#That was also the first and last BG3 dream I've had since I've been playing this game my brain refuses to let me be happy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chipped-chimera · 7 months

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Ugh ... I am low-key so worried about how the BG3 ending is gonna play out for Karlach that I'm considering stopping playing and just coming back to it when I can handle it. Some of this shit is just hitting too close to home and I'm not sure I'm cut out for it.

More personal context under the cut if you want.

I relate to Karlach's pain so much. Too much. To the point it makes me teary thinking about it. Both of our lives have been cruel.

It has been hard for me, despite a stable family upbringing that most would envy, in a lower-middle class family that for the large part has been financially stable. I'm also white. I know I'm lucky in that capacity - god I fucking know (and the thought that what I've gone through could be considered a 'lucky' position? What does that mean for others? It keeps me up at night).

But that didn't stop the pain crawling in. I wasn't diagnosed with Autism until 27. I wasn't diagnosed with co-morbid ADHD until I was 28. I wasn't medicated for ADHD until I was 30 (and that was AFTER being told by a psych who also invalidated my Autism diagnosis aka the context for fucking EVERYTHING in my life, I couldn't have ADHD because I could 'read a book').

Before that? I knew I was depressed at 13, but didn't want to burden my family so I did nothing - we may be lower middle class and stable but I knew that was only because my parents tried so fucking hard. We had camping chairs in place of furniture up until I was eight. I lived with the pain because I didn't want to burden them, and without the context of my neurodivergence I just blamed myself for the problem, not being good enough, not trying hard enough - not being ENOUGH. I held onto it until I cracked and couldn't take it anymore at 16. I was diagnosed with Depression and Generalised Anxiety Disorder. It's since been upgraded to chronic Major Depression and it's classed as treatment resistant.

Both of us have had moments of building ourselves up from nothing. Through therapy and medication I was able to feel a bit better, more positive as I left high school. Thinking maybe it was gonna be okay after all, out there in the world.

It felt like I'd slowly reached out into the light, tentatively, hopefully - there'd be something more, that I'd live out the dreams I'd had, the things I'd always wanted to do. I was still optimistic.

Instead it felt like that arm had been immediately lopped off.

The story is long and too complicated to tell without this being longer than it needs to be. But like Karlach, I feel I've lost years of my life. Like Karlach, it's been a decade - ten years. That I cannot get back, that I grieve keenly.

I have been isolated, and then betrayed by those I thought I trusted. First, by the systems that were supposed to help me when I was struggling - my own government's system as they hit me with a debt that I couldn't even pay, on a scheme which has in retrospect been found to be completely illegal, but has left me with lasting trauma and damage and no closure. Not even a sorry. Because I, with my undiagnosed Autism and ADHD and a growing fatigue issue where I was so exhausted from simply being alive I just couldn't fight it. So I let them take money out of my social security payment - which was and still is considered below the poverty line. I was punished for being poor, I was punished for arguably, being disabled.

And then, by the person I trusted most. The person I thought I loved, the person who made it felt like everything was okay - I may be struggling still but there was still a future! There was someone who cared about me, who would be beside me for the rest of my lifetime. He asked me to marry him. We were engaged for three. Years. We'd been dating for 10. I thought everything, despite all the shit happening to me, was going to be okay.

It wasn't.

I had landed some employment for the first time in 3 years. I was working more hours than advised by the psychologist who diagnosed me with Autism but I had no choice - I was literally on the minimum limit available to me, due to the barriers I still have to navigate to qualify for disability supports (again, from a government system that I no longer trusted and gave me the earnest impression that they preferred me dead than 'leeching off their system'). But I was not living. I couldn't handle even 15 hours a week, I was more exhausted than I'd ever been. I felt like a corpse. I spoke with my disability employment coordinator (no, despite what I said, being on disability EMPLOYMENT services does not qualify you getting onto disability support, just means the government will only hound me for a minimum of 15 hrs a week instead of 30 in order for social security, that's a whole other complicated thing) IN CONFIDENCE that I wasn't sure I could keep up with the current work format and hoped I could discuss some solutions. Next minute I find I'm locked out of the work facebook. I was fired, without warning and without protections because I was a casual. Because my employment coordinator told my boss before even discussing anything with me.

My relationship was suffering but I wasn't aware. I was too tired for intimacy, and probably two tired to see the signs. I'd gotten my Autism diagnosis at this point and maybe it was a bit difficult for my fiancée at the time to understand, but he came to terms with it. The ADHD assessment was booked. I had realized at this point pushing myself to be something I wasn't, thinking somehow landing work and earning money for myself would help the depression - it didn't. I was worse than I'd ever been. Then the moment came where I was handed a notice that the government would no longer give me any social security because my partner, on his meager chef's salary was earning too much. All because I'd tried to do the right thing by the government. I'd tried so hard to be good. I'd tried so hard to be ENOUGH.

I wasn't enough.

My fiancée came to me, my fiancée who I'd been talking to about our upcoming wedding plans now the pandemic was over, my fiancée who I'd been cuddling with on the couch last night watching films - he came to me when I was battered, and raw and broken and crying in bed - just said 'I can't do this anymore.' And that was it. It was done. As I processed it, I realised the root of it was, it was because I'd taken the mask off. I decided I wasn't going to try to be something I wasn't anymore, because I knew and it was backed up in countless studies - what I was doing was actively killing me. And he didn't want to deal with that. I wasn't enough, and yet I was too much.

It has been two years since then. My ADHD is medicated. I live in a stable, safe environment with my parents where I don't have to worry about my security. I have set firm boundaries that I learned while I was independent, and they respect them. But the wounds are still deep and it'll take a long time to recover, to get that trust in the world back.

When I look at Karlach, I see some of myself. Someone who has been used, abused and betrayed by those they trusted. Someone who felt abandoned by everything, that there was no hope, no way out. And yet in spite of it all - kept going. Who, deep in their heart kept something soft and safe. Held onto and protected what little shred of optimism left. Because if we don't practice kindness, who will? We want to be the kindness we want to see in the world, because fuck, have we seen so little of it. It is so easy to give up, to fall into despair when you've been through so much shit. It requires so much vigilance and energy and momentum to keep going, when you're wading through a battlefield of carnage and gore in your life, whether metaphorical or literal. We hold on and we are kind because we hope, one day, that kindness will touch us back. That despite it all we try our fucking hardest to wear a smile, and see the good in everything we can.

And I think that's why it hurts so much. Karlach is finally free. And happy. She feels loved. She's finally feeling some of that kindness again kindness that I know, that she knows she fucking deserves. And it's on a fucking time limit.

And that's what's fucking breaking me. I know she's supposed to be some kind of allegory for terminal illness. And I know this isn't my story. I know it's a story that is important to tell, and it will touch others in a different way. But for me it feels like all the wounds I've barely scabbed over are being ripped open again. Because this is not an ending she deserves at all. It makes me sit and wonder, is that all there is for people like us? Just brief windows of happiness in the pain until we die? Don't we deserve saving? Don't we deserve a happy ending? A peaceful one? Don't we deserve to wear that smile, that happiness without us having to fight for every second it with tooth and nail to keep it there? To believe in it?

I don't know the endings in detail for her. But i have seen enough in the vaguest sense to feel it won't be good, and I don't know if I'm ready for that. I have played games with sad themes, like I know Cyberpunk isn't that great either - but I think the difference is who it is happening to. It's somehow easier when it's you, as the player. But when it's someone else? When you know that pain so fucking keenly you would rip yourself apart just to let them escape that hell, it's hard to stomach.

Then there's the disability angle that bothers me so much. Currently her options, as she puts it, are burning up and dying or going back to Avernus. I understand why she's choosing death, like, fuck man I do. Why is it always death though? Why is death better. Why can't she get a replacement heart? Make it shit! It can be a shitty heart that still works, but needs tune ups, and maybe she can't fight like she used to but she gets to fucking live a happy life! Because a shitty, happy life is better than nothing at all. Because as it goes, it feels to me I'm just being told it's easier to just die than submit to the suffering again whenever a piece of media picks an end like this. It's either the cure-all or death, there's never room for something in between. There's never room for making peace with what you have lost and still reclaiming some of your life, grieving what you have lost but still finding something worth having and holding onto. And when you're in that limbo state yourself, it's a hard pill to swallow. And it's hard to let anyone else fall into it.

We both deserve life. We both deserve happiness.

Fuck.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #karlach #ugh why did i have to get stupid for her #ok i know why i got stupid for her #you provide me muscled woman for once? I AM NOT TURNING DOWN A MEAL I AM STARVING FOR #just ugh some of this shit though is hitting too hard #this is long #ventpost #if anyone reads this entire thing and has finished BG3 and doesn't think I can handle it pls let me know #probably gonna drop the game like a hot potato #despite what I said about wanting to finish it badly #idk just got to the bit where she was talking to me about feeling scared and I just ... couldn't #depression tw #trauma tw #I hate that this entire spiel? yeah? This is the /short/ version of my deeplore ok #ngl the disability thing makes me wanna write to larian because I'm sick of this 'better off dead' message thrown at us all #we deserve some positive fucking rep for once #ableism tw #maybe idk #kerytalk #keryplays bg3

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michellerb · 3 months

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BG3 Fanfiction: The Challengers of Gods (Also on AO3)

Chapters 1 & 2 Posted Below! More will be out soon as Chapter 2 is not yet finished <3

The Challengers of Gods (A Durge/Astarion BG3 Fanfiction)

In the months after the fall of the Elder Brain and the defeat of the Grand Illithid Design, Astarion and Anya (a redeemed Durge) take time for themselves for the first time in their lives to explore Faerûn. Astarion, free of his Master and of his old life. Anya, free of the Dark Urge and her evil father, Bhaal the God of Murder. They have plans to meet with the great minds across the various cities to find a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again. But as they become accustomed to this new life, and to each other, Anya begins to experience visions that hint at her true parentage and Astarion must face an unexpected memory from his. Both characters find that their adventures together are just beginning, and they will need each other to make it through.

Some notes about the lore of this fanfic

**Redeemed Durge is referring to the Origin character of the Dark Urge who defeats Orin to become Bhaal’s Chosen but rejects him and is killed by him in retribution. This Durge is then brought back by Withers (who is Jergal, the original God of the Dead) to live their life finally free of Bhaal and the Dark Urge. Anya was played as a Lawful Good character despite her dark past. She has a bleeding heart and a belief that people have innate goodness in them.

**Anya is a Half-Elf Cleric of Mielikki, the Lady of the Forests. Anya rejected the emperor to free Orpheus and in doing so helped free the Githyanki from Vlaakith’s tyrannical grip.

**Karlach and Wyll (the Blade of Avernus) are in Avernus fighting evil together, Gale is now a professor in Waterdeep, and the Crown of Karsus is safe with Mystra. The Elder Brain was slain.

**Astarion is a Spawn. He killed Cazador, freed the other spawns to the Underdark, and aided the Gur.

**Shadowheart is on a personal journey and has adopted the Owlbear Cub. Scratch is staying with Gale and Tara in Waterdeep. The Tieflings are safe with Dammon and Rolan back in Baldur’s Gate. Halsin has returned to Moonrise Towers to help them rebuild. The Grove is safe and flourishing under a new Archdruid.

**Lae’zel is with Voss fighting Vlaakith for the freedom of the Githyanki people. She checks in often because even though she won’t admit it out loud, these people are her family.

**Duke Ravengard, Jaheira, and Minsc are helping the city of Baldur’s Gate rebuild. Boo is doing the heavy lifting.

Chapter 1: Astarion, The Pale Elf

“Gods... This is the first time in two hundred years I've seen these streets in the sunlight. You can forget just how much colour there is in the world.” – Astarion, Act 3

Astarion wakes to the sound of rustling, the space around him empty but still warm as he reaches out for her. His fingers grip blankets used for sleeping the night before and he lets out a sigh, knowing that his love is someone with fire in her blood and therefore always on the move. He sits up and rubs the rest from his eyes. Elves, of course, do not have to sleep as sleep-needing species do but it has been something he has tried lately. His dreams, rather than the memories of Cazador he often mulled over during his nightly meditative state, were nice. Pleasant. Sometimes he dreamed so vividly – the colors comforting and the smells familiar. Sometimes he dreamed about the sun again. It was like slivers of his old life were coming back to him.

When he finally leaves their tent, he finds her by the campfire stirring a pot of coffee and yawning into her hands. The real sun had just set, and the last memories of dusk were fading into the stary nighttime sky. This has been their life since the defeat of the Elder Brain, and the loss of the very Mindflayer parasites that brought them together – the ones that freed him from Cazador’s grip and hers from Bhaals and the very thing that allowed him to feel the sun on his skin for the first time in two centuries. These parasites had also connected their minds together and gave him a power he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t enjoyed. He didn’t feel empty, in fact he felt like himself for the first time in two hundred years – and maybe ever – but everything did feel quiet. His thoughts, his body…they were his own. Not Cazador’s. Not the Mindflayer parasite. His. He was thankful to not to be alone with all his new choices.

It had only been a few weeks, but he had slipped back into his old ways of living during the nighttime. Anya, his love, on the other hand was having a more difficult time adjusting. She was still having nightmares of Bhaal and of Orin and of the lost, dark memories of her time before. It was one of the reasons he began tried to sleep, to give her company so she wasn’t alone with her dreams. He knew that the sun had made her feel safe. He knew that the nighttime reminded her of these things and where he wished they could both lie naked in the sun together and banish away any of the unwanted memories that come with the night, he was just so happy to have her and his freedom. If he were more of a poet maybe he could put his joy into words. But alas, his life had been filled with insincere pretty words used to lure people in. It was only the past few months that he began speaking for himself. The poetry would have to wait.

“My sweet,” he says, kneeling beside her, the campfire warm. She startles, lost in her memories or maybe her lack thereof.

“Astarion,” she gasps and turns to him, her lips forming a smile. “You are so quiet sometimes.” She is kneeling too and extends her upper body enough to kiss him. Their lips linger for a moment, hers parting, inviting him in. She tastes like coffee, a memory from his past life as a magistrate, and normally something he wouldn’t enjoy. But on her?

“How was it?” he asks as they pull away from one another. He brushes a loose curl from her face and tucks it behind her ear. The first thing he noticed about her was her hair, a fiery red mane of curls.

“Beautiful,” her smile is slightly melancholic, “There was a lot of red in the sunset tonight. When we get to the next town, I’d like to buy some oil colors so I can show you.”

“I’d like that.” He presses a kiss onto her forehead. Anya was full of surprises – such as defying Bhaal, the Lord of Murder and her father, - but one of the most precious ones was her love and talent for art. It was something she kept to herself for the first few weeks of their group camping together. It was something she did to keep her strained mind in order, but then it became something she shared with everyone and eventually…something she did just for him.

During one of the many nights they had first snuck away to the woods together, when he was still working on seducing her from decades of habit, she showed him her art. After they were spent physically, their bodies sticky with sweat, she untangled herself from him and dug in the bag she’d brought with her. He liked to study her in these moments when her gaze was turned away from him and he could be sincere. After two hundred years of playing the rake, of seducing people only to bring them back for his master, it was rare that he allowed himself to feel anything for anyone. He could appreciate the way someone looked, his body could enjoy their time together, but it wasn’t very often he allowed himself to know the person. To truly look at them. Her naked body was covered in freckles and curved softly. She had a few bruises on her skin from the various skirmishes they had been in and even then, when he was still pretending to her and lying to himself, he longed to kiss them better.

“All I have is some charcoal and I’ve just been drawing the things we see, like the Grove, and some of our friends…so I don’t forget.” She shows him a few sketches: Karlach laughing, Shadowhearts’ hands with the mark of Shar, the child Tieflings from the Grove with their bright eyes. Her pages were filled with people and memories and images she did not want to forget. They were beautiful.

“You are always so full of surprises, aren’t you?” he laughed and reached out to touch her drawing of Scratch, his head turned slightly as if listening in on their conversation. “Of course, you are artist, that must be why I was drawn to you.”

She let out a small laugh but was obviously lost in thought, “Astarion…” she crawled closer to him, but didn’t look him in the eye. Just moments before she had been crying out his name in a way he would be thinking about for the entirety of the next day, but in that moment…she was shy.

“What is it my dear?” without even thinking he placed his hand on her bare knee to comfort her. Even then his body reacted in ways that betrayed how he truly felt before his mind had caught up.

“I want to draw you.” She bit her lip, finally looking directly at him.

In his two hundred years of vampirism, he had not seen himself. He cannot even remember what he looked like before and could not picture what he looked like now. All he knew about himself were reflected in the eyes of others.

“I’d…I’d like that.” He whispered honestly, his hand still on her knee. She smiled and the world felt right in that moment. “Nude or clothed?” he joked, stretching out to show off his muscles. “I assume certain parts of me will be hard to capture in their…complexity.”

She giggled then and leaned close to him, a few breaths away from his face. “Whatever you want, love.”

The night continues as it had been for the past few weeks. They were able to bring a few caskets of bottled blood with them – bought by a butcher back in Rivington – and as Anya made herself a bowl of porridge, Astarion drank in – his strength returning to him with each sip. He loved these nighttime routines with her. It was the first time in his life that he had a quiet life. A life he truly enjoyed. He was in the process of documenting all of the nighttime constellations, a way for him to love the nighttime again. Lost in thought trying to find The Maiden, he was brought back down to reality by Anya’s voice.

“We are a day or so away from Waterdeep. We could probably even hire a carriage once we get to a village outside of the city.” She had Gale’s old maps strewn about in front of her, marking their journey in great detail. “Then we can really enjoy ourselves. Gale says this place never sleeps, that its nightlife is spectacular. There are so many things we can go together – like a play! Oh, I’ve always wanted to go to a live play.” Her cheeks are slightly flushed from the wine she was drinking. “Astarion, we could make a home of this place for a little bit.” She takes his hand in hers and rubs her thumb over his knuckles, a motion she does often to remind him that she is there. He closes his notebook of stars and lays his other hand on top of hers, excited by her excitement.

“I don’t know how I feel about making a home in the same city as…Gale.”

“Oh, come on now. He’s your best friend!”

“He is your best friend. You are mine.”

She blushes, “Astarion!”

“I kid. Gale is great when he isn’t, you know, regurgitating words at you or talking about the great and powerful Goddess Mystra who he used to bed.” They both let out a genuine laugh and it reminds him of their time at camp. It makes him miss the others something terrible and he is annoyed that all these people wormed their ways into his heart. “I’d like nothing more, my sweet. Although, I do hope that circus we met last time stays far away. And if you make me get up on a stage with a clown again, it will break my heart to do so but I will kill you.”

She laughs and moves closer to him, leaning her head against on his shoulder. “Dribbles the Clown was scarier than the Elder Brain, wasn’t he?”

“The true cause of our nightmares.” He holds a hand to look at his nails, an old habit of his from when he can no longer remember. Sometimes he wonders where he picked things up like this from…gods forbid, Cazador? A past lover? A past victim? Himself?

“We will also find the wizard Gale told us about. Both Volo and Elminster vouch for him.”

“Not the highest praise.” Astarion says, which catches him a nudge from Anya’s elbow. “I’m just saying, Gale’s colleagues are always a bit…weird…and I’m all for finding a way for me to walk in the sun again, I just don’t want to end up having to eat magical items to do so. I have too nice of clothes to be using them for snacks.”

“Astarion.” Anya sits back to look at him, her eyes slightly wild in the way they get when she is either passionate about something or slightly annoyed. In this case, it was probably both. “You can joke all you want, but we are going to find a way for you to walk in the sun again.” She is now the one to reach up and brush a loose curl from his forehead, her fingertips lingering against his skin. In moments like these, of casual and warm intimacy, he feels the pull again. The desire. Not a mask he had to put on a performance, but real and true desire. The kind he felt for her first, way back during the party for the Tieflings they saved when he realized things with Anya were different and he was terrified.

“Anya…”

“No, don’t do that.”

“What? Say your name?”

“Say my name in that way. I defied Bhaal. I died and was brought back from the dead because Withers believed in me. I turned on the Emperor, Balduran himself, and I am sitting here with you…when I want something, when I believe in something, it becomes true. And I want this and so it is true.” Her cheeks are slightly flushed and the scar that crosses her left cheek and nose burns red in the firelight. The scar came from the time before, when the Dark Urge had taken over her entire life and from when Orin erased her memories. It was a favorite of his to kiss, the way she shivered when his lips danced across her skin…

“I believe you.” He says and it is true. Their promise is they do not lie to each other. They can joke, they can sidetrack the conversation or distract one another with touch…but they do not lie to each other. And he has no reason to, for he believes every word his love speaks.

Chapter 2: Anya, Challenger of Gods

“So rise, Challenger of Gods, and prepare for battle once more. Death will not claim thee whilst I endure.” – Withers, Act 3

Anya braces herself for the coldness of the lake and cries out as she beings to wade in the water, naked and exposed. This has been her ritual the past few days as their encampment is only a half-mile walk from a nearby lake. It is secluded with trace signs of civilization in the distance. Lights from the nearby villages light up the horizon and Waterdeep creates an ever-present glow in the night sky. But this little spot of hers is secluded and safe. It has an old, abandoned fishing dock and an overgrowth of plants. There is a small trail that leads into and out of the woods and no one has bothered her during her near-dawn swims. In fact, there was hardly another soul around.

Anya is not a great swimmer and only dares to venture out to the waist-deep part of the water. It is always shockingly, almost painfully cold at first but once she gets used to it – just like she had to get used to the feeling of the plant growth and lake bottom beneath her feet – she always feels so free. She takes a deep breath and plunges into the water, her body completely submerged. Her hair floats around her like a crown and when she returns to the surface again, gasping for air, she begins laughing. This has been her ritual and tonight is no different. Well, except for Astarion.

“Are you coming?” she shouts at him from the water. She pushes her wet curls from her face. He stands by the shore of the lake with only his shirt off, dipping his toes in the water and staring up at the moon. Usually he stays behind, bundled in their blankets and reading by the fire in their camp. But tonight, he requested that he come with her. With the removal of the Mindflayer parasite, Astarion was back to avoiding the sunlight and running water and other things that could harm him. But the waters of lakes, ponds, hot springs, bathtubs. These were safe. He told her, though, that it was rare he found himself near any of body of water while under Cazador’s grip. It was something he was still figuring out if he enjoyed or not. It was still something he was gauging if he found safe.

Astarion asking to join her tonight surprised her at first and then excited her. Not for any sexual reasons, in fact neither had wanted to be sexual in a long time, but because he often let the rest of whatever guard he had left up around her down. And she did the same. He was not a vampire spawn cursed by the sun. She was not the Bhaalspawn who rejected her heritage and was forsaken by her father. They were just Anya and Astarion. And, she had to admit, she liked when he let her wash his beautiful hair.

“I am enjoying the moon, my dear, it is a full one tonight.” His eyes move to her, and she feels the way his eyes study her body. Not in a possessive way. Not in a sexual way. Not hungry or objectifying. But like she is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. It never fails to make her blush. “This view isn’t so bad either.”

“Come on then.” She teases, splashing some water his way. “And bring the soap.”

She dives under the water again as she waits for him to join her. The world is so silent under there. Her body is weightless, her spirit free. She hasn’t told Astarion yet, but she hasn’t been sleeping well lately…if at all. With the Dark Urge gone, she expected to finally have restful sleep. She expected silence in her brain and control over her body and where, yes, Bhaal and his hunger for blood was no more…he still tainted things. She couldn’t shake the nightmares, the occasional memory from her past that slipped by and lately…she couldn’t stop dreaming about a woman.

In the dreams, this woman called to her, but Anya could not hear. It was always in an unidentifiable wooded area, and it was always so urgent. Even the woman herself was almost formless, an echo of a person. Anya’s dreams were never restful but these ones lately…she awoke as if she had just finished a fight. And each night, as she got closer and closer to the woman and to hearing her words and seeing who she was, a terrifying and inescapable presence would eventually stop her and pull her awake with force. It would leave her as soon as she woke and realized it wasn’t real and Astarion was next to her. They had won. They were safe.

She resurfaces now and feels a familiar hand reach out, brushing the hair from her face.

“My wild girl.” He whispers, a smile on his lips. She stands up in the stomach-deep water and wraps her arms around him. As a vampire he is cold, sure, but right now he is warm compared to the chill of the lake and after his meal of animal blood. It has been a while since he fed on her. He requested they keep it to only once a week, until her strength returned, and they could properly rest for a while in Waterdeep.

“Mielikki teaches that we should connect with nature as often as we can.” She giggles as he begins kissing her neck, his tongue lightly tracing her wet skin, pulling her back into the present moment. Gods how he surprised her sometimes. “Technically, this is my prayer. Astarion…” He knows that a particular spot on her neck is incredibly sensitive and kissing it is a good way to shut her up. Over their past months together he became very acquainted with her neck and the intricacies of her erogenous zones. His first time biting her for her blood was a bit awkward and feral, Astarion not totally there from hunger and surprise that she was allowing it. Her not used to the sensation or to him. But the second time…it had happened a few nights later when she invited him to her bedroll to feed on her while the others were sleeping. He was gentle, more careful. This time knowing more about what he was doing. And he was only there for a few moments but that night it had been long enough for her fingers to wrap themselves in his curls and for him to hesitant at her neck with his lips when he was done feeding.

“You clerics and your prayers.” His voice vibrates against her neck, sending shivers across her body.

“We are more than our prayers” she scolds, her hands finding their way to the tips of his long elf ears. This was something she learned during their time together. This is what got him to shut up. Her half-elf ears were sensitive, sure, but his ears? Just a slight touch from her was enough to melt the cocky Astarion in seconds. She strokes the points of his ears between her thumbs and middle fingers.

“You wicked thing.” His hands move to cup her face and bring her lips to his. He is so soft. So ethereal. She is once again so angry with the sun that it will be rising in just over an hour. She already defied Bhaal, next maybe it would be Lathander when she tore the very sun from the sky for how much it hurt her love.

“When we get to Waterdeep I want to rent an inn for a few nights and take a long, hot bubble bath.” Anya says, closing her eyes so she can imagine the ecstasy of such a thing.

“What else do you want?” Astarion leaves a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone and then in between her breasts. He said once kissing the patterns of her freckles was like connecting the stars for constellations.

“I want a big bottle of deep red wine, aged, for me and you. And a lemon cake and I want to pay my respects to the Selûnite temple in Waterdeep and buy books on subjects I know nothing about from the bookstores in town and…” she stops and intertwines her fingers through his loose curls, pulling his head back slightly. “What do you want?”

His eyes darken, “In Waterdeep or…right now?” His gaze traces the features on her face, softening when she meets his. “I want you, Anya.”

“I know you do,” she whispers. “But I also want you to feel safe and ready and…” she closes her eyes, finding the words. “I love you more than anything else in this world and…”

He presses his forehead to hers, gods he is so warm tonight. “My sweet, I know all of this because we remind one another every day.” His thumb lightly traces her lip, his skin rough. “There will be nights I do not feel like being touched. There will be nights my body does not feel my own. There will be nights that…my past is in control, not me. But there will also be nights when…I feel desire and when I want to act on that desire. And…tonight is one of those nights.”

Astarion and Anya are alike in so many ways. Both had no control over large portions of their lives. Their pasts, their true pasts containing the information of who they were and who they used to be, are gone. Taken from them. Their bodies were never their own but rather tools wielded by the hands that owned them. Cazador for Astarion, Bhaal for Anya. For the first time in their lives, each step was their own choice. Each word they said was truly their own. And their bodies finally belonged to themselves. Anya knew that Astarion did not want to be thought of in terms of sex. He did not want to be a sexual object. He did not want to be used and discarded. He wanted to be a person with a name and a soul just like Anya did.

She also knew they were deeply attracted to one another and that…well, that meant sex might look different from their first few times together…but it wasn’t going to be off the table for them as a couple. And she can’t help but blush a little and feel the warmth of anticipation creep through her body, settling in between her legs.

“Well okay then.” She says, barely above a whisper. “Let’s try.”

**Thank you for reading! More will be posted soon :) AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52974022/chapters/134008204

#writing #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 durge #astarion pov #soft astarion

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