fic, baldur's gate: what we have is enough (skie/eldoth), 2/3
Title: What We Have Is Enough
Fandom: Baldur's Gate
Format & Word Count: Fic, 9,800 words ( part 1, part 3)
Rating: PG
Cross-posted: ff.net, AO3
Warnings: Some violence, very minor language, and discussion of a couple offscreen canonical deaths. Also, angst. And fluff, mostly of the gen variety.
Summary: Skie Silvershield may be one of the richest girls in Baldur's Gate, but that doesn't mean she gets everything she wants--because what she really wants is adventure. One way or another.
Author's Note: Additional happenings on the way back to Baldur's Gate, some of which are drawn from the NPC Project mod I used and some of which are my own rampant speculations and inventions. There is a little bit of angst at Candlekeep but this is mostly happy fluff of various kinds. Everything from here on is Skie's POV, for what it's worth.
Also, Imoen's characterization drives me nuts, because the character as portrayed in BG1 (modded, in my case, but I assume that's built on existing dialog) and the same person as shown in BG2 are...pretty different. I played BG2 first, so I'm more familiar with that Imoen and I prefer her, but there is canon, so I ended up with something sort of in the middle of the two. That may also mean my characterization of her from scene to scene is a little uneven.
30 Eleint
Going back to Baldur’s Gate. According to Sheyra, the Iron Throne are behind the recent iron shortage and we need to investigate, although if that means blending in with people who actually live in the city, I can’t imagine how we’ll manage. I have enough decent clothes in my pack to still look the part of a lady if I want to, and Dynaheir somehow picks up less dirt than anyone else, but the others look...well, like what they are: a party of adventurers, more suited to killing things in the wilderness and kicking back at a village tavern than infiltrating the largest merchants’ guild in the biggest city on the Sword Coast.
Otherwise, not a good day. Dynaheir shouted at me for practicing my trap-setting, which wasn’t at all fair because only one went off when it wasn’t supposed to and no one got hurt anyway, or at least not really. Minsc is so tough I’m pretty sure he barely felt it, and he wasn’t even limping before Sheyra healed him. I don’t see what the fuss is about-if I can’t practice these things, how am I ever going to be good enough to contribute anything? Nobody yelled at Imoen for that trick with the arrow.
“So, my love, how does it feel to be back in civilization?” Eldoth asks.
“Weird. I don’t know. I’m still all dirty-”
He taps her nose with one finger (behind him, Imoen rolls her eyes). “You have nothing to worry about. You’re still the picture of loveliness. All that adventuring just put a healthy glow in your cheeks.”
“Did it?” Skie asks, and she’s not sure why it seems to matter. She wants her time on the Sword Coast to have changed her. She wants to return to Baldur’s Gate a conquering hero. She wants everyone to know she’s killed monsters. She doesn’t want anyone to recognize her. She wants everyone to recognize her. She wants-oh, hell, she wants to be known as something more than just Duke Silvershield’s daughter.
She doesn’t want to be taken for a rich city girl or a country bumpkin who’s only suited for life as a dirty wanderer.
All right. She doesn’t know what she wants.
Eldoth looks at her a little curiously, but if he guesses at any of her thoughts, he doesn’t comment on them. “You outshine the stars, dearest love, no matter the circumstances-”
“I’m gonna puke,” Imoen says, pushing past them into the shop, where Dynaheir’s already sifting through a pile of scrolls and Sheyra’s haggling over some healing potions. Eldoth shrugs at Skie and follows the younger thief through the door, but Skie hangs back, abruptly realizing she was no idea what she’ll say if someone does recognize her-which is likely enough, if only because she’s visited Sorcerous Sundries before.
So she parks herself on a nearby bench and waits, surprised by the simple pleasure of being at rest under the warm sun with Baldur’s Gate humming around her. The clank of armored tread on cobblestone, distant sounds of hammering and shouting from the docks, the babble of conversation in at least three different languages, the shrieking laughter of children apparently trying to cover each other with mud, even the funk of a nearby sewer grate-it’s all intensely familiar and strangely alien, all at once, and she supposes it’s hard to see the city for itself until you’ve experienced something else.
Or something. She doesn’t feel like philosophy at the moment. For once, just being is enough.
She’s almost returned to the point where just being is starting to get boring when Imoen bursts out of the shop, crowing about some new toy, the others not far behind her. She bounds up to Minsc, who’s just come back from his own errand, his pack considerably less bulky without its load of ankheg shells. Imoen’s showing him something and talking so fast Skie can only make out “it explodes!” and she can’t hear Minsc’s response at all, but from the way he smiles and puts his hand a bit protectively over Boo, she can guess-anything that explodes in the face or backside of evil is good by him, but even battle-hardened hamsters are nervous around such things so could she please be careful?
(Skie is surprised by a sudden rush of fondness for the big ranger. Where did all this sentimentality come from?)
But Imoen’s excitement is irrepressible (she had, Skie reminded herself, only seen Baldur’s Gate once before, after all, and then just for a short time) and she has to show someone, and her whole face lights up when she catches sight of Skie on the bench. She practically bounces over to the other thief, swinging her quiver off her shoulder to show off whatever’s inside, and draws out one arrow with a flourish. “Look what Sheyra bought me!”
Skie takes the arrow and examines it-a bit heavier than usual, which tells her nothing, especially since she rarely practiced with enchanted arrows at home and isn’t that familiar with most of them. “Is it new? What’s it for?”
Imoen’s eyes sparkle. “It explodes, hits the target and explodes, just like a Fireball spell but the range is better and I can’t wait to try it! Can you imagine taking down a bunch of trolls with a few of these?” She hugs the quiver to her chest. “Sheyra let me pick a bunch of special arrows but this was the best, I’ve never seen anything like it before-she bought me fifty of these babies, and that ain’t cheap!”
“No kidding,” Skie says, impressed despite herself. She knows enough about Halbazzer Drin to be fairly confident the arrow won’t go off while she’s holding it, and Imoen’s right, this is a new and pretty fantastic piece of spellwork. “You could take out an entire patrol with these, from a distance, all by yourself-”
“Isn’t it the greatest?” Imoen pulls out a handful of arrows and passes them to Skie. “We got you some too-wasn’t sure what you liked so I grabbed the basics, fire, acid, piercing, you know, and some of the Arrows of Detonation too.” Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper as she adds, “I might have snagged us a nice discount on some of those.”
Apparently the younger thief’s enthusiasm is contagious, because Skie laughs with her, which feels a little strange, and thanks her, which feels stranger still.
“Okay, people,” Sheyra says when everyone’s gathered again. “Next stop, Iron Throne. It’s time we get to the bottom of this, and Imoen will you please keep those in the quiver until you’ve actually got enemies to shoot?”
“Yes, boss,” Imoen says, rolling her eyes, but she’s still hiding a smile as she tucks the arrows away, and Skie wonders abruptly what it would be like to have a sister-but that reminds her of Eddard, and she isn’t thinking about him, so she grabs her pack and brushes herself off to leave.
1 Marpenoth
Candlekeep. And here I thought my house had a good library. They must have books on everything here-Sheyra claims to have read everything here at least once, which I find hard to believe, but I suppose there’s not much else to do when you grow up in a library. It’s so quiet here, though-a few monks chanting in the garden, some animals, and that’s about it. Pretty sure I’d go crazy. No wonder Imoen turned out a little weird.
So Sheyra is one of the prophesied Bhaalspawn. Skie’s fairly sure she should have some reaction to this, or at least something more coherent than What the hell, but she’s been pretty well distracted, what with unfair imprisonment and attempts to avoid death by super-creepy doppelgangers and all. Also ghasts. And spiders. And basilisks, good gods, what kind of library has this many mazes of catacombs and cave tunnels beneath it anyway?
She spends most of their underground journey hanging back and feeling useless while Imoen scouts ahead for traps and the others handle most of the monsters. Imoen’s better at this, she has to admit, and it rankles, but she can’t really argue with it either, not after she nearly backed onto a trap and the younger thief yanked her away just in time. (It’s funny, in a way-Imoen’s just a kid and usually acts like one, but does she ever focus hen there’s a job to do. Probably explains the whole thing with the Arrow of Dispelling, actually.)
Because she’s in the back, though, it’s Skie who senses a trap just inside the doorway of a small chamber, half a second before Minsc triggers it-he’ll only brush it with the edge of one foot, but it’ll be enough. Skie darts forward and shoves him sideways, out of danger, or tries to: shoving Minsc has about as much effect as shoving a stone wall, but he notices the effort just in time and moves where she’s pushing. Skie crouches to disarm the trap and gets it after a couple tries, and Minsc is grinning at her when she straightens up. “That’s well done, little Skie, Boo could scarcely have done it better himself!”
She grins back, absurdly pleased.
They stop to rest the second time they find themselves going in circles in the catacombs and hunker down in a burial chamber that’s relatively free of decaying corpses. Skie makes herself comfortable against Eldoth’s shoulder, and he sighs a little but settles back against the wall so he won’t jostle her, and between that and Dynaheir’s smokeless little fire it’s really not too bad. (The witch even has a few herbs to burn that help with the general crypt smell.)
Minsc sits closest to the entrance, his big shadow casting a comforting barrier between the party and whatever might be outside, and aside from the movement of his fingers as he strokes Boo, he’s nearly motionless. Dynaheir begins meditating silently, eyes closed and firelight casting strange shadows on her face. Sheyra sits a little apart, barely inside the flickering circle of firelight, and after finally getting a trap set in the entranceway, Imoen joins her. They talk too quietly for Skie to hear for a few moments, and then Imoen lightly punches Sheyra’s shoulder and says, “Quit freaking out. You’ve always been, you know, the child of an evil god or whatever, doesn’t change anything now you know it. You’re still my bossy, overprotective big sister-friend.”
Sheyra raises her eyes from the fire, looks at Imoen for a moment, and finally smiles. “Bossy and overprotective, huh?”
“Also you don’t know how to have fun.”
“Please, my fun is just more intellectual than your fun.”
“’Swhat I’m saying. Except the word I’d use is ‘boring.’”
Sheyra’s laugh is quiet but real, and then she slings an arm over Imoen’s shoulder and kisses her forehead.
Imoen squawks an indignant protest, but considering she doesn’t pull away, she can’t be too bothered. “Hey now, what was that for? No mushy stuff!”
“Just glad you were nosy enough to follow me is all,” Sheyra says, still smiling. “Even if you are a little pest.”
“Hmph.” Imoen settles in next to her, sleepily adding, “Toldja you’d want looking after.” Sheyra smiles fondly down at her, running one finger through the thief’s pink hair, and something in Skie’s chest tightens. When’s the last time she’s felt that comfortable and relaxed with someone? Dora’s the closest thing she has to a mother, but with Eldoth it’s honestly hard to say, Father is so busy she hardly sees him anymore, Brilla doesn’t count, she hasn’t seen Eddard in a while-no, that leads to things she still isn’t thinking about, so she stuffs those thoughts away and focuses on the warmth of Eldoth beside her and the insides of her own eyelids until she finally sleeps.
----
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Fandom: Baldur's Gate
Format & Word Count: Fic, 9,800 words ( part 1, part 3)
Rating: PG
Cross-posted: ff.net, AO3
Warnings: Some violence, very minor language, and discussion of a couple offscreen canonical deaths. Also, angst. And fluff, mostly of the gen variety.
Summary: Skie Silvershield may be one of the richest girls in Baldur's Gate, but that doesn't mean she gets everything she wants--because what she really wants is adventure. One way or another.
Author's Note: Additional happenings on the way back to Baldur's Gate, some of which are drawn from the NPC Project mod I used and some of which are my own rampant speculations and inventions. There is a little bit of angst at Candlekeep but this is mostly happy fluff of various kinds. Everything from here on is Skie's POV, for what it's worth.
Also, Imoen's characterization drives me nuts, because the character as portrayed in BG1 (modded, in my case, but I assume that's built on existing dialog) and the same person as shown in BG2 are...pretty different. I played BG2 first, so I'm more familiar with that Imoen and I prefer her, but there is canon, so I ended up with something sort of in the middle of the two. That may also mean my characterization of her from scene to scene is a little uneven.
30 Eleint
Going back to Baldur’s Gate. According to Sheyra, the Iron Throne are behind the recent iron shortage and we need to investigate, although if that means blending in with people who actually live in the city, I can’t imagine how we’ll manage. I have enough decent clothes in my pack to still look the part of a lady if I want to, and Dynaheir somehow picks up less dirt than anyone else, but the others look...well, like what they are: a party of adventurers, more suited to killing things in the wilderness and kicking back at a village tavern than infiltrating the largest merchants’ guild in the biggest city on the Sword Coast.
Otherwise, not a good day. Dynaheir shouted at me for practicing my trap-setting, which wasn’t at all fair because only one went off when it wasn’t supposed to and no one got hurt anyway, or at least not really. Minsc is so tough I’m pretty sure he barely felt it, and he wasn’t even limping before Sheyra healed him. I don’t see what the fuss is about-if I can’t practice these things, how am I ever going to be good enough to contribute anything? Nobody yelled at Imoen for that trick with the arrow.
“So, my love, how does it feel to be back in civilization?” Eldoth asks.
“Weird. I don’t know. I’m still all dirty-”
He taps her nose with one finger (behind him, Imoen rolls her eyes). “You have nothing to worry about. You’re still the picture of loveliness. All that adventuring just put a healthy glow in your cheeks.”
“Did it?” Skie asks, and she’s not sure why it seems to matter. She wants her time on the Sword Coast to have changed her. She wants to return to Baldur’s Gate a conquering hero. She wants everyone to know she’s killed monsters. She doesn’t want anyone to recognize her. She wants everyone to recognize her. She wants-oh, hell, she wants to be known as something more than just Duke Silvershield’s daughter.
She doesn’t want to be taken for a rich city girl or a country bumpkin who’s only suited for life as a dirty wanderer.
All right. She doesn’t know what she wants.
Eldoth looks at her a little curiously, but if he guesses at any of her thoughts, he doesn’t comment on them. “You outshine the stars, dearest love, no matter the circumstances-”
“I’m gonna puke,” Imoen says, pushing past them into the shop, where Dynaheir’s already sifting through a pile of scrolls and Sheyra’s haggling over some healing potions. Eldoth shrugs at Skie and follows the younger thief through the door, but Skie hangs back, abruptly realizing she was no idea what she’ll say if someone does recognize her-which is likely enough, if only because she’s visited Sorcerous Sundries before.
So she parks herself on a nearby bench and waits, surprised by the simple pleasure of being at rest under the warm sun with Baldur’s Gate humming around her. The clank of armored tread on cobblestone, distant sounds of hammering and shouting from the docks, the babble of conversation in at least three different languages, the shrieking laughter of children apparently trying to cover each other with mud, even the funk of a nearby sewer grate-it’s all intensely familiar and strangely alien, all at once, and she supposes it’s hard to see the city for itself until you’ve experienced something else.
Or something. She doesn’t feel like philosophy at the moment. For once, just being is enough.
She’s almost returned to the point where just being is starting to get boring when Imoen bursts out of the shop, crowing about some new toy, the others not far behind her. She bounds up to Minsc, who’s just come back from his own errand, his pack considerably less bulky without its load of ankheg shells. Imoen’s showing him something and talking so fast Skie can only make out “it explodes!” and she can’t hear Minsc’s response at all, but from the way he smiles and puts his hand a bit protectively over Boo, she can guess-anything that explodes in the face or backside of evil is good by him, but even battle-hardened hamsters are nervous around such things so could she please be careful?
(Skie is surprised by a sudden rush of fondness for the big ranger. Where did all this sentimentality come from?)
But Imoen’s excitement is irrepressible (she had, Skie reminded herself, only seen Baldur’s Gate once before, after all, and then just for a short time) and she has to show someone, and her whole face lights up when she catches sight of Skie on the bench. She practically bounces over to the other thief, swinging her quiver off her shoulder to show off whatever’s inside, and draws out one arrow with a flourish. “Look what Sheyra bought me!”
Skie takes the arrow and examines it-a bit heavier than usual, which tells her nothing, especially since she rarely practiced with enchanted arrows at home and isn’t that familiar with most of them. “Is it new? What’s it for?”
Imoen’s eyes sparkle. “It explodes, hits the target and explodes, just like a Fireball spell but the range is better and I can’t wait to try it! Can you imagine taking down a bunch of trolls with a few of these?” She hugs the quiver to her chest. “Sheyra let me pick a bunch of special arrows but this was the best, I’ve never seen anything like it before-she bought me fifty of these babies, and that ain’t cheap!”
“No kidding,” Skie says, impressed despite herself. She knows enough about Halbazzer Drin to be fairly confident the arrow won’t go off while she’s holding it, and Imoen’s right, this is a new and pretty fantastic piece of spellwork. “You could take out an entire patrol with these, from a distance, all by yourself-”
“Isn’t it the greatest?” Imoen pulls out a handful of arrows and passes them to Skie. “We got you some too-wasn’t sure what you liked so I grabbed the basics, fire, acid, piercing, you know, and some of the Arrows of Detonation too.” Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper as she adds, “I might have snagged us a nice discount on some of those.”
Apparently the younger thief’s enthusiasm is contagious, because Skie laughs with her, which feels a little strange, and thanks her, which feels stranger still.
“Okay, people,” Sheyra says when everyone’s gathered again. “Next stop, Iron Throne. It’s time we get to the bottom of this, and Imoen will you please keep those in the quiver until you’ve actually got enemies to shoot?”
“Yes, boss,” Imoen says, rolling her eyes, but she’s still hiding a smile as she tucks the arrows away, and Skie wonders abruptly what it would be like to have a sister-but that reminds her of Eddard, and she isn’t thinking about him, so she grabs her pack and brushes herself off to leave.
1 Marpenoth
Candlekeep. And here I thought my house had a good library. They must have books on everything here-Sheyra claims to have read everything here at least once, which I find hard to believe, but I suppose there’s not much else to do when you grow up in a library. It’s so quiet here, though-a few monks chanting in the garden, some animals, and that’s about it. Pretty sure I’d go crazy. No wonder Imoen turned out a little weird.
So Sheyra is one of the prophesied Bhaalspawn. Skie’s fairly sure she should have some reaction to this, or at least something more coherent than What the hell, but she’s been pretty well distracted, what with unfair imprisonment and attempts to avoid death by super-creepy doppelgangers and all. Also ghasts. And spiders. And basilisks, good gods, what kind of library has this many mazes of catacombs and cave tunnels beneath it anyway?
She spends most of their underground journey hanging back and feeling useless while Imoen scouts ahead for traps and the others handle most of the monsters. Imoen’s better at this, she has to admit, and it rankles, but she can’t really argue with it either, not after she nearly backed onto a trap and the younger thief yanked her away just in time. (It’s funny, in a way-Imoen’s just a kid and usually acts like one, but does she ever focus hen there’s a job to do. Probably explains the whole thing with the Arrow of Dispelling, actually.)
Because she’s in the back, though, it’s Skie who senses a trap just inside the doorway of a small chamber, half a second before Minsc triggers it-he’ll only brush it with the edge of one foot, but it’ll be enough. Skie darts forward and shoves him sideways, out of danger, or tries to: shoving Minsc has about as much effect as shoving a stone wall, but he notices the effort just in time and moves where she’s pushing. Skie crouches to disarm the trap and gets it after a couple tries, and Minsc is grinning at her when she straightens up. “That’s well done, little Skie, Boo could scarcely have done it better himself!”
She grins back, absurdly pleased.
They stop to rest the second time they find themselves going in circles in the catacombs and hunker down in a burial chamber that’s relatively free of decaying corpses. Skie makes herself comfortable against Eldoth’s shoulder, and he sighs a little but settles back against the wall so he won’t jostle her, and between that and Dynaheir’s smokeless little fire it’s really not too bad. (The witch even has a few herbs to burn that help with the general crypt smell.)
Minsc sits closest to the entrance, his big shadow casting a comforting barrier between the party and whatever might be outside, and aside from the movement of his fingers as he strokes Boo, he’s nearly motionless. Dynaheir begins meditating silently, eyes closed and firelight casting strange shadows on her face. Sheyra sits a little apart, barely inside the flickering circle of firelight, and after finally getting a trap set in the entranceway, Imoen joins her. They talk too quietly for Skie to hear for a few moments, and then Imoen lightly punches Sheyra’s shoulder and says, “Quit freaking out. You’ve always been, you know, the child of an evil god or whatever, doesn’t change anything now you know it. You’re still my bossy, overprotective big sister-friend.”
Sheyra raises her eyes from the fire, looks at Imoen for a moment, and finally smiles. “Bossy and overprotective, huh?”
“Also you don’t know how to have fun.”
“Please, my fun is just more intellectual than your fun.”
“’Swhat I’m saying. Except the word I’d use is ‘boring.’”
Sheyra’s laugh is quiet but real, and then she slings an arm over Imoen’s shoulder and kisses her forehead.
Imoen squawks an indignant protest, but considering she doesn’t pull away, she can’t be too bothered. “Hey now, what was that for? No mushy stuff!”
“Just glad you were nosy enough to follow me is all,” Sheyra says, still smiling. “Even if you are a little pest.”
“Hmph.” Imoen settles in next to her, sleepily adding, “Toldja you’d want looking after.” Sheyra smiles fondly down at her, running one finger through the thief’s pink hair, and something in Skie’s chest tightens. When’s the last time she’s felt that comfortable and relaxed with someone? Dora’s the closest thing she has to a mother, but with Eldoth it’s honestly hard to say, Father is so busy she hardly sees him anymore, Brilla doesn’t count, she hasn’t seen Eddard in a while-no, that leads to things she still isn’t thinking about, so she stuffs those thoughts away and focuses on the warmth of Eldoth beside her and the insides of her own eyelids until she finally sleeps.
----
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