Hells yes, I do!

by dramatic_chipmunk

Summary:

After three years of being engaged, Karlach and Wyll are finally ready to tie the knot. It's not exactly what either of them pictured for their wedding day—getting married in the hells with an infernal engine for a heart isn't anyone's childhood dream—but when you're stuck in Avernus, you make the best of what you have.

Besides, all they really need is each other. Right?

Notes:

• In response to a prompt by TopoftheLighthouse in the BW3 Celebration Day 2025 collection.

Prompt from the BG3 Writer's celebration event:

Wyll and Karlach get married in the Hells! Hope officiates.
Is it a big affair with everyone invited? A spur-of-the-moment thing? How do they celebrate? Doesn't matter, but it is a moment of joy in the bleakness of Avernus.

bonus points for Wyll's insane wedding vows, I know he had drafts for years.

Author's note: Liberties were taken regarding the spending spells range and portal travelling.

 

They say one of the most important days of a woman's life is her wedding day. Karlach believed that bullshit once, when she was a small tiefling watching how her parents kissed every damn morning, how her father brought her mother flowers every tenday from the market. They'd often tell her about their small ceremony in Rivington and how neither had ever felt happier. Even through her rebellious teenage years, when she thought she knew everything, Karlach held onto the belief that she'd experience that kind of joy someday with a love of her own.

Of course, life hadn't been particularly kind to her—more like it had taken a massive dump all over her plans. She never expected her parents to die so fucking young, leaving her to fend for herself when she was barely more than a kid. She certainly didn't think that bastard Gortash would sell her to an archdevil who'd make it impossible for her to ever live a normal life again. And she definitely never imagined getting married in the godsdamn hells, in the very house where she'd smashed a devil's head in and stolen a bunch of his shit from his archives. But then again, fuck all had been ordinary in the past thirteen years, so why should this be any different?

When Wyll proposed to her with an acorn that lovely night by the Chiontar in Baldur's Gate, before the Netherbrain fight, she didn't take it seriously—even though she'd said yes with her whole chest. It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing fueled by adrenaline and the very real possibility they might all die horribly, she'd always told herself. It wasn't until one day, after they'd just eviscerated a group of imps and were once again blood-soaked and covered in ash, that her gorgeous Blade of Avernus dropped to his knees again and told her, "I don't want another day to pass without being able to call you my wife." That's when it truly hit her like a punch to the gut—she'd been engaged for three fucking years and hadn't even realized it.

And fuck if she didn't want the same. With prospects of her infernal heart being cured growing more and more improbable with each passing day, and them fighting hellish creatures to survive, why waste what time they had? She did want to call him her husband. Hehe, husband. What a funny fucking word. But she'd have one, the love of her life, no less.

Karlach looked around the bedroom, taking in the surprisingly elegant transformation Hope had managed. Curtains in ivory and blush pink draped the tall windows, filtering the hellish light into something almost gentle. The massive four-poster bed was dressed in white linens with gold embroidered trim, and delicate crystal chandeliers cast warm light across walls now painted in creamy pearl instead of Raphael's garish reds and blacks. Fresh white roses—where the hell Hope had found those in Avernus, Karlach had no idea—sat in golden vases on every surface, their sweet scent somehow managing to overpower the sulfur that usually permeated everything here. Hope really had done a magnificent job erasing all the kitsch that fucker Raphael had bestowed on this place, turning his gaudy house of horrors into something that almost felt... peaceful.

And Hope had been so damn kind, letting them stay here from time to time instead of sleeping on the burning ground. Even if they heard the occasional scream echoing through the halls in the middle of the night, having an actual bed was a luxury Karlach never took for granted. Hope had even agreed to officiate their wedding, though she did seem to space out sometimes during conversations. Not that Karlach blamed her; all those years of torture could really fuck with your head. She'd know something about that herself.

Her reflection stared back at her from the ornate mirror, and she had to admit it wasn't exactly the wedding dress of her childhood dreams. She'd scraped together what she could find—a flowing crimson gown she'd discovered in one of the wardrobes, probably left behind by some previous unfortunate guest. It was too big in some places, too tight in others, and she'd had to tie it up with whatever fabric scraps she could find. The sleeves hung loose and billowy, and the whole thing looked more like a tent than a proper dress. She gave an experimental twirl, watching the fabric swirl around her.

"Good enough," she muttered to her reflection.

It didn't matter anyway—it was only going to be the three of them, so why bother putting on a show for no one?

Her dearest Wyll had tried, oh, how desperately he'd tried to gather some of their old friends for this joyous occasion. "I will make this perfect for you, my beloved flame," he'd whisper in her ear every night. And godsdamn it if seeing the disappointment creep across his beautiful face when none of their old companions—or his father—had responded to his sending spells didn't make her already unstable heart even more volatile. Karlach didn't really blame them. Coming to Avernus for what probably seemed like a silly party was a very big ask and not exactly an easy feat. That didn't make it hurt any fucking less, though.

But no matter, she'd still enjoy every damn second of it. She was marrying the best fucking man on all the planes, and that was the only thing that truly mattered. Her and him.

So she took one more look in the mirror, squared her shoulders, and walked out of the bedroom toward the foyer.

The main hall had received the same elegant treatment as the bedroom. Cream-coloured marble floors gleamed under the light from wrought-iron candelabras, their warm glow reflecting off pale pink tapestries that Hope had somehow managed to hang where Raphael's grotesque portraits once leered down at visitors.

Wyll was already there, standing near the improvised archway where soon they'd say their vows and be married. He looked so handsome it made her infernal engine almost roar—dressed in simple dark trousers that had seen better days and a white shirt that was clean but clearly well-worn, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows in that casual way that always made her stomach do a flip. He'd managed to find a dark vest somewhere, probably scavenged from the house's previous inhabitants, and though it was a bit loose on him, he wore it with the same dignity he brought to everything. His boots were polished as best as one could in this place, and he'd even polished his horns using the method she'd taught him with oil and a cloth.

"Hey hot stuff," she called out,

Wyll turned, and his face lit up with that brilliant smile that never failed to make her heart do stupid things. He started walking toward her. “My beautiful bride." He took both her hands in his and brought them to his lips, pressing gentle kisses to her knuckles. "You are astonishing."

"Naaaaah," she tried to wave him off, but the blue flames now licking across her skin gave her blushing away completely. "You're not so bad yourself, soldier."

His smile expanded even further, if that was possible. "Are you ready to be my wife? Hope should be down any minute."

"Fuck yeah," she beamed, and felt her beloved's hands tighten around her own.

"I know this wasn't what you envisioned," he said, almost rueful. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to bring our friends to witness this occasion. You deserve so much more than—"

"Hey, it's alright, really," she interrupted, squeezing his hands. "I just need you. That's all I've ever needed."

A few moments later, Hope descended into the foyer, mumbling something under her breath that sounded like fragments of old conversations. Her eyes seemed focused on something none of them could see, her fingers worrying at the edge of her borrowed robes.

"Hope, we're ready," Wyll declared gently.

The dwarf seemed lost in whatever internal dialogue was playing out in her head, not noticing the eager couple standing before her. Her lips moved soundlessly, and she kept glancing over her shoulder as if expecting someone—or something—to appear.

"Aaaa, Hope? You okay there, mate?" Karlach inquired, trying to keep her voice light and non-threatening.

Finally, Hope's head snapped up, her eyes taking a moment to focus on the two of them. "Ah yes. Yes. Marriage. Of course." She looked around the foyer as if seeing it for the first time, then walked somewhat mechanically to the makeshift archway. "Whenever you are ready."

Karlach and Wyll exchanged one last glance and shared smile before making their way hand in hand to stand before their officiant.

"Dearly beloved—" Hope began, then halted abruptly and cleared her throat, looking embarrassed. "Dearest couple, we have gathered here today to..."

The words started to blur together in Karlach's ears as her mind wandered. This was fine, she told herself firmly. This was all she needed—just her and Wyll, making promises to each other in this beautiful space Hope had created. So what if the room was empty? So what if their friends weren't here to witness this moment? She had everything that mattered right here.

But still, she couldn't help but imagine chairs filled with familiar faces. Gale would definitely be crying happy tears already. Astarion would be making sarcastic comments to hide how moved he was and Octavia would tease him about it. Shadowheart would have that small, genuine smile she reserved for truly happy moments. Lae'zel would be confused by the whole ceremony but pleased to see them happy. And gods, how she wished her parents could be here, could see her marrying this wonderful man who somehow loved her exactly as she was...

Movement caught her eye—sparkles dancing in the far corner of the foyer, like tiny stars winking in and out of existence.

"The fuck?" she murmured, squinting at the strange lights.

"Love?" Wyll's concerned voice called her attention back. "Is everything alright? You seem far away."

"I thought I saw... never mind. Sorry, Hope. Carry on."

But as soon as the officiant continued with the ceremony, a faint chiming sound, like distant silver bells mixed with the whisper of arcane energy, began to bounce around the room.

"Okay, did you hear that?" Karlach interrupted yet again, her head swivelling toward the sound.

"Might be from outside, nothing to worry about," Wyll tried to encourage her, though his own eyes were starting to scan the room.

However, the sound was getting louder and more insistent now, accompanied by a low humming that seemed to vibrate through the very air. They both turned their heads toward the source—the far wall where Karlach had seen those strange sparkles. The air began to shimmer there, like heat waves rising from hot stone, but with an electric quality that made her skin prickle. Tiny motes of light began to dance faster, swirling in a growing circle that pulsed with magical energy.

"By Selûne, it's Raphael!" Hope screamed, stumbling backwards. "It must be him! He's back!"

"Or fucking Zariel's goons," Karlach snarled.

"We'll handle them. Just like we did with all the others," Wyll added grimly, already dropping into a battle stance.

The circle of light expanded rapidly now, crackling with yellow and red energy as reality itself seemed to tear open. The portal stabilized into a perfect oval, revealing nothing but swirling mist beyond its threshold.

"Wyll, fuck! We're unarmed! My axe is upstairs!"

"No need for brutality, darling," a familiar mellifluous voice drifted through the portal.

And then Astarion stepped through the magical gateway, resplendent in an impeccably tailored suit of rich chocolate brown with sapphire blue accents, coughing theatrically and waving away wisps of teleportation magic. He dragged Octavia after him by the hand, who looked stunning in a flowing gown of deep crimson silk shot through with golden embroidery,

"Fangs?!" Karlach marvelled, her mouth falling open.

"Tav?"

"I would say 'living and breathing,'" the vampire giggled, straightening his perfectly styled hair, "but you know, vampire biology and such."

Then, one by one, the rest of their companions began emerging from the portal like something out of a fever dream. Gale stepped through next, in a pristine purple suit and carrying what looked like a wooden box tied with ribbon. Shadowheart followed, elegant in a silver silk dress and bearing a small wrapped package. Lae'zel strode through with her usual confidence, dressed in what could only be described as formal githyanki attire.

Jaheira emerged with her ordinary no-nonsense posture, wearing deep green robes that looked far too nice for traipsing through Hell, followed immediately by Minsc, who was practically bouncing with excitement in what appeared to be his attempt at formal wear—a clean tunic and beige trousers.

"Boo insisted we dress appropriately for such a joyous occasion!" he announced cheerfully.

Finally, Fytz appeared through the portal, looking slightly green from the magical travel, holding the hand of her little daughter, who was wide-eyed with wonder and dressed in the tiniest pink formal dress Karlach had ever seen.

"Surprise, love," Fytz called out with a grin. "Hope you don't mind a few extra guests."

Karlach stood there motionless, staring at the impossible sight before her. This couldn't be real. This had to be some kind of cruel joke—maybe one of Zariel's twisted games, or hells, maybe she'd finally snapped from the heat and isolation and was hallucinating the whole fucking thing. People didn't just show up in Avernus for weddings. That wasn't how life worked. That wasn't how her life worked. Good things like this happened to other people, not to her.

The voices around her meshed into a cacophony of familiar sounds that her brain couldn't quite process. She must be dreaming. Or dying. Fuck, maybe she was finally dying and this was her brain's way of giving her one last beautiful lie before everything went dark.

"Really? No hug?"

Karlach's vision snapped back into focus. Octavia was standing right in front of her, arms spread wide, that familiar mischievous grin on her face.

Something inside her broke open—all the disbelief and shock giving way to unbridled jubilance. She launched herself at Octavia, wrapping her in a hug that probably could have cracked ribs if her friend had been anyone less sturdy.

"You're here," she sobbed into Octavia's shoulder. "You're actually fucking here."

She moved from person to person, hugging each of them perhaps a bit too tightly, as if she could somehow convince herself they were real through sheer physical contact. Gale let out a surprised "oof" when she squeezed him. Shadowheart laughed when Karlach lifted her clean off the ground. Even Lae'zel didn't protest when her enthusiastic embrace lasted longer than the githyanki usually tolerated.

"How is this possible?" Wyll asked, still shocked, as he watched his beloved reunite with their friends. "None of you responded to my sending spells."

Gale adjusted his suit after Karlach's bone-crushing hug, "Well, it wouldn't be much of a surprise if we'd revealed our intentions beforehand, would it? The very essence of surprise lies in its unexpected nature!" He cast an appraising eye around the elegant foyer, "Though I must say, while Hope has created a truly magnificent foundation here, I believe we can enhance this space to achieve the full splendour befitting such a momentous occasion. The acoustics alone suggest we could implement some rather spectacular magical flourishes." He turned to the still-startled dwarf with characteristic enthusiasm. "Hope, would you be amenable to a few... shall we say, scholarly improvements to the ambience?"

Hope blinked several times, still looking overwhelmed by the sudden influx of people. "I... yes, of course," she mumbled, wringing her hands. "Whatever you need. The house is... it's not mine anyway. Was never mine."

"Excellent," Jaheira interrupted briskly, immediately taking charge. "Gale, you handle the lighting—more candles, perhaps some of that fancy magic of yours. Fytz, see what you can do about flowers. Minsc, move those urns to create more space for dancing. Lae'zel..." She paused, considering the githyanki warrior. "Perhaps you could help arrange seating?"

"I do not understand why seating arrangements require strategic planning," Lae'zel replied flatly, "but I will ensure optimal positioning for all attendees."

As the group began to bustle around the foyer, Octavia sidled up to Karlach and took her hand. "Come on, let's get you properly dressed."

"What do you mean?" Karlach asked, looking down at her attire. "I'm already dressed."

Tav raised an eyebrow and gave her a look that was equal parts affection and exasperation. "You didn't think we'd let you get married in hand-me-downs, did you?" She tugged gently on Karlach's hand toward the stairs. "Trust me."

Meanwhile, Astarion had sauntered over to Wyll. "Same goes for you, my dear Blade." He gave Wyll a once-over, his expression shifting to one of dramatic horror. "Good gods, you look ghastly. What is this tragic ensemble supposed to be?"

Wyll laughed, a sound caught somewhere between amusement and resignation. "Thank you, Astarion. Your tact is, as always, overwhelming."

"Oh, you will thank me, darling," Astarion replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, already steering Wyll toward a different hallway. "But only after we've salvaged what's left of your dignity. Now, off we go. We have a groom to properly dress, and frankly, I'm embarrassed for all of us that you thought that outfit was wedding-appropriate."

➽──────────────❥

Wyll stood before the mirror in what had once been Raphael's guest quarters, watching as Astarion made minute adjustments to the charcoal black suit that somehow fit him as if it had been crafted specifically for his frame. The jacket was exquisite—a deep wool with subtle onyx threading, cut in the classic Baldurian style with a fitted waist and elegant tails. The waistcoat beneath was a rich burgundy satin, embroidered with intricate golden flourishes that spoke of master craftsmanship, while his shirt was crisp white linen with mother-of-pearl buttons.

As he regarded his reflection, Wyll couldn't help but marvel at the transformation. His stone eye gazed back at him with its unblinking stare, while his good eye held the warmth of a man about to marry the love of his life. The contrast between his scarred visage and the refined elegance of his attire struck him as oddly poetic—beauty and sacrifice intertwined, much like his relationship with Karlach itself.

It had been years since he'd worn anything approaching this level of finery, not since before his banishment from Baldur's Gate. While he'd grown to appreciate his practical adventurer's gear—the freedom of movement it provided, the way it served him well in battle—there was something undeniably pleasant about indulging in such refinement, particularly on what would undoubtedly be the most important day of his existence.

"I am positively appalled," Astarion declared, not looking up from where he was adjusting the fall of the jacket's sleeves, "that someone of your noble breeding would dare appear before his beloved in such a tragic ensemble as you were wearing before. The very idea makes my undead heart want to stop beating all over again."

Wyll chuckled. "I fear Avernus, unfortunately, does not boast many boutiques of quality, my fastidious friend."

"Whatever would you do without me?" Astarion replied with typical imperiousness, stepping back to examine his handiwork with a critical eye.

Wyll turned slightly, admiring the perfect fit of the trousers and the way the jacket accentuated his shoulders. As he watched Astarion kneel to make some infinitesimal adjustment to the hem, a question occurred to him. "When precisely did you learn to sew? Your skill with needle and thread is quite remarkable."

Astarion's hands stilled for just a moment before continuing their meticulous work. "Oh, I've always possessed such talents. I simply never mentioned it to our merry band of adventurers, lest you all come begging at my tent to mend every torn garment and frayed hem."

"Ah, so that explains why Tav's clothing never seemed to suffer from the inevitable tears of our adventures. I suppose it's only fair she received such special treatment."

Astarion rose to his feet and began adjusting the lapels of Wyll's jacket as they were both silent for a moment.

"Are you happy with your choice?" Wyll broke the stillness. "To forsake the sun and wander the world with Octavia?"

Astarion's lips curved into that familiar smirk, though there was something softer in his eyes than usual. "I could ask you the very same question, my dear Blade. As I observe, there's no sunlight to be found in Avernus, and considerably fewer leisurely pursuits—more fighting for one's very existence, if memory serves."

Wyll's response came without hesitation, "There is nowhere else in all the planes I would rather be, even if such a declaration sounds like madness to outside observers. Karlach is the most precious soul in my life, and I care not how long it takes to repair her heart—even should we never succeed in that endeavour, I am utterly content to remain in these infernal realms so long as she graces my side."

Astarion's smirk widened into something approaching genuine warmth. "Well then, it appears we share a similar sentiment, dear friend. Though I confess I prefer my romantic sacrifices with considerably fewer fiery pits and sulfurous fumes."

As Astarion moved to adjust his other sleeve, he glanced up with that particular expression that suggested he was about to broach a delicate subject. "Have you spoken with your father recently?"

Wyll's shoulders sagged slightly, and he released a long, weighted sigh. "Occasionally, through sending spells. Physical correspondence is rather challenging to manage from these depths. I imagine he was none too pleased to witness his son bolt directly to the hells so shortly after we'd finally achieved some measure of reconciliation and were beginning to mend our fractured relationship."

Astarion hummed noncommittally, his attention seemingly focused on the precise fall of the sleeve's fabric.

"I would have cherished the opportunity to speak with him more extensively after the Netherbrain's defeat," Wyll continued wistfully. "To regale him with tales of our adventures, to properly introduce him to Karlach and all of you who became so important to me. There was so much left unsaid between us."

Astarion's lips turned upward. "Oh, I'm quite certain you'll have that chance soon enough, darling."

Wyll pivoted to regard him with obvious confusion. "Whatever do you mean by—"

But his companion was looking past his shoulder toward the doorway. Wyll turned, following his gaze, and felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Father?"

Ulder Ravengard stood in the doorway, clad in formal attire that spoke of careful preparation for this journey. Yet despite his dignified bearing, there was an unmistakable uncertainty in his posture, as if he wasn't entirely certain of his welcome in this infernal realm.

"My son."

"I... I didn't expect you," Wyll muttered, still processing. “Truth be told, I didn't expect anyone, but least of all you."

"I cannot fault you for such surprise," Ulder answered with characteristic gravity. "Might we... could we speak privately for a moment?"

Wyll turned to his companion, who stood with arms crossed and an expression of supreme satisfaction. "Would you mind granting us a moment?"

Astarion let out a winded breath with histrionic reluctance, drawing out the word in his most dramatic fashion. "Fiiiiiine. Though I do hope this doesn't wrinkle my impeccable tailoring work." He glided toward the door with his usual feline elegance. "Do try not to get too emotional, darling. Tears would ruin the effect."

As the door closed behind the vampire, an awkward silence settled between father and son. Ulder stepped further into the room, his eyes taking in the elegant surroundings with barely concealed amazement.

"This is... quite remarkable for a dwelling in the Nine Hells," he observed. "Far more civilized than I anticipated."

"Hope—our friend who has graciously allowed us residence here—has worked tirelessly to transform this place," Wyll replied, adjusting his cufflinks. "She's endured more than any soul should bear, yet still finds the strength to create beauty from ash."

"And you? How do you fare in this realm? I confess I've lost countless nights wondering about your welfare."

"As well as can be expected, given the circumstances. The battles are frequent, but manageable. Karlach and I have found our rhythm in this harsh landscape." Wyll's voice grew stronger as he spoke of his beloved. "We protect each other. We've built something meaningful here, despite everything working against us."

Ulder nodded slowly, then cleared his throat. "When your... exceedingly verbose friend reached out to inform me of today's celebration, I must admit I wasn't certain I would be welcomed. Our parting was rather abrupt, and I feared my presence might cast a shadow over what should be your most joyous day."

"Father," Wyll stepped closer. "Of course, you are welcome. I wished desperately for you to witness this moment, but I wasn't certain you would wish to come, given how hastily I departed. We never truly had the opportunity to repair what was broken between us."

"My son, we have indeed lost precious time, and that burden rests squarely upon my shoulders. While I cannot reclaim those years we spent estranged, I want you to know how immensely proud I am of the man you've become. Your choice to remain by the side of those you cherish, even in the face of impossible odds, speaks to a nobility of character that far surpasses anything I could have taught you."

He let out a sigh. "If I had been given the choice, I would have forsaken every duty, every responsibility, to spend more time with your mother before she was taken from us. She would be so very proud of what you've become, Wyll. So very proud."

Wyll felt his throat tighten. "I carry the stories you've told me of her with me always, Father. And your teachings as well. Even in my darkest moments in this realm, the lessons you taught me about honour, about protecting those who cannot protect themselves, have guided every choice I've made."

"She had such dreams for you," Ulder continued. "Even in those brief hours after your birth, before... she spoke of the kind of man she hoped you'd become. A hero, but one who never lost his compassion." He cleared his throat, seeming to shake off the melancholy. "And it seems her hopes were more than fulfilled."

"I'm grateful you're here today, on behalf of Mother, too." Wyll said, "It means more than I can express."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," Ulder replied warmly. "Tell me about Karlach. I want to know what captures your heart so completely. I confess I'd rather not make an utter fool of myself when I become father-in-law to this remarkable woman who stole my son's heart."

Wyll's face transformed, radiance spreading across his features. "Where do I even begin? Karlach is... she's like wildfire given form, Father. Fierce and passionate and without pretense. She speaks her mind with refreshing honesty, peppers her speech with colourful language that would make a sailor blush, and possesses the most generous heart I've ever encountered."

He began to pace, his gestures becoming more animated as he spoke. "She does this charming little dance when she’s restless, throws her entire being into every emotion she feels, and has this way of finding joy in the smallest things despite everything she's endured. She was betrayed by someone she trusted, sold into literal slavery, and yet she still believes in the goodness of people. She makes me laugh until my sides ache, and when she looks at me, Father, she sees not the Blade of Frontiers or Duke Ravengard's son, but simply Wyll—scarred and flawed and entirely human. And somehow, inexplicably, she loves that man completely."

Ulder listened with a growing smile, "She sounds extraordinary."

"She is," Wyll said with absolute conviction. "She's taught me that love isn't the gentle, predictable thing I once imagined, but something wild and fierce and transformative. She's my dearest friend, my greatest adventure, my home."

Ulder was quiet for a long moment, then stepped forward once more. "Wyll, if you would permit me, I would very much like to begin anew. To stand by your side as you declare your love to my future daughter-in-law, and to be the father you deserve from this day forward."

Wyll's smile could have outshone the very stars. "Father, I would love nothing more."

➽──────────────❥

Karlach found herself standing in the middle of the bedroom as Octavia and Shadowheart were bustling around her with a dress that looked like it had been plucked straight from the finest boutiques of the Upper City. She couldn't wrap her head around how the fuck any of this was happening.

"Where the hell did you even get this?" she ran her fingers over the midnight blue dress in absolute wonder. The fabric seemed to shift and shimmer in the candlelight, like captured starlight woven into cloth. Delicate silver embroidery traced intricate patterns along the bodice, and there was even a veil—an actual fucking veil.

"Baldur's Gate, obviously," Shadowheart grinned, carefully adjusting the way the dress fell around Karlach's hips. "You didn't think we'd let you get married without suitable attire, did you?"

"You fucking planned this whole thing?"

Octavia smiled as she worked on the intricate lacing at the back. "Astarion was particularly insistent about both your outfits. He said, and I quote—" she cleared her throat and adopted an exaggerated posh accent, "—'If we're going through all this effort to orchestrate the most romantic surprise in the history of the planes, the marrying couple had better look divine, darling. I refuse to be associated with anything less than perfection.'"

From her spot near the window, Lae'zel watched in what seemed to be confusion. "I do not understand these istik customs. Why must one wear special garments to declare partnership? Does this fabric somehow strengthen the bond?"

"It's about ceremony, Lae'zel," Octavia explained cheerfully, securing the last of the dress fastenings. "About marking the moment as special. Different from everyday life."

"Hmm." Lae'zel tilted her head. "Githyanki simply announce their intent and proceed with practical matters. But it appears these romantic endeavours have considerably softened the vampire. Most curious."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Shadowheart laughed, not looking up from where she was adjusting the skirt. "He'd probably challenge you to a duel to defend his reputation."

Karlach snorted. "Knowing those two, they'll probably be the next ones getting married. What do you think, Tav?"

Octavia just hummed, though Karlach caught something flickering in her expression—something secretive and pleased. "Are you happy, Lach?" she asked, deftly changing the subject. "How has it been, being back here?"

"I mean, I didn't want to come back to this hellhole, that's for fucking sure. But I'm not alone this time, you know? I've got Wyll, and he's... gods. I love him so much it sometimes feels like my chest might explode from something other than infernal machinery. He chose to come here with me. He could have stayed in Baldur's Gate, could have had his whole life back, but he chose me instead. Chose this burning wasteland because I was here."

She paused, her expression growing uncertain. "I just... sometimes I worry that Wyll will get bored of this place. Of me. I mean, he's used to adventure and excitement, and here we are just... surviving. Fighting the same demons every day, sleeping on the ground, eating whatever we can scavenge. What if he decides he can't take it anymore? What if he realizes he made a mistake choosing me over his old life?"

"Are you completely insane?" Octavia rebutted, staring at her like she'd grown a second horn. "How could anyone get bored of you? Do you not remember the tadpole days? You literally punched a goblin off a cliff because he was being rude to Gale. You once spent an entire evening teaching Scratch how to play fetch with a flaming stick. You made us all laugh until we cried when you tried to seduce that zombie near the House of Healing."

"And let's not forget how you convinced the Blushing Mermaid to let you host an arm-wrestling tournament," Shadowheart added with a grin. "Or the time you challenged that abomination of a bartender in the Shadow Curse Land to a drinking contest and somehow won. Karlach, you make everything an adventure."

Lae'zel snorted from her position by the window. "The human hero gazes upon you as if you hung the very stars in the sky. His devotion borders on the obsessive. I have witnessed warriors pray to their gods with less reverence than he shows when simply speaking your name."

Karlach felt her engine flare brighter. "Fuck, you guys are going to make me cry before I even get to the altar."

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing the elegant woman staring back at her. "I haven't given up hope, you know? That someday we'll find a way to fix this piece of shit heart of mine, and we'll come banging on all your doors demanding dinner and drinks and to hear about all your adventures. I'm not letting the hells keep me forever."

Octavia smiled from behind her. "I look forward to that day more than you know."

Fytz approached with her little daughter toddling beside her. "Well now, look at you, love. Proper beautiful, you are."

The child tugged on Karlach's dress and looked up with wide eyes. "You look like a princess!"

"Do I now, little one?"

"Aye, like the ones in the stories," Fytz nodded approvingly. "Your mum and pop would be so proud to see you like this."

Karlach's expression grew nostalgic. "I always imagined... you know, when I was little, I thought they'd be the ones to walk me down the aisle someday. Stupid kid dreams, but..."

"Not stupid at all," Shadowheart countered, stepping forward with a delicate silver chain adorned with tiny gems. "They would be proud. May I?" she asked, gesturing toward her horn.

The tiefling nodded, watching in the mirror as her companion embellished her single horn with silver star-studded jewellery.

"There," Octavia stepped back, hands on her hips. "Now look at yourself."

Karlach turned to face the full-length mirror once more and gasped. The woman staring back at her was still unmistakably herself, but transformed into something she'd never thought possible. The midnight blue dress hugged her figure perfectly, the silver embroidery looking like constellations across her skin. The veil framed her face, and the jewellery in her horn made her appear like some celestial being who'd descended from the heavens instead of a tiefling stuck in hell.

"Fuck me," she whispered, "I actually look... I look beautiful. Like, properly beautiful. Not just 'pretty for a tiefling' or 'nice despite the horns' but actually, genuinely gorgeous."

"You do," Shadowheart agreed warmly.

"Absolutely stunning," Octavia added with satisfaction.

Just then, familiar voices approached from the hallway.

"...and I am telling you, Minsc, you cannot bring Boo to officiate the ceremony."

"But Jaheira! Boo has excellent judgment in matters of the heart!"

Jaheira appeared in the doorway, followed by Minsc, and she stopped short when she saw Karlach.

"Well now," she declared with a smile, "don't you clean up nicely.”

Karlach felt tears prick at her eyes, probably about to ruin whatever makeup Shadowheart had managed to apply. "Thanks, Jaheira. That’s something my mum would say too."

"Cub, if you would allow it... Minsc and I would like to walk you to your groom. To give you away, as they say."

"Are you serious? Jaheira and Minsc giving me away at my wedding? What the fuck kind of beautiful madness is this?"

Minsc puffed out his chest proudly. "Boo says he would be most honoured to walk the bride! Though Jaheira says he must ride in my pocket and not on the bride's shoulder. Boo is disappointed but understands the importance of proper wedding etiquette."

Karlach let out a laugh that was half-sob, half-joy. "You know what? Fuck it. Yes. Absolutely yes. Let's do this thing."

➽──────────────❥

Karlach stepped into the foyer and had to suppress a squeal of delight. The space had been completely transformed into something that belonged in a fairy tale. The ceiling now shimmered with what looked like a perfect starry night sky, constellations twinkling and moving gently. Hundreds of floating candles drifted through the air above them.

The floor was scattered with rose petals in shades of cream and pink, creating a pathway that led to the archway that was now absolutely drowning in flowers—white peonies, red roses, and trailing jasmine that filled the air with the most incredible fragrance.

Even the furniture had been rearranged and covered in eggshell-coloured silk, creating an intimate seating area for their guests. It was elegant, romantic, and absolutely magical—everything a wedding should be.

Karlach pinched a bit of skin on her arm hard between her thumb and index finger.

"Ow!" she hissed, then her grin widened. "Yup, not fucking dreaming."

That's when she spotted Ulder a bit further away, standing near one of the walls while Gale gesticulated enthusiastically beside him. The wizard was clearly in full explanation mode about something—probably the magical elements of the decoration—while the duke nodded politely and tried to keep up with the rapid-fire academic commentary.

And suddenly, reality crashed over her like a bucket of ice water.

Oh shit. Oh fuck. She was about to become the daughter-in-law of actual nobility. What if when they got back to Baldur's Gate, she'd have to attend fancy balls and dinner parties? What if there were multiple forks and she had to know which one to use for what course? What if she had to make small talk with other nobles about politics and trade agreements and all that upper-class bullshit she knew nothing about? What if she embarrassed Wyll at some fancy function by saying "fuck" in front of a duchess or something equally mortifying?

Ulder looked up from Gale's enthusiastic lecture, and their eyes met. He started walking toward her with that dignified stride that screamed "important person," and Karlach's panic ratcheted up to eleven.

Okay, play it cool. He's just Wyll's dad. Just a duke. Just one of the most powerful men in Baldur's Gate. No pressure. Don't say anything stupid. Don't swear. Definitely don't mention that time you punched a devil in the face. Just be normal. Whatever the fuck normal is.

"You look radiant,” Ulder said warmly as he approached.

"Uh, thanks, Dad. I mean Duke. I mean Sir..." Karlach mumbled, then breathed to the side, "Fuck." She immediately straightened up. "Sorry! Sorry for the cursing. I'm just nervous as hells—I mean, nervous as... very nervous. But I'm really glad you could make it."

The Duke’s smile expanded. "I remember how nervous Francesca was on our wedding day. She was convinced she was going to trip walking down the aisle, or forget her vows, or somehow set the cathedral on fire with her anxiety. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, nerves and all."

"She sounds wonderful. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to meet her."

"She would have adored you. She had no patience for pretense or formality. She would have appreciated your honesty and your fierce loyalty to my son."

Before Karlach could respond, Jaheira's voice cut through the ambient chatter. "Are we ready for this ceremony? The groom is vibrating with anticipation."

Ulder chuckled. "I suppose that's my cue. See you up there, my dear daughter-in-law."

As he walked toward the archway, Octavia suddenly swooped in beside Karlach, pressing a gorgeous bouquet of white roses and baby's breath into her hands.

"Don't forget this," she smirked. "Can't have a wedding without the bride's bouquet."

And then Jaheira and Minsc appeared on either side of her, each looping an arm through hers ceremoniously.

"Ready?" Jaheira asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question.

"Boo says this is the most important walk of your life!" Minsc declared. "Well, second most important. The most important was when you walked away from Zariel's service, but this one is much more fun!"

When they began their procession down the petal-strewn aisle, the most beautiful music began to drift through the air—piano and violin weaving together in a susurrous melody that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Karlach didn't have time to figure out the source because all her attention was completely captured by the sight of her man standing at the altar.

Wyll looked absolutely magnificent. The black suit fit him perfectly, emphasizing his lean frame. But it was his smile that made her heart hollar—that same brilliant, earnest expression she'd fallen in love with all those years ago, though somehow even more beautiful now. He looked nervous, yes, but proud and happy and so fucking gorgeous.

Jaheira released Karlach's arm when they reached the altar and turned to Wyll with that particular look she reserved for moments of importance.

"Take care of her. She deserves all the happiness in the world."

Minsc stepped forward as well "And remember, my friend—Boo and Minsc will always be watching! But in a good way, not a creepy way. We are very happy for you both, and if you ever need someone to punch devils for interrupting your romantic dinners, you know who to summon."

"I intend to spend my life ensuring she has it," Wyll replied solemnly to Jaheira, then turned to Minsc with genuine warmth. "And I'm honoured to have such fierce friends looking out for us."

Both stepped back to join the other guests, and as Wyll took Karlach's hands in his, she leaned in close and whispered, "You look so fucking good I might just combust right here."

"So do you, my sparkling flame. So beautiful it takes my breath away."

Hope presented herself, looking more composed than she had earlier, though her hands still trembled as she opened the small book she'd been carrying.

"Friends, companions, chosen family," the officiant began, "we gather here today in the most unlikely of places to witness the most beautiful of unions. Love has brought us all together—not just the happy couple, but all of us, bound by shared trials and unbreakable bonds."

She paused, her voice gaining strength. "Wyll and Karlach, you have already proven your devotion to one another in the most extreme circumstances. You have chosen each other over comfort, over safety, over the easier path. Today, you formalize what your hearts have long known—that you are stronger together than apart, that your love can weather any storm, even the literal fires of the hells."

Wait a minute. This sounded oddly familiar. The cadence, the perfectly structured sentences, the slightly academic tone... Karlach's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Did Gale write this? She turned her head slightly and caught sight of the wizard standing with their friends, his lips moving silently in perfect synchronization with Hope's words. Of course he did. The man couldn't resist helping with anything that involved words.

She turned her attention back to Hope, fighting a grin as the ceremony continued.

"Marriage is not just a declaration of love, but a promise of partnership. It is choosing, every day, to stand by each other's side. To share in joy and sorrow, in triumph and struggle, in the mundane moments and the extraordinary ones."

She looked directly at each of them in turn. "Do you, Wyll, and do you, Karlach, come here freely and without reservation, ready to pledge your hearts and lives to one another?"

"We do," they said in unison.

"Then please, share with us the vows you have prepared."

"Karlach," Wyll started. "When I was seventeen, I fancied myself a poet. I penned sonnets to imaginary maidens, crafting verses about devotion as delicate as spring blossoms and love as predictable as the turning of seasons. I thought romance was a gentle waltz, a courtly dance of whispered endearments and stolen glances. Nothing in those gilded fantasies prepared me for the tempest that is loving you.”

He took a deeper breath.

"I was sent to hunt you down like a common criminal, to silence your heart without question or mercy. But the moment I beheld you, not as quarry but as the magnificent soul you are, I knew I could never raise a blade against you. Not merely because you were innocent, but because in that instant, something divine sparked between us. Even when fate had cast us as hunter and hunted, I felt that sacred recognition, as if my soul had been wandering through darkness and finally found its twin flame.

You are my dearest friend, my most cherished companion. You are the keeper of my ridiculous musings, the audience for my every foolish thought, the one whose laughter I crave like sunshine after endless rain. You make me want to be the hero of my own story — braver than my fears, kinder than my nature, more honest than propriety ever taught me to be.

I am utterly enchanted by the way you throw your whole being into joy, how your enthusiasm spills over like wine from an overfilled cup. I treasure the songs you hum without knowing — little melodies that float around you like invisible butterflies. I am moved to tears by how you used to weep at sunsets and celebrate dawns, finding wonder in both endings and beginnings despite having your heart forged in the very crucible of war.

The way you call me ‘soldier’ but make it sound like the sweetest endearment ever whispered between lovers. How you've never once mocked my grand declarations or flowery proclamations, but instead meet them with your own fierce, blazing honesty that puts my practiced words to shame.

Here we stand in the very bowels of hell, surrounded by all that sought to destroy us, all that still conspires to steal our dreams of tomorrow. But Karlach, my beloved flame, I would choose this realm a thousand times over if it meant choosing you. In any plane of existence, under any star, through any trial — I choose you. Whether we break the curse of your heart tomorrow or spend decades searching for the cure, whether our home is Avernus or the Feywild or the humblest cottage in Baldur's Gate, I want to build that life with you.

You are the poem I never knew how to write, the song I never knew how to sing, the answer to every question my heart ever asked. And I swear to you this — I will love you with every breath in my body, every beat of my heart, every moment we are granted in this life or any other. Until the stars fall from the sky and the gods themselves forget their names, my darling, my love, my sparkling Karlach."

He folded the parchment with shaking hands. "I love you."

From the crowd, a suspiciously dainty sniffle could be heard. Astarion whipped his head away with all the grace of a tragic stage actor, suddenly riveted by some imaginary point on the hellish horizon, while discreetly wiping at his eyes.

"Are you crying?" Octavia whispered in his ear.

"Perish the thought," Astarion replied immediately, his voice carrying that familiar haughty tone even as he blinked rapidly. "I simply have... infernal dust in my eyes. The air quality here is atrocious, darling."

She slipped her hand into his, biting down on a grin. "Oh yes. Hazardous levels of feelings in the atmosphere"

The vampire’s fingers immediately laced through hers, his grip perhaps a bit tighter than necessary. "Good thinking, my sweet, in case you get too emotional. Wouldn't want you swooning into the brimstone."

"You're starting to look more like the wizard," Jaheira's amused voice came from behind him.

Astarion turned to snap something scathing her way, but his retort died on his lips when he caught sight of Gale to his left.

Oh no.

His companion was absolutely gone—a complete puddle of happy tears with a blotchy and wet face as he gazed at the ceremony with the kind of dopey, blissful expression one might reserve for witnessing a miracle. His brown eyes were bright and shining, mesmerized by the romantic display, occasionally letting out little sighs of contentment between sniffles.

Astarion felt his own chest tighten unexpectedly at the sight, but mostly he recoiled in horror. Gods, was that what he looked like? All dewy-eyed and sentimental? The very thought made him want to flee to the nearest shadowy corner. He turned back to face the ceremony with renewed determination, his hand still firmly clasped in Octavia's.

"Well, at least I have some shred of dignity."

Hope turned to Karlach with a warm smile. "And now, your vows."

Karlach was already crying — big, messy tears streaming down her face as she stared at Wyll in complete wonder. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and let out a shaky laugh.

"Fuck. How the hells am I supposed to top that? That was... Bhaal’s bloody balls, Wyll, that was beautiful."

She inhaled deeply. "Right, okay. Here goes nothing.

"When I was a kid, before my parents died, my mum used to tell me stories about knights in shining armour—brave heroes who'd ride up on white horses and save the day. And I'd always roll my eyes because that seemed like such bullshit, you know? Life doesn't work that way.

Then Gortash happened. That bastard — may Bane take him and drag him through the Nine Hells backwards — he made me believe I mattered to someone. I was important, and then he sold me, as if I were just another piece of equipment to be traded away.

Ten fucking years in this hellscape, thinking I'd never see another soul who gave a damn about me. I thought I'd die alone, forgotten, with nothing but rage and regret for company. I hoped — gods, I always hoped — that maybe someday I'd find my way back to something real. But hoping and believing? Those are two very different things.

Then you showed up—you and all our crazy friends. And unexpectedly I wasn't alone anymore. But even then, I never imagined... Shit, Wyll, not even my wildest dreams prepared me for this. For you. I hoped for survival, maybe even friendship, but this? This love that makes me feel like I could take on Zariel herself with my bare hands? The reality is so much better than anything I dared to dream.

"You want to know what gets me about you? You're the most selfless bastard I've ever met. You literally got cursed with horns because of me — because you chose me over some devil's bargain. You taught me how to dance without stepping on your feet, how to cook a proper mutton chop without burning it to ash. You listen to every stupid rambling thought that pops into my head like it's the most important thing in the world.

"And then — and this is the part that gets me — when you offered to come back to this burning shithole with me. You just packed your bags and followed me straight into Hell. Not because you had to, but because you wanted to be with me. Even here. Even in the worst place in existence.

"So here's what I promise you, my beautiful, ridiculous, poetry—spouting soldier: I'm going to love you with everything I've got. Every beat of this infernal heart, every breath in my body, every day we get together. Whether we're in Avernus or back home or anywhere in between. You're stuck with me, Wyll Ravengard, and I'm never letting you go."

Hope continued with a broad smile. "By the power vested in me by... well, by the fact that we're in the middle of Hell and I'm the only one here qualified to do this," she said with a watery laugh, "and witnessed by the love and friendship that surrounds you both, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Wyll, you may kiss your bride."

The moment their lips met, Karlach's flames blazed brilliant blue—not the angry orange-red of her usual fire, but the pure, joyful azure that only appeared when she was truly, completely happy. The blue light danced across her skin like liquid starlight, illuminating both their faces as they kissed with all the passion and love they'd been holding back during the ceremony.

As they finally broke apart, still glowing blue with happiness, Wyll rested his forehead against hers.

"Hello, Mrs. Ravengard."

"Hello, husband," she whispered back, her grin so wide it almost hurt. "How's married life treating you so far?"

"Like the greatest adventure I've ever embarked upon," he swooned, before pulling her in for another kiss as their friends cheered around them.

➽──────────────❥

Karlach lay sprawled across the sheets that had somehow survived their enthusiastic celebration of married life, one arm draped around Wyll's shoulders, his head resting on her chest. Her flames still flickered with the cerulean glow of complete contentment, and she'd never felt more perfectly, blissfully happy.

"Fuck me," she murmured, pressing kisses to the top of his head. "That was... that was incredible. All of it. The wedding, our friends showing up, the party after, and this..." She gestured vaguely at their naked, intertwined forms. "Mrs. Ravengard is having a very good day."

Wyll chuckled, his fingers tracing tender patterns along her ribs. "Mrs. Ravengard," he repeated. "I don't think I'll ever tire of hearing that. And yes, it was perfect. When I saw that portal open and Astarion step through..."

"I thought I was hallucinating," Karlach laughed. "Like, genuinely thought I'd finally cracked from the heat and was seeing things. And then the whole night just got more ridiculous from there. Did you see Gale trying to teach your father that card game?"

"The one that ended with Father owing him three bottles of wine and a promise to attend one of his lectures?" Wyll grinned. "I don't think I've ever seen my father laugh that hard. And Minsc attempting to dance with Lae'zel..."

"She genuinely smiled when he spun her around. I got a picture burned into my memory forever." Karlach's expression grew fond. "And Astarion getting tipsy on that blood wine and doing dramatic reenactments of fake wedding vows to Octavia while she pretended to be embarrassed."

"Pretended being the operative word," Wyll said. "She was loving every second of it. Though I think my favourite moment was when Hope finally relaxed enough to enjoy herself. Seeing her laugh at Fytz's stories..."

"That woman deserves every bit of happiness," Karlach agreed. "And watching little Mira teach everyone that clapping game while you and I snuck away for our 'private celebration'..." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

They stayed in comfortable silence for a moment, just breathing together, still awestruck at the reality of being freshly wed, of having their chosen family there to witness it.

"How are you feeling?" Wyll inquired. "It's been quite an overwhelming day."

Karlach considered the question seriously, taking inventory of her emotions. "Happy. Like, stupidly happy. A little overwhelmed, yeah, but in the best way. And grateful. So fucking grateful that they all came, that you're here, that we get to have this."How about you? Any regrets about marrying a foul-mouthed tiefling in the middle of Avernus?"

"None whatsoever," he replied immediately, bestowing another kiss on her lips. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life. You are the best decision I've ever made, Karlach Ravengard."

"Gods, I love the sound of that."

Wyll reached over to the bedside table where a rolled parchment lay tied with a golden ribbon. "Speaking of our friends, would you like to see what everyone wrote on the memory scroll? I haven't looked yet—thought we should read it together."

"Oh fuck yes," Karlach beamed, sitting up. "I completely forgot about that in all the... celebration." She gestured meaningfully at their rumpled bed.

Wyll carefully untied the ribbon and unrolled the parchment.

 

“Darlings, congratulations on your utterly nauseating display of true love. Watching the two of you be disgustingly happy together almost makes me believe in marriage again. Wyll, you've found yourself a treasure—don't you dare let anyone convince you otherwise. Karlach, try not to set him on fire during your more... passionate moments. We'd like him back in one piece. Here's to a lifetime of adventures that hopefully involve fewer life-threatening situations and more proper wine. Though I suppose if you need relationship advice, Octavia and I are becoming quite the experts on 'making it work against all odds.' —A (P.S. You're welcome for the impeccable styling. I expect my fashion consultation fee in the form of fine vintages when you return.)”

“My dearest friends, witnessing your union today filled my heart with such joy that I fear I may have embarrassed myself with the sheer volume of happy tears shed. In honour of this most auspicious occasion, I offer these humble verses:

Two hearts that beat as one in time,
Through hellfire, shadow, pain, and strife,
Where love transforms the most sublime,
A warrior's heart, a hero's life.

From hunter's blade to lover's kiss,
From solitude to sacred bond,
In you we see what poets miss,
That love makes souls grow far beyond.

May starlight guide your every step,
May laughter fill your darkest hours,
And when the world would make you weep,
May you find strength in love's bright powers.

—Gale of Waterdeep (who definitely did not help write Hope's ceremony speech, and anyone who says otherwise is clearly mistaken)"

"Karlach and Wyll, you've shown us all what it means to choose love even when the world seems determined to tear it away. Your strength, your joy, your ridiculous optimism in the face of literal hells is inspiring. May you always find light in each other, even in the darkest places. —Shadowheart (P.S. Karlach, you looked absolutely stunning. The blue flames during the kiss were magical.)"

"Your bond has proven stronger than any weapon I have wielded. This is a victory worth celebrating. May you continue to fight side by side and emerge victorious in all battles, great and small. —Lae'zel"

"Boo and Minsc are very happy for you both! Boo says your love is like a mighty oak tree—strong enough to weather any storm, with roots that grow deeper each day. Minsc says this is very wise, even for a hamster. May your adventures together be filled with righteous victories and excellent snacks! —Minsc and Boo"

"Cubs, you have found in each other what many spend lifetimes searching for. Treasure it, nurture it, and let it grow wild and strong. The world needs more love like yours. —Jaheira"

“To my son and daughter-in-law: May your marriage be blessed with the strength to weather any storm, the wisdom to grow together rather than apart, and the joy that comes from building a life with your truest friend. Welcome to the family, Karlach. —Ulder Ravengard"

“I'm still crying happy tears as I write this! You two are absolute perfection together and watching you get married was one of the most beautiful things I've ever witnessed. Karlach, you deserve every bit of happiness in all the planes, and Wyll, you better spend every day making sure she knows how amazing she is (though I know you will). I wish you a lifetime of adventures, laughter, and the kind of love that makes everyone around you believe in fairy tales again. Speaking of fairy tales, some of us are starting to understand what all the fuss is about. Thank you for showing us what real love looks like. I can't wait to visit you both when you make it back to the Gate! —Octavia XOXO (P.S. Yes, Astarion was crying during your vows, don’t ever let him live that down)”

"Love, you looked like a proper princess today, just like my little one said. Your parents would be so proud. Here's to happiness and hope, and may you both always find your way home to each other. —Fytz (and little Mira, who insists on adding her own drawing)"

"Thank you for letting me be part of something so beautiful. Your love gives me hope that there is still magic and wonder in this world. May you always be each other's safe harbour. —Hope"

 

Karlach wiped her eyes, laughing through happy tears. "Fuck, they're going to make me cry again. This is... this is perfect."

Wyll rolled the scroll back up gently, setting it aside before pulling her back into his arms. "We're fortunate, aren't we? To have found each other, and to have such extraordinary friends."

"The luckiest," Karlach agreed, settling back on the pillows. "Mrs. Ravengard and her very fancy husband, loved by the best people in all the realms."

"I love you, my sparkling wife."

"I love you, too, husband. Now and always."

Notes:

Thank you so much for taking the time to read! ❤️

 

You can also find me on Tumblr!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of WildBlood Adventures