#whatever inspiration I had left just like Tav

[writtenobsession]

The Blind Man’s Folly

Gale x Tav?

Summary: Fem Tav, who has been chasing after Gale, finally decided to move on after being hurt one to many times. Modern AU

A/N: I literally wrote this in a sleepless night. I just want this off my chest. I have to listen to music to try to sleep, but got inspired instead. I’m not sure about this, but take it as it is. I don’t think I’ll back to this. Wrote this in my notes app.

Words: Unknown, I wasn’t keeping track

Tav was excited for the evening. It was supposed to be a monthly movie night with Gale and Tara, but he got a call halfway through the movie. Tav heart dropped a bit. She sighed and told him to answer it. He got off the couch and walked into the hallway. He was gone for just a few moments and came back with his cheeks flushed.

“I’m sorry Tav, but I have to step out for a moment.” She glanced at the movie then back to him.

“Will you be long? It was getting good.”

“I shouldn’t be more than an hour?” He slowly inched his way towards the door before she waved him off.

“I promise to make it up to you.” He said as he quickly dipped out the door and locking it behind him. His apartment fell silent. Tav turned towards Tara sleeping in her armchair.

“It’s just you and me again, huh?”

Tara’s ear twitched in acknowledgment. Tav pulled her notebook from her bag and jotted down her thoughts of the day and her crushed feelings. This wasn’t the first the she’s felt her heart break from Gale. He’s been doing it for a little over two years, but she couldn’t bring herself to move on. She loved the spark in his eyes when he could talk about his favorite subjects or it was smile he gives her when she eats his cooking that she loved, but it was getting harder.

She set her notebook on the coffee table glanced at her phone. An hour had passed, but not a word from him. She hesitated for a moment before settling on calling him. It rang for a moment before it was sent to voicemail. Hearing his voice hurt a bit, but she wasn’t surprised. She set her phone down and curled up before pulling the blanket off the back of the couch, trying to feel some comfort. Her mind feeling a bit cruel, she reminded herself of a song she’s heard plenty of times. Breaking the silence of the apartment, she began to softly sing out the sad lyrics, “Feeling kind of sick tonight.” She was lost in the lyrics, feeling the sting of every verse that described her love life to a T. Reaching the end of the song, she felt her voice start to strain. “Let you break my heart again.” Instead of silence taking over once more, her soft crying was the last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep.

The next moment, a gentle shake wake Tav. Through blurry eyes, she sees Gale. He looks down at her with such sad eyes and apologizes. He looks disheveled, like he didn’t get any sleep. “Tav, I didn’t realize,” he thought about his next words, but couldn’t come up with anything, “I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?” Sleepy and confused, she raises herself and tilts her head to the side. The blanket she used slide off her shoulders. She rubbed her eyes and looked him over. Her heart stopped.

Whatever words said after didn’t matter to her, all she could hear or see is the evidence from last. It was written all over him, from the wrinkled clothes to his swollen lips. He still loves her. Mystra won again.

There will never be room in his heart for her. She picks up her phone and sees it’s almost 7am. He left her around 11:30 and promised he’d be right back. Another lie she happily accepted.

“I heard your voicemail.” Dread filled her. She didn’t even realize she never hung up after she called him. Mentally kicking herself, she gripped the blanket she wrapped herself trying hide herself and to regain any sense of comfort. She couldn’t look at him right now, it hurt too much. He carefully sat on the couch next to her. “Tav, please look at me.” He pleaded. She just shook her head. “Will you at least listen to me?” She stayed silent and listened.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I never realized you felt that way.” He hunched over and looked at his feet. “I wish you would’ve told me sooner, I wou-“

Tav’s soft voice interrupted him, “Five.”

“Excuse me?” He raised his head to look at her, just to see her tear filled eyes looking back.

“I’ve told you how I’ve felt five times since I’ve known you.” Her feelings were everywhere. She wanted to feel hurt and angry, but sadness took over. “But every time it was over shadowed.”

“What do-“ Again, he was interrupted.

“Gale, are you truly that blind?” A tear rolled down her cheek. “She’s still the only person you talk about, probably only one you think about too. You’re not over her, far from it. You always jump at the chance to see her.” Her voice started to waver.

“Tav, I’m sorry. Please let me make this up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up, Gale. You still love her and I’m not her.” Tears start to roll down her cheeks faster. “I can’t keep doing this.” She removes the blanket off her shoulders and stands up. She takes a deep breath and looks him in the eyes. “Does knowing my feels change anything for you?” Silence fills the room. Gale couldn’t manage to say a word. He looked helplessly into her eyes. She gave him a weary smile, “There’s my answer.” She gathered her stuff in a hurry and headed towards the front door. Gale realizing what’s about to happen, he scrabbles to catch her. “Please wait!”

She turned to him and frowned. “I’m done waiting.” The door closed behind her.

Gale stood there for a moment just staring at the door. He was arguing back and forth with himself. He heard a meow coming from the living room to see Tara sitting on the coffee table.

“I’ve really gone and done it, haven’t I?” He turned to couch and sat down with his head in his hands. He sat like that for a moment before Tara meowed once more. Looking up at her, he noticed a notebook next to her. He grabbed it and something fell from its pages. A small Polaroid picture of them. He remembered when Tav bought the camera and wanted to show it off. Flipping over the photo, he noticed she wrote, “One day,” with a small heart and the date. It was over two years ago. She had been chasing after him for so long, but he was too blind. He shot up from the couch and rushed out the door. Running down the early morning streets, Gale searched for any sign of her. A hallow pit grew in his chest, as if he just lost something.

“Tav!” He shouted, looking around in hopes for her head to turn his direction, but only got strange looks from people walking by. If desperation hadn’t taken over, he would’ve felt some form of embarrassment. “Tav!”

He stood there for a moment before moving on to the next street. He continued his search for her, yet it was the same result. Defeated, he made himself return back home.

Walking through the front door, Gale was was greeted by ghosts of the past. Memories of them sitting on the couch goofing around, Tav at the table gushing over food he just made, and her asleep on the couch with Tara sleeping on her chest. He never realized how empty his apartment was really until she left. He looked at his phone and dialed her number. He listened to each rang before going to voicemail. “Tav, it’s me…I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, I’m sorry for everything. When you’re ready, call me back…bye.”

Days turned into weeks, yet Gale hadn’t heard a word from Tav. It’s as if she disappeared off the face of the Toril. Astarion and Shadowheart won’t tell him anything and Karlach only gives him a , “She’s fine,” answers, but nothing more. Guilt and worry has been gnawing away at his soul and it’s been showing in his appearance. His beard looked unkempt, dark circles started to become more evident on his face, and his clothes seem to be just thrown together, no care put into his outfit. Astarion had enough of the sorry state and invited him to grab a drink at the Elfsong.

Later in the evening, Astarion, with little details as possible, told Gale what was going on with Tav. That she needed time to mend her broken heart for the last time and that seeing him was too much right now. Hearing that, it hurt him.

“Astarion, was I…,” He thought his next words for a moment.

“An idiot? Definitely.” Astarion took a sip of his wine.

“I was going to ask if I was that blind about everything.” Gale sighs.

“Well wisdom was never your strong suit.” Astarion set his glass down and looked him in the eye. “But I didn’t call you out here just to point out all of your obvious flaws. Gale, what’s going on in that pretty little head? I’d say you look like the dead, but I even have standards when it comes to my appearance.”

“I’m not sure honestly. Since the whole Tav situation, I feel like I’ve lost a spark and I just feel like my chest feels empty. Just like when Mystra left me.”

“By the Gods, Gale! You’re a damned idiot! All it took was for her leave for you to realize that you had fucking “feelings” for her?!” Astarion glared down at the man. “We’ve tried so hard to get you to realize that for the past year, but now her heart is good and damaged you suddenly-?”

Astarion cut himself off, realizing he raised his voice loud enough that other people’s eyes were on them before the pain in Gale’s eyes, Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose and tries to calm down before continuing. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Gale, we’re just worried about you.”

Gale faces towards the door of the bar, trying to hide his deception. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m truly fine. I just need to -“ Gale stops mid sentence, watching the couple walk through the door. Astarion follows his gaze just to see Tav with Wyll, laughing at whatever was just said.

“Shit.” He whispered under his breath, but Gale didn’t acknowledge it. He just stared at them. She looked so happy. The sight was like a knife to the heart.

“Gale, are you okay?” Concern started to fill Astarion’s voice.

“I love her,” he finally admitted, “and I have to let her go, for her sake.” Looking down at his drink, let out a soft sniffle. This wasn’t going to be easy, but he knew if he wanted her to happy it had to be done. For now, he’ll use this night as a starting point to move on.

#I just want to point out that I was up for 24hrs when I wrote this #whatever inspiration I had left just like Tav #I didn’t think I was gonna write for Gale first but here I am #Please don’t look into this too hard #gale bg3 #gale fanfic #baulders gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #Spotify

[leighsartworks216]

You Hate Me

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Sooooo I wrote this one morning when even just laying down had my knees hurting and I was like,, well what if Tav had that too? Also inspired by the fact I get to campus an hour early and still try to rush to the (empty) classroom instead of, ya know, taking advantage of the huge time buffer I give myself

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of joint pain, insecurity, crying, possibly OOC, clown mention

Word Count: 1,545

Masterlist

AO3

Just a bit further. A little further and then you could rest. If you make it to that tree - make it to that tree and you can sit down. Just a bit left to go.

It started almost a week ago. Unable to cope with all the traveling, your right knee started bothering you. With every step you could feel your kneecap shifting back and forth with a dull click. Then, it started to hurt. Nothing serious. If you walked slow enough, you could avoid it. But now every step sent shocks of pain up your entire leg. Your left knee joined the party this morning, removing any sense of relief you had while walking. Even sitting down didn't remove the pain, but you couldn't afford a day off.

Your companions noticed the changes, despite your best effort not to show any outward discomfort. You moved slower, the occasional grimace slipped through, they weren't traveling quite as far. You consider asking Shadowheart for anything that could ease the pain, but you already knew there was little she could do to help. So you grit your teeth and kept going.

Your foot stepped on uneven ground and you nearly dropped from the agony that shot through your whole body. Karlach worried you might actually just collapse. But you kept going.

Astarion couldn't bear it. None of them could - they hated seeing their intrepid leader fight their own body just to go a few more feet - but your struggle settled like a boulder in his stomach. Every time your face scrunched up, every hiss of your sharp inhales, felt like someone had stabbed a knife in his chest and was twisting it ever deeper. He hated the feeling.

With only a few long strides, he slipped from the back of the group to the front, walking alongside you. He had to change his normal gait just so he didn't surpass you. "Darling," he hummed quietly, just loud enough to keep the conversation between you two, "you should rest."

You shook your head. You didn't even spare him a glance. Your eyes didn't shift from the tree. "We're almost there," you dismiss. It's slightly breathless. Despite needing to walk slow to avoid the pain, you were pushing to go faster.

He tsked. "And how far do we still have left to go?" He tilted his head as he looked at you, already knowing whatever distance you said would be too far.

You nodded to a tree dead ahead. "Once we reach that birch, we can rest."

"That birch?" He pointed. "The birch tree that's nearly half a mile away?"

He could feel you bristle with his incredulous tone, but you didn't say anything.

He scoffed. "My dear, I can be stubborn at the best of times, but this is ridiculous! You're barely staying upright as it is."

"I'm fine-"

"No, you're not," he sharply cuts you off. He grabs your arm and pulls you to a stop, holding you there with enough force that you wouldn't slip out and keep going. You refuse to look at him even now. "You're wincing, your hands have been clenched for the last mile, and you keep stumbling. The tree will still be there if you just sit down for a minute."

The rest of the party watches from a distance. Far enough away they can just make out what Astarion's saying, especially as his voice rises in pitch the more frustrated he gets.

Standing still hurts. It's hard to say if it hurts more or less than walking; it just hurts. Your face is pinched as sharp jolts run up through your joints, like someone is poking you with a sewing needle. Walking, you decide, must be better than this.

"It's not that far," you insist, voice low. "And when we get there, we can-"

"Gods above, you're impossible! Fine. Fine! You want to get to that tree, fine." He lets go of your arm.

Before you can even take a step, he's sweeping you into his arms, supporting you with one arm under your back and the other hooked under your knees. The pressure hurts for a moment, but it quickly fades away. The lingering aches are from pushing yourself too hard. He begins marching once more toward your end goal.

You want to shout, to demand he put you down. But when you look up at his face, his eyes are sharper than usual, lips pulled into a tight frown and crease forming between his eyebrows. He's angry.

He's angry with you.

The words die in your throat. You hate being so dependent. You were the leader - you needed to be strong and fearless and without weakness. To receive help feels like someone plunging their hand between your ribs and stealing away a chunk of your worth. But seeing Astarion upset, upset with you, that stings far worse.

You avoid looking over his shoulder. You could just imagine their faces. How Lae'zel would scowl at you for being weak. How Gale's face would turn somber when he realizes you're not as capable as he thought. You couldn't bear it. So you press your forehead to Astarion's neck and stare at your lap.

There's an unwelcome burn at the back of your eyes. Shame floods your chest and crawls up your throat until it chokes you. Water pools along your lower lids and blurs your vision. You can't walk and now you're going to cry. Just how fucking pathetic can you be?

Astarion's head shifts and you can tell he's trying to look down at you. He's trying to see your face. Because he can feel you shaking in his arms. He can hear your lungs quivering as your breaths become uneven and choppy. You press your closed eyes against his throat and he can feel the hot tears against his skin.

His frown softens, though you can't see it. He slows down to a stop and tells the others to go on ahead, to the birch tree just there, and start working on setting up camp, but all you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. Their faces become fraught with worry; Karlach is the last to go. She still looks back once or twice. Astarion finds a suitable rock and he sits.

"Shh, sweet thing," he cooes, voice no louder than a whisper. His arm around your back pulls you into his shoulder, hand tangling in your hair as he cradles you. His other hand rubs soothing circles along your thigh. You gasp around a sob, body curling further into itself, into him, as you release your emotions. "It's alright."

You strangle out an apology. It's wet and croaky and painful.

"Whatever for?" he asks.

"You're mad at me," you whimper.

He huffs. The frustration from before rises in him again just thinking about it. "Yes, I am."

He feels your breath catch in your throat, and the heaving breath you take after. "You hate me."

Astarion laughs, short and sharp. "Why would I hate you, dear? Because you're too stubborn for your own good?" You don't have a response for him. He kisses your head, wherever he can reach. "I'm mad because you put yourself out trying to solve all of our issues, but the moment you have one of your own, you refuse any help. You're going to tear yourself apart."

He sighs and rests his cheek atop your head. His fingers rub the nape of your neck, gently tugging at the hair there. You carry so much tension, it's a wonder your muscles haven't locked up from the stress.

Time passes slowly in his arms. It seems to take forever before you start to calm down, and even longer before your eyes have dried. He does nothing to speed the process aside from gently hush you when you try to choke out apologies.

You sniffle quietly. Your eyes are raw, and you're all too aware of the stain of water you've left on the vampire's neck. When you speak, it's a painful creak in your vocal chords. "You don't hate me?"

He presses another kiss to your head. "No, love, I don't hate you. Not unless you've done something truly horrific, like invite a clown to show up at camp in the middle of the night." You chuckle weakly. It's such sweet music. "Gods forbid you start donating to charity." You laugh this time, and Astarion's chuckle vibrates against your ear.

His fingers detangle themselves from your hair with one last gentle tug, and his arm wraps around your back once more. As though you weigh no more than one of his pillows, he stands once more with you in his safe grasp, and begins heading for camp. He can see Karlach up ahead light up when she sees you're finally on your way.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I just feel so... useless, like this."

"Please, stop apologizing," he begs, dramatically. "Just say 'thank you' and we can move on."

You peel your face from his skin, dried tears sticking you together. You wince at how disgusting this must be for him. You lean up and kiss his cheek. He smiles at the affection. "Thank you."

Softer, he says, "Of course, my love."

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #second person pov #pov second person #light angst #hurt/comfort #joint pain

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Do You Love Me?

Astarion x Y/N - Drabble - 523 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, HEAVILY inspired by this scene in Bridgerton (plot belongs to them)

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

You and Astarion glared at each other, tensions high. So high, in fact that everyone else left camp to do gods know what just as long as it was away from you two. 

“Do you love me?” you asked him point blank.

He hesitated, “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Do you love me?” you asked again.

He looked at you with a pained expression, “I cannot.” he said defeated.

“Do you love me?” you repeated.

“Y/N please, stop.” he said, backing away slowly.

You followed him to the center of camp, not letting him walk away from whatever this was, “Is this because you believe that I cannot love you? Because I do…. I love you Astarion.” Sincerity shined in your eyes.

Astarion stared in disbelief, his mouth not able to produce words.

“I love you so much that I will go, if that is what you wish. I will do that. We can live our separate lives and once the tadpoles are dealt with you never have to see me again. But first you have to say you do not love me; you must tell me that I am utterly alone in this world.” 

He shook his head, trying to break your gaze but unable to, “I’m a monster Y/N. I am a danger. There are two sides in me fighting for power, it's as if the heavens and the hells are colliding.”

“Do you love me?” you asked with a wanting tone. 

“You do not wish a life for yourself with me!” he yelled, making you jump a bit “No one wishes it!”

“Astarion!” you yelled back not backing down, “I will stand with you between the heavens and the hells, I will tell you who you are, do you love me?” you said as you stood only a breath away from him.

“I love you!” he yelled, his voice wavering at the end. You could see unwanted tears welling up in his eyes. “From… from the moment you walked into camp I have loved you desperately; I cannot breathe when you are not near…. I love you Y/N… my heart calls your name.”

He looked at the ground, feeling weak for telling you everything he had tried desperately to keep bottled up and pushed down. He felt your hand cradle his face, bring him into a sweet kiss. He kissed you back fervently, but sobs escaped him after a moment.

“This… condition has been my shame for 200 years… this darkness... my burden for so long… and you… you are a light in that darkness.”

You ran your thumbs comfortingly over his sharp cheekbones, “Astarion, it's you and me. Just us. Together.”

Astarion scanned your face multiple times, looking for any indications of deception, yet all he found were kind eyes and a loving smile. His lips twitched upwards for the first time all night, Astarion pulled you back into a kiss, much deeper and full of passion. His arms enveloped you into a hug, your hands still holding his face. 

“I love you.” he breathed out just above a whisper.

“And I you, for eternity.” you reassured, kissing the tip of his nose. 

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Naboo's Note:

Hello darlings, life has been a little busy lately but I wanted to give you a little snack of a drabble. I watched Bridgerton and all I could see in this scene was Astarion and Tav. All plot and rights belong to Bridgerton - idk how copyright works but I hope putting that keeps me from *cough* "legal issues". Anyyyyyy whoooooo - I hope you enjoy, I'll post again soon. Please comment, like, reblog or send me a request! Ilysm <3

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 #writing #bg3 wyll #gale of waterdeep #karlach #lae'zel #baldur's gate #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarionposting #baldur's gate oc #astarion #baulders gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x you #fanfiction #fanfic #fantasy #baldursgate #baldurs gate fanart #baldurs gate

[sorceresssundries]

Gale sketches by @orangekittyenergy <3

CHAPTER 2 (of 2)

Link to chapter 1 here

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: Set post-game where Tav did not feature in Gale's troubles in Baldur's Gate. A whip-cracking, fedora wearing, Indiana Jones inspired mini-adventure - where Professor Dekarios is tempted out of the classroom, and on yet another perilous quest.

Warnings: THIS IS NSFW! *blares smut horn* Plot with smut. But, you have been warned.

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Just a bit of a fun based on the Gale as Indiana comparisons. Also, he looks like a young Harrison Ford, how could I not? This is not the stuff I'm used to writing! But it's been enjoyable and nice to try something new.

Elltavia’s senses were prickling again, whatever was buried in the remains of this temple was beating like a rotted heart, pulsing decay and corruption outwards through the forest. They were close to the cause, she could feel it. She just hoped whatever was the cause of the infection didn’t get to her before she could save her home.

Along the far wall of the room were four murals that stood out in a line. The once clean, carved scenes were eroded and time-beaten, but just about decipherable. 

The four images depicted monks in various states of torment. The first monk strained under the weight of a massive rock, muscles taut with effort as it pressed down upon him. The second monk, blood dripping from his hand and ears, was feverishly inscribing words upon a scroll, clearly in agony. In the third panel, a monk appeared submerged and drowning beneath a cascade of shimmering gold, his features twisted and bloated. 

The final tableau showed two figures, stripped bare, entwined in an act that should have been pleasurable. However, their expressions were ambiguous, dancing somewhere between ecstasy and agony. The knife suspended ominously above their heads left little doubt about their fate.

Underneath each carving was a word in an ancient language, which Gale was able to translate. 

STRENGTH. KNOWLEDGE. WEALTH. LUST

Hovering above the scenes of suffering was a much larger image of a monk in resplendent robes, his hands covering his eyes as he sat before a closed book as if to shield himself from an unbearable truth. The book sat on a carved pedestal, and shimmered with golden light. The lines of the monk’s robes flowed gracefully, dancing in a breeze that no longer existed. The expression of the hidden face was left to the imagination, but Gale’s imagination didn’t have to work very hard. The monk was shielding himself from whatever was written in that book. 

Gale‘s chest suddenly went tight, as though the orb that had once branded his skin and burned an aching, insatiable hunger within him was back. The ghost of a pain which would never truly leave him.  He couldn’t help but see himself in the image, as though it was a mocking interpretation of his great folly. 

Unlike this monk, when he was tempted, he had not been strong enough to cover his eyes. He had suffered the same torment as the other tortured souls. It wouldn't have seemed out of place to see a carving of a wizard with a dark orb branded upon his chest, bent over and crippled by unending pain and sharp regret. His hand once again absentmindedly moved to his chest.

“What is in that book, do you think?” Elltavia was started to get concerned by the faraway look in Gale’s eyes. She had not known him long, but she knew it was unlike him to be this quiet. Whether in a classroom, or on an adventure - he was a born teacher. He had the engaging, adaptable, patient, rare soul of someone who had collected knowledge like precious treasure, and all he seemed to ever want to do is share it. He was not made to be silent, and it worried her.

"Fortune and glory, Kidd." Gale continued to read the fragile inscriptions—warnings, death sentences, holy scriptures, and gold-tinted promises of doom for the unworthy. Yet, for those with the resolve to grasp it, an ultimate blessing. "Fortune and glory."

After more studying, Gale pressed his hand against an indent in the wall, and a rumbling echoed around them.

"I think we've found where the ritual would take place," he murmured.

The carved, ancient pedestal holding the book shown in the mural rose from the ground in the room’s centre, a half-decayed corpse resting against it, its mouldering hand still holding the book open, as if in a final, desperate grasp for whatever it contained. 

"That book should not be open." Gale could feel the power emanating from it, warping and stretching the weave of magic around it. This was no ordinary spellcraft; it was far beyond his capabilities. Once, he would have been desperate to grasp it, to drink the forbidden magic until it drowned him. A long time ago, It almost had.

The source of the blight was finally clear. The book had to be closed, or the rot would continue to spread, cursing the forest and luring as many as it could to this place. The book was a lure, a power to draw people here to be tested, indifferent to the fate it bestowed upon them. The burning ache of the sussur, which had been simmering under his skin, began to flare and bubble. His magic tingled in his bones, demanding to be used, to cast protection over him. His mind was flooded with the weave, and the agony of not being able to use it was overwhelming.

“Close the book!” He hissed through clenched teeth, doubled over in pain. 

Elltavia approached the book tentatively, with ranger’s care. The closer she got, the more Gale’s words became a far-away song, trailing distantly away from the fluttering pages. Each turn caused a soft rustle; leaves whispering secrets in a forest grove. It was the sound of her home, and it was calling to her. The book cast a gentle glow, soft as yellow moonlight. And with every intake of breath, she could swear the scent of pine mingled with the earthy perfume of petrichor sank deep, holding and soothing her. 

Surely within its pages lay the answers they were looking for. It called out to her with a sweetness that stirred her soul, a siren's song promising sanctuary. The glowing page was right there in front of her, she just had to read the inscription…

I am the lure in darkest gloom, A whispered hope, a flick'ring bloom. In greed-drenched shade, I bide my time, Thy greatest urge will feed my shrine.

What am I? A tempter, sly, In every soul, doth ever lie. Resist the call for but one hour, Prevail, and gain the worthy’s power

“Elltavia, NO!” 

And she burned.

It felt as though tendrils of flame were invading her through her nose, her mouth, sinking through her skin, licking the very bones of her. It was tugging at her, calling to her, scalding all the way through her. She was a woman aflame, and there was only one way to extinguish the fire. She needed Gale, and she needed him now. 

He rushed over, and managed to close the book - but not before catching a glimpse of the inscription within. As soon as he had read the words, the book and pedestal began to descend ominously back into the ground.

“Gale..” Elltavia’s voice was suddenly breathy and skin clammy as Gale grabbed hold of her and started to check her over. 

“It’s the test, Kidd.” He appraised her pupils to see that they were blown wide, her breathing heavy. The spell was undeniably affecting her, not just emotionally but physically too. Her skin glimmered with a light sheen of sweat. Were her lips fuller, even more inviting than before? Surely it was a trick of the light? The urge to press his own against them, to run his tongue along her bottom lip, was all-consuming.

He pulled away abruptly, almost harshly, startled by the intensity of his desire. He had anticipated challenges to his resolve, but not in this way. He had mentally prepared himself for his ambition, his hubris, his self-worth to be cut out and dissected in front of him, to once again have to pull himself back from the brink of his unending desperation to prove himself. It was his tragic flaw, it always would be. He had not prepared himself for this.

The atmosphere crackled with a potent mix of heat and something deeper, something elemental. Lust. It hung thick in the air, dense and suffocating. It wrapped around him like a lover’s embrace, seeping into the marrow of his bones. He was suddenly starving, and she was ripe and ready to be savoured. He remembered when she had bitten the apple from his desk. How her eyes had met his as she bit down, how the juice had trailed down from the side of her lips to her chin…

“It sai..said.” Elltavia had her arms wrapped around herself, as though trying to hold herself back, and Gale desperately wanted to unfurl them and spread her out on the ground like a map. There was priceless treasure to be discovered. He ached from not touching her.

“It said something about lure.. Temptation..” Her breathing was heavy and lust-soaked. “Resist for an hour.. And we’ll pass the test.”

An hour of this, he thought bleakly, he did not know how he would stop himself from devouring her.

“I have rope” she panted “In my pack. You should tie me up.”

His response to that was a low, feral groan which seemed to rumble from deep within his chest. “I don’t think bondage will help me out here, Kidd.”

Struggling against this overwhelming desire was futile; he was a weary child resisting the pull of the receding tide, or a final leaf clinging to its branch before the onslaught of autumn's chill. He was no match for her; he was a raft-bound castaway - and she was the oncoming tempest. 

Together they melted into a pool of tongue and hands, rushed and heavy. There was no softness or words of delicacy, no declarations or promises of what would come after. There was only urgency. There was only her and him and now. At the meet of their lips and the ripping of her shirt underneath his strong, tanned hands there was a rumbling noise which ripped around them and caused loose stone and dust to fall from the ceiling. The shock of it managed to distract them long enough to prise themselves away from each other. The second they pulled apart, the noise stopped. 

“An earthquake?” He questioned through rough panting, speaking out loud rather than to her in particular. He quickly moved to one of the far walls and ran his hands over it, feeling for any structural damage and waiting silently for an aftershock.

As soon as his fingers stroked the grooves in the stone, Elltavia was behind him. She pushed him against the wall, and pressed herself against his back, standing on her tiptoes to lick and bite at the nape of his neck. 

“Who cares?” She whined. Her hands made their way up the back of his shirt and she dragged her nails down his skin. The sound he made was sinful, and as soon as her tongue licked at the sweat trailing down his spine, the rumbling started again. This time they were both knocked backwards by the wall Gale was pressed against, as it started to straighten out and move towards them. 

“Fuck.” He groaned, on his back. He could barely think straight, all his focus and all his blood was currently gathered in hard desperation between his legs. Urging to be sank into the ranger panting on the floor next to him. 

She swung her leg round to mount herself on top of him, pinning him to the ground under her hips.

“Wait” he hissed through gritted teeth. She managed to stop herself from sucking on his bottom lip long enough to hear what he wanted to say, she desperately hoped it would be something filthy. Her restraint in her longing for his mouth didn’t stop her grinding her hips down against him. She gasped at how hard he was underneath her. To her shock, he grabbed her upper arms and managed, with difficulty, to push her off him and he sprang up and backed away from her with his arms out. 

“Listen, Kidd, when we give into our temptation, to our urge, it sets off the trap.” 

She tried to take in what he was saying, and she used her sharp, predator’s focus to survey the room. She had not previously noticed the heavy layer of dust which had settled on the holy ground. Bonedust. The bleak realisation sank in. This was all that was left of others who had been tested. The book was an incendiary, designed to spark simmering desire into a roaring flame. Resist it, or be crushed.

“I am your temptation?” She rasped. “Gale, of all the fucking things to desire?!” 

“You’re one to talk!” He snapped. The cord that felt wrapped around him was tightening in frustration. This woman was literally going to be the death of him. This stubborn, infuriating, smart-ass was how he was going to die. He wanted to take his whip out and coil the leather around her… 

“Fuck!” He said, turning around so he could no longer see her pouring out of her sweaty, ripped shirt. 

“The temptation is each other… right?” She breathed.

“Obviously.” 

“Then… then we can still.. Touch ourselves, can’t we?”

It was like pouring oil on a bonfire, the thought of her unbound and lost in her own touch, bringing herself to the brink of pleasure and plunging over a cliff of her own making was unbearable. He wanted to palm himself right there in front of her just from the thought of it. 

She didn’t wait for him to answer, her hand quickly found its way into her underwear and to where she needed it most. She was a writhing mess on the floor - but the walls did not move. 

He sank and crawled to her, and positioned himself over her, resting his forearms on the ground next to her shoulders, clenching his fists in frustration and caging her beneath him, but not touching her. He allowed one of his knees to push her thigh upwards, splaying her further apart. But he did not give her any further contact. He just held himself over her as she moaned and bucked her hips into her own hand. His gaze was as desperate and intense as any touch could be. Beads of sweat traced paths down his temple, falling onto her skin like liquid fire. Every inch of her felt alive, every nerve alight with anticipation. As he lowered his head, his breath danced against her neck, tantalisingly close yet never touching. His lips hovered, a mere whisper away, and she teetered on the edge of combustion.

“I’ve wanted you since you flashed your thigh at my desk.” His voice was almost unrecognisable, dark as sin itself. The lilt of his words caressing her skin. “I wanted to be that fruit on your tongue. The flesh on your lips.”  She gasped, but could not respond. Her eyes fluttered shut as she imagined how he would taste as he spilled herself down her throat in ecstasy. 

“Don’t you dare stop looking at me.” He growled.

Her eyes flashed open again to meet his, and his command would have sent her spiralling, but something was wrong. 

“I can’t.. It won’t…” She removed her hand in desperation, and it took every ounce of resilience he had not to grab hold of her wrist and drag her lust-soaked fingers between his teeth and roll his tongue against them. “It just makes it worse.” 

The walls were still at each end of the room, they had barely moved. The two of them were safe, maybe there was time to…

“Fuck it.” He said, and he lifted her robe and tore her underwear off her. Gods, the scent of her. He wanted to spend a whole day with his nose buried at the source of her divine, needy musk.

 He did not have a whole day, he had minutes at most. 

“Is this what you want?” He asked, shaking with the resolve it took to show her the decency she deserved.

“No” She responded, but before he could even attempt to pull himself away from her, she wrapped her powerful warrior's thighs around him and flipped them so he was beneath her. 

“This is what I want.” 

She turned round above him so her cunt was hovering over his face, just out of reach. This position gave her the chance to unbuckle his belt and finally get her hands where she wanted them. There was no time to undress him, to peel him out of his tight trousers the way she wanted to. This would have to do. He moaned beneath her as she finally freed him from his confinement, and without grace or hesitation - took the whole of him into her mouth. 

In response, he grabbed hold of her hips and pulled her down against his lips. Locking her tight against him, he groaned and pushed his tongue into her. The taste of her was technicolour.  He worked as quickly as he could to relieve the tight, coiling need which was squeezing the life out of them, but not quickly enough. 

The walls had pushed towards them quicker than he anticipated, and it wasn’t long until he felt the hard force of it suddenly pressing against his feet. 

Elltavia must have become aware at the same time he did, because her mouth was suddenly off him and she rolled away, completely disentangling them and stopping the movement of the walls. 

They were both slick with sweat, and with each other. 

“Get over to the far end. Now.” He snapped at her. The narrowing of the walls had now turned the large, circular room into a slim corridor. It would only take a couple more metres of movement and they would be crushed to dust. 

“Do not bark orders at me!” She retorted with a hiss. “That is really not helping the situation!” She retreated as far away as him as possible, pressed her thighs together, and put her hands over her ears so she couldn’t hear his heavy, laboured breathing.

The hour may as well have been a day. They faced away from each other, breaths heavy and skin slick with sweat. They had both tried to cover themselves back up with what little material had not been ripped. At this moment the threat of being crushed by the weight of an ancient temple wall seemed inconsequential compared to the overwhelming intensity of this moment. Gale thought that If this were to be his end, he would welcome it with open arms. At one point in his life, he had resigned himself to the fact he would die alone at the order of a pitiless Goddess. What a privilege it would be then, to die in the arms of a merciful one. In the arms of Elltavia Kidd’Alka. 

He thought of her as he faced the wall. He thought of her in every way except the one which had pushed its way to the front of his mind and coursed its way through his blood. He thought of her fierce loyalty to her home, how she had travelled far and risked her life. How she was blunt and forthcoming and how she refused to dull any of her bladed wit. He thought of the shimmering seasons of her eyes, of how long it must take her to braid her hair, how she has the wisdom of an elder and the bright laugh of a child. He thought of how much he wanted her to live, and how much he wanted to see her again. And suddenly, the urge simmered - it was there, but it no longer suffocated him. He could breathe. His lust had been mixed with something else, and the sweet combination had strengthened his resolve. He could do this. 

Elltavia thought of the forest. Of her home. Of the children who fell out of trees and laughed in the dirt that caught them. Of the people who had spent their lives telling stories and weaving tradition through play and prayer. Of the mothers who had fletched arrows with babes at their breast. She remembered the first time she summoned an animal, and how the swift spring bird had flitted between branches and sunbeams to settle upon her shoulder. She remembered the poor autumn fox which she had found dead from the spreading curse. She would beat this. She would return home, and she would show Gale the place they had saved together. Her blood cooled, her resolve steeled. She could do this. 

An hour passed in silence. The two of them focused and determined. Two people who ached enough to not touch each other. And it worked.

Suddenly, it was as though they had emerged from holding their breath in ice water. The walls rumbled and slowly retreated back to their stations. 

“Is it over?” Elltavia spoke quietly, too nervous to turn round or remove her hands from her ears. Her answer came when a strong, comforting hand placed itself on her shoulder and she didn’t burn from the touch. She let Gale turn her, and take the hands from her ears to kiss them. 

“Not for me'' He said gently, stroking her cheek and tucking a braid behind her ear.  Before he could kiss her properly, without magical kindling feeding his flame for her, the book reappeared. It fluttered once more, and settled on its final page.

“Is it safe?”

“I think so” He said, more calmly than he felt. “We passed the test.”

He made his way to where the soft glow welcomed him to read, and spoke the book’s final inscription aloud…

Behold, two souls of spirit true Live long - old magic rests in you. 

“If this is some bullshit about how the power was inside us all along, I'm going to be really annoyed.” Elltavia was still breathless, but relieved.

“Maybe…” He said thoughtfully, but from the book and the murals and tenacity of the ancient magic, Gale didn’t believe that was the case. There must be the mentioned ‘reward’ somewhere… But, he was not interested. Godly gifts he could live without. There were other things more worthy of his attention now. Other desires to fulfill. 

“What do we do about the book?” she asked, closing it and running her finger over the cover. “Will you take it to the Academy?”

“No. This belongs here. It’s as much a part of the forest as you are.” He turned to look at her, her bright eyes fierce, “You know what lies here now, you can tell your community - you can spread the story and let them become guardians of magic and knowledge. And this can stay here… closed.”

He bent down and kissed her, soft but purposeful. Full of the promise of things to come.

“You know, Kidd. Before you dropped by my lecture I was reading about this amulet…”

She entwined her fingers with his as they made their way back into the lush greenery of her vibrant forest home. “Sounds interesting professor, I take it the next adventure would also require you to bring along your whip?” 

“Oh, most definitely. I could give you another demonstration now if you’d like?”

Her bright laugh echoed through the trees as they walked into the distance, unaware of the ancient gift bestowed upon them by the temple in the forest. Perhaps one day, Gale would notice his hair wasn't greying as quickly, or that the furrows between his eyes no longer deepened despite the endless days of laughter shared with Elltavia. Maybe then, they would realise they had been chosen as timeless protectors: the wizard destined to safeguard the magic he once sought to consume, and the ranger courageous enough to save her homeland.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale fanfic #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #indiana dekarios

[brabblesblog]

Ch 20: Aeterna amantes

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

The Ascendant and his consort celebrate their first year in style.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

Ban bid the last of the guests farewell, sighing in relief.

Finally. That had been the most fun she’d had at one of their parties - not that a lot of them had actually been fun, but still. She’d had fun, and that was wonderful, but she was glad it was over. She headed into the heart of the Palace, towards their bedroom.

Astarion had disappeared sometime near the end of the party, bidding the guests a rather loud and uncharacteristically boisterous farewell; saying he needed to prepare for something important.

She had watched from across the ballroom, rolling her eyes at his antics. He’d been obviously buzzed, which wasn’t uncommon during these events, but that boyish excitement was new and charming. There had been little doubt of what exactly was on his mind, seeing as his eyes had followed her the whole evening.

Ban opened the bedroom door to the sight of Astarion sprawled on their bed; one hand was under his head, pillowing it. The other hand seemed to have just finished unbuttoning his embroidered jacket and shirt - he grasped one side of the garment, as if in the act of peeling it off himself.

That gaze, however, told Ban this was all staged. He’d probably been waiting here since he left the party, anticipating the sound of her footsteps approaching the door.

Actual fucking idiot, Ban thought with fondness and no small amount of exasperation. She’d probably have to have the sheets changed, considering he was on them with clothes that weren’t the cleanest. All the same, she let herself admire the rather fetching view.

“Hello, darling,” Astarion purred, voice thick with arousal. He didn’t have to pretend, having spent the last twenty minutes absently touching himself through his clothes whilst waiting for her.

She couldn’t help it, she laughed as she made her way over to the bed. She sat beside him, patting his clothed thigh patronizingly; pointedly avoiding the bulge right beside it.

“Like what you see?” Astarion drawled. He traced a hand over his exposed torso, running across the peaks and valleys of muscle.

Ban’s eyes followed his hand’s path, unable to resist. The laugh died in her throat.

“I- well, yes, actually,” she managed to say, whatever quip she’d had in mind dissolving at the sight before her.

The smirk on his face widened. I’ve got her, he thought gleefully. His hand continued its path downward, stilling by his waistband.

“You can touch,” he offered, “if you’re a good girl.”

His hand hooked in the top edge, tugging one side down to reveal his hip bone. He looked up just in time to see her lick her lips; it only fueled the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Astarion’s other hand moved from behind his head to palm himself.

“Fuck,” Ban hissed, eyes glued to his hand. He bucked his hips up to press himself against his palm and she nearly moaned. “Fine.”

Satisfied, Astarion abandoned his cock to tug down the other side of his waistband. Slowly, with his eyes fixed on her, he worked at his trousers, shimmying them down together with his underwear.

“More?” he asked, and at her all-too-eager nod, continued.

Ban swallowed as inch by inch of ivory skin was revealed, pearlescent in the light, and couldn’t help the slight watering of her mouth when he finally uncovered his cock. Pale as the rest of him, beautifully veined, delectably pink at the head - he was perfect. He reached in to gently free himself before tugging his trousers the rest of the way down, kicking them off.

She wanted to ask to suck, to feel him fuck her mouth, to swirl her tongue around that pink tip and taste that salty musk that was just him-

The thought derailed as she saw him curl long, delicate fingers around his hard length, gently stroking.

Astarion moaned, a loud, unrestrained sound that was a little too perfect to not be fictitious.

Ban immediately found herself remembering the similar sounds he had made in the earliest days of their relationship; worry flooded her, and the entire scene became significantly less appealing.

“You do know you don’t have to perform, right? You never do. Not with me.”

“I am completely aware,” Astarion replied, his eyes heavy-lidded and sensual. His hand continued to stroke his cock; it grew harder under his touch as his hips began to slowly roll in rhythm with each pass.

“I would like to, though. To… retake it for myself. To write over old memories with better ones. Performing with love, to heighten our mutual pleasure… it doesn’t feel the same. It feels… good.”

Just as he’d wished for tonight to help counterbalance Ban’s bad experiences with him, he wanted the same for himself, with his own unpleasant memories.

His gaze softened. “Come here,” he gestured, releasing his cock and reaching for her.

She acquiesced, shifting closer. Both of his hands slipped under her skirt, his touch warm against her undead skin. She shivered as he caressed her thighs and began slowly inching his way upward, finding the hem of her underwear.

“May I?” Astarion asked, smiling at her nod. He hooked his fingers into the top and gently tugged them down, slipping her underwear off with a practiced grace. He could smell her arousal on them, could feel just how soaked the dainty piece of fabric was.

Ban was a little disappointed that was the only thing he did while there, a small pout forming on her lips.

He laughed when he noticed. “A little more patience, love.” He tossed the strip of fabric aside.

“My, Ban. This wet for little old me?” Gods. He imagined her at the ball just walking around, soaked, thinking of him - wanting him. The thought stroked his ego a lot more than he would have expected it to. He took a deep breath.

“I suppose your whole seduction routine, as silly as it was, sort of worked,” she allowed sheepishly. Godsdamned Astarion, really. She’d never been able to resist his charms.

Astarion laughed. One hand wrapped around her wrist, tugging her closer. The other settled on her waist, guiding her to straddle him.

Ban lifted her skirt up and out of their way, settling directly over him, but stayed kneeling, keeping a small distance between them.

The proximity of her warm mound so close to his cock nearly drove all other thoughts from his mind.

“I thought you wanted to lead tonight?” Ban was confused, a byproduct of her relative naiveté when it came to sex. All the previous times Astarion had led, it had been similar things - him on top of her, behind her, or standing above her.

He found her inexperience endearing, but also vexing, considering that she didn’t even need experience to make him this weak for her.

“I am leading.” A soft, reassuring smile crossed his features. “Just not in the way I used to.”

In time, maybe they would try again, going rougher, with more aggression. For now, his goal was simply to prove her trust in him wasn’t misplaced.

Astarion knew this next part would be the hardest for her, but he hoped to make it enjoyable for her as well as himself. He slipped a hand under the pillows above his head, retrieving the dagger. He knew he looked a tad anxious, but powered through the potential awkwardness.

Ban went pale at the sight of twisting silver edges wrapped around a central wooden stake. Rhapsody.

Astarion saw her expression change, and quickly tried to soothe her.

“Ban,” he began, his jaw working as he tried to find the words to express his wishes. His hands gently placed Rhapsody’s hilt in her open palm, wrapping her fingers around the grip.

“I know we spoke of this before, and that you agreed, but… I want to reiterate. I want to retake this, too. It carved my back, all those years ago. It carved… Cazador’s back,” He forced the name out; he refused to let it have any more power over him. “It almost killed me. So please. I merely want to make a memory of this blade that doesn’t hurt to recall. If you don’t…”

The words died in his throat, but she understood. Her fingers tightened on the hilt. She looked down at him. He was so beautiful, positively breathtaking, but now she also saw the vulnerability behind the seduction. He was performing for himself, for both of them - trying to reclaim the pieces of themselves that they’d lost.

She nodded hesitantly. “I’m not going to break skin, though,” Ban murmured, easing somewhat. The dagger felt heavy in her grasp.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did, but we can save that for another day - or never.” He watched the blade glint in the light, swallowing. “Whichever you wish to do.”

Ban lowered herself, her folds finally settling atop his length; a shiver ran down his spine at the feel of her - so wet and warm - pressed against him.

“Now,” Astarion commanded, his tone shifting lower and harsher. “Grind on me.”

Ban registered the change. She obeyed, her hips rolling slowly over his cock. She was rewarded with a hiss; she could feel him begin to thrust as well, seeking more friction.

Astarion’s length felt velvety, hard against her clit, the perfect shape and girth to rub herself against. She slid over him as she sought her own pleasure, her slick spreading all along his cock. It felt good - almost too good, Ban thought, averting her eyes from his face to focus on his chest instead.

Nope. That didn’t help either.

Fucking Astarion, really. Too damned perfect for his own good. Or hers.

With every roll of her hips his cock dragged against her clit, eliciting a shaky moan from her. Astarion could hear for himself how wet she was, the sounds of her sliding against him were deliciously obscene when she ground down harder. The warmth of her made his hips snap up.

He stared greedily up at her, eyes taking in every inch. She was still dressed, but he found he didn’t quite care just yet. He noted the sheer want in her expression and smiled widely, his fangs peeking out.

Ban’s patience failed her, slipping the hand not holding Rhapsody down between them, trying to slip his cock inside her. His hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her before she could succeed.

A small whine of protest escaped Ban’s lips.

“Relax, darling. You’ll have what you want if you behave.” He used her words against her, smirking when she glared.

A little taste of her own medicine. He savored that small glint of anger; it only served to heighten his arousal. She rubbed herself faster on his cock in revenge, and the thought sputtered out of existence. He nearly took back what he’d just said. There was one more thing he wanted before he finally fucked her, however.

Astarion’s hand went back to his embroidered jacket and shirt, opening them further, leaving his chest fully bared.

“Right here,” he whispered, ghosting his fingertips over the dip at the center of his chest, directly over his heart. “The tip, Ban. Right here.”

Ban did as he asked, lowering the dagger with no small amount of hesitation; Rhapsody’s point hovered a few inches above his now-heaving chest.

Astarion growled. “Closer.”

She lowered Rhapsody even more, until the point touched his chest. Astarion could feel his heart pounding against its tip, the sensation sending another thrill down to his cock. The slick down there, the heat of her, was almost overwhelming; Astarion didn’t know how much longer he could endure this without giving in and fucking her senseless.

“So wet for me, Ban,” he murmured, “Such a good girl. Now, press down a little.”

Fingers, trembling ever so slightly, covered Ban’s on the hilt, guiding it. The blade depressed the skin; not enough to break it, but enough that he could feel the slight sting over his racing heart.

His other hand snuck down past her skirt and between her legs to wrap around his cock, stroking it twice. He held it steady for her.

“Go ahead then, love. Take what you want.”

She didn’t hesitate; she’d only been waiting for his permission. Ban shot him a wry grin; gathering up her skirt, shoving it aside.

Astarion temporarily released his grasp on Rhapsody to flap a hand at her, as if to say hurry up, and she made it a point to do everything slower.

Carefully, painstakingly lifting her hips up, Ban looked down along her body to line herself up. She kept herself there, the head of his beautiful cock just brushing her entrance.

Astarion’s hand rejoined hers on the hilt of the dagger. He could feel her warmth radiating against the head of his cock, nearly stealing away any sense of control he had left.

“Ban,” Astarion hissed, “Sit on it or I swear-”

She finally sank down, down into that blessed, wonderful feeling in one rapid move.

There was little resistance; Astarion felt himself sink in to the hilt, fully buried inside her. The sudden warmth and tightness around his cock brought a wild surge of pleasure, unraveling Astarion’s brain; his hand on Rhapsody jerked, cutting into his own chest.

It was a shallow wound, but it bled all the same. Ban didn’t notice at first, lost in the sensation of being spread open and filled. Astarion, impaling her with that beautiful, perfect cock; laid out before her like an offering to be devoured. Gone was her previous bashfulness - all that was left was wanton desire.

Then the smell hit her nose, the sharp, all-too-familiar coppery scent of blood mixed with the sweet notes that told her it was his, and her eyes snapped to him, a mixture of hunger and concern in her gaze.

Astarion smiled. “It’s okay.”

He gently took the dagger from her grasp, knowing that had been too much - too close to what had happened when he’d been injured. He flicked his wrist, tossing the Rhapsody off the side of the bed. He didn’t care where it landed. His hands settled on Ban’s waist, squeezing gently.

“Would be a waste of blood if we don’t at least use it, don’t you think? Lick.” He watched her reaction even as the words left his mouth. Any sign of discomfort from her, any hint of her retreating into herself, and he knew to end this little game. His hips began to roll, fucking her gently, a pleasurable rocking motion that he hoped would help in easing her.

But there was no distress. Ban’s mind was filled with nothing but him - his length moving inside her, his hands holding her, his blood pooling on his chest. And most of all, his eyes, which told her everything she needed to know. They seemed to whisper I love you. You can trust me. You’re okay.

He smiled, enjoying that his beauty so easily distracted her. “Ban. Lick.”

She leaned forward in response to his command and began to lick the blood from his chest. The taste of it, of him, sent a shiver of pleasure through her, causing her to clench around him.

He groaned, relishing the sensation of her squeezing him. He increased the pace of his thrusts, ensuring each roll of his hips dragged against her walls and hit her spot.

“Gods, Ban. You’re perfect,” he whispered, voice soft, the act all but forgotten.

She hummed in delight at his praise, pausing mid-lick to look at him, tongue still pressed against his skin, fangs glinting in the light. She smiled, a gesture that told him she was fine, that she was genuinely enjoying this.

The happiness and trust in her eyes made Astarion’s heart swell. He lifted his head to see her better.

“Take your clothes off. I want to see everything.”

Ban licked off the last of his blood and sat up. She felt for the hem of her dress, tugging it up with both hands. As she pulled the dress over her head she rocked her hips gently, grinding to match his pace.

She revealed her skin inch by inch, pale from undeath, though not as much as his. Muscles rippled as she undressed herself. She lifted the dress off and let it fall onto the bed, riding him without any pause or change in her rhythm.

His eyes raked over the lines of muscle as they flexed with every move, over the scars and moles and every single imperfection on her skin. Over her breasts, which were small and tight and just her, and all the more beautiful because of it.

She was the most magnificent thing he’d ever behold, he mused.

Astarion reluctantly forced his hips to still. It took more effort than he’d like to admit, the urge to blindly rut into her was far stronger than anticipated. Still, he wanted to make her work for it a little, to keep his little game going.

“That’s it, pleasure yourself on my cock, darling,” he cooed, eyes greedily taking in every inch of her, as if she might disappear on the morrow and he wanted to commit her to memory. He slid a hand up to cup her breast. She whined at the sensation and he squeezed - not too hard, but enough to bring forth a tantalizing mix of pleasure and pain.

Astarion’s other hand drifted lower, running down her belly and moving between her legs. He felt for her clit and began rubbing. Gently at first - a light flick - a move that was instantly rewarded when she tightened around him and rolled her hips particularly hard. Satisfied, he rubbed more insistently; the feedback to his touch was near instantaneous, her soft whimpers of pleasure urged him on.

That, and the wonderful way Ban clenched around his cock.

Slowly, inevitably, his desire to perform slipped away. What was the point? They were already in the thick of it; she was moaning out her need for him, her walls caressing him with every move, their desire mixing together in a way they had only ever done for each other. He was done playing.

“Love me?” Astarion murmured, a little unsure. He was glad that it no longer needed to be a command, no longer something he had to coerce from her. He merely had to ask, and it was his. Still, the slight uncertainty crept into his voice; he’d asked for this so many times and heard it back in just as many ways, but so many of those had been during moments of darkness - of anger, of desperation.

Then there had been Ban’s feelings - resignation, submission, apathy. It had torn at his heart, made him hate himself, stained everything like blood spreading through cloth. He longed, hoped, for tonight to be a step towards reclaiming this as well, towards cleaning the stains from the fabric of their relationship.

“Of course,” she said, panting a little. Ironic, Ban thought, that this was what he always asked for, because it was the one thing she always felt. Looking down at her husband, she watched his face - openmouthed and adoring - as she slowly rode the thoughts out of his mind. Seeing his hesitance as he asked for something so simple as her love had almost made her want to stop and just cuddle him.

Almost. His cock felt too good to stop.

“I love you. Always have. Forevermore will.” Words she had said in similar situations, but at times hadn’t wanted to utter, or hadn’t felt in those moments. As she said them now, she heard his breath catch; the hand lazily playing with her nipple went still. She could even feel his cock throb inside her at the same moment.

“Astarion?” She looked down at him with affection and slight amusement. It took a moment for him to lock eyes with her, his own gaze hazy with lust, his mind still basking in her words.

“I love you,” she repeated, smiling down at him.

Those words, repeated, were music to his ears; a low whimper left his lips. He was still fighting to keep his hips still, to let her keep riding him, but he was rapidly losing. His hips stuttered here and there, unable to deny the urge.

His thoughts were scattered between the feel of her enveloping him and the overwhelming devotion that was washing through him. Never again, he thought. I would rather die than lose this again.

Ban’s hips increased their pace. Seeing Astarion so obviously coming apart from just her words never ceased to excite her. It was always her he needed; even at their lowest, that had never changed. Being so wanted, so needed, brought a heady sort of satisfaction to her.

Astarion’s neck was beginning to hurt from the effort of holding his head up, but he didn't care. He needed to see her, needed to see the one person who had ever mattered to him, the only one he could ever enjoy this sort of touch from, her and only her alone-

The way she lifted and slid back down around him grew more intense; he could feel his own desire pressing against him more insistently, the beginning tendrils of that electric need to empty himself in her beginning to unspool from his cock out through the rest of his body. He fought himself for a few moments more, wanting to tease her for just a little bit longer, but the words slipped from his mouth unbidden.

“Do you want to come, love?” He wouldn’t ask her to beg; it was something he felt was too close to his old ways, and he refused to remind her of that right now.

“Yes, please,” Ban replied quickly, still frantically riding him. She wanted, needed more, more than his hand playing with a breast and fingers rubbing her clit. She wanted him to fuck her, but gods was he being obstinate.

He let go of her breast, slipping his hand to the small of her back while the other continued toying with her clit. He gently pushed her down, guiding her to lay on his chest.

“Let me do this for you,” Astarion whispered when her cheek made contact with his chest, kissing the top of her head. “Just listen to my heart and allow me to pleasure you.”

Let me do what I should have been doing long ago. Put her first - her needs, her wants. Give her the love she deserved. When he’d first ascended he had tried to fuck her broken pieces back together, throwing every single trick he knew at the problem, but he’d since realized that he’d been doing it the wrong way around.

He only ever really needed to be himself to make her happy; a truth he had once known and lost sight of. He offered it every day now, regularly bared his heart and soul to put her pieces back together. But even then it was no guarantee. It could still be too late.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

He held her tightly to him in a one-armed embrace. Placing his feet flat on the bed, Astarion began to snap his hips up into her, hard and fast. She moaned; he could feel his blood rush, his pulse racing from the effort.

“For you,” he murmured, hand and hips working diligently. “Only you.”

Astarion’s hips and fingers worked in concert, stroking her just the way she liked, hips angling so that every stroke caressed that secret spot inside her that only he knew. He closed his eyes, focusing on feeling her reactions, listening to her breaths, eager to bring her to paradise.

The blood-red sheets were silk satin, gorgeous but oh-so-slippery. He fought to keep his feet firmly planted where he placed them. The tension in his legs made him grunt and they slowly began to tire from the effort required to keep himself ideally positioned for her. A slight burn set in, but he didn't relent.

“Astarion-” she gasped. She was still trying to grind down onto him, but her movements were weak and irregular, her body completely taken over by his ministrations. She didn’t even know what she wanted to tell him - that she loved him? To go harder, slower - a different angle?

To tell him how good it felt, to have him inside her, filling her and stretching her with every stroke? How intimate it was to hear his heart roar for her, only her? How amazing it was, that he knew exactly how and where and when to touch her? All this, she thought, and more. So much more.

“I- I know. I love you,” he whispered to her, gliding his hand across her skin from her clit, over her hip, to her ass. He gripped tightly as he slammed her down onto his cock hard, in rhythm with his thrusts. He continued pistoning upward, his own desire threatening to overwhelm him. He held back, biting his lower lip. Not yet.

He stilled, hoping to regain some composure, to last longer. Ban whined, rolling her hips insistently. It almost shut his brain down and he growled, the hand on her ass squeezing hard in warning.

“Wait.” He took a breath, needed a moment to focus on something else - anything other than her and the overwhelming need to come. He could feel his cock twitching, begging for the friction to resume. Ban stopped moving, thankfully; he opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. He quickly stretched his legs before repositioning his feet. He began to thrust up again, hammering into her relentlessly.

The sensation of his cock stretching and fucking her mercilessly, the head dragging against her walls, slamming into her spot again and again, in combination with the sound of his heartbeat thundering in her ears, sent her over the edge.

Ban finally came with a loud cry, fisting her hands into the sheets. He felt her walls flutter around him, the familiar squeezing and clenching very nearly finishing him off as well.

He held her close as she rode out the waves of her ecstasy, peppering small kisses to the top of her head and rubbing her back with fingers that trembled.

When she finally quieted, she lifted her head from his chest. She was met by soft, affectionate eyes. “Did you…?”

Astarion shook his head. “Not yet.” He was still buried in her, cock twitching, legs tense.

Ban frowned, confused. “You seemed close. Why didn’t you come?”

He smiled softly. “I wanted you to finish first.” He brought a hand up to tilt her chin, pressing his lips against hers. The kiss wasn’t insistent, but it still intensified his need.

Astarion flipped them over mid-kiss, pinning her underneath him. He rested on his elbows, looking down at her. His curls were a mess, hanging over his eyes.

Should’ve started with this position, he thought.

She giggled a little, amused by the sudden change. He could feel her smile against his lips. Breaking the kiss, he shifted down to mouth at her neck. He pushed her leg up with his right knee, spreading her legs further apart, allowing himself to sink deeper into her.

Astarion parted his lips, pressing his fangs against her skin - a gentle touch, waiting. She didn’t protest.

“Ban,” he murmured, “May I?”

She laughed. “Thought you were leading?” She bucked her hips playfully and he was immediately on edge again. He growled against her neck.

“I was,” he replied, then sighed, the fight leaving him. “Obviously, I lost the thread a little.”

“No, not really. You’re just having too much fun, Astarion, that’s all.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Hard not to, with you.”

Repositioning his mouth against her pulse, he tried again. “So, Ban, again, since you were too distracted to give a proper response the first time I asked. May I?” That, he thought, should work better. A little more edge to it, although definitely nowhere close to what he’d envisioned for tonight.

Not that he minded.

“Yes, you fool.” She ruffled his hair, and he sighed in exasperation, finally sinking his fangs into her neck.

He moaned as her blood gushed into his mouth - the flavor he cherished above all others, and always would, regardless of anything else he would taste for the rest of his life. He gripped her thighs, holding them in place. His hips resumed their movement as he fed, driving himself into her hard and fast and deep, the taste of her blood fuelling his arousal. Her on his tongue, all around his cock, in his arms. Her love for him. Today and tomorrow and forevermore-

Astarion came with a low growl, eyes squeezing shut, hips losing their rhythm and stuttering as he finally spilled inside his wife. He rode out the waves of his orgasm, smearing a little of Ban’s blood by accident as his mind went blank and his fingers dug into her skin.

When he finally came back to himself, he realized Ban was whispering to him, her hands stroking his hair.

“I love you,” she repeated, her fingers trailing through his sweat-soaked curls.

He licked off the spilled blood, going boneless on top of her, exhausted. He smiled into the crook of her neck, happy. Hers.

“Did you enjoy that, love?” Astarion asked later as they sat together in the tub, bathing and basking in post-coital bliss. His back was facing her chest as she washed his hair.

He should be enjoying himself, but he couldn’t stop the wisps of doubt from wriggling into his mind.

What if I scared her? Didn’t do well? Reminded her of things she’d rather forget?

“I did,” Ban said, massaging the shampoo into his hair. “It’s been a while since we did it that way, and, well…”

“Well?” He raised an eyebrow. “Well what? Did it feel good? Was I… Did I…”

“Do well?” She leaned forward to hug him. “You did wonderfully.”

“Of course I did.” He puffed up his chest, outwardly smug, attempting to hide the nervousness behind the bluster. “I know your body even better than my own.”

True, of course. But that hadn’t always been enough. He hadn’t always used that knowledge solely for her pleasure.

“And you, Astarion? Was it good for you?” Ban asked, resuming caring for his hair.

“Better than good.” He paused for a moment, searching for the right words. “You gave me your trust again. That’s… that’s all I wanted, really.”

“But the sex was decent too, of course,” he added quickly, effortlessly dodging her hand as she playfully attempted to smack him.

“Ever think we’d end up this way?” Ban’s voice was quiet, looking at him as they rested together in the darkness.

Astarion considered the question.

“Had I not done what I did? Yes. But I did do it. Therefore… no.” He reached for her, and they turned onto their sides, curling up together with her back to his chest.

“We became bitter and twisted, and falling into that was terribly easy to do.”

She considered his words. “Fair. And getting here was-”

“Exceedingly difficult, yes,” Astarion finished for her. “There’s still more work to do, you know.”

Ban nodded. “I know.” She felt a small pang of guilt for not being quite there yet.

“Don’t,” he said sharply, “I know what you’re thinking - so don’t.”

She didn’t answer, and that familiar dull ache began in his chest. He sighed.

“For what it’s worth, Ban, you’re worth the work too,” Astarion offered, “And no matter what happens now, I’m just glad it’s with you.”

She twisted in his arms to face him, pressing their lips together in a gentle, affectionate kiss.

They fell asleep tangled in one another’s arms.

There was still a long way to go - relearning each other, rebuilding what they’d once had, forging a new path forward. There were old wounds that still needed healing, wounds that needed a careful hand to avoid reopening. And there would always be fresh trials and new challenges to overcome.

But if they stumbled, if they fell, they would always have one another to hold onto.

Finally, the future felt bright.

Astarion rested peacefully throughout the night. Here in the heart of his palace, in the center of his power and earthly possessions, he held the only thing that truly mattered. Her.

When dawn arrived, Ban opened her eyes. A shaft of sunlight peeked through the gap between vermillion curtains, shining on her face. Her hand moved, reaching for the space beside her before she stopped herself. There was no need to check. There never would be.

An arm reached back, wrapping around her waist.

He was here. And he always would be. Eternally.

As would she.

#astarion #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion fic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x mc #ascended astarion x tav #astarion ascended #ascendant astarion #vampire ascendant #ascended astarion #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

[loquaciousquark]

Got spoiled twice in casual browsing this afternoon, so decided to go ahead and play through the epilogue on my original Tavish save set so I'd at least get the comfort of seeing the big stuff for the first time on my own. (Thanks to @eponymous-rose for keeping me company despite spoilers!)

I am honestly SO HAPPY with 99% of the epilogue! Everything with Wyll, Karlach, Jaheira, Halsin....if I keep going I'm just going to name all the characters but ESPECIALLY WYLL AND KARLACH. Oh my gosh, the hints towards finding a forge in the Hells! Wyll's eye! His armor looks so unbelievably dumb but I guess when you're living hand to mouth in Avernus you make what you can get. I bet it's not as good as that Helldusk armor I had him in, but oh well.

Tara was there! We got to talk to Tara! And tell everyone Astarion & Tavish were dating! And so many people wanted to talk about what we were doing and what we were up to--ahh, I loved it. I will say I cackled like a loon at the idea of Tav giving a lecture at Blackstar Academy or whatever it is and Astarion sitting at Gale's desk kicking up his feet and knocking over all his desk decorations.

Scratch got new animations! Throwing the astral prism as a fetch object was absolutely inspired, and the little animation set where he just sits down and gnaws on it and throw it around--so unbelievably cute. And he sleeps! He sleeps on its side and it's so STINKIN cute! And the owlbear going to live with Shadowheart--I'm cryyyyying, I'm so happy for her and her cottage and her hoard of animals and her million flowers I'm sure are there.

And even the little QoL things like having a chest full of clothes and dye! So thoughtful and nice! I would have killed that halfling for a potion of animal speaking, though - I'll drink one before the Netherbrain next time to make sure it carries over.

The only teensy weensy tiny itty bitty complaint I have is that I wanted to be able to kiss Astarion at this party. Just once! And I wanted him to go out and be merry with everybody! I'll accept that he's feeling skulky and be satisfied immensely with my hugs, but Tavish on the new run hasn't gotten to Moonrise yet, so I'm starving for a lack of kisses here, augh.

I loved every word Withers said. I loved every second/third/fourth round of dialogue for all the companions. Jergal is such a dang bro and he seemed so enthusiastic to get to hang with the fam. Bless!

I do wonder if it's possible to try to kill people at this party - there were certainly enough death-causing implements and scrolls floating around!

And then the END CREDITS?????????????? Raphael ranting about THE CROWN OF KARSUS?????????????? This does explain why Gale made a point of saying it had gone back to Mystra when we most deffo left that sucker in the river, but HELLS-RELATED DLC???? I THOUGHT KARLACH AND WYLL WERE JUST LEAVING THEIR FATES OPEN-ENDED AND THEN ACTUALLY JK WE MIGHT BE GOING THERE??????????????????

Surely this is a promise of upcoming DLC, surely. I have no idea if they intend this to be paid or free (honestly I think it should be paid) but either way I'll throw every dollar I have at them if and when it comes out. How is Raphael alive. How is Mystra going to keep the crown from him. How are we going to get the gang back together. What does Zariel's area look like!! Will we get to go past level 12!! How is Raphael ALIVE!!

I honestly just had the biggest grin on my face the entire time. Every conversation, every hug, every gesture. What a complete delight, and I can't believe we get it for free.

(Sidenote: I was also beyond overjoyed that this patch also fixed the Astarion epilogue, the broken scars cutscene, and apparently the kisses. Again, Tavish hasn't gotten to at-will kisses yet, and I'm DYING.)

(Sidesidenote: I couldn't get any of my first game saves to load after a certain point [turned out to be due to an old mod I'd uninstalled] and troubleshooting that to get the saves to work again was honestly really fun, ahh.)

#quark plays bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers

[athenasdragon]

Lemon Meringue

Pairing: Gale/m!Tav (Oran is a half-orc oath of the ancients paladin)

Rating: G

Canon compliant, established relationship, angst(ish) with a happy ending

Read on AO3

After departing Moonrise Tower, Oran (Tav) is torn between his love for Gale and his reservations about the wizard's ambitions. After all, his paladin oath charges him with protecting natural order. Could Gale's aspirations of godhood--or Oran's concerns--drive them apart?

A few scenes between the end of Act 2 and the middle of Act 3 exploring a complicated romance. Partially inspired by conversations with @blasphemyenjoyer.

Oran was having trouble focusing on what Gale was saying. They had just dragged themselves back upstairs from the Absolute’s lair; Oran could feel splatters of blood drying on his face, could smell the funk of the mindflayer lair and the dusty-sweet incense of Myrkul on his clothing. He and Shadowheart were exhausted beyond healing, leaving all four members of their party limping, bleeding, and bruised. He never felt more like a stupid hulking beast than in the wake of a hard battle. Too tired for the words in Common that were already difficult to enunciate around his tusks, he had slouched away from Jahiera seeking quiet and a hot meal. Even Astarion was uncharacteristically silent.

Gale, despite a black eye and the viscera clinging to his own hair, was speaking to him—or trying to, as it took some effort to match Oran’s long stride. “We must visit Sorcerous Sundries when we reach Baldur’s Gate,” he was saying when Oran pulled his attention to his words. “They will have the texts on Karsus to help us understand that crown. That is the key to controlling the Elder Brain.”

The idea of Gale eagerly seeking out another Netherese artifact so soon after nearly losing his life to the consequences of a first was even more difficult for Oran to understand than his apparent energy. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he responded simply, feeling a prickle of anger that it even needed to be said.

Gale forged ahead regardless. “Just think of the power we would have. The good we could do! In any case, we must arm ourselves with information about the enemy we face. It’s clear Orin and Gortash are using those crystals to control the crown. If we don’t understand how it works, what hope do we have of defeating them?”

“Fine,” Oran agreed tersely. He stopped for a moment and brought his hand to rest against the side of Gale’s face where the deepest bruising was blooming down over his cheekbone. “Why don’t you find a cleric to take a look at you? I can’t heal any more until I rest.”

Some emotion passed briefly over Gale’s face, as enigmatic as everything else about the wizard, then faded to an understanding smile. “Of course. You’re tired. We can discuss this more another time.”

Oran had to stifle a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” He grazed his thumb over Gale’s cheek once, conscious that the skin must be tender, then dropped his hand. “I love you. I’ll see you at camp.”

He watched as Gale turned and left through a doorway to seek healing from one of the Harpers. A large burn had bitten out the corner of his cloak. It looked fixable, but probably not until they reached the city. Only once the charred edge of the fabric had disappeared did Oran turn and keep walking towards the out-of-the-way room where they had pitched camp.

It felt wretched to think, but his romance with Gale had been leading for some time towards a set conclusion. Whatever Oran’s protests, they both knew the wizard would have to sacrifice himself to destroy the Absolute.

Then he didn’t.

When Oran had asked—begged—Gale had chosen him. In the moment it felt incredible. Who had ever chosen him in that way? Who had ever looked at him with such fondness?

But the doubts were growing louder every second. He hadn’t been motivated by thoughts of the many innocents still near Moonrise who would be destroyed in the explosion. Not one thought for their other companions nor the Harpers above nor the refugees still at the Last Light Inn. It was a moment of pure desperation, such selfish impulse he almost expected to feel the stomach-dropping emptiness of his powers guttering out for breaking his oath.

And now here they both were. Battered and bruised, exhausted, still infected with tadpoles and Gale still host to a power he could barely manage, they were nonetheless alive. And together.

So what now? How to pursue the Absolute? How to take on the other two powers holding its leash when a confrontation with one had nearly ended them? How to make up for their missed opportunity to stop the invasion once and for all?

And another slew of questions tugged still more urgently at him. Oran could see now that he had fallen prey to the charming melancholy of the dying ember—the safety of the love that could never last. He truly cared for Gale, but it had almost felt easier to fall headlong into the relationship knowing it was doomed. What if Gale’s search for power led him somewhere Oran couldn’t follow? More likely, what if Gale took new stock and found the hero he had likened to a god was no more than an ugly jaded half-orc with a few divine magic tricks?

His thoughts thus swirling ever lower, Oran was relieved to see that Astarion and Shadowheart had beaten him back to the group and were already regaling their companions with tales of what they had seen below. He forced a weary smile at those who turned when he entered and slunk off to a quick meal and his bedroll, sleep taking him the moment his head touched the ground.

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

The circus was a welcome diversion after the darkness and hardships of the last weeks. Though desperation was thick in the air in Rivington, the sun shone bright and Oran felt he could relax a fraction.

Perhaps he had been overthinking things with Gale. Everyone in their group was facing existential threats, both personal and civilizational. Of course the wizard wanted to learn more about the Elder Brain; if they could disrupt the crown somehow, perhaps Gortash and Orin would be unable to execute their invasion plans.

Anyway, Gale had dropped the subject since Moonrise. The second night after the battle they slept curled up together as they had grown accustomed. Oran could barely sleep, nearly giddy with the feeling of Gale’s heartbeat against him. Alive. Alive because Gale had trusted him, had wanted to be with him. To both be here in the sun once more was a great gift. He intended to make the most of whatever moments of levity they might encounter.

And thus they were playing the dryad’s love game.

“If the wizard were given the choice, what food would he be?”

Oran thought a moment. Nothing heavy, nothing common or plain. Something… luxurious, but you would have it every day if you could. He thought of the feeling in his chest when Gale had first made him laugh, and Gale’s sly little satisfied smile. There was a sharpness to his humor that surprised him at times. And there was the smell of his hair when he curled against Oran’s chest: lavender and citrus.

“A lemon merengue!” Oran blurted, remembering the treat he had savored once at a confectionary in Baldur’s Gate—a bright, cheerful memory. “Tart, and…” He hesitated over his words, thinking of the soaring feeling he had felt when they first kissed. “…light.”

To his surprise, Gale’s face twisted in disapproval. “Is that all you think of me?”

Oran’s heart sank. He didn’t know what was so wrong with lemon merengue, but clearly he had offended.

Before he could untangle his faux pas and explain himself, the dryad tutted disapprovingly and continued. “When is Gale happiest?”

This one at least was easy. Though Oran had declined Gale’s offer of whatever weave-touched lovemaking he had been envisioning, he did enjoy a tour of the wizard’s rooms in Waterdeep. Gale hadn’t needed to tell him the balcony was his favorite; he could have guessed by how vivid the illusion became as soon as they stepped out the door. He remembered the fresh sea smell and the sunset painted across the sky.

“When on his—his balcony in Waterdeep,” Oran said, tripping on his words halfway through as he doubted himself. What if he had missed something else obvious? He had offended Gale once already.

But his fears were quickly assuaged by Gale’s smile. So far so good.

“Finally,” the druid asked in her unplaceable accent, “what is the wizard’s greatest flaw?”

Perfect, Oran thought wryly. No room for offense there. Just look into the eyes of a man you confessed your love to less than two weeks ago and tell him what you think is his worst quality.

Gale raised one eyebrow as Oran hesitated over his answer.

He could name any number of petty annoyances. The interrupting, the blank stare over your shoulder when he had an idea while you were speaking, the endless practicing of cantrips at camp. And there were the more serious issues, like his obvious lingering need for Mystra’s approval and his obsession with using magic to ascend above mortality in some way. All things that had given Oran pause throughout their acquaintance.

But if the question was greatest flaw, Oran had an answer.

“He thinks he, and the world, might be better off if he were dead.”

Gale smiled with a sadness that gripped Oran’s heart. “Hearing it said out loud—yes, I fear it is true. Fate seems determined to make a sacrifice of me. But, perhaps fate can yet be defied.” He strode across the log to meet Oran, one soft hand cupping his face as he kissed his cheek. “Well done, my love. It seems we are well-suited indeed. Although there is always room for improvement.”

Oran sighed with relief as he wrapped an arm around Gale. Of course there would always be room for improvement; someone like him could never measure up to the handsome, witty archmage. He wondered privately how he would have fared without the band of intellect which had rested on his brow almost since they first met. But for now, he had passed.

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

Everyone was tense by the time they arrived back at camp. Their pleasant circus diversion had turned upsetting fast. Oran was still reeling from being attacked by, and subsequently killing, the facsimile of a beloved local entertainer.

Luckily it was Halsin’s turn with the cook pot and he had outdone himself with their newfound access to fresh ingredients. It seemed like the heartiest, most delicious food Oran had ever eaten. After supper he was more than happy to lean against a log by the fire and let his mind wander as he stared into the flames. They were just far enough from Rivington that the woods were quiet and peaceful as dusk fell.

To his pleasant surprise, Gale joined him. He wordlessly eased himself down onto the grass and leaned against Oran, tipping his head back to rest on his shoulder.

Oran wrapped an arm around his waist. Gale was no short man, but he didn’t need to slouch much for Oran to comfortably rest his chin on his head. There was that familiar lemon and lavender over a comforting library-ish scent. It made him wonder when Gale found the time to wash and dry his hair. Perhaps it was done with magic.

Oran’s limbs relaxed as he felt Gale’s warmth against him. Something about his presence always made Oran feel safe. Although he was frequently the one shielding the wizard in battle and picking him up off the ground afterwards, it was almost as common for Oran to find himself surrounded by foes in a poor tactical position and be suddenly rescued by a well-placed fireball or lightning bolt. More than that, Gale always seemed to know what to do next, or have something insightful to say, and wanted to be along for the adventure. Even when he stayed behind at camp Oran knew things were in good hands.

Even the thought that Gale had purposely sought him out in this moment was comforting after the tensions of the past few days. Suddenly, nodding off right here beside the fire seemed like the most appealing thing in the world.

“I’m sorry the circus was a wash,” Gale murmured, bringing Oran back from the edge of sleep. “I know you were excited about it.”

“Mmm… it’s all right. It was still nice to get some sun. Speak to some people who weren’t undead. You know, clown murder aside.”

Gale chuckled. “I wasn’t expecting to run into Orin so soon. Did you notice anything odd about that druid before she revealed herself?”

“Not especially. I was a little focused on answering her questions.”

“Ah yes… you know, I was thinking that I never got to answer any questions about you.”

The thought had not occurred to Oran at all. The fire popped loudly while he fumbled with his words for a moment. “What is there to say? You know me. I’m just… me.”

“Well, if I were asked to tell your biggest flaw, I think it would be how you undersell yourself,” Gale said with firm affection. “You’re incredible. I still have so much to learn about you.”

Oran blushed. No one had ever complimented him the way Gale did. It was nice, but sometimes his effusiveness reminded Oran of the way he talked about Mystra. Like Oran was just some heroic symbol instead of a person.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, rather than addressing the rest of Gale’s statement.

“When are you happiest?”

A log in the fire crumbled to embers, sending up a flurry of sparks to mingle with the stars. Around camp, Lae’zel and Shadowheart were arguing with no real claws and Karlach and Wyll laughed together on dishwashing duty. Someone was snoring loudly. Yenna, the child who had joined them that morning, was feeding her cat scraps over in the old barn. The air smelled like food and pine and smoke and sweet hay. Oran was ever-aware of the parasite, but for the moment it merely picked up on the web of contentment and companionship which stretched between the minds of those at the camp.

Gale had placed his hand—warm and soft—over Oran’s where it rested against his stomach and was tracing absentminded circles with his thumb. Light seemed to bloom in Oran’s chest. It was truly unbelievable that someone so beautiful and intelligent could choose him like this. And yet here they were, together, and it seemed Gale was enjoying it too. Maybe things could go on like this. Maybe this was what un-doomed romance could look like someday, occasional discomfort and all.

“This isn’t so bad,” Oran said, indicating their surroundings with a movement of his chin he knew Gale could feel. “It’s not jumping for joy happy I suppose, but it’s nice. The company is good,” he added with a light squeeze of his arm.

Gale chuckled. “I’m glad you’re happy, though maybe when this is all over we can set your standards a little higher.”

They rested together in silence. Oran wondered if Gale could feel the pure contentment rippling off him.

“Well, what about the third question?” Gale asked after a while. “If you were a food, what would you be?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Oran mused, pulling himself back from the edge of dozing. “Stew or something.”

“Because I was thinking,” Gale continued as if he hadn’t heard him, “If I were a dessert, which I’m still not sure I agree with, I might be something… heartier?”

Oran suppressed a groan. “Are you still upset I said lemon merengue?”

“Well, of course I’m not upset, but I don’t know how accurate a representation—I mean, tart and light? That hardly feels…” The wizard shifted slightly. “Unless that’s what you really think. I don’t know.”

Oran realized too late he was backed into a conversational corner. “I had never considered what food you would be, my love. I just thought of something I liked.”

That answer seemed to assuage Gale for the moment and he fell silent once more. Oran tipped his head back against the log, stewing over his lover’s dissatisfaction.

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

After a long and trying day sneaking around Sorcerous Sundries, Oran was eager to discuss what Gale had learned of Karsus. Fortunately the wizard was waiting for him in their room at the Elfsong; he beckoned Oran over and kissed his cheek.

Gale smiled self-consciously when Oran grinned at him. “I don’t think I deserve you at times. I’ve told you of my ambitions—the likes many would baulk at—and yet you remain by my side.”

Guilt twisted in Oran’s chest. It was precisely his doubts about Gale’s ambitions that had led to the distance between them of late. He worried Gale’s search for power was taking him someplace Oran couldn’t follow. “I want to support you. But some further explanation of what you intend wouldn’t be amiss.”

“Let me show you exactly what ascension will mean to me. To us.” Gale leaned in and gestured between them to emphasize. “Words alone are not enough. Permit me to show you. Please, close your eyes a moment.” He held out his hands, palms up—inviting.

Oran placed his hands in Gale’s. As always, they felt rough and unwieldy compared to the wizard’s soft touch. He noticed a bruise on Gale’s forearm and sent a small pulse of divine energy through his fingers to heal it, just catching Gale’s half-smile before he closed his eyes.

Gale spoke a short phrase and Oran felt the gentle lurch of their surroundings changing. He was seated now, hands gripping Gale tighter as his head spun for a moment.

“Few mortals ever glimpse what you’re about to see. But don’t be alarmed—I’m here with you.” Gale’s voice was soothing as he squeezed Oran’s hands. “Now… open your eyes.”

Oran obeyed. They were on a small rowboat which rocked gently in an expanse of sunset-colored energy. Stars peeked through ribboned veils of aurora. He lifted one hand and drew it through the space next to them, leaving a bluish ripple. It was beautiful; it reminded him of the sky Gale had conjured for their first night together. And Gale looked at home here in his purple and silver brocade. His earring twinkled like another star. He looked pleased with the vision and a little nervous to see Oran’s reaction.

Returning both hands to Gale’s grasp, Oran smiled. Their surroundings were beautiful, but only Gale was real—his eyes a little tired, his smile a little strained, his hair not quite perfect, his pulse quick and strong where their skin touched. Precious and tangible and impermanent. Oran had never quite figured out how to tell him that was better than any magic in the world. He opened his mouth to try, but Gale spoke first.

“The Outer Planes,” he explained, turning his head to gesture at their environment. “This is where gods dwell. Where they observe us from afar. Where they make playthings of us. They would keep all of this from us. Power. The possibilities.” He was growing heated now. “They only want us to serve them, pray to them… and ultimately, die for them.” He gripped Oran’s hands tight and pulled himself closer. “But what if we didn’t need them? What if we wielded their power instead, and helped ourselves in all the ways they refuse to? I could make that happen. I could make this illusion a reality, with you by my side.”

Grimacing, Oran watched the reflection of the aurora overhead dance in Gale’s wide eyes. His oath didn’t come up often, but surely Gale understood that this was precisely the type of upset to the natural order he had sworn to prevent. “Are you saying you want to ascend? To claim godhood?”

“No, not like that.” Gale shook his head. “I don’t want to join them. I want to better them. A god’s powers, paired with a mortal conscience, a mortal heart. The tadpoles, the orb—these threats to our existence—the gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind Ao. So let us act ourselves.” Now he pulled both hands free, leaving Oran’s to close on nothing. He gestured widely. “With the power of the crown, any foe would be rendered impotent. Any obstacle would be dwarfed by our might.”

Oran was speechless. There was an eerie pause as their surroundings twinkled in complete silence.

Gale’s face fell as Oran continued to look skeptical. “I used to believe Mystra’s forgiveness was worth dying for. But I was wrong. You showed me just how much I have to live for. With you, I forget my goddess.” He took a shaky breath, leaning forward still further to rest his hands on Oran’s knees. “I love you,” he pled. “Tell me you feel the same way. Tell me you want what I want. Please.”

The idea that Gale had any question of Oran’s love was like a dagger to his side. Here he thought Gale knew Oran was so devoted it frightened him—that his love for Gale was the only thing that could rival his oath. He thought Gale was reaching for power with the implicit assumption that Oran would follow like a pup on a leash.

But no—the picture was suddenly clear as the tremble of Gale’s lip. His subordinate devotion to Mystra, his clawing and scraping to get on even footing with her only to be cast away, his lofty compliments for Oran. The rich illusions whenever he wanted to impress. The embarrassment when he’d had to explain the orb and his dutiful resignation to Mystra’s command. His off-handed self-consciousness. Gale must have thought so little of himself. And anytime Oran pulled away it must have driven him harder towards this plan.

“I think I’ve been a fool,” Oran whispered.

There was only half a second to see how Gale’s expression crumbled before he ducked his head and sighed. “I understand. I’m… sorry.”

“No Gale, no. No, no.” Oran fell to his knees between them, clutching at Gale’s hands. The wizard looked startled. “I’ve been a fool about this whole thing. I haven’t truly understood what you desired. But it’s your mortal heart that makes you great! I love you, but for the man that you are. Not the god you’d pretend to be.”

Gale furrowed his brow. “But think what I offer. The vastness of eternity to explore, the Weave at our fingertips...” He shook his head as if he was at a loss for words. “You would really prefer me as I am?”

Oran raised a hand to Gale’s cheek. “Of course. You don’t need the power of a god to make a difference. Think of all we’ve accomplished already—the lives we’ve saved, the people we’ve helped. We can’t fix it all. We’re not meant to. But you’re good, and you’re brave, and you’ve taught me so much, and somehow you love me. You’re already everything I could ask.”

Gale smiled for the first time since they had entered the illusion. “I hope you’re right. I truly do. Godly power, perhaps I can live without, but you? You’re everything.”

For the first time, Oran was the one who had to lean up into the kiss. This too was warm, and real, and imperfect. As everything was. As they would go on. And as Oran wrapped his arms around Gale to pull him closer, the enormity of his relief seemed echoed in the lights which danced around them.

#SORRY ABOUT ORAN'S NAME #IN MY DEFENSE #HOW WOULD I HAVE KNOWN THAT #bg3 #bg3 fic #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale/tav #athena fic tag #half orc tav #paladin tav

[theoreticalli]

handing you specific tav asks if you’d like them: general 4, story 1, romance 4!

hiiiii sadie I meant to send you some too, I'll do that as soon as I post this :)

Ithkara Nacoile - they/she - Seldarine Drow - Beast Master Ranger

General 4 - What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Any kindness to animals or other civilians will be viewed favorably. They’re generally supportive of peacemaking, protecting as many lives as possible, and generosity. They don’t support lying in friendly circumstances; they appreciate genuine, earnest responses. Being selfish will upset them, but talking your way out of a situation will inspire them. They also will be impressed by most Wisdom skill checks, especially nature or animal handling. They won’t appreciate assumptions about them because they’re a drow, but also won’t care too much about how you handle drow enemies. Don’t make fun of them for being awkward and earnest. Also, they’re a godless nature commie, so stealing is all good by them.

Story 1 - How does your Tav advise the pc when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

Ithkara is, like, absolutely a little in love with their visitor. He’s sweet, he’s hot, he has a lot of the same goals and perspectives on how they should be moving forward as them. The’re very disappointed that he’s (at my current in-game point) usually inaccessible. soooo… if you wanna listen to yours, they’re not gonna say anything.

Romance 4 - Do they have a special romance scene at the tiefling/goblin party?

oh boy I'm putting a cut on this one bc I literally just wrote out most of their scene lol

They’ll be sitting out by the boat on the beach, to the left of Wyll. If you talk to them, they’ll say:

“I’m a little overwhelmed by parties. Too many people. The rumble of the waves is better company for me. Or maybe just more… selective companionship.”

If you choose to stay and continue talking to them, they’ll say:

“Of course I mean you, silly. Sit down, help me finish off this bottle, and let the chatter blend into the tide. It’s nice, I promise.”

If you try to initiate romance, they’ll say:

“What do you— Oh! I see. Uhm. Well, this feels a little public still. Meet me later, once this has all settled down?”

Later that night, you’ll meet them in the same place.

“Hey. Hi. I— uhm, I thought could we— oh, damn. The words won’t get in order. Listen, I- I’m pretty good at the physical stuff, but I’m not too practiced with the— feelings. And… I don’t want this to be like some quick roll in the underbrush. So if you can be patient with me—?”

If you respond affirmatively, they’ll relax and say:

“Thank the gods. Okay. Well, maybe we can… sit next to each other? Is that a lame way to start?”

You settle down next to each other again, closer than earlier. Then they’ll say:

“Look at the stars. They’re so clear tonight. You know, when I was younger, my auntie told us stories about the Celestials being in the stars. I thought they were like little faces up there, looking down from the ceiling like the bats in the Underdark. I was a bit disappointed when I saw they were just… lights. Not too disappointed, though. They are awfully pretty. Just like, uh, I mean, you’re like— gods, that’s stupid. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

If you’re kind, they’ll relax again. They will then take your hand to help point out different constellations, and the scene will fade out.

Other possible dialogue snippets:

“Not that I have anything against the tieflings. They deserve a night like this. I just don’t think I deserve to be in the way of… whatever that mage is doing to try to impress his siblings.”

“You know, I never thought there’d be anyone I would choose to be around if I had the option to be alone instead. So… good job? It’s nice to have friends.”

“I’m sorry, but… I don’t want to go back over there. I’ll see you in the morning, I guess. Goodnight.”

“No, I don’t want you to ‘bring the party to me.’ The opposite, actually. Please go away. I’d like to be alone.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #baldur's gate oc #ithkara #that's my kid I love them <3

[thecagedbard]

Oh Look, another Tav story! This is currently posted over on AO3 in its entirety but I thought I’d post it to tumblr as well. If you’d like to sneak a peak at some of the chapter names, if you don’t want to read the whole thing yet, have a listen to the title playlist: here.  There is also just the ‘Here’s what I was listening to while writing' playlist, and my Faetrala Uncaged playlist which serves as inspiration for Vesper’s siblings.  A lot of the songs tend to overlap but who knows, you might find one you enjoy. 

Rating: Mature

Pairing(s): Astarion/Tav (Vesper), Astarion/Halsin, Astarion/Halsin/Tav(Vesper); Mentions of Karlach/Shadowheart/Wyll; Mentions of Gale/AFAB OC

Warnings:  Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Canon Divergence, Child Death

Word count: 9,322/300,000+

Summary: Vesper needed someone to protect her from an abusive husband should he appear after she was abducted by mind flayers. Astarion needed someone to fall for him so he had protection from Cazador. He's got two hundred years of manipulation and she has the soft heart of a lamb being led to slaughter. While subconsciously healing each other they both realize they also need to heal the druid of all damned people.

Chapter Six

The opportunity to speak with Astarion slipped from her hands faster than a zhentarim agent could drop a bottle of alchemist fire. While the plan was clear, they were headed to the underdark in search of the Sharran Temple or city or whatever it was, neither Karlach nor Astarion was quite ready to give the surface world up just yet, plus Halsin had said it would be a couple of days before he could join them because of Kagha’s trial.

The party had left their camp and traveled back to the toll house before following the risen road. Days ago they had found a group of three gnolls and fought them along with newborns after they had burst from the bellies of hyenas. Today the sounds of explosions caught their attention as they wandered. Gnolls as large as the three they had fought before were hunting something within a cave, as he normally did Astarion’s hand pushed down on the top of the bard’s head but he wasn’t fast enough for the gnoll that was painting a symbol in blood on the wall to not notice them.

The creature howled before surging forward and came to a sudden halt before the bard, their tadpoles connecting. “Karlach, kill it!” Astarion shouted as all of them doubled over. When the initial connection fell the others realized the hyenas and gnolls behind this one were beginning to surge forward, Karlach had lifted her blade ready to attack the one looming over the bard, but Vesper held her hand up.

How did a gnoll get a tadpole? Why was ‘this meat,’ which she assumed was herself and her companions, forbidden? Stepping into the gnoll’s space she pushed for the tadpole in her head to find the answers and at the same time felt a hand encircle her wrist trying to pull her back, “Wait!” she had cried out, “give me a just a second. Take the others.”

A deeper push into the gnoll’s consciousness gaining what little information it had, and decided to try and distract it with a joke. “What’s the difference between man and meat?” Gale had looked at her as he climbed one of the boulders near her, “What?” The gnoll’s head had tilted before she told the punch line, “Thirty seconds and a hungry maw.”

“What?” the wizard had said a second time before the gnoll began to cackle. Much like its pre-bipedal form, the cackle sounded like a hyena and the control that the gnoll pack leader had over her pack spread the laugh to all of them.

“How in the hells did you do that?” asked Karlach as she looked at the bard, “The joke wasn’t even that good…” Astarion flanked one of the bipedal creatures with her and shrugged his shoulders, “Perhaps it's their lack of intelligence. One at a time, shall we?”

The creatures went down easily since they were able to take the time and attack together, when the final one standing was the pack leader, she felt a tug on the belt of her armor and walked behind Astarion as she heard him mutter, “Thirty seconds and a hungry maw…truly?” She shrugged her shoulders as best she could and watched as they attacked in unison, Shadowheart sputtering as blood splattered across her face.

Karlach stood as her shoulders heaved, “That was really a bad joke…but it worked.” Vesper looked at the tiefling as she talked and laughed softly, “I’m full of a ton more.” The axe-bearing woman tilted her head, “Well I guess we have our traveling entertainment.” There was a shout from inside the cave that had them turning to look in its direction, from the mouth of the cave two men came running out clad in all black.

The tiefling made space for Vesper to step forward and tilted her head in the man’s direction as the taller blond yelled out to them again, his hand raising into the air with a wave. A hand at her back lightly pushed her forward and she looked back and then up to Astarion who smiled at the man, “See what he wants, you’re good at reading people aren’t you?” 

“Shadowheart is better–hello, are you alright?” her last couple of steps stumbled as Astarion gave her another indelicate shove forward.

“Gods, you are a sight. I thought we were going to be gnoll shit before anyone came to our rescue,” the man held out a hand before he simply stepped forward and grabbed onto one of Vesper’s shaking it, “Rugan. The boy and I were a part of a caravan traveling west, did you see any of my men out here?” Vesper shook her head and explained the scene they had found just south of where they stood, “Damn it all.”

“Where’re you traveling from?” asked Karlach as she stayed just behind the bard’s shoulder. Vesper could feel the heat from Karlach’s body indicating just how close she was but she didn’t interject anything, she just kept an eye on the man before looking back at the cave to see a younger man peeking out of the cave.

As Rugan explained where they were from and that they were carrying good bound of Baldur’s Gate something he said made her wrinkle her brow in confusion. He spoke of being paid of tarenths she had heard that word before when dealing with a debt for Issac. Those men who had spoken of it had been mercenaries. The hand that had been on her back slipped up to hold onto her shoulder and Astarion stepped closer so he was directly beside her, “You’re Zhentarim?” he asked, Vesper looked toward her pale companion and saw him looking the two over, “Your people don’t deal in ‘baubles.’”

Rugan lifted a finger while he chuckled, “You know who we are–very clever. Then you probably also know it’s not smart to interfere with Zhent business.” The human wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm and cocked his head, “This is the point where a clever group like you accepts my gratitude and walks away.” Vesper looked from the man to Astarion and back before she smiled, “Of course…hardly seems right to save you only to rob you of your charge, right?” She looked at the spawn next to her whose smile went from threatening to tight as he looked at her his eyes narrowing in frustration, “Right…of course. We’ll see you at your little watering hole then…”

The man nodded and turned calling out to the boy in the cave while the three watched him stride back. Astarion lowered his voice, “We could have used whatever he had in there…what if he’s carrying a ton of jewels? Shame really…” Karlach snorted, “Right well, if we really want their stuff I suppose we could always attack all of them at once.” The bard nodded and inhaled shakily before turning, “Yeah…all of them.”

The tiefling looked down and frowned, “What is it? Did you know him?” Vesper angled her head to look at the tiefling, “Hm? No! I’ve just dealt with Zhent before…not a happy experience by any means.” She realized then that they were missing three members of the party, “Where’s the others?” Karlach turned and pointed, Gale was bent over one of the gnolls as he used a knife to cut its ears off, “Probably ingredient gathering…or trophy collecting. Not sure really,” she grinned as she looked back at the elves. The rogue’s face was twisted as his lip curled, and his nose wrinkled, “Somehow I didn’t take Gale for a collector…do those have some sort of magic within them?” he called out and Gale looked up and chuckled before returning to his task.

Shadowheart was going through the belongings of the gnoll leader and held up a flail, “Something about this doesn’t feel right. Like it’s a curse or something.” Wyll only nodded and held open his bag, “Perhaps if Gale’s problem persists it will find some use then. Otherwise, we can get rid of it as soon as possible… there are cliffs not far from here near Waukeen’s Rest,” the warlock said as he flipped the closure on the bag once the weapon was inside.”

“There’s a parasite as well, I can feel it calling to me,” said Shadowehart as she began to back up. Astarion bounced on his toes as he pulled an empty bottle from his pocket, “Allow me then.” When the little creature began to exit its host looking for a new one the rogue was quick to pick it up and place it within the glass container. Tapping on the jar he smiled at it, “Hello new friend…I wonder what you’ll give us.” The cleric watched the spawn with a look of disbelief on her face, “Tentacles, mucus-covered skin…nothing attractive I’m sure.” Astarion barely spared the cleric a look before he walked up to the bard and dropped it into the bag that rested on her shoulders while asking, “How far to this Waukeen’s Rest then?” Vesper stumbled as the rogue pulled at her bag and froze while he finished whatever he was doing, when she was finally able to move freely again she noticed he had her ration pouch once more. “Must you eat all of my snacks?” she asked as he pulled a piece of dried meat from the bag, turning to Wyll, who seemed to know the area better she asked, “What is Waukeen’s Rest? That Zhent agent mentioned it as well, said his ‘friends’ had their own tavern there.”

Wyll raised a brow as he looked past the bard and motioned for her to lower her volume, he started down the hill and looked back waiting for the others to follow. Karlach and Vesper shared a look before following after him, Astarion wasn’t far behind while the cleric and wizard brought up the rear. “It’s an inn, my father used to frequent when he had to come this way years ago, not too far perhaps another hour or so. Zhent agents you said?” he titled his head down as he spoke to Vesper, “Perhaps we should stop after all. Let someone there know that there’s a black market going on under their noses.” Gale sighed as he heard it was an inn, “An inn, maybe they will have room and we can have an actual bed for the night. A warm bath and fine cooked meal sound like just the thing I could use right about now.” Shadowheart sighed at the thought as well, “I haven’t minded camping but having a bed does sound rather nice. An hour you say? What are we waiting for?”

They began walking again, Wyll taking the lead ahead of the others. While walking Karlach snatched the bag Astarion had taken from the bard and passed it back to her with a chuckle, “One night and you’re acting like you’ve been given free access to her things.” Astarion grunted when the bag was taken from him, “I thought I said not to say anything,” he said to Vesper whose face began to color as Shadowheart looked at the woman walking beside her. “What are they talking about? One night?” she asked before looking back at Astarion and then her eyes got wide, “You didn’t!” she exclaimed her eyes finding the bard again.

Vesper threw a look behind her to the rogue, “I hadn’t said anything. I told you Karlach saw you…you’re also the one that told her to tell me!” She heard a male chuckling and whipped her head around to see Gale now fighting a grin, huffing Vesper began walking faster to walk next to Wyll as the others laughed a little harder.

“It should be just,” Wyll paused mid-step as his eyes glanced skyward. “Smoke…something’s on fire,” said Vesper as she too looked upward and then took off after the warlock. People in red and yellow tabards were gathering water from a fountain before throwing it on a fire that was engulfing the whole building and those beside it. Karlach joined the two and looked at Wyll before looking at the door. One of the people in heavy armor turned, “Don’t just stand there, Duke Ravengard is in there!”

“Duke Ravengard?” asked Wyll and his face fell before he ran up to the door and kicked his foot through it, the door giving way to his weight and the flames licking at it from the inside. Karlach scooted past him, “Let me, Wyll. If it goes up in flame I should be fine for the most part, worlds better than you at least.” Wyll only gave a nod, “Quickly, Karlach!”

They lost sight of Karlach and she and the others in heavy armor ran for the stairs. Wyll covered his mouth with his hand as he took in the building and Vesper walked up to him placing a hand on his shoulder, “Do you know this Duke Ravengard?” Wyll looked at the bard and lowered his hand, “Yes…I–” The sound of more debris falling interrupted them and they both turned to the building. Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart stopped running as they got near, “Where did Karlach go?” asked Shadowheart and both Vesper and Wyll pointed into the building. The cleric’s eyes widened and she looked at them, “You just let her? What if she gets caught in the fire?!” Wyll looked over to Shadowheart before turning back to the building, “Someone’s coming, Shadowheart get ready!” The cleric nodded and began preparing a healing spell.

The woman who came running out knew Wyll and Wyll knew her. Vesper watched between them as they spoke and was surprised when she heard the word ‘Father’ being placed so near a description of Duke Ravengard. “You’re the son of a duke?” she asked as she looked at the warlock who dropped his head, “Yes.”

“Not just any duke,” Astarion said as he stepped closer, “Ulder Ravengard…he’s quite possibly the most powerful duke in all of Baldur’s Gate!” The woman, Counselor Florrick, if Vesper had heard Wyll correctly, reported to them how a group of drow and goblins had attacked just recently and kidnapped the duke. Vesper’s attention shifted when there was more wood falling and even Wyll’s head snapped to the side looking for a sign of Karlach, “Your friend was just behind me…I don’t–” a shadow appeared in the smoke and Karlach ran out of the building, “Gale with me! There’s someone still trapped in here.” And she was running off again, this time the wizard and cleric following her.

“If the goblins and drow are working together it likely has to do with the cult of the Absolute,” Wyll was circling Florrick now, “they’ll be making their way to Moonrise Towers. I have it on good authority, Counselor.” The woman nodded, “I will need your help Wyll, your father will need your help.” Vesper looked at the woman, “He’ll have it…we’re on our way there already.” Florrick watched as Wyll went running for the same building as the other before looking at the two elves in front of her, “Thank you. Fist, you have your orders! To Moonrise Towers!” As the armored individuals began their march out Vesper ran for the building, putting a hand over her mouth as the smoke of the scorched floor rose to meet her, “Keep your head down,” she heard Astarion say and crouched down as they ran up the stairs. Just as they reached the top of the stairs the sound of a boom shook the building, a man came running through and Gale shot a ray of frost behind him as Karlach also came running from the flaming building.

“Sorry, it took a while to find a safe way to get to him…” said Karlach as she doubled over coughing at the smoke that filled her lungs, “We should go back downstairs,” the bard said. The others nodded but Shadowheart was bent over the man who had been rescued applying healing spells to him. After two, she took one of the potions from her side and held it out to him, “This should help, but you can’t stay here.” He was crying over his wife and batted her away. Wyll coughed before shaking his head and grabbing Shadowheart’s arm, “He knows, we have to go.”

They all made it outside, there were a few people still trying to futilely put the fire out, but the flames didn’t want to go down, Gale coughed heavily before sighing in relief as Shadowheart cast restoration on him, “I don’t think it was the brightest idea for you to run into a burning building. Your lungs are still healing you know,” the cleric said to the wizard and he gave a grunting laugh. “I cannot argue when you’re right. But Wyll…you’re the son of a duke?” Wyll grimaced as he splashed his face with water from the fountain, “I am. I am both the Blade of Frontiers and I am Wyll Ravengard, son of Duke Ulder Ravengard…” Astarion’s face twisted, “I didn’t even realize that Ravengard had a son?”

Vesper listened to them talk as she sat down on the edge of the fountain. Wyll’s parentage didn’t much matter to her, she knew it meant that the warlock in their party was technically nobility but he was here just like them. Why should it matter? For a split second that awful part of her perked up, Issac would be afraid of–she closed her eyes and pushed the thought away. She still needed to find time to talk to Astarion but after such a walk today she was tired.

Warmth filled her left side and Vesper opened her eyes to look at Karlach, “Are you alright? The fire didn’t hurt you did it?” she asked the tiefling who shook her head, “I’m perfectly fine. Thought I’d check on you…you lost some color when you met that Zhentarim guy. You sure you didn’t know him? He didn’t…” her head bowed down and she didn’t finish the question, but Vesper knew where her thought process was leading. “No, believe me, I don’t forget their faces,” the bard said with a sad smile on her face, “nor would they pass up the opportunity to mock me if they saw me.” She met the tiefling’s gaze for just a moment before looking away and coughing again. Her bag was shrugged off her shoulders and she began to look for her canteen, taking a drink she sighed in relief and held it out, “Gale, have some.” The wizard turned away from his conversation with Wyll and took the container with a silent thanks before drinking deeply and sitting down on her other side, “Those mercenaries said had a place here?” The bard and warrior both nodded, “Don’t suppose they might have had a hand in what happened here do you?” Vesper looked at him and frowned, “I won’t say it isn’t possible–” Karlach interrupted, “Wouldn't be surprised since a Zhent was in that temple.” Vesper looked back to the woman beside her, “There was?”

Karlach nodded, “Yeah when we were first walking about we spoke to a few people and this little halfling wasn’t too friendly with us poking around. Oh, shit…” The tiefling's eyes got wide and she looked to Gale, “We forgot the cub!” Gale read the confusion on the bard's face and explained, “On our way in, there was an owlbear cub much like the one we saw in that cave being chased by goblins. Some game they called ‘Chicken Chase.’ Karlach wanted to save it but it had completely slipped my mind. I’m sorry, Karlach, the likelihood of it–”

“No! Don’t say that we have to go back!”

“If those goblins are there it could be a death trap for us.”

“And if we don’t go they’ll cook the cub! C’mon, Gale, we gotta save the baby if you guys couldn’t save the mama!” It was strange seeing Karlach trying to give the wizard puppy-dog eyes. But she was putting her best sad face forward as her head tilted down, “Please?”

The others were finally tuning into the conversation behind them and Astarion shook his head, “No, let’s not go back. Those goblins will want us dead. We’re better off dealing with the mercenaries.” Vesper looked up, “If you all go down there I’ll stay out here. I’d rather not deal with them at all.” The rogue frowned as he looked down at her, “Why? Bad experience with black market traders?” Karlach was quick to step in, “You could say that. It’s more the people less the practice I think,” she turned and smiled when the bard nodded. “What if she and I go back? Halsin thought the goblins would disappear once their leaders were gone. We,” she motioned to herself and Vesper, “could go get the cub while you lot deal with these ‘traders’ or whatever.”

“Absolutely not,” Astarion shook his head and negatively waved his hands, “Vesper staying up here is one thing considering the burning building and chaos surrounding this place, the two of you running off back to where we ran from to save an owlbear is completely different.”

“What if we did both?” Vesper finally spoke up, all eyes were on her and she shrank a bit from the attention, “Those that want to go down to the zhentarim can go, and the rest go to the camp?” Astarion stared at her, dumbfounded, “No!” his vowel was elongated as he shook his head, “You’re not putting yourself in danger. It’s either everyone goes so that we’re each protected or no one.” Karlach smirked and looked at him, “So we’re all going then?” The rogue’s face fell and he shook his head, “That’s not what I said.” Shadowheart hummed, “It kind of is…you said we all go or no one. I don’t think Karlach’s going to give up on the baby owlbear…you didn’t see her when she saw it.”

The tiefling turned to Vesper, “It was the cutest little murderous thing.” The bard giggled and nodded, if it was the cub they had seen in the cave she already knew that. She looked up at Astarion who was glaring at each of them before he met her eyes, “Oh alright fine! But first the zhent. Maybe they have clothes and someone,” he gave a pointed look to the bard, “can actually be comfortable when they’re in camp.” Karlach grinned, winking at Vesper, before she replied to Astarion, “You’re so sweet, Astarion. How’d you know I wanted something new to wear?”

Unfortunately, the conversation about Vesper staying topside went much the same way. Arguments about her safety, and her choices, and Wyll even threw in a barb about her reaping the consequences that made the bard wince. The warlock however was the one to come up with a place for her to hide, there was a barn next to the warehouse they’d been told about, so far the fire had not reached this far and after casting a few frost cantrips Gale felt it was safe enough.

Astarion wasn’t thrilled but he quit complaining, as the others left the barn he looked at her, “First spark and I want you out of here. I don’t care if you come down to the rest of us, just…” he looked her over and waved his hands as though coming up with the words were hard. Vesper gave him a solemn nod, “Good,” he said and turned halfway before looking back, “I’d hate to know that last night would be our only night.” When her cheeks flushed and she opened her mouth he only grinned, “It’s so fun getting you all worked up.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Her companions were gone for quite some time. As tired as the bard was she was just as worried about the fire spreading as Astarion was so she couldn’t find it in her to fully rest. Rather she found a somewhat comfortable area on the ground behind a pile of hay and sat down. She was just starting to sing one of the few songs she still remembered when she heard yelling and footsteps quickly approaching, “Vesper!” Her name was yelled so quickly and loudly that she jumped and peeked around the haystack as Wyll slid into the barn nearly falling on the ice, “We have to go! Hurry!” He waved his hands and held out his hands while she quickly got to her feet and slung her bag over her shoulder. There was more yelling as she and Wyll ran toward the others, Gale held a scroll in his hands and as they passed him he let go and finished the incantation, a wall of stone rising from the ground to close the archway in the building.

“That isn’t the only way out of there, we have to keep going, run!” the wizard announced as he ducked to grab his bag and followed after the others.

“What happened?!” yelled Vesper as they reached the far end of the road down from the inn. She was doubled over like many of them, her heavy breathing matching Gale’s as she rested her hands on her knees. “I thought you were just going to talk?” the bard shifted her gaze to Wyll, expecting him to have acted as the hero again, but everyone slowly turned to look at Astarion’ who puffed his cheeks for a minute and let out a guilty giggle, “I may have tried to take the chest they were hiding…and after talking my way out of that one I–uh,” his pitch went a little higher before he cleared his throat, “they seemed to accept us, how was I to know they wouldn’t want us looking in the back rooms?” 

Shadowheart stood straighter and wiped a smudge off her face, “They were all preparing to leave and blow the place up. Gale cost us 600 gold to buy a painter and then Astarion thought he’d go sightseeing where there were giant wolves.” The cleric was seething as she said ‘wolves’ and the bard remembered that Shadowheart had a fear of them. Astarion’s hands wavered in the air dismissively before he dropped them, “We survived, let’s count our victories. I was just attempting to see if there was something to make our six hundred gold back.” 

Vesper looked to the human beside her and he smiled in her direction with a guilty expression in his gaze before he tilted his head with a shrug, “A man was being held captive. I was able to talk them down from a thousand gold…which we certainly didn’t have. Then the no-good louse of an artist had the nerve to ask for even more gold so he could drink his way from here to Baldur’s Gate.” Gale pushed himself into a standing position and placed his hands on his lower back as he stretched, “He did promise to rebate our gold once we made it to the city–” “If we make it,” the vampire’s spawn interjected. “Yes,” said Gale, “if we make it. He wouldn’t say who his patron was but that she would be grateful for his rescue.”

Karlach shook her head, “You didn’t get scammed much back in Waterdeep did you?” Gale’s brow furrowed as he thought and he shook his head, “No, but I don’t think the man will forget those who bought his freedom. Call me delusional if you’d like but I’d rather be optimistic about the outcome of this. I also waited until everyone had made their purchases so it wasn’t as if I wasted gold.” Astarion’s head twisted as his eyes narrowed, “You didn’t waste it? We have over a tenday’s travel to get to Baldur’s Gate–oh! Wait! Even longer because we’re headed to the underdark! Even longer!” he threw his hands into the air, “Because now we’re rescuing Duke-fucking-Ravengard in the bloody Moonrise Towers! No, no gold wasted indeed.” 

As Astarion shouted his voice broke and he glared at the wizard, “Not like most of you don’t need to eat or anything. Not as though we’re headed into the underbelly of Toril where trade will be far and few. We could have used the money with the druids for food, Gale! Supplies that we are sorely running low on!” He was moving forward toward the wizard until the Vesper stepped in front of him and held up her hands, “It’s done. We’ll figure it out. I’m just surprised we had six hundred gold, to begin with…” Both of her hands rested on the high elf’s chest and he paused his momentum to look down at her before his nostrils flared as he huffed. Astarion looked from the bard to the wizard behind her and shook his head, “Fine. It’s only money after all. Hopefully, there are no palms that need greasing in our near future.” He looked down at the bard, “It was the last of our gold.” Vesper nodded, “Alright, we’ll go through the chest and sell what we have to then. And perhaps we can stop by the owlbear’s cave again. Her claws would be good for spears so they’ll be good to sell and if there’s any whole eggs we can sell those too.” 

Vesper gave only the slightest of pushes against Astarion’s chest before he stepped back and turned away. When he walked away she ran her hands over her face, digging her fingers into her eyes before nodding, “It’s alright. We can figure some stuff out, we may just need to double back and see what we can grab that’s worth trading for in that village or sell some of our herbs and other ingredients.” She turned to look at Gale, “We may have to part with those gnoll ears that you worked so hard to get.” The wizard nodded and pursed his lips, “I do think he’ll come through…I perhaps didn’t think pragmatically about the rest of our journey ahead.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice, “I forgot we were to save Wyll’s father.” Vesper matched his expression, wrinkling her nose in a grimace before Karlach exclaimed, “Oh shit…is that a dragon?” 

As a red dragon flew over their heads everyone ducked down, it was flying low as if it was searching for something. Karlach led the others up a hill and approached a pale-skinned tiefling who was also watching what was happening down below near two bridges. “That’s the road that would lead directly to Baldur’s Gate, the one Zevlor and his people would have taken,” Wyll whispered and the tiefling whirled around a scimitar in hand as she looked at them before turning and crouching down again, “Shh!” she called to them. Vesper lay on the ground trying to stay as low as possible as she looked over the cliff, she felt a hardened metal brush against her arm and looked at Shadowheart as the cleric sucked in air between her teeth, “Githyanki!” 

The bard nodded and looked back to the scene ahead. There were more people in heavy armor and that red and yellow tabard. The Fist, Florrick had called them. “What sort of alien creatures are so friendly with dragons?” asked Astarion as he too joined the drow and half-elf. “Githyanki,” said Gale, “legend says they were gifted dragons from Tiamat herself.” Vesper looked down toward the wizard who jutted his chin out, “It looks as though they’re questioning the Flaming Fists and….” the talk turned into shouting and Vesper gasped as the large red dragon spit a fireball in the direction of the bridge knocking it into the ravine below. They heard Karlach swear from further down the bridge as Wyll whispered, “I hope Zevlor and his people already made it across. It’s a perilous journey over the mountain.”

They were going to get up and leave when another figure came running into view, Vesper grabbed hold of Shadowheart, “It’s our friend from the ship.” Shadowheart’s head turned and she narrowed her eyes, “Looks like she found her people then. We should go, they had no issue killing those humans and elves, they would make light work of us.” The bard turned her head and shook it, “We should help her.” The cleric sighed, “The likelihood of her siding with us is slim, we should go gather what we can and save that owlbear cub if we can.” Shadowheart’s mind was made up and she proved it by crawling backward and doing her best to be quiet as she left the bridge and went down the hill, Wyll looked toward Vesper before he too followed, “She’s with her people, Ves,” he said as he left.  

One by one they abandoned their hiding spot until it was only Vesper and Astarion. The high self seemed to be waiting for her to move, and the bard was watching everything unfold, “Vesper, darling we should go…she was on the ship too but she has her own kind to help her.” She felt a weight against her shoulder and looked at Astarion, “Something just doesn’t feel–”

The sound of metal hitting metal made them both turn. “Shit,” the high elf hissed, but the bard was already pushing up and pulling her crossbow from her hip, “What are you doing?! Get down!” Astarion’s shouts alerted the githyanki below and he growled to himself, “Fine. I suppose I could try something a little exotic today.” 

Vesper heard him yell to the others as an arrow flew in her direction, she was able to dodge out of the way while completing an incantation on one of the greatsword wielding gith. The sword in the gith’s hands heated quickly until the alien creature swore in its language and dropped it to the ground.  From the side she could hear her companions rushing back and joining the fray, Karlach’s war cry was above all of them as she leaped from the bridge and buried her axe into the skull of the archer who was aiming to take a shot at Astarion. The high elf had descended the stone wall they were nearest and turned pulling daggers from behind him. Vesper looked to the one creature she knew, the woman from the nautiloid, and shouted, a quick healing word cast within her shout, out to her. The warrior from the ship rolled to the side to avoid the downward swing of another gith. A golden bolt made the greatsword wielder stumble back, Vesper looked to the side and Shadowheart hefted her shield higher, “Why save her?!”

The bard shook her head, “She didn’t leave us behind, Shadowheart! She didn’t even protest when I went searching for that key…they were going to kill her!” Between them, Gale was weaving his hands through the air and summoning a fireball, “Not now, Shadowheart, you can argue the reasoning when this is finished. For now let’s just make it out of this alive!” When the arcane ball of flame fully formed he pushed forward and the three watched it explode on top of not only the remaining gith but Karlach and Astarion, the high elf flung himself back from the flame. “Though I must admit, I do hope you’re a good judge of characters, Vesper. Githyanki are not known to be the kindest of creatures,” he said as an afterthought and cast a glance below them.  

The bard wouldn’t admit it but she wasn’t sure how good her judgement was any longer. 

There was only the one gith left now, the one swinging her sword directly at the familiar alien. While the one the party was helping parried, Karlach struck out again but was parried by the foe. Astarion took the opportunity to stab one of his daggers into the less armored area of the gith, his other hand wrapping around her head to grip her chin and pulling her close to sink his teeth into her neck. He was only able to take a drink or two before an elbow cracked into his nose and he stumbled backward.  A foreign word was shouted and they watched as the gith that Vesper insisted they protect ran the other through with her own sword. She kicked the body off her blade and lifted it toward Karlach and Astarion. “Wait!” Vesper shouted and began to run, she scurried down a ladder as fast as she could, hissing as the threads of her collar pulled at her shoulders, and ran again. “Wait! Don’t,” she held up her hands as she skidded to a halt in front of her, “please! It’s me, from the ship!”

As she had quickly approached the green skinned woman had lifted her sword higher, prepared to protect herself, but paused in recognition. “The istik…I remember,” her eyes narrowed as she looked back to the tiefling and the vampire, blood coursing down his chin. Vesper’s chest heaved as she tried to control her breathing, “These were your people?” The gith spat on the ground, “This h’sharlak sought to destroy me rather than point me to the nearby creche. You fought well, better than on the ghaik ship even, and you have not turned.” The bard’s head shook, “No, we haven’t.” At the use of ‘we’ the gith’s head tilted and she looked to see, Gale, Wyll, and Shadowheart coming through the gate’s opening. “More from the ship?” she looked back to Vesper who nodded, a hand was now resting on her chest, “All of us are infected. We’ve learned quite a bit…” Karlach held her axe, her hands choked on the shaft, “I’m Karlach, and you are?” “I am Lae’zel of Creche K’liir,” Lae’zel’s head bowed only slightly. “I reported to the Jehstil Kith’rak as it was instructed for me to do, told him I needed to reach a z’aithisk and yet he ordered my destruction.” She bent down and rummaged through the belongings of the fellow gith she had slayed and pulled a disk from her. Holding it up Lae’zel let it spin until she attached it to her hip, “I know the location of the creche. You will follow me and we will be purified.”

Vesper held up her hands, “Wait…there are things we need to do first.” Lae’zel swore at her, or at least that’s what she believed the alien words were meant to be. “I shall go alone then,” the gith said and turned her head toward the one remaining bridge, “Wait.”  Vesper reached forward and grabbed Lae’zel’s shoulders before jumping back when the gith stiffened, “It might be dangerous to go alone. Travel with us…what if this creche turns against you as well? These four would have killed you…”

Lae’zel looked around at the bodies on the ground before her shoulders straightened and she held her head high, “Very well, but purification is our highest priority.” 

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Hours later, with the sun setting behind them, the party was closing themselves in the destroyed Selune temple. Though most of the goblins had followed Minthara some had remained behind enjoying the revelry that was still carrying on as though Minthara hadn’t carried most of their forces away and not returned for days. Karlach had encouraged the bard to ritually cast her ‘speak with animals’ enchantment so when the fight broke out, Vesper yelled to the scared owlbear to hide. 

The temple’s yard was huge and despite the forces that the drow had brought with her, it seemed like the place was still teeming with goblins. When it seemed like the fight was over another little green creature would hobble out and look at the destruction and then the party before screaming and summoning more. The spell casters exhausted their magic use and Vesper had fallen to a goblin and his smaller, but still two-handed, sword as it sliced into her side from behind. Two eldritch blasts to the chest and the goblin didn’t get the chance to attack her again but she could feel herself bleeding out, “Drink, quickly,” she took the potion that Wyll offered into her shaky hand and turned it up but it would be a minute before she could stand. As the potion worked its magic the warlock’s legs straddled her until she could get back on her feet. The rapier-wielding warlock was quick to warp an arm around the bard, swinging her around while she tried to down another potion, but rather than going into her mouth it slipped from her hand onto the ground. 

“Stop,” she pleaded as her eyes crossed, and her stomach felt ill. She had begun the morning feeling similar and did not feel like vomiting all over this ‘battlefield’ as it were. Wyll stopped with a murmured apology and instead shielded her with her own body as she opened a third bottle and drank as quickly as she could. Vesper could feel the effects take hold as her side began to itch and she felt her perception of the world around her steady. As the final opponent, a drunken hobgoblin that had been asleep on the landing above them before all the fighting began, fell Vesper groaned and leaned against the warlock who still stood in front of her. “Are you alright back there? Still bleeding?” he asked, but he didn’t move, he may have been worried about her tumbling over if he removed the stability his back was giving her. 

“I’m not sure…” the bard admitted monotonously, “maybe?” 

But now they were inside, and the place was eerily quiet. And dark.

Karlach had searched for the owl bear but it was gone. The tiefling was saddened but accepted the course of events, “At least the little thing isn’t being poked and prodded anymore.” A few of the party gave an appreciative hum or grunt but they were looking for a safe place to bed down, Gale cast a light cantrip on his staff, “I think we should go to where I found Astarion and Vesper before. It was hidden far enough back that I don’t think many people knew to look there. Perhaps tomorrow you can show us this outpost you both found?” Vesper nodded and clutched her side, the inner chambers of the temple were silent and devoid of people. Something about it made the hair rise on the back of her neck. She was stumbling her way through the dark when her body collided with another and her arm was wrapped around a back, “Lean on me,” she heard Astarion say and looked up at him before nodding. 

It seemed that though they were all exhausted it might have only been her that was so injured. The others lead the way through and once the chilled air of the destroyed chapel rushed over them Vesper’s knees buckled, “Ah-ah,” the vampire beside her said, his arm tucked under her, “just a bit further. Collapse on the bench, dear.” 

The bard was forcibly sat on one of the stone benches and practically melted into the seat, it was far from comfortable but everything just ached. She heard a chuckle and expected to see Astarion standing over her, but instead of the blond rogue, it was the warlock who was crouched just before her. He held in his hands an offering of healing potions, “I’m not trying to be rude, but any more bruising and you’ll actually depict your drow heritage.” At Wyll’s words, Vesper haggardly stuck her tongue out at him which earned another laugh, “Drink, Vesper.” She felt his hand clap her knee twice before his weight loomed over her and she felt the revitalizing liquid pour into her mouth.

When it was gone and she could feel the effects instantly she opened her eyes again and watched the warlock back up and stand before he sat down next to her. “I owe you an apology, Wyll,” she said as he opened another small potion and placed the bottle in her hand, she took it and lifted it but turned to look at him, “I spoke without thinking, but you’re absolutely right. Mayrina, that pregnant woman in Ethel’s house, needs to be saved even if it's her own choices that put her there.” Wyll’s mouth was a hard line for a bit before he let his illusory visage fall and she took in the horns and new ridges along his face, when he turned she saw his one brown eye now had the familiar fires of Avernus swirling in them. “I may have reacted more harshly than I intended,” he admitted when he looked in the bard’s direction, “I sometimes wonder where I would be had I not accepted Mizora’s offer. But I did, and I followed every job she gave me until Karlach. I wondered after you stopped me, after sparing Karlach, if there were any others I might have falsely judged. I’d like to think I haven’t killed any innocents on Mizora’s orders but as Shadowheart was so kind to remind me…while I am bound by my pact she is not bound to be honest.”

The warlock sighed heavily, and the bard reached out to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m not sorry that Karlach is with us though…” He grinned as she spoke, “Neither am I, Vesper. I’m happy to travel with the Advocatus Diaboli as I once called her.” 

He looked down at the hand that still held the healing potion and tipped it with a closed fist, “Drink up. I’ll advocate for us to rest for the night but I think these will help you just in case they insist on going forward.” Vesper frowned, “I hope we don’t,” she sputtered before tipping back the potion, “we said we’d get Halsin before then and we do need to check our supplies. I don’t know much about what to expect once we’re down there but I know things will be very different.” The warlock nodded and leaned back against the bench his arms resting on either side of the backrest, “We should be safe if you want to rest. I won’t disturb you,” he told the bard and Vesper gave him a smile that he returned.

The quiet didn’t last long, the others climbed up the ladder shortly after descending and Gale was talking about what he’d learned about the underdark from books. They had no bedrolls or blankets as they began to set up a resting area in the center of the chapel, Gale explained that the place they would be sleeping was in fact a puzzle. Karlach, with her strong stomach, returned to Gut’s rooms to destroy a few crates and came back with enough wood for a fire. Sleep wasn’t easily found that night but when they left the shattered temple the next morning the party felt at least half as well as they had before they set out.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

The deserted village that had been claimed by goblins was now empty and devoid of any of the little creatures and their lack of presence allowed the party to split up to search for goods to trade. Vesper had rested with Shadowheart the night before and still hadn’t found the time to talk to Astarion or figured out the words to explain why she had done what she did. He would be well within his rights to hate her but a part of her didn’t want him to. And now, with each kind gesture he made her guilt just weighed heavier and heavier.

She was inside the blacksmith’s house again, laying out all the tools she had found trying to decide what would get the best offer when he found her. “Vesper,” her head jerked upward and she shuffled to the side, “Astarion?” The rogue crouched down beside her and tilted his head, “Is something wrong? I had thought that you would have been at my side in the chapel last night…” 

A purplish hue filled the bard’s cheeks and she looked away, “Of course not,” she answered before clearing her throat. “You reacted so harshly when Karlach outed our evening, I just didn’t think you’d want such a public display…” Deception shouldn’t have been this easy, not with the way her innards twisted. 

She picked up a few of the pieces of blacksmithing gear before setting them to the side, she was about to reach for another one when a pale hand reached out and grabbed hers, “Now that they all know I don’t mind. All the easier to show the others that you’re mine,” he leaned closed and paused when she flinched and turned away from him, “darling, your words say that nothing’s wrong and yet your body says something different. Which is it because this is the strangest thing for me?” His chuckle was hollow and Vesper felt his stare burning into the side of her face. 

She chanced a glance at him from the corner of her eye and dropped her head, “I need to talk to you.”

Astarion’s head tilted in interest as he pulled his hand back to rest on his knee, “I’m all pointy ears…”

Vesper turned, her leg giving way and making her sit, to look at him before she glanced around at their surroundings. “I’m not sure that this is the appropriate place for this conversation, to be honest…it doesn’t feel���private enough.” 

Astarion’s playful smile dropped, and his brow furrowed, “Well if this is a conversation about you wanting to end our trysts it doesn’t matter where we have it. Better to say it now than to hurt the other involved, don’t you agree?” Now her chest ached, was he confessing feelings for her? “It’s…just,” with a heavy sigh she dropped her head, “It’s just that I’m an awful person and I owe you a huge apology and hope you’ll let me explain.” 

The spawn’s silence made her glance upward and he raised both brows in her direction, “I’m waiting.”

“I’ve told you a little of my situation prior to the nautiloid,” she started and began glancing around. Telling someone she was sexually intimate with was one thing, but for everyone to hear how her body hadn’t been her own for ten years, to learn of what she had been forced to do, and possibly about the men she’d been made to gratify…she’d likely just go into the woods and piss off whatever predator she could find. 

Her inhale was shaky as she looked at the rogue earnestly, “My eldest brother has always had a problem with money, and often when we earned something he lost it in a game of cards. Well one night, ten years ago or so, he lost a game that according to him would have wiped out our debt with a group of people he’d borrowed from. A large,” she shuddered thinking of the amount of gold Octavius had racked up, “very large sum. He lost…and the only thing he had to offer was a little sister who–how did Issac say he put it–was ‘fresher than the first snow.’”

Astarion still said nothing, he was too now getting comfortably into a seated position and Vesper only paused as she heard some of the others calling out about their finds. “I spent ten years with a man who despised me, I could do nothing right for him. He hated the way I meditated and broke me of the habit, at first he hated that other men looked at my body so he starved me but then he later realized he could use me…” her mind drifted for a moment as she recalled the first time Issac had brought someone into that little farmhouse. 

“Vesper?” her name being called returned her to her present company and she saw that only one of her pale companion’s brows was raised now. “I would drink a terrible mugwort tea whenever he made me be with those other men, to prevent getting pregnant,” she explained before she looked past Astarion’s crimson gaze, “I didn’t want something permanent of that situation. He would leave for days sometimes weeks and it was the only respite I had until his brothers found out about me, then they would come and demand me to please them.”

She pulled her lip between her teeth and her eyes closed before she shook the thoughts and memories, their voices from her head, “Issac didn’t touch me until two years after he got me. His mother was demanding grandchildren and suddenly I was tied to his bed and kept from the tea I used until I got pregnant. 

“After the children were born there were fewer threats of Issac looking for my siblings to make an example and he began to threaten to take the babies from me, to give the girls away to someone who could train them to be better versions of myself. He only cared about my son, but he threatened to beat him too when he was old enough,” she could feel her eyes burning now and closed them tightly, “But then when I was abducted and I was scared that he’d appear around any corner. And then I learned what you were, a vampire.” 

She opened her eyes again and looked at Astarion. His brow wasn’t raised anymore, and his head was bowed low as he listened to her story, a dark look in his eyes, “I’m sorry, Astarion I may–no, I did it. I thought if you liked me then you’d maybe protect me if Issac appeared to take me back to that hell. The day the nautiloid came through Baldur’s Gate he left but told me he might come back if he had something to fill a hole.” She choked on the last sentence and went quiet trying to control her breathing.

“So,” started the spawn, “when you said you wanted me to like you…it wasn’t in a romantic sense?” She shook her head, “No. You’re an absolutely beautiful man, Astarion,” she gave him a half smile before looking away, “I just…I didn’t think you’d protect me if I didn’t do what you wanted me to do. You wanted to feed from me so I let you, you wanted me to meet you in the woods, so I did…you wanted my body so I gave it.” 

A hollow laugh left her throat, “You know how you said I was the first thinking creature you’d fed from?” He nodded with his brow furrowed, she continued, “You were the first man I made the choice to have sex with. And for all the wrong reasons. So, I’ll understand if you hate me. I’ll never speak to you again on this journey if you’d prefer…you can be as mean as you want to be and I’ll tell the others that I deserve it because I truly believe I do. But you needed to know after you told me about Cazador and how he tortured you…I couldn’t keep up my act. I have felt so guilty since yesterday morning and it’s been eating at me.”

Astarion leaned close to her, his face inches from hers, and for once she didn’t pull away. She felt his fingers lift her chin and she opened her eyes to meet his again, watching as his eyes bounced from one of hers to the other, and did her best to keep her lips from trembling. Then he leaned back and stood before turning to walk away from her and out of the building.

The bard watched him go and her shoulders slumped. He hadn’t told her what he decided to do but she reminded herself that she didn’t deserve an answer after how she’d treated him as less than a person in her own eyes. She dug the palms of her hands into her eyes and looked back at the tools in front of her before grabbing the ones she had placed aside before and abandoning the task to go searching the blacksmith’s basement.

#the caged bard #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 #tcb: vesper #astarion/tav #astarion/halsin/tav coming later #halsin/tav later #astarion/halsin later #tav's story

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt17

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Y'all know I had to do this scene. I didn't do the mirror one (just didn't fit this story imho) so I have to make up for it somehow

Shoutout to @shenanigans-and-imagines for inspiring the engraving

Warnings: mentions of Astarion's transformation, references to Tav's past abuse/trauma

Word Count: 1,584

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

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When Astarion calmed down and gathered himself together, he approached you later that night, saying he had something he wanted to show you. You’d have followed him blindly anywhere as he held your hand and led you through the darkened streets of the city. You should have been terrified, searching every alley and shadow for signs of your master or her minions - but you weren’t. You felt safe with Astarion, despite it all.

You didn’t expect him to bring you to a graveyard. It’s dead silent, empty. It’s not unused - there are recently placed flowers in front of some tombstones, and others appear freshly engraved with names and dates - but it is an odd place to go in this city that thrums with an exciting nightlife. He stops you before one of the stones, staring at it hard.

Then it clicks.

Your heart aches at the sight of his tombstone. Most of the others have been tended to as age takes its toll - vines trimmed away, names and dates re-carved before they get too worn down. But not his. Healthy vines curl around the stone, obscuring the writing. You squeeze his hand, offering your support.

With a readying breath, he steps forward, dropping your hand as he kneels down in the dirt. To think, a mere 6 feet below lies an empty coffin. It chills you.

He brushes away the stubborn plants. They strain and snap apart, falling limply to the ground.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there,” he says quietly. He frowns, eyes never leaving his own name. “I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood…” His stomach churns just remembering it. Even now, with the bastard dead, something within him is fractured. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever be fixed. “Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his. Until today.”

You try to imagine it. Waking up in the dark, cramped quarters of a wooden box. Terrified. Clawing and screaming until you finally break through, only to be crushed under the weight of all that dirt on top of you. Nothing you could picture would ever compare to the real experience. You wish you could shove Cazador into a box, bury him, and watch him claw his way out just so you could kill him again.

But the thought feels sour. To enact that cruelty back on him, no matter how deserved, makes your stomach twist; reminds you of the spawn you’ve hurt. All you can do is take solace in the fact he’s dead.

You kneel down beside him and carefully take his hand again. He holds on tight. “Are you alright?”

He hums, contemplating the question. “There’s almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock. Some part of me wishes I knew what I was like back then, but he’s never coming back.” He straightens up slightly, trying to shake off the weight of the past. “But now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

“And what do you want?”

He smiles as he turns his head to look at you. “You,” he admits, voice quiet but certain. Your heart leaps into your throat. “I want you. You were by my side through all this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You understood. You cared.” He huffs a laugh. “You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do. I feel… safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” you assure him quickly. He grins at your eagerness, while you flush with light embarrassment. “Whatever comes next, we’ve got each other.”

“Thank you.”

He turns back to his grave. You trace the carved-out shapes with your eyes, before you reach forward and feel along them with your fingers, calluses catching on the limestone within the grooves of the Old Common letters and numbers.

Astarion Ancunin

229 - 268 NR

Beneath it, however, are a series of unfamiliar, elegant letterforms you can’t translate. You follow along the shapes with interest, recognizing a few that repeat. “What does this say?”

When you glance over to him, his face is pinched with emotion. A sadness swims in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “It’s in Elvish. Espruar.” He reaches out with his free hand, brushing his fingers against yours as he traces over the faced letters. They’re so thin; they were clearly carved out with care. “Our little star,” he translates, voice too quiet.

You run your thumb along his knuckles to offer your support. “Your… parents?” you venture hesitantly.

He chokes out a strained laugh. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “Their faces, their voices - all lost to me now, I’m afraid.” He traces over the shapes once more, before clearing his throat. “No matter. Whoever it was hasn’t been here in a while.”

You stare at the message. It’s all too easy to picture two elegant figures with white hair like Astarion’s, hunched over the fresh mound of dirt, mourning their child. He was still so very young before the Gur, before Cazador. You wondered if your parents had been the same when you were stolen away. You couldn’t remember them well, either; vague shadows at the edges of your mind that disappear when you try to focus on anything more specific. You wonder if they searched for you, and for how long before they gave in to the horrible thought that you were dead. You wondered if you had a tombstone out there, somewhere, in an old corner of Berdusk.

“Well,” he cuts through the silence, dropping your hand to reach behind him and grab his dagger, “I should probably fix this.”

You sit back and watch as he supports himself against the limestone to carve into it. He scratches a series of Old Common numbers just above the Elvish inscription, below his birth year.

Astarion Ancunin

229 - 268 NR

460 NR -

He leans back, satisfied with his work, and tucks his dagger away once more. “I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough. It’s time to try living again.” He turns on his knees to fully face you with a self-assured smile tugging at his lips. You turn to face him as well, and he picks up both your hands in his. “With everything that life has to offer.”

You chuckle a little. “Meaning…?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering. He’d never prepositioned you for sex, and while he does wish to experience it again in better circumstances, for his own pleasure and present in his own body, he’s all too wary of your own experiences. His mind still jumps to the memories you showed him: fully nude before Kir Parthene, even before the spawn and loyal servants, unable to cover up even slightly without being punished for it. Your reaction to the order from the incubus, how quickly you had jumped to obey. Washing you with your clothes on to avoid being exposed. No, it would have to wait.

“For now, a kiss or two, and perhaps a cuddle,” he teases lightly, dancing around the truth of his desires. He lifts your hands to his cheeks, guiding you to cup his face. Your fingertips brush against his curls, your palms pressed into the angular planes of his cheeks. He leans into your warmth, kissing your hand with a contented sigh, eyelids fluttering shut. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.”

He looks so at peace under the moon like this. The stars no longer laugh or cajole at your anxieties, for there are none to be found here with him. His hair is pure starlight as you loose a hand from his hold and run your fingers through his curls, blunt nails scraping against his scalp. He sighs and leans further into the affection, eyes half-lidded as he meets your gaze. He grins sweetly, at ease. You remember the hungry wreck that awoke you that night so long ago, twitching as he asked for blood; the way he helped you bandage your hand and the kiss he left behind with darkened eyes. He’d come so far. Your heart burst with emotion.

You gently tug him forward. He follows without hesitation, watching you attentively as you meet him halfway to press your forehead to his. You sigh, relieved, as you brush your nose against his and curl your fingers to hold the little hairs at the nape of his neck. He groans quietly in encouragement.

“I love you, too,” you whisper. Your hot breath hits his lips and he can’t keep himself at bay any longer.

He closes that last little gap and catches your mouth, tilting his head to better kiss you. It’s warm and sweet, the taste of freedom and adoration. He cups your own cheeks in a futile attempt to pull you closer.

You pull away with a breathless giggle, but you don’t stray far. “Just two kisses?”

He chuckles. “Perhaps a few more.” He pulls you in for another, and another, until you’ve lost count. He leans further into you, until you topple backward onto the dirt in a fit of giggles and idiotic smiles. The sound of your laughter floods the graveyard as you celebrate his new life.

---

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#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #i come with knives

[mybg3notebook]

Astarion and Power - Part 1

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were made up to the game version v4.1.101.4425. As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information.

Additional disclaimers about meta-knowledge and interpretations in (post)

The number between brackets [] represents the topic-block related to (this post), which gathers as much evidence as I could get.

Before talking about Power, Cazador, and other details, I would like to quickly gather what little we have about Astarion’s past. 

Backstory: Mortal Astarion.

About his past we have little information, mostly given by Swen in interviews with game magazines or via his on-live demonstrations of the game early in 2020 before the release of EA. All this information is subjected to changes, of course, so we should take it with a pinch of salt. 

As a mortal, Astarion was a corrupt magistrate who judged criminals he later sent to the local vampire coven of the Szarr family as food. After a while, his greed got the best of him and started to sell those criminals into slavery as well, having a double profit from this. This movement brought the fury of the Szarr family upon him. 

From this short story we can infer that there was a high probability that his judgements were unfair, condemning criminals who needed a death sentence to lighter ones (this is related to his strange comment of “death is a harsh sentence” in Arabella’s scene, see the post Astarion's Standards and Manipulation) while condemning innocent ones; all with the goal of having a decent amount of living creatures to offer to the local vampire or to the slave traders.

We also know, by his own words in game, that when he was turned into a vampire, he had been the victim of an attack of thugs/Gurs (he says this information in different moments of the game, changing details. I don't know if this is on purpose to show Astarion’s manipulative nature depending on your reaction to Gandrel, or it’s a consequence of unpolished details during EA). What we know for sure is that these Gurs/thugs were angry because of a judgement he had previously made. It’s easy for us to infer, using the info above, two situations:

Astarion may have condemned some isolated Gur to an unfair trial who ended up in a slavery network, being discovered later by their Gur fellows who simply avenged them in Baldur’s Gate. This theory has been developed as a way to see fit the concept of Maiden Fel.  If Gandrel dies and Astarion performs a Speak with Dead, he will reveal that Maiden Fel is the head of his tribe who asked him to return with Astarion “unblemished”. Digging for more details about who Maiden Fel is, Gandrel says she is the “reason even monsters have nightmares”. Walking on the speculation ground, there is a chance that Maiden Fel could be a nightmare Hag, since Gurs consider hags as “wise women'', and unlike the rest of the humans, they respect them a bit more than common folks.

Or the whole setting was done by Cazador, who plotted this ambush to make it look as an act of barbarism using furious Gurs (which attack could be seen as an obvious reaction since Gurs are despised everywhere due to their nomadic lifestyle and all the stigmas they carry) as a way to punish Astarion for trying to outsmart him.

Among the many conclusions that we can draw from here is that, if Astarion’s backstory is not retconned and rewritten later in the full game, we can be almost sure he was an Evil-aligned character as a mortal. We can’t say that vampirism twisted his morals; they were rather poor in the first place. 

Astarion, the Vampire spawn

After the bite scene, Astarion presents himself as a vampire spawn, a creature lesser than a slave for his master, since Cazador’s commands are impossible to resist. He explicitly says that his body always reacts to Cazador’s word and for two hundred years he was tormented by him. Thanks to datamining information, we know that Cazador performed an infernal deal, and part of the contract is carved on his back. 

Due to datamining information as well, we know that the first dream that Astarion experiences may not be the one related to the tadpole dreams mechanics since he dreams without having made use of the tadpole powers yet. I prefer to suppose that this dream is product of his own psychology, or even it could be an effect of Cazador’s power on him (maybe he can’t dream of anything but of his Sire, considering how possessive Cazador is)

As I said, this is not a dream of power and desire in the same way that the other companions or Tav have, and for this reason I’m inclined to say that the vampiric power of Cazador is the one making an effect instead of the tadpole (or simply Astarion’s trauma showing). This dream looks like a reminder, like a reiterative dream for Astarion about Cazador’s rule, which are:

rule 1: he will not drink from thinking creatures.

rule 2: he will obey him in all things.

rule 3: he will not leave Cazador’s side unless directed.

rule 4: he will know that he is Cazador’s proprietary.

Most options end up in the similar idea of: “Free? Lie to yourself, boy, but not to me. You are mine, forever.”

Cazador and Astarion

[Astarion has just related what Cazador made him eat] “Flies? What did you do to deserve that?”

“I existed, that was enough for him. He revelled in having power over me, because those with power can do whatever the hell they want.”

If we are going to talk about power with a character as Astarion in mind, we need to talk first about Cazador. Let’s start with the way Astarion describes him:

“The biggest threat to a vampire is another vampire. They're scheming, paranoid, power hungry beasts. So why would any vampire give up control over a spawn to create a competitor? Trust me, it doesn't happen.”

“Cazador Szarr is a vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate. The patriarch of his coven and a monster obsessed with power.(...) Not political power or military power. Power over people. The power to control them completely. (...) He turned me nearly two hundred years ago. I became his spawn and he became my tormentor.” 

“He had me go out Baldur’s Gate to fetch him the most beautiful souls I could find. It was a fun little ritual of his—I’d bring them back and he’d ask if I wanted to dine with him. And if I said yes, he’d serve me a dead, putrid rat. Of course if I said no, he’d have me flayed. Hard to say which was worse.”

“Cazador liked to make them art, spent all night with a razor, drafting a sonnet on my back. (Puppy eyes) Apparently the more I screamed, the more mistakes he made. And the more editing was required.”

“It was a group of Gur/thugs that attacked me that night in Baldur’s Gate. I would have died had Cazador not appeared and saved me. (...) He chased them off and offered to save me. To give me eternal life. Given that my choices were “eternal life” or “bleed to death on the street”, I took him up on the offer. It was also afterwards I realised just how long “eternity” could be.” 

“Cazador likes to toy with people. Let them think there was hope right until the end. Until he snatched it all away. Creatures like them don’t play games unless they know they’ll win.” 

(About Raphael’s encounter) “All that 'take your time. I'll wait' nonsense? He's playing with us. It reminds me of Cazador, taunting his slaves with hope when he knew the game was rigged. "

Tav: “Would he send another Gur to capture?” / Ast: “Yes, he probably thought it was funny.”

(“We can kill him.”) “No, you don't understand. You don't know him. Just trust me when I say we need to be careful. He'll send more lackies – he has plenty of souls to command. We just have to be vigilant. Keep our wits about us. And kill any monster hunters on sight. We can probably make an exception with Wyll... Probably.”

>>So far we know that Cazador has a particular pleasure for control, especially the one related to people’s will. With the nightmare information, we know he has powers related to mind control. He has many slaves, and enjoys cruelty, humiliation, and torture. He enjoys making Astarion eat putrid animals, carving his back with an infernal contract, and playing psychologically with him. He also likes to give false hope, making his victims believe that there is hope, removing it right in front of them. 

I want to highlight that this twisted way of giving hope just to offer a perverted solution to a person’s problem, and enjoying the pleasure caused by the break of the hope, can be seen in Astarion during EA: in the approval that Astarion gives to Tav when you revive Connor, and that pinch of hope in Mayrina turns into horror when she sees Undead!Connor. For Astarion this situation is “funny”. Similar can be said when he approves telling Arabella’s parents that she will be released after the end of the ritual, when she is in fact dead. 

Astarion describes a bit more what power we should expect from a Lord Vampire:

Shapeshift: turning into mist.

Calling wolves to do his bidding.

Shrugging off blows.

He “could walk into our camp tonight and kill you with his bare hands.”

Astarion and Slavery

One of the characteristics that so far in EA has got my attention was how little conflict Astarion has with slavery, despite having been his former condition. 

He is apathetic to slavery in the best case, or even supporting it in the worse case. Proof of this can be found in the Myconid Colony, when interacting with a duergar slave. He speaks as if it were a totally useful tool that inspires little sympathy in him, since they don't have consciousness. However, he leaves a quite open question when finally adding “Or maybe not”.

But this “maybe not” is not left to speculation, we can see what Astarion truly feels with a non-Gur human slave in another part of the game: in the Zhentarim hideout. This can be checked with Oskar, the painter slave.

You can free Oskar using persuasion with his kidnapper (Astarion keeps neutral, he doesn’t approve the freeing). Now, if you can buy Oskar by paying the gold directly or by using intimidation to lower the price, it would keep Astarion neutral until the moment of the payment is stated, which he disapproves. At first I thought it was because he was truly against slavery of thinking creatures... but it was not. It was because you are paying a lot of money (we need to remember Astarion is greedy [1] as well, he wouldn’t be a vampire if it weren't for his greed). 

Once bought, if you keep Oskar as a slave, and you demand him to keep silent because "you want your slaves silent unless they are spoken to", Oskar will think it's a joke, and you, again, can use the option "I don't joke with my slaves" and then Astarion will approve. None of these options is under any tag to make them believe they are part of a preformative act to prank Oskar. And this is key... this is not a joke. They are used as your real sentiments and intentions, and Astarion approves them.

These reactions are not random, they make sense with his—until this moment unchanged or retconned—backstory, where he had no problem trafficking with criminals as vampire food and later as slaves to have higher profits. So, these two aspects remain in his vampire nature unaltered: the most important thing is always to have profits, and his relationship with slavery is absolutely fine as much as it gives benefits, it’s useful or at least, gives him some entertainment.

The tadpole

We know the tadpole has a particular effect on Astarion. Unlike the other companions, Astarion doesn’t dream of a person who represents to him both desire and power. Power? undoubtedly, but desire? It’s hard to say. The implied, vague concept that Astarion has been sexually abused by Cazador is there (because we know these dreams are about “sensual” desire as well). 

It’s maybe a consequence of the vampirism and, by extension, of Cazador’s power, that makes Astarion unable to dream of anything else but his master. From the datamining information about the non-tadpole dream of Astarion, in which Cazador lists four rules, we know that the fourth one is about never stopping to be Cazador’s propriety, unable to be free, not even in dreams. Maybe Cazador’s effect also applies to Astarion’s dreams as well (but this is a mere speculation, there is no real proof of it on EA or datamining info so far). 

So when Astarion awakes in the beach and sees that some rules of his vampiric nature have been changed, he gets excited about the tadpole, and unlike the rest of the companions, he doesn’t want to get rid of it. He wants to master it, to have control of it. However, when the opportunity of controlling the tadpole appears with Raphael encounter, Astarion is one of the few companions who is completely against it at first. 

“Raphael is playing with us; Cazador liked to toy with people too. Let them think there was hope right until the end. Until he snatched it all away. Creatures like them don't play games unless they know they'll win.”

In that moment, he claims he won’t change a vampiric master for an infernal one. However, when the first use of the Tadpole causes the first symptoms of transformation evident, Astarion falls in despair: he is scared and, calling for Raphael to take him from the camp, he says a curious phrase: 

“I would choose servitude over oblivion any day”

So, after this moment, he is not completely convinced that Raphael is the true solution to his problem but he is more open to keep him as a plan B if anything else fails. Later he claims that it doesn't matter to be a servant of a devil, because he knows Cazador, and he wants to get rid of his power for good. 

“I won't lie, it's tempting. If I keep the tadpole, I risk transforming into a grotesque monster. If I lose the tadpole, Cazador has control of me, body and soul, and I return to the shadows. It's grim either way, so why not sell what's left of my soul to a devil? Better he has it than cazador. Whatever it's coming we need to have our options open.”

Astarion’s process of seeing the potential of the power of the tadpole increases along the game. It gets higher and wilder. The first instances of the tadpole use are about Astarion discovering how much this tadpole gives him powers he can barely understand. 

“The tadpoles are not so bad at all. (...) First I can walk in the sun, then make people dance like puppets? *laughs * I've certainly had worse days.”

He is not an idiot, he knows that, without control, they will end up turning into mind flayers, so he needs to find something powerful that can give him control over his tadpole. This is the reason why he encourages the use of the tadpole after knowing about the netherese magic containing the transformation via Omellun or Ethel.

Ethel explains that the tadpole had been tampered, so the dialogue goes:

Tav: “It's giving us more time, sounds good to me”. 

Astarion: “Perhaps. And who's to say it can't be tampered with further?” (She said it was netherese magic) “it must be powerful magic to stop the parasite in its tracks, I wonder what else it could do?

At that point in the story, he knows that the netherese magic is powerful enough to contain the transformation: so he is now sure that there is more time to use it. So he will end up being the only companion in EA who encourages everyone to use the power:

“What's not to enjoy (with this tadpole)? I can walk in sunlight, trespass upon any home, manipulate minds – I'm the most powerful vampire in the realms. Granted, the looming doom is an issue, but why not enjoy the benefits while we can?

Despite the nightmares happening after every use of the tadpole powers, Astarion doesn’t want to stop. At this point, he is the only companion who doesn’t want to. 

“The power to twist a mind to your will is worth some nightmares.”

By the end of the game, we are sure that Astarion wants this power without doubts. He revels in the power of mind-controlling people, ironically, despite having suffered so much of it under Cazador’s control. If we see all the situations where Astarion’s mind is controlled, or violated, his reactions will be extremely more aggressive than the other companions. He has suffered it a lot, but by the end of EA he is enjoying being on the other side of that power. 

This post was written on April 2021. → For more Astarion: Analysis Series Index

#astarion #bg3 early access #bg3 meta

[kittymsmithwritesstuff]

One-Shot: Diagnosis: Big Dumb Crush

Inspired by this text post from @xxthis-is-ckxx

Text post here

I do commissions =P

Tags: Wattane, crushes, fluff, octavio is kind of dumb, ajay might regret this

Words: 1208, the cut is to save your dash lmao

She knew he was behind him, fidgeting, drumming his fingers against his thighs. Not because she had some kind of third sense regarding Octavio from years of his shit, but because his legs were metal, and the floor was metal, so it was kind of like having a metallic grasshopper behind her. Except the sound was more like a washing machine, so, hm, not a grasshopper at all. Where did I get grasshopper? Do I actually not like those? Was she mixing up her like of crickets with a hatred for grasshoppers? Was there really a difference between the two?

The drumming behind her got faster.

Oh, right. She half-turned, at which point he stilled all movement. She propped her hand on her chin, setting down her tools, Doc beeping curiously. “What’s up, Tav?”

“I think I’m sick.”

She sighed, pointing to her spinning chair. He flew into it, spinning so fast she was afraid he’d break it again. The chair persevered, though Octavio looked like he might not. He was almost literally green.

“What are your symptoms, brotha?” She stood, pulling on gloves with practiced agility, letting them snap at the end, just to make him jump. Then she started looking in his ears while he was talking.

“Okay so, like, it’s-okay it’s gonna sound weird amiga but every time I get near Natalie I get like, weird feelings.”

She raised a brow, pausing to check his mouth-clear-and then get to his blood pressure. “Elaborate.”

“Well like, my palms get really sweaty, but also like, clammy, and my face gets super hot and red like that time at band camp with the ghost peppers and my stomach just gets all queasy and it’s starting to make playing really hard, man, like so hard. Like, I’m also getting really distracted all the time? I’m missing shots, it’s just so bad, it’s embarrassing. And I’ve looked for common denominators like you told me to and I know it sounds crazy but the only one I can find is her!” This came pouring out at an inhuman speed, only to stop on a dime. She followed his eyes, realizing he’d been staring the whole time. Natalie, sitting across from Caustic’s desk in his dorm, gesturing to her pylon that was spinning, but inactivated. Caustic watched with obvious interest, nodding at whatever she was saying.

Ajay took out her stethoscope and placed it over his heart. She chuckled to herself, rolling her equipment back up and putting it away. Octavio was still staring, looking concerned. His curls were even more of a mess than usual, he’d been pulling on them. “Octavio.”

His head snapped in her direction. He looked so concerned, like a puppy, she almost hated to do it. Almost. She put her hands firmly on his shoulders. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

He blubbered hard enough to rival Mirage until she grabbed his face, looking him in the eye. “You have a crush on her.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yah-huh. And as your doctor, I prescribe you to grow a pair and ask her out.”

He squeaked, gripping his throat. “What!”

“Ask her out. Grow some balls, ask her out.”

“I-I can’t just, I mean, can’t you just give me drugs? It has to be a cold or something.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

He inhaled sharply. “You’re a shit doctor. Medic. Whatever.”

She rolled her eyes, raising her hand to jab him, but she stopped herself. Damn it all, Tavi was really torn up about it. He’d dated a couple times in the past, but that had been, hell, high school? Maybe that one semester of college he went to before dropping out? Maybe she should try the “when Tavi isn’t being completely stupid” method. “Fuck off, dude. What are you so torn up about?”

“I just think I’m-“

“No, no, with her.” She sat down on her bed, pulling the swivel stool over, a shelf of medical supplies and knickknacks giving the illusion of privacy. “I’m serious.”

He was quiet for a moment, wringing his hands. She knew he was biting his cheek too, that the inside was probably a gnarled bloody mess. “I, it’s just, you know.”

“Nah Tavi, I actually don’t.”

He sighed, placing his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, swinging the stool side to side. “It’s just, it never works out. I can’t change what I do, you know that better than anybody. But uh, jumping off cliffs for fun isn’t exactly everybody’s ideal like, thing in a partner. People panic and stuff.”

She frowned. “Is that what actually happened with Adam?”

“And Abigail and Sam.” He was staring at his feet. “Kinda gave up after that. It’s whatever, you know? I’m always up for it, but was kind of ignoring anything serious. But Natalie is…is way smarter than me and really pretty and she laughs and it’s really cute and man I am totally gone, aren’t I?”

“Oh, completely, totally.” She nodded. “Obliterated.”

“Fuck.” He flopped back against the shelves of things, rattling them. “I just don’t wanna screw it up, bro. We’re friends, and if she’s not cool with, you know, me being me? Then I’m down someone that’s a cool friend too.”

Ajay bit her lip, thinking a moment. “I don’t think you would be. Down a friend, I mean.”

He furrowed his brows. “Really?”

“Really. For one, it’s Natalie. Two, her not being cool with being in a relationship with someone that’s batshit insane doesn’t mean she can’t still be friends with someone who is. Just ask her on a date and bring it up the first date. That’s it. You’ll know if it won’t work out, and you’ll know if it more than likely will. Y’know?”

He gripped one arm, digging his nails into the flesh, then breathed deeply. He slowly slipped off the stool, frown lines deep in his face as he glanced at her through the shelves. He exhaled. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He pursed his lips. “Alright. But if this goes sideways, I’m blaming you.”

She gave a loose salute. “Sure, dude.”

He went back to his room, glancing at Natalie as he sat down. Ajay could tell he wasn’t paying attention to his games at all. When Natalie finally left Caustic and headed down the hall toward her room, Octavio called out and ran after. And Ajay crossed her fingers. And her toes, too, just in case.

The next day at lunch he walked toward her table looking dazed. Her first thought was oh no, that it had gone horribly wrong. But when he reached her he suddenly grinned, placing his hands on her shoulders. “We went out last night. I did what you said, about the batshit crazy stuff.”

“And?”

He shook her, grin widening. “She asked me if she could take apart one of my jump pads and see if an electronic pulse would make me bounce higher.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh no.”

He started bouncing from foot to foot, a rhythmic banging on the metal floor. “Oh yes!” He kissed her cheek and pulled her into a rib crushing hug. “You’re brilliant, amiga!”

Ajay flopped her head against his shoulder, sighing, smiling just a titch. “What have I done?”

#this was fun lmao #im an octane main and I should write like it huh #octane #octavio silva #lifeline #ajay che #natalie paquette #wattson #apex #apex legends #wattane #not usually my thing #but they have a lot of potential depending on your interpretation of natalie #apex legends fanfiction