#dot's bg3 tag | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dancingbirdie · 6 months

Note

This request is really out of the blue but, i need I CRAVE i require a fic where tav and astarion finally find a cure for his vampirism (in dnd5 it can actually happen yay!) and he manages to see his reflection again and finally have his natural eye color again (blue bc he's prob a moon elf but I don't mind other colors too). The fangs can stay or not, idc, i just want my boy happy, in love, and cared for. Bonus points if there's cuddles too

OK first of all, thanks for this prompt!! Second, I had to break this up into two parts because I'm afraid of how unwieldy it would get otherwise. So see part 1 below. I'm actively writing part 2 and should have that posted within the next few days. Hope you enjoy!

UPDATE: Chapter 2 available here!

I Promised You (Chapter 1)

Rating: G

Pairing: Astarion x GN!reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings/Tags: mentions of unconsciousness, cheeky banter, domestic life, post-events of BG3, potentially problematic levels of self-sacrifice by reader.

***

“All right. I think you’re ready,” Gale affirmed as he peered over your shoulder, analyzing your hand movements as you practiced the incantation.

“You think? Shouldn’t we wait until you’re sure?” you replied, heavy skepticism coloring your tone.

“I can’t give you my complete assurance because you haven’t actually cast the spell,” the wizard sighed.

The two of you had had this argument many times over the past several months as you studied and practiced. And studied and practiced some more. The conclusion was always the same, but your anxiety always managed to convince you that a different outcome would be had if you just asked him again.

Conjuration magic was one of the most difficult forms to master. Yes, you had specialized in it during your formative years, under the tutelage of several learned wizards across Faerûn, but this spell was perhaps the pinnacle of feats in conjuration. Only a handful of wizards could perform it. Thankfully Gale was among that number, which is why you had come to him for help.

“As I’ve said, this isn’t a spell you can just cast for practice runs,” he continued. “You have one chance. And if it works, the sheer power of it is undoubtedly going to knock you unconscious.”

“I know, I know,” you grumbled. “I just… I need to be absolutely perfect. I have to do this. For him.”

“Have you told him what you’re planning yet?” Gale prodded.

“No. Not yet. I didn’t want to get his hopes up. Or have him tell me how unlikely success will be. Not until I was absolutely sure I could do this.”

“I see,” the wizard returned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well, tonight is as good a time to tell him as any. There’s nothing more I can teach you to prepare for this. You know the incantation by heart. You perform the gestures almost through muscle memory now. You’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” you repeated, as if saying the words would will it to be so.

“Send me a missive if he wants to go through with this. I’ll come to the cottage and oversee the spell’s casting.”

“All right,” you nodded.

“It’s going to work. You have to believe it’s going to work,” Gale encouraged, meeting your eyes with a serious, stern sort of expression.

“It’s going to work,” you agreed. “It’s going to work.”

***

It was dusk by the time you returned to the cottage. It was a modest home you shared with Astarion, situated just outside the city walls. It had a lovely view of the rolling hills that surrounded Baldur’s Gate, and proximity to the Chionthar River gave the air a refreshing, misty feel. Pastoral communities dotted the countryside with sheep and cattle grazing freely during the day, though they had returned to their stables long before your return.

Astarion was no fan of the bucolic lifestyle, as he was wont to remind you. But you both agreed that this living situation afforded him better meal prospects than the rats, cats and errant stray dogs that dwelled within the city limits. At least this way, he had more fulfilling options for food, since the livestock attracted their fair share of large predators. A mild, perpetual confusion charm that you cast kept the neighbors from questioning why – unlike their peers in neighboring villages and towns – their animals were never plagued by roving bears and panthers.

Astarion was lounging listlessly in the bay window of the den when you entered your home, one leg dangling off the ledge of his reading nook while he carelessly flipped through a book. Probably one he had pilfered from Gale’s stockpile a few weeks ago, you surmised. There had been an uptick in the wizard’s grumbling about discrepancies in his library catalog of late.

“Anything interesting?” you asked as you shrugged out of your traveler’s cloak and hung it on the coat rack by the door.

“Ugh, hardly,” Astarion grouched. “Nothing but debunked theories and philosophies from bloated scholars who died a hundred years ago.”

“You’re going to have to return Gale’s books to him eventually, you know. He’s beginning to realize how many from his library are missing.”

“Haven’t the slightest clue what you’re referring to, darling,” he replied breezily.

“Of course, love,” you chuckled, planting a kiss on his forehead as you passed him by to make your way into the kitchen.

“Care for a glass of wine?” you called.

“Mm, yes,” Astarion returned. “Red, please, dear.”

Uncorking the bottle and pouring the glasses gave you a brief moment to collect your thoughts. To steel your nerves for the conversation looming before you. Drawing a deep breath in and exhaling it slowly, you made your way back into the den and braced for the inevitable.

“Darling, do you have a moment?” you asked as you offered Astarion his glass before taking a seat next to him. “I’d like to talk to you about something.”

“Gods, it must be serious,” he teased, straightening from his reclined pose to take the proffered glass and make room for you. “You like you’re about to be ill. Go on then, love, before you faint and spill this vintage all over the floor.”

“It is rather serious, in fact,” you began, clearing your throat that had suddenly become tight with nerves. “I’ve waited to tell you until now, but I’ve been researching some more difficult conjuration magic with Gale the past few months…”

“Oh?” Astarion prompted as you paused. “For what purpose, darling? I thought you had already mastered the school of conjuration.”

“I have. But this is a more specialized form. More… niche, I guess one might say. And, well…” you trailed off again, hesitant.

“Go on,” he encouraged.

“I’ve-been-researching-a-spell-that-cures-vampirism-and-I-think-I’ve-found-a-way,” you spat out all at once, the words tumbling into each other like a wagon train gone wild.

Astarion met your eyes with a blank stare, seemingly forgetting that his one hand had been in the process of lifting the wine glass to his lips.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked hoarsely.

You coughed to clear your throat. “What I mean to say is: I’ve been working with Gale for months now to learn a spell that can cure your vampirism. He and I believe I’m ready to perform it. If you would allow me to try, that is.”

“If this is your idea of a joke,” he murmured, a slight quiver in his voice. “Then I have to tell you, it’s absolutely not funny at all.”

“It’s not a joke!” you assured. “I swear to you, Astarion. It’s not a joke,” you continued, squeezing one of his hands in yours.

He nodded absently, his gaze trained on your thumb as it soothed over the knuckles of his fingers.

“H-how?” he whispered finally. “How can you cure it? I’ve read every tome I could get my hands on for over two hundred years. Nothing, nothing, I’ve read has ever offered a solution.”

“Because this is a highly guarded spell. It’s only passed down through oral tradition among wizards who specialize in conjuration magic. Which is why I’ve needed Gale’s help,” you explained. “I broached the topic with him some time ago, told him how we were going to look for some way to cure your vampirism. Being a master of magicks himself, I thought he would be a good source of information for me to begin my research. I wasn’t even aware of the spell until he shared it with me. He’s been teaching me the mechanics of it since then. It’s been a difficult spell to master but–”

“What’s the cost?” Astarion interjected suddenly, meeting your gaze with a new intensity.

“It will cost you nothing, obviously,” you retorted, disliking where the conversation was heading.

Astarion huffed through his nose. A caustic, frustrated sort of sound. “Don’t play cute with me, darling. You know what I mean.”

“No. I don’t,” you hedged.

“What will the spell cost you,” he bit out through a clenched jaw.

You bit your lip, hesitant to reply. Astarion’s gaze never wavered.

Finally you sighed. Better to reveal the consequences of it all than attempt to hide the downsides from him. Even though they were negligible in your eyes, compared to the wonder that would be returning his elfhood to him, you knew he would resent being told only partial truths. You couldn’t fault him for it. You would feel the same, were the roles reversed.

“It will permanently weaken me. There’s a small, very small, chance it could kill me if I perform it wrong,” you confessed.

“No,” Astarion responded bluntly, without a hint of hesitation. He rose from the bench and made to leave the room. As if the matter had been settled and it was time to crack on.

“Wait! What do you mean, ‘no’?” you blurted. Jumping to your feet, you snatched at the sleeve of his nightshirt.

He turned to peer at you with a haughty gaze, one eyebrow arched delicately. “Exactly that. No. You’re not risking your life on the off chance of this working.”

“But it’s not an off chance. It will work! And the likelihood of me dying is incredibly slim!” you protested.

“But the likelihood of you being ‘permanently weakened’ is essentially certain, yes?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it sounds. And besides, I don’t mind. I want to do this, Astarion.”

He scoffed. “Have you gone absolutely mad? ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds.’ Do you even know what will actually happen to you afterwards?” he shot back angrily.

“No,” you admitted, a bit quieter.

He deliberately widened his eyes at your response, crossing his arms across his chest as if to say See? My point proven.

“But I know I can handle it! And I love you enough to try!” you retorted.

That appeared to be the wrong choice of words. You realized it immediately as his expression morphed from outright anger to something darker, icier.

“Well then, it seems we’re at an impasse, darling,” he growled. “Because I love you enough not to have you go through with this.”

You opened your mouth to object once more, but he continued, ignoring you.

“AND, since it is my body and my life we’re discussing, it means I have the final say on the matter. My answer is no.”

You had anticipated this conversation going many different ways. You thought you had prepared for the most likely scenarios. But, in all your pondering, you hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that Astarion would reject this opportunity outright.

Your eyes welled with tears. Hot, angry, disconsolate tears.

“Astarion,” you murmured, desperate. Angry though you both were, you couldn’t resist the urge to curl into his embrace. Gently, you pulled at his arms in an attempt to un-cross them. With a soft sigh, he allowed you to manipulate him so that you were pressed chest to chest. Your arms banded around his waist, locking him against you. Slowly, he raised his arms to mimic your stance, peering down at you.

“Astarion, my darling, this is your chance. It’s the only chance we’ve found in over two years of searching. I know I can do it. And you can win it all back. I can help you. Let me do this,” you pleaded.

“Darling, how could I ever ‘win it all back’ when there’s a possibility I could lose you forever? Or that you could be seriously harmed in the process?” he lifted a hand to cup your cheek, smiling sadly. “I would never forgive myself if you were harmed in an attempt to cure me.”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. “Please. I know I can do this. Please let me do this. I want to do this for you.”

“Come, pup, no more tears. I’ve given you my answer,” he murmured, swiping a thumb across your cheekbones to catch each tear.

You opened your eyes to glare at him. “If the roles were reversed, would you want to try this for me?”

“Of course,” Astarion huffed. “But that’s obviously different, I –”

“WHY? Why is it different?” you cried, clutching him.

“Because you’re worth it!” he implored, arms vibrating as though he were resisting the urge to shake sense into you. “Your soul is worth a thousand of mine! It’s not marred by death and torture and sacrilege. Can’t you see that? Don’t you see?”

“No, I don’t,” you argued obstinately. “Because you are worth it to me. Your soul is priceless to me. I love you. You’re the love of my life.”

Astarion said nothing, just stared at you with sad eyes. You couldn’t tell if his silence meant you were persuading him, but you couldn’t relent without giving at least one more desperate plea.

“I promised you. Remember? After everything that happened, I promised you we would find a way for you to walk in the sun once more. I didn’t make that promise lightly. I want to do this for you.”

“Darling…” he murmured sadly, shaking his head.

“Astarion, please,” you beseeched, shifting to clutch his face between both of your palms. “I’m literally begging you to let me try. Gale and I have been practicing for almost a year now. He wouldn’t tell me I was ready unless he was certain. I know I can do this. Please. Let me try.”

“Don’t you have any regard for your own life?” he whispered. “How is it that I’m more concerned for your well being than you are?”

“Darling, all of us have the slightest potential of dying every single day we continue to breathe. Anything poses some risk to our lives. I’m telling you, the risk of me dying from this is the same as the risk I take casting any other magic.”

“But there’s still a permanent cost to doing this. Have you even asked Gale to elaborate on what that entails?”

“No,” you admitted a bit sheepishly. “I didn’t really think about it.”

Astarion rolled his eyes but planted a kiss against your forehead. “You’re ridiculous, you know.”

“I’m sorry that I was so ecstatic about finding a cure that I leapt straight into studying it!” you said defensively, although your tone lacked teeth.

He chuckled and wrapped you in a tighter embrace, resting his cheek on the top of your head. The two of you stood like that for some time, arms wrapped around each other, lost in thought.

After a while, Astarion cleared his throat. “I want us to speak to Gale. I want to know the full details, the consequences of a spell like this.”

You jerked your head up in surprise, staring at him with wide, elated eyes.

“I’m not saying yes,” he clarified, attempting to tamp down your burgeoning excitement. “But I’m willing to hear more about this… possibility.”

A delighted squeal rocketed up your throat. Quick as a flash, you jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. Long used to your ebullient antics, Astarion caught you with a practiced ease. His arms banded under your thighs and across your lower back, squeezing gently.

“I love you, you daft, feral thing,” he chuckled, nuzzling your cheek.

***

“I would have gone over this months ago, had you afforded me the opportunity,” Gale had groused upon arriving at the cottage the following evening. The three of you shared a bottle of barrel-aged Callidyren while Astarion peppered the wizard with umpteen questions about the spell’s mechanics. To his credit, Gale managed to assuage Astarion’s concerns. At least for the most part.

The permanent effects of casting the spell, you both learned, would diminish your inner well of magic, rendering you unable to cast as many spells as you currently could before resting for a longer period of time. Almost as though the cost of performing the spell would revert you back to the strength you had had as an apprentice so many years ago. You would still be powerful, capable of wielding even the most intricate of spells. But your endurance would be shorter, more concentrated. It was a price you were more than willing to pay. Even more so now that you had actually allowed Gale to describe the effects in detail.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t press for more details,” Astarion grumbled.

“It didn’t seem important at the time,” you sniffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Still doesn’t, in my opinion.”

“You know, in some schools of thought,” Astarion countered dryly, “people believe the difference between bravery and complete idiocy is so fine a line that it frequently gets crossed.”

“So I’ve heard,” you crooned. “But, alas, I’m nothing if not an incredibly adept fool in love.”

Gale observed the two of you warily, as if uncertain whether this exchange constituted harmless domestic banter or an undercurrent of severe agitation.

“Yes, well,” he interrupted awkwardly, “as I said before, you’re as ready as you will ever be to perform this magic. I’ll be here to supervise and intervene, if necessary, though I don’t think it will be.”

“Bully for us. Is there anything else we should be prepared for, if we’re to go through with this?” Astarion snapped. “Sudden onset sliminess? Gills? Frothing at the mouth?”

You winced. He was always his most discourteous self when he was afraid. Gale might not realize it, but you knew him well enough to tell when his rudeness was obfuscation.

“Ahem,” Gale coughed, clearly affronted by the impertinent question. “No, nothing of that sort. But this spell is incredibly demanding on one’s body. It’s very likely they’ll fall unconscious once it’s been cast. The effect shouldn’t last for more than a few hours. Enough time for a proper rest.”

“You failed to mention that yesterday,” Astarion said peevishly, glaring at you from across the dining table.

“Because it’s the equivalent to me needing a good sleep after a tiring day,” you quipped.

Gale winced. “It’s a bit more serious than that, I’d argue.”

“Thank you,” Astarion intoned.

“Tsk. An inconvenience at worst. Nothing unmanageable,” you retorted. “So, what say you, darling? Are you willing to give this a try?”

Astarion’s glare shifted between you and Gale, studying you both.

“And you both swear to me that all information is now disclosed, yes? No partial truths, no hidden side effects?”

“I swear,” the two of you responded in unison. You reached for Astarion’s hand across the table.

“My darling, this will work. I’m going to be fine. And you’re going to be cured,” you smiled gently. “Please, trust me.”

He squeezed your hand, crimson eyes boring into your own.

Finally, after a moment, he gave you a terse nod.

“All right. Let’s try,” he agreed.

910 notes · View notes

moonlitdesertdreams · 7 months

Text

Thankful

A/N: Everyone wanted more soft Astarion, so how's traumatized instead? Tags: Astarion Ancunin, Astarion, BG3 Astarion, BG3 Imagines, Astarion x OC, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-typical blood, mentions of grieving/loss. ACT III/ 'THE PALE ELF' QUEST SPOILERS Summary: You comfort Astarion and talk about emotions after the events at Szarr Palace.

Word count: 2.1k+ (GIF credit to @silverformymonsters)

Leaving Szarr Palace is both a weight off your shoulders and the biggest burden you’ve carried since this adventure started. Cazador is dead, and Astarion is free as last. No master, and no more being used as a means to an end.

But it’s never that simple, is it?

Shadowheart and Lae’zel, mercifully, take Astarion’s second wave of heart-wrenching wails, after all the spawn were set free, as their cue to leave. You give him space as he cries and wait until it’s only a soft whimper to approach. He’s on his knees at that point, Cazador’s bloody body inches from his. The daggers still sticks out of the vampire lord’s chest, begging to be used once again.

You come to a stop behind Astarion’s left shoulder and let your fingers barely brush his skin. For once he feels warm, filled with anger, denial, fear and vulnerability. When he doesn’t brush you off, you press more firmly, moving to the front of his body. Astarion’s hands creep up to your hips and use them as leverage to stagger to his feet. It isn’t until he’s upright that he makes eye contact and breaks your heart into two.

Blood runs in macabre trails down his skin and clothes, puddling on the floors around him and his fallen master. His eyes, normally alight with mischief and mirth, are downcast, swollen and dripping with tears. The pain is apparent, tied together with confusion and grief for the end of an era, even if it was depraved and lonesome.

“... I should be happy.” He whispers, pinching his eyes shut. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Oh, Astarion.” You murmur, reaching to envelop him in your arms.

Your vampire crumbles, arms wrapping tight around you to the point you’re fairly certain you’re not getting enough oxygen. Astarion clings to your clothes, to any concrete fragment of reality that can ground him from what he’s been through. His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, hiding the tears from your prying eyes. One hand comes up to cup the back of his head and strokes his blood-stained curls.

“I-I… I feel numb. Empty.”

Keeping him close is the only thought in your mind. It’s not the time to delve into the implications of grieving an abuser. You decide it’s best to get back to your lodgings above the Elfsong Tavern to let him have privacy instead of being surrounded by the exact place causing him so much pain.

And a long journey it is. Past the Gur leader Ulma waiting at the dais, and through the bustling streets of Baldur’ Gate.

Astarion barely makes it into the washroom before he collapses, and you just do your best to keep him on his feet.

“Here, here. Sit down and I’ll draw you a bath, yeah?”

Astarion drops on the floor where you’re lowering him. You think he nods, but don’t stay long enough to confirm it. The other members of your rag tag team are dotted about the lounge area when you walk in and beeline straight towards Astarion’s chest of clothing.

Karlach is the only one brave enough to approach you, tapping long talons nervously against her leg.

“Well? How’s he doin’?”

“As well as can be expected…” You sigh and sit on his bed, fresh clothes in one hand. “It’s a complicated situation. He hated Cazador, but the man was also some of the only constant interaction Astarion had in damn near two centuries.”

“Sometimes I fell empty, not having orders and all. Not having something constant that tells you where to go and what to do.” Karlach rubs her arms and shrugs. “Then I remember freedom and how much that means. I’m done being bound to some wretched leader. But there’s still a spot that feels empty. It’s healing, but it takes time. Hells, mine’s gotten better just having all of you around.”

Her words kick your brain into gear. “Yeah, that makes sense. Thanks, Karlach.”

Much to your surprise, Astarion’s already in a warm bath upon your return. You close the door behind you and slide the lock over, ensuring privacy for you both. The vampire’s eyelids only lift slightly when you drop his clothes onto the fireplace hearth and drag a wooden chair close.

“That was fast.” You observe and nod towards the water.

“Mhm. I caught Gale on his way up from supper. He waved his fingers around and made it work.”

You’re thankful for Gale’s presence and quiet affinity for the vampire, as it would’ve taken you twice as long manually.

“You don’t have to sit here, you know. I’ll be alright.” Astarion says quietly.

“Is that you nicely asking me to leave?”

His answer comes quickly. “No. I just don’t want to be a burden.”

The words are like a shot through the heart. “You could never burden me. No matter what.”

Astarion opens his eyes then. “Not even with a century of fucked up emotions? Trauma, as I’m sure you’re thinking?”

Ah, he needs the direct approach. You begin undressing, tossing your belongings in a messy pile on the floor.

“Fuck off and move over.”

Astarion stares at you and blinks comically before sliding over.

Once naked, you climb into the still-steaming water. There’s not an over-abundance of room in the tub, but enough that you can both put your backs against opposite sides and face each other. His long legs stretch to either side of your bum while yours remain crossed beneath. With both of you inside, the water easily rises above your chest, licking gently at sensitive collarbones instead.

“Talk.”

He sulks, but you can see the redness in his eyes and the swelling beneath. “And what should I talk about? How I’m not feeling as free as I should despite killing my slave-driver? I don’t need a psychic to tell me something is wrong with me.”

Astarion’s anger is familiar and raw, defending the vulnerable emotions swirling like a whirlpool in his gut. You don’t flich at its bite, nor retreat from its bark. It only rolls off your shoulders, dripping like rain right back into the bathwater.

“Yes, exactly that. You’re allowed to be upset. To be sad. Cazador and his necromancied skeleton guard were the only constants in your life for a long time. And now they’re gone. You’re allowed to grieve that loss. Even if it feels wrong.”

He draws in a breath, water rippling around his bare chest. “It feels atrocious. After everything he’s done - I’ve done- killing him should be a relief. Joyous, even. And instead I feel like this.”

You reach a hand onto the table to grab soap. Its smell is a pleasant break from blood and gore, and you start towards Astarion with it in hand.

“You’re still in shock. Everything we saw and did in that dungeon, all those people you knew. It’s natural to be sad and feel guilty.” You lather up your hands and bring them up to his neck, starting a slow and cautious massage. “Releasing them into the Underdark was the best chance they had to survive… and the best way to redeem the sins forced upon you.”

He leans into your hands as they rub the soap into his chest and shoulders. “I suppose it was.”

“Turn.” You tell him softly. He complies, drawing his legs to sit cross legged and face away from you.

Knowing it might be easier to hear your sentimental words while facing away, you lean into his ear. “No matter what, I’m proud of you. You’re a hundred times the man Cazador ever was.”

Astarion heaves a breath at your words, scarred back rising into your hands as you continue to spread the lather across his skin. You pretend the horrific rune isn’t there, doing your best to prevent another angry outburst His shoulders hitch when you start scrubbing at his hair and gently cupping water to wet his curls.

“I think I’m glad it’s over. I just….” He’s at a loss for words and flounders. One hand waves aimlessly in the air.

“Need time?” You supply, gliding your hands across his trapezius.

One of his strikes upwards like lightning, grabbing onto yours and squeezing. “Yeah. Time.”

You use a small cup from the tray to rinse his snowy curls without getting soap in his eyes. He hums at the warm water rolling down his scalp, and spins to face you as soon as you’re finished.

“Tav?”

You’re leaning to grab the soap when you pause to look at him. “Astarion?”

“Will you come to bed with me tonight?” Astarion stops and corrects himself. “Just to keep me company.”

“Of course I will.”

Much to your surprise, Astarion pushes himself through the water until you’re chest-to-chest. The liquid swirls and sloshes, splashing onto the floor and no doubt dripping onto a table at the tavern below. He draws your close, arms winding around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

You smile and wrap your legs around his middle, ignoring the discomfort due to limited space. Astarion’s head finds its place on your shoulder, nose brushing against the delicate side of your neck. His cool skin is a reprieve against the steamy bathroom. You nuzzle his damp curls and rub his back softly.

“I’m glad you didn’t stick to your original plan when we slept together that first night.” You hum, “You’ve become quite important to me on this journey.”

“How could I have? You’re too perfect.” Astarion’s breath sends goosebumps shooting in all directions from the joint of your shoulder. The feeling is similar to that of his bite, but less intense.

It hits you that he’s probably famished, not having fed on you the night before and being partially drained by Cazador’s profane ritual. Not to mention the amount of strain that’s been put on him both emotionally and physically in the last few hours.

You brush your hair away from your neck. “You need to feed,”

Astarion lifts his head. “That wasn’t what I was-”

“I know. But you’ve been through a lot.” You insist, rolling your head to the side. “Humor me.”

“I suppose I could be tempted.” Astarion’s eyes darken, and he shift back in towards your neck

His cool breath washes over your skin, and combined with the water it’s so chilly that it’s almost numb while he prepares to sink his teeth in. You feel his nose brush your skin, seeking out the delicate vein carrying the liquid he needs so desperately. He marks his target with a gentle kiss, and one hand holds your hip as he bites down.

Ice shoots through your veins, spreading slowly from collarbones to belly button, and eventually your toes as he drinks. The freezing quickly turns to ecstasy, shooting arousal into every corner of your body though you know it's not the time. Your hand knots in Astarion’s hair, unconsciously encouraging him to keep going. Somewhere in your brain, you realize this is how people fall so easily to vampires. With a blissful numb that rivals the best Opium and a feather-light sensation overtaking all your limbs, what wouldn’t someone fall for?

But luckily, your vampire would never let you fall.

Astarion’s fangs pull away from your skin but his mouth remains on your neck, lapping at the weeping blood until it stops. You’re woozy for sure, and allow yourself a few moments to be dead weight in his embrace.

“I apologize, darling. I got carried away.”

You shake your head and press a kiss to his chin. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Are you going to be able to navigate back to bed?” He asks, tipping his chin towards the shared space. “While you understand me, I’m not sure the others will be so friendly about my choice of dinner.”

“I’m willing to pay the barkeep for the private room across the hall for tonight.”

And you do, without thought. Anything that provides Astarion with comfort is worth the price for you. So you both trek across the hallway, leaving the bathroom mess for morning. Exhaustion has completely taken over after Astarion’s bite, and you take a moment to wrestle with the sheets until you’re able to climb under them.

“Comfortable, darling?” Astarion asks as he lays down.

“Delightful.” You reply, “Now get some rest.”

Astarion does as you say, but keeps you within arms reach at all times. He might be having trouble with his feelings towards Cazador and the missed opportunity for power, but he’s thankful.

Thankful for his choice, and thankful for you.

As always, if you enjoy please like/reblog and check out my links for more :)

If you're so inclined to help me out or watch some BG3 content, please please follow me on Twitch!

Masterlist | Send me ideas

624 notes · View notes

astarionposting · 5 months

Text

people i'd like to know better!

Thank you @wanderingisobel, @rotatingremains and @aeternaamantess for tagging me! <3

Last song: I, Carrion by Hozier

Favourite colour: Not really a colour, but black probably.

Currently watching: Game of Thrones hehe <3

Last movie/tv show: Game of Thrones lol

Spicy/savoury/sweet: Savoury

Relationship status: in a relationship

Current obsession: BG3, Hozier, God of Warrr and GAME OF THRONES AAAA, Robb Stark….

Last thing you googled: antifa (dont ask) and dot copy and paste ...

Tagging: @vspin. @anderwelt, @tugoslovenka, @yaoiconnoisseur, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @hazellblogs

#tag game #NO PRESSURE TAG

82 notes · View notes

verai-marcel · 4 months

Text

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 13 of ?)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

AO3 Link is here, my dear.

Word Count: 6,000 on the dot

------------------------------------

Act II, Chapter 1 - The Shadow Cursed Lands

With everything packed, Gale summoned a floating disk to carry the traveling chest. You recalled with a wry grin when he had first conjured the damn thing, before you had packed up the camp near the grove.

“Why in the hells didn’t you cast this before?” you nearly screeched.

Gale shrugged. “Hadn’t occurred to me.”

“So you let poor Karlach carry the chest on her back?”

He looked contrite. “She just picked it up like it was nothing! I was a bit too distracted to think of the spell.”

You immediately picked up on his shy comment and grinned like a cat. “Too distracted by her glistening muscles, you mean?”

“What? No!” He immediately glanced over at Karlach to see her raising an eyebrow at him. “I mean, they are nice muscles,” he floundered, gesturing frantically. “Wait. That’s not what I meant. I mean they’re fine, but—”

Astarion’s laughter carried across the camp as he watched the poor wizard ungracefully fumble his words. “What he means to say,” he said as he sauntered over to Karlach, “is that he was so impressed by your feat of strength that all he could do was look on in awe.”

“That’s it. That’s it exactly,” Gale said, sounding relieved.

“And he was probably imagining your amazing thighs crushing his skull, too,” Astarion added with a flirty wink.

Karlach laughed. Hells, everyone laughed, while Gale sputtered and walked away, his face bright red.

You snickered to yourself at the memory. With your pack on your back and the floating disk following you, you and your companions opened the door to a new land.

The greenish-black ambiance immediately made you grimace, and you hadn’t even walked through the doorway. With lit torches, you stepped forward and traveled south, lighting every brazier on the way, just in case you had to run back for any reason.

For example, being pushed back by a horde of enemies.

You swallowed. You were in the middle of the group, being protected on all sides. You felt bad about being such a liability in such situations. All you could do was guard the floating disk with your own body. You still hadn't learned how to use your dagger properly. You needed to ask someone, but they all seemed so tired at the end of the day that you always hesitated and then finally chickened out.

Lae’zel might teach me… but her training might be too harsh for me. Wyll would teach me, but I’m not sure if daggers are his thing. He was teaching the young tieflings how to fight with swords before he joined the group.

You glanced at the dagger on Astarion’s belt. I could ask him… but would he say yes?

Suddenly Lae’zel and Wyll stopped at the edge of a gnarled bridge, holding their fists up to let everyone know to stay still.

A woman on the other side called out to them. “Who goes there?”

You watched the scene unfold, wariness on both sides making you grit your teeth with unease.

Then your seal tingled.

You looked at Astarion. He was watching the strangers, but he glanced at you for just a moment. “Tingle?” he mouthed.

You nodded.

He gripped the hilt of his dagger.

The yells of the people beyond drew your attention back to them, one of them being dragged into the darkness. Preoccupied with the search for one of their own, their attention on your party wavered.

Halsin stepped forward. “It is the shadow curse. He has been taken.”

The woman who had spoken first ignored him. “Yonas? Can you hear me?”

When Yonas burst from the shadows, green glowing eyes and covered in shadows, you knew that he was gone. He was just a corpse, powered by dark magic.

The party leapt into battle, Gale and Shadowheart suddenly appearing on either side of you, throwing spells left and right as they kept you safe.

You pulled out your dagger, wielding it in your shaky grasp, and hoped you wouldn’t need it. Fear of the enemy kept you from moving. Fear of getting in the way of the others kept you from acting.

When the battle was over, the strangers introduced themselves as Harpers, and told you of a safe area called Last Light Inn.

Karlach’s eyes lit up. “Harpers? As in the ones who saved Baldur’s Gate all those years ago?”

You looked at her with a questioning look. As you followed the Harpers to this inn, Karlach ended up giving you a run down of certain events in the past that you had only heard of in passing, having grown up north of Neverwinter, far from the moderate climes of Baldur’s Gate. Wyll and Gale would occasionally interject with an additional fact or two.

“And that’s how Jaheira—”

Karlach suddenly stopped and stared. You followed her line of sight to see a half-elf with braids and severe expression. She looked as if she had seen the world burn and had saved it through sheer grit.

“So… this is Jaheira?” you mumbled.

The conversation between your group and the Harpers had been going on in front of you while you were with Karlach, and you watched as Jaheira’s eyes glowed green. You got a very strong zing to the base of your spine, and you immediately backpedaled as vines grew from the ground and ensnared the rest of your party.

Jaheira gave you a strange look, but continued to address everyone else. With the help of the Harpers the party had saved, and with the surprise vouching from Mol, one of the tiefling kids, Wyll managed to talk her down. In fact, he even convinced her to offer a space behind the main building to set up a campsite.

While everyone else headed inside the inn, you headed to the site with Scratch and Owly.

To the north of the main building, past a makeshift graveyard and tucked away along the shoreline, was a small area for you and your companions, away from everyone else. It was clear that Jaheira wanted your companions nowhere near everyone else, in case they turned into enemies. All right, that’s a fair assessment, all things considered.

There was a small waterfall that led to a small creek that flowed to the water’s edge, essentially splitting the camping area into two parts. You mentally started to map out where everyone’s tents should go as you looked around. After setting the floating disc down in the central part of the site and unsummoning it per Gale’s instructions, you asked the two animals to guard the packs and traveling chest.

They seemed to understand, and you could faintly hear Scratch's voice uttering an affirmative sound, though it wasn't quite as intelligible as when you had drunk the speaking with animals potion.

Walking back to the inn through a back door, you saw the tieflings from the Grove and greeted them briefly. You found Astarion standing to one side, holding up the wall as he observed everyone else mingling with the refugees. You joined him, leaning against the wall and giving a shy wave here and there as familiar faces passed by. It appeared to you that Wyll was doing the most talking, flitting about like the most social of butterflies.

“He certainly has a talented tongue, that man,” Astarion said with what sounded like admiration.

You could only nod in agreement. The Blade of the Frontiers, silver of tongue, sharp of blade. Ever the gentleman, gallant, and when he turned around, well, you had to admit, you didn’t mind watching him walk away.

With everything that had happened and was still happening, you hadn’t really thought about your growing fondness for, well, everyone. They were all physically pleasant to look at, of course, but that wasn’t what made your heart glow with affection. No, they were all quirky, genuine, strong, brave, and proud. They all felt so real, not like the nobles you had to deal with in Waterdeep.

That’s why your initial impression of Astarion rubbed you the wrong way. Like he had on a disguise, a specious smile, a fallacious front. The fact that he seemed to be so highly guarded had put you on guard too.

But the facade had fallen, the mask had cracked. And even when he put it back on, you could still see a sliver of his real self, hidden away, vulnerable.

You wanted him to feel safe with you. Safe enough that he’d be himself, his true self, around you, and maybe someday, around the others as well. Maybe one day, he’d tell you more of his story.

Then maybe one day, you’d feel safe enough to tell yours.

Movement close to your legs drew your attention downwards. A hairless cat was walking by, or rather, prowling, as if he was assessing its territory. You slowly slid down the wall so you could look at him.

“Hello there.”

The cat stopped and hissed at you.

What a prima donna. “My apologies, your majesty. I only wished to admire your grace.”

He glared at you, then sat on his haunches and preened haughtily. You didn’t dare reach out to touch him, given his attitude. After a few moments, he licked his paw, gave you one final arrogant look, and wandered off.

“Good day to you too,” you muttered as you stood back up. You glanced at Astarion, who was watching you with an amused smirk on his face.

“So you can be nice.”

“Excuse me? I am nice.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I seem to recall someone purposely leaving my tent cold one night.”

You huffed and turned away from him.

He chuckled softly.

You returned to observing the room, and one by one, your companions returned to you as they finished making their rounds. Once everyone was back together, Wyll relayed his meeting with a councilor who worked under his father.

“A councilor works for your father?” you asked.

“Oh, right,” Wyll said sheepishly. “My father… is Duke Ravengard.”

Astarion blinked. “That Duke Ravengard, of Baldur’s Gate?”

“Yes, that Duke.”

The conversation continued with you barely following, but you got the gist of it all. The Duke had been kidnapped and was held at Moonrise Towers, along with some of the tieflings and a group of deep gnomes.

Astarion rolled his eyes. “This is getting to be more and more like a quest to save the world,” he muttered. “I just don't want to turn into a squid.”

Ignoring his grumbling, Halsin added his own request, since he had spoken with a man who lay ill in one of the larger rooms, watched over by the Flaming Fist. When he finished conveying what he knew, he looked each person in the eye, including you. “Please help me save Thaniel.”

Everyone agreed, even Astarion to your surprise, although he looked begrudgingly so. When Halsin looked at you again, you only shrugged. “I can’t do much, but I’ll help where I can.”

Halsin smiled at you. “You can do much more than you think,” he said softly.

I can only cast a few cantrips. But whatever, he can think what he wants. You smiled back at his kind words anyway.

“I will try to talk to him a bit more, see if we can glean any more information from him,” Halsin said before leaving the group.

As you gazed around, you caught Astarion suddenly straightening up. You followed his gaze to Mol, who was playing chess with a gaudily dressed man.

Before you could ask, Astarion made a beeline for him. You quickly followed, turning back to the others to see them also following, grim expressions on their faces.

They seem to recognize him too. Who is this man?

Through the conversation, wherein Gale offered some advice so that Mol could win, you gathered that this man, Raphael, was some kind of information broker. His gaze turned towards Astarion, and the base of your spine tingled.

Godsdamn, this has been happening far too much as of late.

“Now, let’s talk about you. I sense there’s something you want to ask me.”

You stayed silent as Astarion talked his way into a deal, and you finally pieced together that Raphael was a devil. Your heart seized in horror, but you had to trust that he knew what he was doing. Astarion was trying to be subtle about his wording, to reveal as little about himself as possible in front of the others. However…

“What scars?” Karlach asked.

You glared at Karlach. Dammit, now isn’t the time for innocent questions!

“You haven’t told them? And you’ve kept your clothes on this whole time? How unlike you.” Raphael’s grin was slick and slimy. “Why not let them see? Don’t be shy.”

With a snap of his fingers, the clothes on Astarion melted away, leaving him exposed in the middle of the room.

“Gods damn it,” Astarion mumbled, a sad resignation in his tone.

Immediately, you stood in front of him, your protective instinct roaring to life. Wyll, Gale, Shadowheart, Karlach, and even Lae'zel followed suit, standing around him and shielding him from any passersby.

Raphael continued with his spiel, but all you could do was glare at the devil until he disappeared in a flash of infernal flame.

You turned to Astarion, taking off your outer shirt and wrapped it around his waist, tying the arms off at his side. At least now his most private bits were hidden. You tried not to brush against his skin, since now your arms and shoulders were exposed, but it was nigh impossible. When your forearm accidentally touched his torso, you realized you didn't need to worry about it; he was shielding again.

“Well. Now you know,” he said, a slight frown on his face. From his facial expression, you could tell that this wasn't the first time he'd been stripped naked against his will, and it bothered you greatly.

“We could have helped you,” Wyll said.

“All you had to do was ask,” Karlach added.

Astarion looked around at the others. “I… perhaps I should have. I’m not exactly used to asking for help and being met with, well… help.” He frowned. “But what’s done is done, so how about we stop talking about it and just get on with things?”

He tipped his head, his usual smirk returning to his face. “Although I should probably get dressed first…” He laughed, but you caught a hint of nervousness in his tone.

Spotting a back door, you led him outside along the pathway by the water, past the graveyard, back to where you had dropped off the camping supplies and gear. It also helped that Gale cast a minor illusion and distracted anyone nearby from looking at the two of you leaving.

When you got back to the campsite, he went for his pack and pulled out his extra set of clothes. You turned around, giving him privacy while you petted Scratch and Owly, thanking them for watching the party's things. Kneeling on the ground, you checked them both for any burrs and debris in their fur.

Suddenly you felt your shirt being gently draped over your shoulders. Looking up, you caught Astarion's gaze, his attention flickering to your neck for a brief moment.

“All that delicious exposed skin is too tempting,” he said quietly. “Let's head back before I decide to keep you here to myself.”

You quickly turned away and put your shirt back on before following him quietly back to the inn.

Once inside, you noticed that everyone had gathered around Jaheira's table.

“Ah, the two others of your party are finally here,” Jaheira said, her eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer.

The base of your spine tingled.

Ah shit, what now.

When she offered everyone a drink, you felt an even stronger zap in your back. Holding the cup and staring at the wine, you subtly gave it a sniff.

Oh. I know this herb.

“I can’t drink wine,” you immediately said. “It gives me headaches.”

Astarion glanced at you before putting his drink down. “You know, thank you for the offer, but I’ve been meaning to cut back.”

Lae’zel, Gale, and Shadowheart just held their cups without taking a drink, but Karlach and Wyll drank from theirs. Whether it was to be polite to a legendary hero, or they didn’t pick up on your discomfort, you didn’t know.

The conversation continued, and by the end of it, you knew that the others had been tasked with quite the undertaking. Following them upstairs to see whoever this Isobel person was, you noticed Shadowheart frowning. You touched her arm.

“I’m alright,” she said. “Just… not particularly comfortable getting a blessing from a Selunite.”

You nodded. She must be feeling conflicted, and yet she was still going along with it. The shadow curse, though it affected her less than the others, still affected her nonetheless.

Standing back, everyone let Wyll do most of the talking. Isobel gave everyone the blessing after a bit of discussion. You felt its gentle light surrounding you. Just as you thanked her, you felt a tingling, a strong one. Out of instinct, you reached out and tugged on Astarion’s sleeve.

He immediately looked at you and raised an eyebrow.

“Seal,” you mouthed to him.

He reached for his dagger.

“While you’re in the towers, I’ll be sure to—” Isobel suddenly stopped talking and looked around. “Wait. Do you hear that? Something’s wrong…”

You started to walk backwards towards the exit as a man with wings landed on the balcony and began to speak. After a heated discussion, the man made an eerie howl. In the distance, you could hear the flapping of wings.

Wyll turned to you. “GO!”

You turned to run out the door, only to stop short at the sight below you. Looking out over the balustrade, you could see winged horrors had invaded the building, flying all over the place. You saw one fly past you, and it took you far too long to realize that it was carrying Mol.

“Mol!”

Taking a step towards it, as if that would have done any good, you suddenly felt yourself being dragged back into the room with Isobel, just as one of the creatures landed nearby, its clawed hand slashing the space where you had been. Seeing Astarion’s white hair in your peripheral vision, you let him pull you towards a wardrobe in the back of the room. He opened it, and shoved you inside.

“Don’t come out until we get you,” he said before slamming the door shut.

Through the crack, you could see him leaping back into the fray, his dagger making swift work of a creature nearby. Hearing the raised voices, the commotion outside, the fighting… You trembled as you curled into the smallest ball and covered your ears.

I wish I was better at handling this sort of thing. I should be better, given how many times I’ve been in this situation.

You weren’t sure how long it took. Through the crack in the door, you could see the winged man fall, and the others leaving the room, presumably to help the others. You moved your hands away from your ears and listened.

You could still hear some fighting, but it was muffled and sounded far away. Perhaps I can get out of here?

No. Astarion told you to stay put. So you did. The last time you had disobeyed a direct order when danger was close… Well, you didn’t want to think about that.

The sound of a door opening in the room was almost a relief. Maybe they’re back.

But the cadence of the steps was different. It sounded… strange.

Then you heard a soft hiss, like a creature letting out a breath through its teeth. You stared at the crack in the door, your heart pounding in your chest.

Oh fuck oh fuck

The steps came closer to the door.

Your breath hitched and you held a hand around your mouth, trying to force yourself to breathe slowly and quietly.

Suddenly an eye, undead and glowing infernal red, appeared in the crack of the doors.

OH FUCK OH FUCK

It pulled back and slashed at the wood, the splinters flying. You pulled out your dagger, ready to fight for your life as it kept hacking away at the doors. It let out a shriek, and made one mighty swipe, tearing one of the doors off its hinges.

You were face to face with the demon, and all you had was a shitty dagger.

You had one moment to strike, but a red blur rammed into the demon, taking it across the room. You could hear Karlach’s raging yell, accompanied by the crushing of bones and flesh. You dropped your dagger and put your hands over your ears, curling back into a ball again.

You felt a presence coming close and opened your eyes. Shadowheart was reaching for you, and you couldn't help yourself.

You flinched.

She stopped and looked at you kindly. “It's alright, it's safe now,” she said softly. “Can you stand?”

You slowly climbed out of the wardrobe, your legs a bit wobbly. “Yes, I'll be alright,” you said, taking a deep breath.

“Perhaps you'll feel better when you're setting up camp, take your mind off things,” Astarion said.

“You're going to make her work when she's not feeling well?” Shadowheart snarled at him.

You touched her shoulder to calm her down. “No, he's right, I'll feel better with something to distract me.” You straightened your back and started walking towards the door, but not before you caught Astarion giving Shadowheart an ‘I told you so’ grin.

So petty…

As you walked downstairs, you could see everyone helping to clean up the chaos after Marcus and his minions had attacked. You offered to help on your way out the building, and after a few little chores here and there, you eventually made it back to the campsite.

You were happy to see Scratch and Owly, seemingly unharmed. Getting down on your knees, you hugged them tightly. As if they sensed that you needed some comfort, they nuzzled you, little Owly making cute hoots and chirps while Scratch let out small whimpers of sympathy.

“Thank you, my loves,” you said when you finally felt like you had recharged your morale. Their floofy bodies were perfect for making you feel better. Giving them one last pat, you took off your gloves and began to unpack everyone’s tents and set up the site.

After a few hours, you had finished setting up everyone’s tents, making sure the temperature was just right. You had learned everyone’s preferences and had tweaked your warming cantrip to each person, humming either faster or slower depending on how warm they liked it. Karlach got your special cooling cantrip, of course. Next, you began to set up the campfire circle, collecting rocks and building the circle. Scratch and Owly helped you collect firewood, and with a high pitched little ditty, you snapped your fingers twice. Sparks came from your fingertips, setting the kindling on fire.

Looking at the small flames and the amount of smoke, you realized that the wood wasn’t quite as dry as you had hoped. You glanced back towards the inn in the distance. It seemed like everyone was still busy cleaning up, so there wasn’t much of a chance of anyone coming back here…

Reaching up, you released your hair from its usual loose bun, letting it fall down your back in waves. You ran your hands through your hair, detangling it. You took off your boots and your outer clothes and pulled on your sleeping dress. The soft, thin fabric swished around your legs as you walked up to the campfire circle. The flame had nearly died down to just a feeble ember, trying to sustain itself on the damp wood.

One step back. Then one step to the side. You stared at the fire and began to sing, a slow song as you danced around the firepit.

O flame and fire, come to me

Come and keep me warm

Stay awhile, hear my plea

Be my hearth and home…

Your dress twirled around you as you danced, the cream colored fabric reflecting the soft orange flames that grew steadily each time you completed a circle. When the fire was crackling and large enough to burn without the help of your magic, you finished the song and stopped your dance, letting yourself twirl one last time for fun.

Then you turned around and saw your whole party staring at you.

Gods fucking DAMN IT.

You shyly waved at them. “Erm. How long have you been there?”

“Not long enough,” Wyll said as he walked up to you and held out his hand. “I didn’t know you could dance.”

He looked a bit enchanted, and you immediately felt shy. “I only know dances related to spellcasting. Sorry.”

Wyll's hand dropped, but he still smiled. “That's alright. It was a pleasure to watch.”

“You looked like a goddess!” Karlach said excitedly.

You just shook your head. “Alright, alright. I need to make the hot water rune. And we need meat for supper, can someone find a non-cursed deer or something?”

Wyll and Karlach laughed and saluted you as they left to go hunting. The others went to their tents to relax for the night but you noticed Gale giving you another curious look.

“Gale?”

He scratched his beard. “About two years ago in Waterdeep, the goddess Eilistraee was seen dancing along the walls of the city, gathering her followers to the city so they could build a shrine to her.” He gestured towards you. “Your dancing reminded me of hers.”

You shrugged. If he was trying to figure out where your skills came from, he was pretty far off.

“Not even close, am I?”

You shook your head. Why does he keep trying?

He smiled. “Can't help but guess,” he replied. “Oh well, perhaps another answer will come to me.”

You put your hair back up in a loose bun and prepared other things for the meal in the meantime. You had traded for some flour and sugar in the inn earlier so you could make a cobbler for dessert. Placing it on a makeshift rack high above the campfire to bake slowly, you looked over at Lae'zel, who was practicing her maneuvers.

No time like the present.

You headed over to her, a bit anxious about what she would say.

“Speak,” she commanded without looking at you.

“Erm, could you“—you pulled out your dagger and laid it in your palms—“teach me how to use this?”

She finally looked over to see your dinky little dagger. Facing you, she picked it up and turned it this way and that, assessing its condition.

“This is a poor weapon,” she said, “but well maintained.” She handed it back to you, handle first. She put her sword away and pulled her own dagger from her boot. “Watch closely.”

Twenty minutes later and you were partially regretting asking her. She was tough, not telling you how to correct yourself, just showing you her own form for you to figure it out for yourself. Just as she was about to show you how to lunge properly again, Wyll and Karlach came back with a small carton of eggs.

“That's all?” you asked.

They explained that the guards said there was no hunting in the area because of the shadow curse. Not a single wild creature was unaffected, and any farm animals had to be brought in carefully. There were some chickens for eggs, one cow for milk, and one ox for pulling carts, and that was about it. So the two of them had done some chores in exchange for some eggs.

“Oh. Well, I guess I should have thought of that,” you mumbled, taking the eggs from them. “I'll think of something.”

You whipped up a quiche and let it bake in a dutch oven while you returned to Lae'zel to practice some more with your dagger. Wyll came by to comment, and before you knew it, the two of them were debating the pros and cons of offense versus defense.

Sensing that your quiche was done, you left the two of them to check.

“Food's on!”

As everyone ate, they discussed their plans for the next day. With the area being so dangerous, they decided to stay as one big group and do some reconnaissance in Moonrise Towers, southwest of the inn. Hopefully, they'd be able to save the tieflings and gnomes that had been kidnapped.

You left them to their planning, heading towards the small waterfall nearby. Out of curiosity, you took off your outer shirt and climbed around the rocks. Carefully making your way around the waterfall, you found a small grotto hidden away, a little spot perfect for meditating.

Or practicing a few spells. No one can see me dance in here.

It had been a while since you had performed some of the spells you had been taught. You mentally ran through them sometimes, so you wouldn't forget, and you had a notebook filled with diagrams and lyrics, with side notes that you wanted to remember for later. But nothing beats physical practice.

You stepped through the waterfall this time, and went ahead and cast your hot water rune above head height around the waterfall to create a nice shower.

Drying off and returning to camp, you realized that Gale had taken your cobbler off the fire and was serving it to the others.

“You were gone for quite a while,” he commented as he scooped out a portion for you, then himself. “Karlach kept staring at it, and it seemed ready.”

For once, he was being a little modest. He had pulled it out of the fire at the exact correct moment. The cobbler looked perfectly baked, the crust golden brown, the sugar caramelized, the fruit soft and flavorful. You dug in and sighed contentedly.

“Gods, your cobbler is the best,” Karlach said as she also happily chowed down. “You could open a bakery in the Gate, call it the Dancing Witch Cafe.”

You laughed. “That sounds cute, but food service is not really for me. If anything, I'd open an apothecary.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “Making potions, growing different herbs and mushrooms, foraging for new plants… That sounds like a dream come true.”

The others began to share their own dreams, and it was quite a lovely chat. Futures imagined, optimism indulged.

It was a pleasant evening, a balm to all of the darkness that was looming around you, around everyone. You knew they had a hard road to come, and you hoped that just by having a place to return, to rest and recharge, would keep them going through the dark days ahead.

As everyone went to bed, you washed up the dishes, and cleaned and mended clothes. Quietly tiptoeing along, you set each person's stack in front of their tents before returning to your own bedroll by the campfire.

Staring at your pillow, you noticed a shiny new dagger, smaller in size, polished and sharpened. You picked it up and noticed it fit your grip much better than your older one, and it was much lighter as well. You tried a few swings with it, just to test the grip, and you found it much easier to adjust. Just as you were about to lunge forward again, Astarion suddenly appeared, his dagger deflecting yours easily, the high pitched clink echoing in the silence.

He smirked. “You need to be more aware, darling.”

You sighed. “I know.” As you were about to drop your arm, he gripped your forearm, keeping you in place. His hand was slightly cool, and you could sense some fondness through his touch. Slowly, he stepped closer to you, sheathing his dagger, his gaze meeting yours. He changed his grip on your arm as he stepped behind you, wrapping himself around you. His other hand enclosed yours as he adjusted your grip on your new dagger.

“This one is smaller, better to hold it like this.”

You relaxed your arms, letting him mold you like clay as he nudged and pulled you to the right position. Tucking your hair behind your ear, he murmured soft commands.

“Imagine the enemy in front of you. You want to take him out as swiftly as possible, since you don't have much strength.”

His lips were so close that you could feel them move against your ear.

You took a deep breath and stepped out of his grasp, doing what he told you to do. Moving as he directed, aiming where he told you to aim. He moved in front of you and held up his knife.

“Now, attack me.”

You frowned.

“Come now, darling. Do you honestly think you have a chance of landing a hit on me?”

You frowned harder, but he had a good point. Maneuvering your feet to be in a balanced, solid position, you lunged.

He dodged easily and tripped you, but grabbed your arm before you fell on your face.

“Come at me like you actually want to hurt me,” he said as he pulled you back up. “Right now you're just like a helpless little animal.”

You sighed as you stepped out of his grasp and turned to look at him. “I don't think…” I don't think I'm cut out for this.

He tipped his head, then in a sudden flash of movement, he grabbed your neck and pulled you close, his grip only tight enough to keep you in place, not to choke. His other hand grabbed your wrist, his thumb pushing on the inside of your wrist, forcing you to drop your dagger.

You didn’t sense any malice in his touch, only frustration. You could fully empathize; you were frustrated with yourself as well.

“It doesn't matter what you think, kitten,” he growled. “The enemy is going to take advantage of every opening you give them.”

You swallowed. “I… I know that.”

“I don't think you do.”

You glared.

He glared back.

You finally relented and closed your eyes. “I know,” you whispered. “I’m weak, I can’t fight, I’m just a liability.”

The grip on your neck loosened slightly. You barely noticed, your thoughts spiraling ever downward.

“I don’t know why you all keep me around. At some point, all the benefits I offer will be outweighed by the fact that you have to slow down your travels because of me.”

His hand moved from your neck to your shoulder. “Look at me.”

You looked up at him. He seemed blurry. Ah fuck, I didn’t want to cry in front of him again.

“If we wanted you gone, we would have already dismissed you.” Astarion looked infinitely uncomfortable as he patted your shoulder awkwardly. “Now stop crying. I don’t like having salt on my sweet treat.”

Through your tears, you let out a soft huff of amusement.

“Besides”—he cleared his throat—”I’ve grown accustomed to having you around.”

You blinked and looked at him. His head was turned to one side, but he glanced back for a moment before looking away again, as if he was too embarrassed to maintain eye contact after such a confession.

He finally let go of your shoulder. “Right. Well. I think we’ve had a long enough day.” He stepped back. “You should get some rest.”

Grateful for the excuse to get some time alone, you nodded and went to your bedroll, but not before retrieving the dagger from where you had dropped it. You turned your head to look at him, but he was already starting to walk away. “Thank you for the gift,” you called after him.

He shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I wouldn’t know where it came from.”

But you caught a hint of a smile on his face.

Liar.

----------------------

Act II, Chapter 1 End notes: Here we go into the Shadow Cursed Lands, and we’re already a quarter of the way through, I think? I don’t think the rest of the chapters will be this long, but I couldn’t find a good stopping point, and also I was hedging my bets about posting next week, since I’ll be out of town with the fam, and I sure as hell don’t want to be caught writing fanfic in front of them, haha. So there may or may not be a chapter next week, but hopefully this extra large chapter will hold y’all over until then. Thank you for your continued reading of my story, I hope you all have a great end of the year!

Tag List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #astarion x f!reader #baldur's gate 3 #female reader #writing #bg3 spoilers #your hearth is my home

46 notes · View notes