar bed. To celebrate the baby's arrival with her. To hear immediately if something bad happens.
“How long will she need to stay here?”
“For as long as the egg remains unhatched. We cannot possibly know the exact timing. It may be three days or a full tenday. You may visit her if you wish to, but chances are that she will be sedated or resting, especially on the first few days.”
“Of course. Thank you, ghustil.”
Only once she's far enough from that old factory, dragging her two feet to the closest portal, does Shadowheart allow herself to shed a few bittersweet tears. Sweet with the happiness that everything went well and that she will finally meet their first child soon. Bitter with the uncertainty of how she and Lae'zel will manage without each other, even if it's only a few days.
Yuri but its toxic and they kiss about it