#It's a Nice Day for a Ranger Wedding | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tanoraqui · 2 months

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queenship under siege and there's a WHAT in this mountain?! (LotR)

[re: badly described WIPs fics I almost certainly will never actually write - in the lead with 17.5% of the vote as of midnight 3/3/24]

I know I’ve said this before, because I do love it so, but:

The only reason, the ONLY reason, I would ever want the Arkenstone to be a Silmaril is this: the day after Aragorn leaves Rivendell with the Fellowship, Elrond summons Arwen to his study and bids her to go to Erebor.

"What?" she demands. "Surely I am needed here, or out in the wilds, marshaling the Rangers - "

"Your brothers will manage that, after they escort you," her father insists. "You must go to Erebor, and ask Dain to let you open Thorin's tomb, that you may look upon the Arkenstone. Gloin will help you - I spoke with him ere he left. Don't let anyone else know your purpose - as far as the world is concerned, I am sending my only daughter to a safe stronghold until Mordor is defeated."

"Are you not?" she cries. But he will explain no more than, "I think the jewel may be important to our oncoming war, but I wish you to assess it unbiased" - and he gives her two letters to read only once she's made her own judgement of the jewel.

So Arwen goes. The Misty Mountains are crawling with orcs, but in cloaks woven by their grandmother, she and her brothers slip through with only a few close calls. Elrohir and Elladan don't know why she's going even a little, save that their father bade it and (he said) their grandmother supported it. The problem with having Elrond for a father and Galadriel for a grandmother is that, while technically they may each be wrong at times (allegedly), in agreement they never are.

It's nice to have what may be one last journey with her brothers, at least. All three of them know that Elladan and Elrohir will soon be in battle alongside their cousins the Dúnedain, and for all Erebor's strength, it will soon be under attack. Rivendell might soon be under attack. Lothlórien might soon be under attack.

The twins leave almost as soon as the three of them arrive; they have other work to do. Dain barely protests letting Arwen mildly exhume his cousin in order to assess the famous jewel - he doesn't quite like letting an elf(ish person) near the Heart of the Mountain, but he is very worried about the black-armored army lurking across the River Carnen, and respects the wisdom of Elrond and his immediate kin.

Arwen sees the Arkenstone sitting calmly in the hands of of the fallen king, and she sees it clutched in the burning hand of a no-longer-king, fallen free from a twisted iron crown, stolen over a king's bloody body, hallowed by a Queen, forged in a fire like the world never saw again... It glows softly; its light matches that of the small crystal that hangs around her neck now, one of a set of three.

[Here me out: Galadriel made three: one for Celebrian and Elrond as a wedding gift, jointly from herself and Eärendil; one for thw twins upon their birth, and one for Arwen upon hers. Celebrian left hers behind when she Sailed; Galadriel gives it to Frodo.]

The letters are from Elrond and Galadriel, respectively. They say much the same thing:

I'm so sorry to spring this on you, and to make you a guardian of this secret

If the Ringbearer's quest fails and the Enemy regains his full power, please take the jewel (as freely giving by the dwarves if at all possible) and use it however you can to save everyone and everything that you can. (Elrond's says, "My parents will help as much as they can. Do not hesitate to ask for their or any other aid." Galadriel's says, "If you seek Undying Shores with mortals in tow, for succor or for more active aid, hold the Jewel high and beseech first Ulmo and his spirits, and then every single kin-relation you have, no matter the connection. Once you rouse the general populace, then approach the Valar - though don't appear to delay.)

Galadriel's says, "Círdan knows to potentially expect you." Elrond wrote, "If you see your mother before I do", stopped there and blotted it out.

Neither of them needs to say, We will hold the line, to buy you as much time as we can. Both say "I love you", "I'm sorry", and variations on, "I know you can do this."

Arwen made the Choice of Elros several decades ago: to live among Men as a Man, to take up queenship of a people at the start of a new Age of the World and rule until most of those she loved most had passed and it was time to follow as a Man. Now she faces the Choice of Elwing: to leave most of those she loved the most for dead and flee with Silmaril in hand and only the hope of the impossible to save a doomed continent.

(Or, if she was optimistic, the Choice of Lúthien: to face down the Lord of Death and demand back one single most beloved [for Aragorn could not live while Sauron triumphed], and steal him away for many peaceful decades ere doom fell entirely, their own best efforts done. But Lúthien had been, in her glorious way, very selfish, and Arwen was not.)

The reason I haven't started writing this fic and probably never will is that I have a perfect sense of what I believe kids call the vibes - the mood, the tone, themes, the visual and emotional aesthetic - and none of actual, like, events of the story.

It's about Arwen's final trial of leadership and diplomacy, before she (hopefully) takes up a throne of Gondor, being living with Dwarves for three months under threat and then fact of war. Helping in the infirmary. Participating in strategy discussions, because war isn't her area of expertise but she has participated a few times, in her nearly 3,000 years of life. Mediating as a neutral party on inevitable conflicts between Dwarves the Men, especially in the last week and a half when they're under high stress while besieged together with two kings dead in the field.

Carrying a torch in the deep corridors of the Mountain because she's Mannish enough not to see naturally in the dark. Standing extra watches because she's Elvish enough to see well in starlight, especially if the Star in question is her grandfather; and getting scouting reports from the local thrushes, because they're talkative and Melian's heirs have always had a knack for the speech of birds.

Busying herself with sewing a banner for Aragorn, with jewel-stars and a crown of mithril and gold - for her elders have appointed her as their last hope, and she shall hold it for them and for all the people she can save if in the end she must; but her Estel fights in the field. The night the armies of Mordor cross the river to strike at Dale, she stands on the summit of the Lonely Mountain and calls a friend among the Eagles, who takes the finished banner in her talons and bears it south to where Arwen's brothers and cousins ride to Aragorn's side.

(She shares dreams with him sometimes - but she must keep secret a thought that beats in her like a heartbeat, and he must devote all his thought to the quest and the war. So they don't speak much.)

It's about the crushing weight of history and legacy and the very practical matters of running a kingdom in duress. It's about multicultural exchange. It's about love and hope and a hundred different OCs, most of whom will never be recorded in history books even if they die heroically or steal siege-stores to sell on the black market, or simply live and thus deserve to do so. It's about hard work and mortality.

It's about how 77 years after the Battle of Five Armies, Dain II Ironfoot swings his axe until he falls defending the body of Brand King of Dale, son of Baird son of Bard the Dragonslayer, and their people all take refuge in the Mountain together; and Arwen tends the wounded with the Songs she learned from her father and the neat stitches her mother taught her for first cloth, then skin; and she walks among the frightened people - none of them remotely her people; Dwarves and entirely common Men, mostly descended from easterners migrating slowly west - and knows that if these are all she can save, she will gladly die or live as she must in order to do so; and the people hearken a little to see her pass by with starlight in her eyes and on her breast.

And then - after an eternity of painful anticipation, after what feels like no time at all - the Shadow passes, and the wait and tension abruptly lift.

They very much do still have to go defeat that army before the gates, though.

#my fic #lotr #lord of the rings #arwen #arwen undomiel

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1000punks · 4 months

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bonding. //meeting

bonding. //masterlist

pairing: spawn!Astarion x named!Tav (non-binary OC)

warnings: 18+. nsft. mdni. (this chapter is actually sft and fluffy!)

word count: 6,630

summary: two gays remodel a house domestic fluff and some character background building, set in post-game baldur's gate. two people who are weird and traumatized work on their relationship and reclaim their sexuality through a shared kink. lots of gooey romantic smut while these two slowly figure out their future together.

named!Tav is my non-binary tiefling ranger, Festé. i was seeing far too few fics with tiefling!Tav and i thought it was crucial, nay, critical to include them in the headcanons. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

The past month or so had given Festé a lot to think about. Withers had invited them and all the other companions to a party on the Sword Coast, and it had been a joy to see everyone once more. Festé was particularly glad to have seen Karlach and Wyll, and to know that they were safe in Avernus -- relatively, at least. They had their suspicions about the nature of Withers' summons, however, and had pulled both of them aside to tell them of their recent engagement. Both Karlach and Wyll were overjoyed, and their fellow tiefling had even pulled them into a searing and back-breaking hug. Once they had broken apart, Festé had commented sadly that perhaps, with luck, she and Wyll would be able to visit for the wedding the following spring.

"Soldier, there's not a chance in the Hells that I would miss it! Maybe if Wyll and I beg granddad Withers very nicely, he'll strike us another deal like this one!" She had chuckled, and elbowed Wyll firmly in the ribs. He had winced in pain, holding his side gingerly, but his smile remained warm and genuine.

"I wouldn't miss it either, my friend. I'm glad to see that our adventure was fruitful for you both, in more ways than one. And I have to say that I'm proud of you for gentling out our… toothsome companion." Festé had laughed loudly, landing a playful punch on his shoulder.

As for the others, Astarion and Festé had announced that they were going to throw a party for Yuletide, and invited them all to come. Lae'zel, through her projection, looked intrigued at the learning opportunity, and had promised to be there -- provided she could tear free of the throes of the civil war for a few days' time. Shadowheart and Gale had agreed more or less immediately, and Minsc had all but begged Jaheira to come, after boisterously announcing that he and Boo would be there. The elder druid had agreed, albeit reluctantly, and with her face in her hands.

Festé smiled at the happy memories, and looked up surreptitiously when they heard the floorboards creak overhead. They went back to what they were doing, which was making a large pot of stew for the party. They let their mind wander once again as they struck their flint with their dagger, a gesture so familiar to them, it was like second nature. The ranger lit the kitchen's wood stove with ease, and their thoughts drifted to their pale elf.

Astarion had been rather distant lately, engrossed in some sort of project in the spare bedroom upstairs. He had converted it into a workshop of sorts, but Festé didn't have the nerve, nor the gall, to have looked inside. Astarion had also never bothered to lock the door. It was pleasant that they could keep small secrets from one another, but it had nevertheless been an elephant in the room for a number of weeks. They stoked the stove absentmindedly before shutting the small hatch, and went to work peeling and chopping vegetables at the counter. The tiefling shook their head, their eyebrows furrowed, and they wondered for the umpteenth time what it could be. As they removed the top of a carrot, it came to them, and they rolled their eyes with a chuckle. Festé had come to know the elf all too well. With a satisfied smirk, they set the chopped vegetables aside and took up the freshly plucked pheasant, dropping it carefully into the pot of now-boiling water. Nodding at their work, they crossed over to the modest dining table and settled down on one of the benches, resting their chin on their palm and gazing out the window. To their delight, it had finally begun to snow.

"My love!" Festé called softly; they knew that Astarion could likely hear their breathing from upstairs, never mind their voice. There was a slow creak, and they heard the doors to his room slide open and closed again. They got up from the table, and moved back to the stove to check on their broth. Momentarily, Astarion's cool palms descended upon their shoulders and his lips brushed against the hollow behind their right ear. He smoothed his hands over their biceps before crossing his arms around their waist, brushing his nose over their neck with a soft sigh.

"What do you need, darling?" he murmured, looking down into the open pot.

"Turn your head to the left and tell me what you see, my love," they answered, pushing the pheasant around in the pot to check its tenderness.

"Hmm?" Astarion did as they asked and rested his chin on their left shoulder with a soft chuckle. "Ah. I suppose you'll want to go and make snow angels before morning hits, won't you? Such a child."

"Look at the lights on the street, my dear." Festé turned and pointed with their spoon this time, beaming. "That's what has me so excited."

The elf did as they asked once more, taking a deep breath and studying the lights this time, with his eyes narrowed. He tilted his head, noticing the way that the snowflakes danced around the lamps, throwing millions of diamond facets against the night sky. They swirled slowly in midair when a gentle wind caught them, seeming to burst around the dim light like a firework in miniature. A smile crept over his lips slowly, and he nodded. "I understand now, darling. Snow can be beautiful, I suppose," he chuckled, squeezing them gently. "It's all about the little things with you, isn't it?"

"That it is. It's that, or I'm just easily amused." They patted Astarion's hand with a laugh, putting the spoon down on the counter and turning in his arms, stretching up to kiss his cheek. "Mm! This broth will take at least two hours, love."

"That's just enough time for me to seduce you on the couch." Astarion smiled, cocking an eyebrow at them questioningly. "It's been so long, love, we've both been so busy…" he reached up to brush his fingers over Festé's cheek. The tiefling hummed appreciatively, their eyelids fluttering, but they bit their lip to resist the temptation.

"Speaking of which, Star: have you been making wedding outfits for us both?" They asked pointedly, resting their hands on his hips and swaying slowly side to side. The elf's mouth gaped in shock, and he scowled.

"You peeked? Are you serious? It was supposed to be a surprise! Gods below, darling, I do one selfless thing, and you have to go and ruin- "

"Oh, relax, Star. I didn't need to look. You haven't exactly been subtle about your project, and I helped you cart all of your sewing supplies up there months ago." Festé patted his cheek gently, before raising their hand as if to swear an oath. "I promise, I haven't looked. I just know you too well." Astarion rolled his eyes in disbelief, and they pinched his cheek. "And you know me, if I had stumbled upon what you've been working on, I would have come to you and very guiltily owned up to it." They kissed his other cheek, and the elf sighed exasperatedly.

"If you know me so well, darling; what's the colour scheme?"

"Oh, my love. You don't want me to start guessing colours, it would just make you more riled up." Festé tilted their head, grimacing a bit.

"You swear you won't go poking around, then?" Astarion mumbled after a moment, biting his lip and breaking away from them. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest.

"One, I don't need to, I trust your stylistic choices. Two, you're entitled to your privacy, and if you wanted me to see, you would have shown me already." They winked at him, reaching forward and gently resting their hands on his elbows.

Their elf sighed deeply. "You're right, darling. I'm sorry for accusing you. I… Well, you know. I just wanted to make you something nice." He cast his eyes to the side, looking down at the floor and shaping his hands around an imaginary figure in the air. "I'm so excited to see you wearing…" His eyes snapped back to theirs, and he smiled sheepishly. "It. You're going to look divine."

"I trust you." Festé repeated, smiling warmly, and Astarion wrapped them into a tight hug, planting his chin on their shoulder. "I do want to talk about the ceremony, though. Is there anything special you would like to do?"

"Besides absolutely stunning you with my wedding vows? Hmm…" He shifted his weight slightly, and drew in a long breath. "There was something I wanted to discuss with you, actually."

"What is it, my love?" Festé swayed gently with him, humming and resting their cheek on his shoulder.

"Well. There is a certain old ritual that was somewhat common in elven clans." His imp nodded against his shoulder, encouraging him to continue. "I would have to research it more closely, but it involves linking one's mind with their spouse's. It's an odd request, to be sure, but I can admit that after the ability to walk in the sun, the next best thing about being infected was being able to hear your beautiful voice in my head every day." Astarion wrapped his arms low on the tiefling's hips, sighing once again.

"You miss that? Are you okay with that potential invasion of your privacy?" Festé lifted their head and leaned back, surveying their elf's features and waiting patiently for his response.

He shrugged. "It was a far different thing for us to share a telepathic connection with all of our companions, not to mention a mindflayer attempting to manipulate us all at every turn. I had to be careful about imagining you in the nude that whole time, darling." He raised one hand dramatically to his forehead and laughed. "If it were just you, I think it would be a damn sight more comforting. And… intimate." His eyes flashed, and he gave his imp a dashing grin.

Festé nodded thoughtfully. "I see your point, and I'm comfortable with the idea, provided we research it together," their voice was soft, soothing. Astarion pursed his lips regardless. "I'm curious about it, love. I'm not saying 'no'."

He suddenly picked them up, spinning around slowly with a soft chuckle, before setting them on the surface of the table. Their elf gave them an adoring smile before leaning down and pressing his lips to theirs. "Thank you for considering it, my darling," he whispered, cool breath ghosting along the tiefling's cheek. "Tell me what you would like to do." Astarion sat at the bench, looking up at Festé, and running his fingers over the tops of their thighs.

They pushed their hands into his hair, cradling his head as they played with his curls. "I would like to say our wedding vows in our native tongues. I would just love to hiss and spit at you romantically in front of all of our friends." They were straight-faced, but a small quiver in their lip made Astarion burst out laughing. Festé joined in with a soft chuckle, and continued, "I've never heard you speak in Elven, but I'm positive that it would be captivating." They stroked down his cheek, their touch light as they bent to kiss their elf's forehead. "And, I want to give you a dagger."

"Darling, you're sweet," Astarion sighed appreciatively, tilting his head up. "However, my days of casual murder are behind me. Well… for the most part."

Another chuckle. "No, no. My father gave my mother a very ornate dagger when they were married, so I was told. He said that it was supposed to symbolize putting his life in another person's hands entirely. I would like to continue that little tradition."

The pale elf's face fell, and he heaved a great sigh, leaning forward and resting his cheek on Festé's thigh. Their fingers wove through his curls and he tilted his head to their touch. He shifted so that a single red eye caught the tiefling's gaze, and they smiled, their fingertips grazing his cheek. "You're too kind to me, darling. And you trust me far too deeply for your own good," he murmured wistfully.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · A soft knock came at the door shortly after darkness fell. Festé's head snapped up from the stew that they had been nursing since they had awakened that afternoon, panic marring their features. Astarion shot them a look, taking the bread gingerly from the oven and setting it on the counter. Silently, he rested his hand at the small of their back, and gave them a soft kiss before leading them to the front door. He leaned close to their ear and murmured, "Relax. They'll love it, it smells delicious."

"It's not just that," Festé paused with their hand on the doorknob, "We haven't had anyone visit yet, and I want to make a good impression."

The elf scoffed, chuckling softly. "I think as long as they see that it's not a blood-stained brothel in here, we'll both survive." Festé rolled their eyes and opened the door to a smiling Gale, an apprehensive Shadowheart, a tired-looking Jaheira, but no Minsc. Lae'zel wasn't present either. Jaheira made eye contact with the tiefling, and shook her head from the back of the crowd, holding up one hand as if to say, "I'll explain later."

"Ah! My friend!" Gale broke the silence, grasping Festé's hand briefly and nodding kindly at Astarion, who nodded back. "I'm so glad to have been invited to your lovely home. May we?"

"Please do, Gale. Shadowheart. Old Lady." Festé winked at Jaheira, who rolled her eyes and laughed. Astarion kept his hand on their back, and both moved aside to let the others in from the cold. They felt his hand drop to their hip when Gale moved close for a hug; and the pale elf tensed at their side when the wizard threw his arms around the tiefling. Shadowheart smirked subtly, shooting a look at Astarion over Gale's shoulder. He released Festé after a moment, and Shadowheart moved in for her turn as Gale began to chatter excitedly.

"This is such a lovely place for the both of you!" He gestured around, taking in the sitting room with a crooked smile. "I'm glad, if I may be so bold to comment, that you're both settling down so well."

Astarion bowed his head politely to Shadowheart, then Gale and Jaheira, before speaking up. "Why, you've got this lovely little imp to thank for- "

"Oh, my love, don't chalk this all up to my doing, you were the one who found the place- " Festé interrupted, but Astarion slid his hand over their mouth and continued with a laugh.

"As I was saying, Festé practically rebuilt this place with little more than their bare hands." He glared directly at Gale with a smirk, standing behind his imp and bending to kiss their temple. "All of the furniture, the floors, the bed; and we're remodelling the back porch in the spring. Not to mention they dug the garden…" Festé waved one hand dismissively, though they had begun to blush.

"Oh, so you've been exploiting their labour then?" Shadowheart quipped, chuckling softly.

"Naturally." The pale elf replied sarcastically, squishing Festé's cheeks when he removed his hand. "Feel free to hang your coats and make yourselves comfortable, we were just finishing up with dinner." Astarion wrapped an arm loosely on their hips and steered the tiefling back into the kitchen, while the others abided his request. "The table is through here," he called as they each began to follow.

"It's funny, Astarion," Jaheira said, sitting on one of the long benches, "This place was set to be condemned before the brain crisis. I had no earthly idea that the city officials had sold it to anyone." She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a grin as she watched Festé freeze in the middle of the kitchen, holding the heavy pot of stew.

"Well…" they began, tilting their head and clicking their tongue, "We didn't buy it. But we did find it." They set the pot in the middle of the table with a dull thud. "It was dirt cheap, you could say. And with all of the confusion with the Upper City restoration, it was a little too easy to move ourselves in."

"I like to think of it as a little gift for all of our efforts to save this damned city," Astarion murmured, setting the fresh bread and a few bottles of wine on the table beside the pot. He moved to help Festé with bowls and goblets.

Gale had his face in his hands, and Shadowheart looked sideways at him with a shrug. "I suppose that's logical enough reasoning. Logical enough for the two of you, at least." She began to spoon the stew into bowls, passing one each to the wizard and the druid. "Not to change the subject, but this smells delicious. Chicken?" she asked.

Jaheira drew in a breath, wafting the steam from her bowl toward her with one hand. "Pheasant," she smiled. "I'm glad to see you're keeping your skills sharp, Festé." They returned the warm smile as they sat down next to Gale. Astarion settled closely on their other side, uncorking a bottle and passing out goblets for the wine.

"Hearing you approve of me as your adopted child is so invigorating, Jaheira." The tiefling raised their goblet and everyone else followed suit. "To being alive, and being together," they toasted, and smiles broke out around the table. Everyone clinked and drank deeply; and Festé felt Astarion's free hand close around theirs under the table. He gave them a sidelong glance and smiled behind his goblet.

"Speaking of being together and alive," Gale swallowed another sip of wine before continuing, "Besides the obvious, is there any other reason why Wyll and Karlach haven't joined us tonight? They're not…" he left the last part unsaid, his deep brown eyes widening with worry.

"Oh, no. Well, not that I'm aware of, at least. The last time we saw them both was at the party on the Coast, same as you all," Festé reassured him. "At any rate, I'm sure we'll all seem them again soon." The tiefling beamed and picked up their spoon.

"Indeed," Astarion agreed. "Tuck in everyone. I'll be eating later on." He laughed, earning a withering look from both Gale and Jaheira, and a snort from Shadowheart, who had started slicing bread and passing it out.

"You truly get less funny every time I see you, Astarion. It's a remarkable skill you have," she murmured, sipping a spoonful of stew.

"Well, at least I can tell a joke properly, darling," Astarion tipped his cup at her, and she cracked a rare smile, shaking her head.

"This is delicious, Festé. Your cooking certainly puts mine to shame." Gale dipped his bread in his bowl and chewed thoughtfully. "I would be keen to have this recipe from you, provided you're willing to pass it along."

"I would, Gale. Of course." Festé answered. "I actually found it in an old book that Minsc gave to me."

Jaheira snorted, almost choking into her own bowl. "I find it hard to believe that you got a book from Minsc," she sputtered, starting to laugh quietly.

"On the contrary, he did give me a book a few months back. However, he said, quote: 'I am not sure that I will be able to read this one. Boo has whispered to Minsc that it will be too scary. And Minsc does not like the horror'." Festé mimicked the larger ranger's voice perfectly, breaking into laughter themself. "Why didn't he make it, anyway?"

"The idiot got himself thrown in jail once again," Jaheira spat, a tired look overtaking her features. "And I haven't bailed him out yet because he actually needs to learn his lesson this time." She paused, taking a sip of wine. "Because of that newfound alliance with the Guild, which is one that I can't afford to have him mucking up."

"What did he do?" Shadowheart inquired, her eyebrows knitting.

"He found one of Nine-Fingers' rings when he was supposed to meet with her one day, and the dumb bastard stole it. Nine-Fingers called in her goons, and he got tossed in jail very easily. It's been two weeks and I still haven't quite smoothed things out with her, nor the rest of the Guild." The druid sighed, then she laughed, if somewhat dejectedly. "He can stay in there until I do. I know that he'll survive."

Festé and Astarion exchanged a look, each taking a sip of wine at the same time. "That is… a pity, because we have some rather exciting news to share with you all…" Festé began, feeling Astarion's hand close more tightly around their own, interlacing his fingers with theirs.

"Expecting?" Gale had steepled his fingers, glancing at the couple with the look of a disapproving father, though he seemed to be biting his lip. There was a beat of silence, and then everyone at the table erupted into peals of laughter. "Seriously, though. If there is something important that you feel we must hear, out with it! Are you rounding us up for another adventure?"

"Gods above, no," Astarion spat, drawing Festé's hand up in his own and resting it on the surface of the table. "I've merely tricked our poor leader into agreeing to marry me." He smiled, sincerely, wiggling the tiefling's ring finger so that the bloodstone glinted in the low light. The elf gently retracted his hand, resting it on Festé's thigh when he saw Gale make to grab their hand himself.

"This is absolutely exquisite, if I may say so. Such a beautiful piece of jewellery." He smiled warmly at the couple, and Astarion felt surprise creep up his back when the wizard spoke again. "You both make a fine pair, and I do mean that from the bottom of my heart. I'm happy for you." he patted Festé's hand, setting it down once more.

"Yes, congratulations are in order, clearly." Shadowheart agreed with a dry smile, lifting her goblet slightly before taking her turn examining the ring. "Did you buy it or have it made?"

Festé smirked, jerking their chin in Shadowheart's direction when they looked up at their elf, who looked positively uncomfortable. "Tell them, my love." They turned back to everyone else, chuckling. "I cried when he told me."

Astarion cleared his throat, tilting his head to the side with a sheepish expression. "That much is true. I, well - I…" he faltered, and Festé met his gaze, nodding encouragingly. "Right. I saved that bloodstone when we were all still struggling for our lives on the coast, and when we finally reached the city, I asked Dammon to cut it into a ring for me," the elf recounted, without his usual bravado. "I don't expect you all to understand, but I think, in some ways, Festé's blood changed me, as did our strengthening bond. I wanted to represent that when I finally worked up the courage to propose to them."

Jaheira had been sitting with her arms crossed, silently, and Astarion shot her a furtive glance when he had finished speaking, his hand tightening around the imp's thigh. She reached slowly for her goblet, taking a long drink and not breaking eye contact with the pale elf. Finally, she murmured, "You had better take care of them, Astarion, and don't you dare do anything that will make me have to hunt you down."

"I-!" Astarion all but yelped. "I wouldn't dare hurt them," he snarled.

"Not to worry, my love. I think that's the old witch's way of saying she approves of our union," Festé stage-whispered, and Jaheira smiled subtly. The tiefling got up with a chuckle, gathering the empty bowls and taking them to the washbasin, returning to their seat after a moment and beginning to refill everyone's goblets.

"Have you found anyone to officiate for you yet?" Shadowheart asked, nodding her thanks at the full goblet, and taking a sip.

"Not that I'm aware of, but you'll have to ask the wedding planner. He's been keeping me in the dark about most things, citing the need for 'perfection'." The tiefling looked up at Astarion, who shook his head.

"It's not that, darling, I just…" I don't want you to have to lift a finger. You need only worry about showing up at the right place and time." He finished with a contented sigh.

"It also sounds like you're a bit of a control freak, Astarion." Shadowheart laughed softly, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Oh, very well," Astarion said in clipped tones. "Have a laugh at my expense, you all." He lifted his hands and let out an exasperated scoff. "But when someone rebuilds a house for you, don't you dare give them a perfect wedding in return, or you'll have to answer to me."

Festé chuckled and shook their head. "Why don't you show everyone your little project, my love?" The others seemed to lean in, and Gale had an expression of confusion and curiosity on his face. "He's hand-sewing us outfits for the wedding," they murmured, "and I haven't seen them, it's supposed to be a surprise. However, I know that he's secretly hoping to show them off to someone." Astarion sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, his free hand moving in the air as if he could wave away their words.

"That sounds excellent!" Gale exclaimed. "I, for one, love knowing life's little secrets; but… if I could choose, of course, it wouldn't be what a vampire is putting together behind closed doors for his lover." He winked at Festé, not hiding his wide smile at the pale elf's discomfort. He stood, straightening his robes, and Astarion stood suddenly as well, glaring at the wizard.

"Fine," he said, acid in his voice as he beckoned Gale to follow. Jaheira got up with a low chuckle, and trailed the two men up the stairs. Shadowheart stayed put with Festé, turning to them, turning to them and shaking her head. She downed her goblet in one and set it aside, drawing in a long breath.

"You've really… softened him, Festé. I don't know how exactly to describe it, but he seems less…" she trailed off, lifting her hands slightly from the table and spreading her fingers.

"Sharp? Feral?" The tiefling chuckled. "He has calmed down a lot since we first met him. I think he feels safer now. It's not my right to decide how he feels, but I think he's beginning to heal, in his own way."

"I suppose we all are, but I've been more worried about him than even myself sometimes," Shadowheart admitted. "I can relate a lot to what he's been through, but even then… I won't ever truly understand him." She smiled. "I'm glad you do, though. And as for you, my friend, I'm glad that you're happy with him."

They both looked up, hearing the floorboards creak above them, and Gale's excited chatter drifted down the stairs. Astarion's voice was velvety, but equally excited. Festé imagined him showing off some fine fabric and commenting with a flourish on his own handiwork, and they smirked. "I am," they said simply. "You'd better go up there, make sure he and Gale don't get in a fight, hmm?"

"I will in a moment, I want to ask you something." She met their eyes, determination colouring her face. "May I officiate? That is, if you haven't found anyone to do so yet. I want to… repay you for all you've done for me, I guess you could say."

"You would do that for me? For us?" Festé was taken aback, and paused, their fingers tracing the grain of the table's surface.

"Well, more for you than Astarion," she chuckled. "But I will say that he was very adept at keeping the daggers from my back during our little adventure; and I can appreciate how much he loves you."

"You're too kind, Shadowheart, I appreciate that. And, of course, I would be overjoyed to have you officiate." Festé smiled, standing and beginning to clear the rest of the table as they heard Gale, Astarion and Jaheira descend the stairs. "You should go look before the man gets edgy." They laughed and winked at her.

Gale and Astarion were trading jabs, but the tone was mostly playful as the two came within earshot. Astarion let out a great sigh and barked, "Of course it's 'old-fashioned,' I'm over two hundred years old."

"Be that as it may, I still think that you could stand to hear a critique or two if you truly wish for it to be a magical day." Gale laughed and clapped his hand on the pale elf's back. "It is a rather exquisite ensemble so far, I must admit. Ah! Festé, let me help you with the washing-up." The wizard strode into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves, and Festé locked eyes with Astarion from across the room. He smirked at them, raking his eyes hungrily over their body before tilting his head and averting his gaze. They shivered, wondering what exactly was transpiring in his mind as he ushered Shadowheart up the stairs ahead of himself.

The tiefling sighed, stoking the wood stove to boil some water for the basin, and rolled up their sleeves as well. Jaheira chuckled in what sounded like disbelief, and took her place back at the table.

"Well," was all she said, folding her hands on the table in front of her.

"What, is he not a good fit, denmother?" Festé murmured.

"On the contrary, you little imp," she nodded with a small smile playing over her lips. "I think you made a very good choice in a life partner. That man would do anything for you, if you asked him to."

"You think so? Shadowheart said something similar just now." Their voice was quiet, and they kept one eye on the kettle as it began to hiss softly.

Jaheira raised her hands, shrugging. "So I am not the only one who sees it."

"Oh, definitely not, Jaheira." Gale cut in, piling bowls into the washbasin. "Astarion… well, he and I are quite similar, if only in the realm of acts of service, that is. If I were in love like he seems to be with you, I would… Oh! I'll wash, as thanks for a delicious meal!" He interrupted himself, stepping back to let Festé pour the hot water. "Anyway, I would show my partner through my actions how much I respect and adore them. I suppose," he tilted his head in a half-nod, waving both hands in the air, "As a very verbose man, I would tell them as well, but- "

"He might not have the words yet, given his history." Festé finished for him, offering the wizard a kind smile as they took up a dish towel.

"Aha! Exactly." Gale smiled as well, pointing at them with the sponge. "He is not yet loquacious; but, given time, I think he could be as adept with his words of affection as he is with a pair of daggers." He shook his head, smile widening as he looked down into the basin and started to scrub out the dinner bowls. "He has put together quite a fine outfit for you. You're going to look dashing on your wedding day, Festé."

The tiefling blushed involuntarily, and let out a nervous chuckle. "Astute as always, Gale." They took the bowls he passed to them, and began to stack them on the counter once they had wiped them dry.

"I have to say, I agree with Gale. You're going to look wonderful." Shadowheart's voice drifted across the room, and Festé's head snapped up for the second time that evening as Astarion's hands rested on their hips. He dodged their horns expertly, dropping pointy ear to shoulder in a split second, and leaning down to press a kiss to their cheek before taking the bowls to put away. "Both of you, I should say," Shadowheart continued, surveying the couple. "He's working in something for himself too, and it matches- "

"Hush." Astarion held up a disapproving hand. "Darling, don't spoil it. I wouldn't be working in secret if I wanted them to be in on the surprise, now would I?" He scowled, but his tone was light.

Gale flicked his hands over the basin and took the dish towel when Festé offered it. "I'm glad to hear it, but I trust Star. Whatever he's making is sure to be good." They smiled at their pale elf.

"Oh, you kids." Jaheira sighed, standing up and putting her palms firmly on the table. "I hate to eat and leave, but I should go and meet my late-night appointment; and try to get Minsc out of jail. I would hate for him to miss the big day." She smiled widely, and made her way to the tiefling to give them a tight hug. When she broke away, she reached out to shake Astarion's hand. He stiffened at the gesture, but returned it regardless. "Congratulations, both of you."

All four of the companions saw Jaheira to the door, hugging and waving their goodbyes before retiring to the living room. Festé busied themself starting a fire while Gale admired the couch. Astarion had disappeared temporarily for more wine, and pillows for himself and his imp. He sat and pulled them into his lap as soon as the fire was crackling. His touch felt anxious and desperate, but he relaxed marginally as he pulled Festé to rest back against his chest and wrapped his arms over their waist.

"…so fortunate that you moved in with a carpenter, isn't it, Astarion?" Gale's voice entered the tiefling's consciousness once again as they focused. Astarion's chest rumbled slightly as he spoke from behind them.

"It is, isn't it? Perhaps that's your calling, darling. Maybe Gale wants you to make him some furniture as well," he murmured, and Festé caught the sharp edge of jealousy in his tone, even if Gale did not.

"Oh, oh. I perish the thought of carting Festé off to Waterdeep just to toil away on some furniture for me. Goodness." Gale waved away the notion with a hearty chuckle.

"Funny… I do as well," Astarion's grip tightened about the tiefling's waist, and Festé shot Shadowheart a pleading look. She merely raised her eyebrows and sipped her wine quietly.

"On another note," she finally spoke up after a tense silence, "I was wondering how adjusting back to nights has been for you, Astarion. Are you doing well?"

He relaxed once more, considering the question as he rested his chin on Festé's shoulder. "It's been much easier as time goes on, I'll admit. No guess as to why that is, hm?"

"Have you considered finding a way to walk in the sun again?" Shadowheart asked in a soft tone, "If… such a thing exists, that is."

"Do you know something, Shadowheart?" Festé asked, studying her face, but they couldn't quite tell if anything was out of the ordinary.

"No, not any more than anyone else, I would imagine," she shrugged.

Astarion waited, humming softly. "I have considered it, but I have no more leads than you do on how to achieve that. If anything, I want to stop being so selfish, and forcing Festé to life my lifestyle."

"Oh, as if you could force me to do anything, my love." Festé said lightly, resting back against him, and they felt his lips brush against their earlobe.

"Well, not here, darling," he whispered almost silently, and felt them shiver in his arms. He spoke aloud again almost immediately, "Like I said, it would be for their sake more than my own. And, well -- I imagine not burning to a crisp when I want to go for a walk would be nice, too."

Gale and Shadowheart exchanged a glance as Festé looked on, studying the complexities of the gesture. The two of them were hiding something, weren't they? The tiefling relaxed further, deciding to push the issue from their mind for the time being. If they wanted to share, they would have, they thought.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · Festé had no idea when they had fallen asleep, but they hung in a half-awakened haze as they heard Astarion hiss softly, "No, I wouldn't consider that. I couldn't ask them to do that for me."

"Astarion, I'm merely speaking in hypotheticals- " Gale's voice was equally as low, but firm in tone.

"And I am speaking from experience, Gale, it would guarantee them immortality; but it would also greatly reduce their safety. I can't have that, I won't lose them, and I won't have any harm that comes to them on my conscience." Astarion's tone was harsh, but his hold on them was gentle, careful not to jostle them. The tiefling opened their eyes halfway, seeing Shadowheart dozing on the couch through their eyelashes in their peripheral vision. Festé considered the tone of the discussion, and kept their breathing even and slow, trying not to arouse suspicion. They closed their eyes as they heard Gale speak again.

"If we had a plan, would you consider it?" he asked, and Festé could almost feel his gaze on the back of their neck.

"I… this isn't just about what I want, you know." Astarion's voice faltered slightly. His hand slid protectively up their back, and Festé took the opportunity to shift slightly in the elf's lap, sighing out as they would in their sleep.

"What if they were okay with it?" Gale asked, and Astarion sighed in disgust.

"It's almost morning, Gale, will you- " he started.

"What if they were- " the wizard countered.

"Drop it." Astarion snarled, louder than before. Festé listened as Shadowheart shifted on the couch. She must have sat up properly, they guessed. It was safe, they decided, to slowly blink their eyes open when she spoke.

"What's wrong, are you two arguing again?" she mumbled, and Festé lifted their head slowly, looking up at Astarion's face. He had composed his features into a blank mask, before smiling at them warmly.

"Gale is just annoying," he said, and the wizard scoffed from his end of the couch.

"Astarion is just inflexible," he retorted, crossing his arms.

"Just like usual, then," Festé remarked calmly, narrowing their eyes at their elf before smiling. Astarion knew that they knew something, it was plain on his face.

"Well, I'm sure that you can pick it up again when we see each other next," Shadowheart rolled her eyes. "Come on, Gale, you and I should probably put those rooms at the tavern to use for a few hours, at least." She stood, casting a cursory glance between the two men, and jerked her chin towards the door. "We'll stop by for a proper goodbye tomorrow, before we leave."

"Okay, that sounds good to me." Festé met her eyes, moving to get up as well, and tugging Astarion along with them. The tiefling helped the two collect their coats, and after a few moments, the wizard and the cleric were making their way up the snowy street, side by side. Festé turned after closing the door, sighing as they all but collapsed in Astarion's arms. "You," they mumbled against his chest, "You have some explaining to do." The elf flinched, and they continued, "But we should get some sleep first."

A sigh. "Okay, darling," he conceded, leading them into the bedroom.

a/n: hey! thank you for waiting for this fic! i know it's been a couple weeks since i've update but to all of you out there: thank you for continuing to support this fic!! you rock! you matter! you're awesome! GIF CREDIT: here!

#.fic #fic: bonding.#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion acunin #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #spawn!astarion x named tav #bg3 astarion #i'm all pointy ears #oc: festé #astarion

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