spookyjuicefiction

[spookyjuicefiction]

Violets & Plums: Astarion/Tav, Part 4

A/N: Look at me updating and not completely abandoning a work! I literally have no plans for this chapter I'm just gonna freeball it and hope it gets where it should go. I read a really sad Ascended Astarion fic last night that I want to flush out of my brain by rambling on and on with fluff

Also Astarion and Shawdowheart are besties and helping each other work through some trauma

Masterlist Part 3

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Astarion emerged from trance sluggishly, feeling unusually well-rested. No nightmares clung to the backs of his eyes, and he was so warm.

He froze, suddenly alert.

He was never warm.

But she was.

His eyes snapped open and he took in the scene. The room looked stark in the morning light that cascaded through the skylight above; the previously flickering candles melted to stubs that dripped over the side of the bed table. And, of course, there was her. She took up most of the bed, her arms akimbo and hair splayed messily across the pillow. Her mouth hung open slightly, and she snored a little with each deep inhale. She was still shirtless; he took inventory of each scar and freckle dotted across the expanse of her skin. His limbs were tangled in hers, and he couldn't ignore the extra heat where his leg split hers open. Fuck.

They were so wound together that she stirred at even his slightest movement; he was trying to angle his morning excitement away from her hip.

"You better not be trying to get out of this bed."

Her voice was thick with sleep, eyes still closed as she yanked the blanket back up over their shoulders.

He chuckled awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He couldn't remember the last time he woke up in bed with someone. At once the warmth was both suffocating and intoxicating; he wanted to nestle back into her so badly, but he felt exposed and vulnerable in the sunlight. He tried to deflect.

"Darling, we have a very busy day today. There are so many goblins to kill! I should think you'd want plenty of time for your breakfast."

"I can have breakfast any day. I likely won't get to share a proper bed with you again until we reach Baldur's Gate, and I intend to enjoy it."

Astarion grinned in spite of himself. "Very bold of you to assume I'd jump into bed with you again. You must think you're quite the cuddle."

Smiling, she finally opened her eyes and looked into his. His stomach flipped at the expression they conveyed, all sweetness and sleepy desire.

"You wound me. And here I thought we had something special." She let out an overly dramatic sigh. "If you'd rather room with Gale in Baldur's Gate, I suppose I can understand. Just give me some time to get over it."

He was too weak to resist her. Her charming playfulness, her nudity, and her gentle hands on his shoulders were a heady mixture that his conscience simply couldn't contend with. He succumbed to the warmth, closing the distance between them with a hungry kiss that left them both a little breathless.

"If my only lodging option is Gale in the future," Astarion told her seriously, "I'm taking a page out of Lae'zel's book and swearing off beds altogether. I refuse to be the first person that dies in a Netherese orb explosion."

Giggling, she stroked his cheek and replied, "I swear to never make you bunk with Gale if you admit that I'm the best cuddle you've ever had."

Astarion rolled his eyes with exaggerated exasperation and she playfully slapped his cheek lightly, still giggling. "You bastard."

"Very well," he sighed, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose to hers in a way so a nauseatingly sweet he would certainly punish himself for it later, "you are the best cuddle I have ever had. And it's not even close." For once in his life, Astarion was telling the complete and entire truth.

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The saccharine mood from the morning cuddle hung over them both as they strapped into their armor, packed, and headed to the dining area to meet the others. Astarion felt he hid the giddiness better than she did by nodding stiffly to the table at large and heading to the corner to sharpen his daggers in solitude. Tav, on the other hand, greeted everyone with unbridled enthusiasm that had the entire table raising their eyebrows. Very subtle, Astarion mentally chastised her. But even he had trouble committing to the thought, warming at the idea that he might be the cause for her smile as she sat down and dug heartily into her breakfast. Mine.

It didn't surprise him when Shadowheart fell back to walk in step with him on the way to the goblin camp once they set out. She seemed determined to dig up gossip on whatever was going on between he and Tav.

"How was your evening?" she asked innocently. Astarion shot her a knowing look, and she chuckled.

"Lady Shar would be ashamed at my lack of subterfuge," she remarked. "Although I'm not nearly as bad as you and Tav."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Astarion's tone aimed for dismissive, but even he couldn't hold back a smile when Shadowheart snorted in return.

They walked in companionable silence for a while, and Astarion found that he did not entirely dislike the cleric's company. He wondered if she considered him a sort of friend, the way Tav did.

"Can I ask you something?" he surprised himself by asking her quietly.

"Sure," she answered, sounding a little surprised as well.

"You surrendered your memories to serve Shar. Do you ever..." he wasn't sure how to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue. "Are there times that you sort of.. clamp up? Like there's something you can't remember, but it... paralyzes you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he felt Shadowheart regard him. After a beat, she answered, "yes."

He looked to her now. Her fingers were brushing the black spot on the back of her hand that she claimed was an "old injury that acted up from time to time". She continued, "it sort of feels like my brain is resetting. Like I should be able to remember something, but it's blocked. It makes me feel..." she searched for the right word. "Afraid. Outside of myself."

"Hmm," Astarion hummed in reply. He found that he wanted to confide in her further. "It happened to me last night, when Tav and I... I became afraid, quite suddenly." He frowned at the memory. "I feel... ashamed."

"Astarion, if there is anyone who would never judge you, it's Tav," Shadowheart reminded him gently. "But I'm sorry that happened to you. And I'm sorry for whatever memory caused it." He felt her hand touch his wrist, and she gave him a little squeeze. In response, he lightly bumped his shoulder against hers.

"What a mess we all are," he sighed. They were approaching the edge of the goblin encampment now, and the pair dropped to a crouch in unison.

"Well, luckily there are plenty of goblin skulls to crush as therapy."

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"What kind of a name is Priestess Gut, anyway?!" Astarion yanked Tav behind a pillar as a flurry of arrows launched their way.

"That's what we all call you behind your back." She was panting as she chugged a quick healing potion and wiggled her fingers, willing electricity to buzz between them. The grand hall of the old Selunite temple was a mess; the group had managed to schmooze their way in and take out two leaders, but a guard had caught Karlach cracking a scrying eye against the stone wall and alerted the whole camp to their trickery.

"No no, that's what I call you after you pig out on sweetrolls after supper," he shot back through gritted teeth as he yanked arrows out of a dead body nearby. She shot him a wicked grin as the sparks between her fingers began crackling even bigger.

"Hang on, I've just had a thought!" Astarion plucked up a carafe from the ground nearby and flung it around the pillar, covering the ground with water. "Alright, sweetness, light them up."

She happily obliged, sending a current of pure electricity through the line of goblins in a chain reaction. The pair whooped excitedly as they ran forward, trying to catch up with Wyll and Lae'zel ahead.

"Watch out!" Shadowheart's panicked scream hit them too late; an arrow whizzed past Astarion's face. Looking up, he saw they'd missed a guard in the rafters, which he took out with a rapid arrow from his own bow.

"Little shit," he cursed, "come on-" but Tav had dropped to the ground next to him, slipping through his fingers as he tried too late to catch her.

"No, gods damn it, NO!" the rogue arrow was poking out of her shoulder, just above her heart. Her eyes were blinking rapidly as blood soaked her jerkin. Panic seized his heart as he tried to drag her out of the center of the room; the fight between Karlach, Gale and the last leader, Minthara, was spilling dangerously close to where Tav had fallen. Shadowheart was on the other side of the room shooting off shield spells, and Wyll and Lae'zell were rushing forward to join the fray.

What the fuck do I do? Tav was losing consciousness, and he needed to get her out of the way.

Suddenly, he remembered the ring Gale had pressed into his hand a few days before and the conversation that had ensued:

"Gale, what in the hells am I going to do with a Misty Step Ring? I don't even use magic."

"You have fey magic in you, Astarion. You never know when it could come in handy. Just hang onto it."

Astarion threw his arms around Tav and tried with everything in him to channel the power of the ring.

"Come on, fucking faerie magic," he grunted. I have to save her. He let out a scream as a white hot feeling crashed through him - and then they were gone.

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What if she's dead?

The question wouldn't stop ringing in Astarion's ears as he paced outside the door to the room in the temple they had deemed as the hospital ward. He didn't quite know how to feel about the question. Only days ago he swore he wouldn't have cared if Tav had fallen off a cliff, but now... everything had changed. When was the last time he'd lost someone? Someone that mattered?

"It was quick thinking, mate," Wyll said for what must have been the third time. The warlock was cleaning a scrape on his leg on a bench along the wall. "You did everything you could."

Astarion picked up a piece of rubble from the ground and threw it as hard as he could down the hall. He hadn't done enough. She could be dead.

Belatedly, it occurred to him that he hadn't once been distracted by her blood as he tried to stopper the wound. It almost unnerved him that the frenzy of his thirst had been overpowered by his panic over losing her. He wanted to smack his skull against the wall. His confusion over his suddenly strong feelings for her flavored his fear of losing her with extra nausea.

Finally, Shadowheart appeared in the doorway, wiping her bloody hands on a rag. "She's alive," she assured him quickly, assessing the pure panic in his eyes. "She's lost a lot of blood and will need some time to recover, but she'll pull through."

Astarion thought his knees might give out. "Is she awake? Is she in pain?" he tried to peer over the cleric's head to get a look into the ward. "Will it be alright through the night?"

"I promise, Astarion, I've done everything I can." Shadowheart looked exhausted - depleted, even. He wanted to hound her further, but he knew she was telling the truth. He hadn't forgotten their tender conversation from earlier in the day, and he was grateful to her for that and for tending to Tav.

"Can I see her?" he asked in a small voice. Shadowheart nodded, stepping out into the hallway and holding the door open for him. Astarion understood - this was the changing of the guard for the rest of the night.

He moved into the dimly lit room to take up his post and nearly shuddered at the sight. Tav was laid stiffly out on a table in a way that reminded Astarion of a body at the morgue, covered by a loose piece of cloth. Her tangled hair was pushed back over her head, and her forehead and upper lip were glistening with sweat. He hesitated for a moment before stepping back in the hall, asking Wyll to keep an eye on her for a few moments.

He returned to the tableside with a bucket of warm water, his bergamot soap, a sponge, a comb, and a clean set of loose clothing. He spent the next hour gingerly scrubbing the crusted blood and dirt off of her pretty skin and gently working through the tangles in her hair. He sat at the head of the table and worked the strands into an intricate braid pattern that he hadn't realized he even knew how to do. Hair-braiding was an intimate act amongst elves; he briefly wondered whose hair he might have braided before to learn this design. He was glad that he didn't remember; he wanted it to be only hers.

When he had finished cleaning her, he sat and watched her for so long that he lost track of time. It felt as though he was trancing - thoughts seemed to come and go before he could catch them. They were tiny things, inconsequential. A vicious master, a putrid dungeon full of rats, a squirming parasite digging through his skull. An infernal tattoo. An army of cultists marching on the city. It didn't matter now, he knew. As he looked at her, he at last finally, calmly accepted the seismic shift in the cosmos. The center of his universe now lay on the table in front of him, dancing between life and death, the axis of the planet spinning unknowingly around the core of her being. He was but a tiny moon in her atmosphere, helpless to her gravitational pull. Perhaps it was time to stop resisting. With a sigh, he settled into orbit.

A dim light had begun to creep through the dusty windows when she finally stirred. A groan of pain, followed by a thick swallow. Astarion was at her side in an instant with a water skein, tipping it to her cracked lips. She swallowed and coughed lightly, blinking up at him.

"It smells like shit in here."

He chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind her ears. "My apologies, madam. I'm not sure I can wash away, what, months worth of goblin piss in one night? But I can certainly try if it should please you."

She huffed out a laugh that made her wince, tenderly bringing a hand to touch the wound area. "How bad is it?"

"Shadowheart says you'll live," he smiled at her crookedly, "though I had my doubts. You looked quite poorly."

"You must be disappointed she was right," she smirked up at him, although he thought he caught an unguarded flash of uncertainty. If she only knew what he now understood, she would never doubt his devotion to her. But how could he even begin to explain it?

"Not in the least," he all but whispered. Leaning down, he ghosted a kiss against her lips first, and then to her forehead. "Don't scare me like that again, please."

"Then don't forget to check the rafters next time." Tired as she was, her eyes were full of adoration as her hand clasped around his.

[spookyjuicefiction]

I want to like finish the other Astarion fic I was writing but also I have a concept for an ascended story that I feel could be very slay but also I’m eepy (all the time) and actually writing it sounds hard

[spookyjuicefiction]

Just wanted to say how much I am enjoying your Astarion wip story and I’m cheering you on! Thank you for sharing ♥️

Thank you so much!! I love him a totally normal amount!

[spookyjuicefiction]

Violets & Plums: Astarion/Tav, Part 3

Part 2 Masterlist

A/N: still no clue what to name this fic tbh. CW for Astarion's back story/Cazador bullshit, and there's a bit of nudity that gets spicy

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Astarion barely said a word the entire day. It was a boring one; the group had decided to circle back to the druids' grove to confront Kagha about some evidence they found that she was working with shadow druids. Additionally, they wanted to re-up on supplies before mounting their final attack on the goblin camp. This meant a long day of walking and retracing old steps.

Personally, Astarion could not care less what Kagha was doing with the grove. He didn't see why it was any of their business if she wanted to kick the tieflings out and lock things down, but of course, Tav disagreed. Not only did Tav have a bleeding heart for apparently all wretched creatures, but she had Karlach in her ear begging her to make sure the orphaned tiefling children were safe. There was no point in arguing, since everyone else aside from Lae'zel seemed to agree.

Besides, Astarion had decided that the only way to deal with his unfortunate new Tav problem was to ignore her entirely as much as possible. If he just didn't speak to her, she wouldn't be able to read him and he wouldn't have the stomach flipping issue. He had a new mantra that he kept repeating in his mind. Get Halsin. Get to the creche. Remove tadpole. Be on his merry way. No more Tav.

But even as he repeated it to himself, he couldn't shake the possessive feeling that had risen in him at the sight of his bite marks on her neck. Mine. Her arms wrapped around him. Her breath in his ear. The scent of violet and plums. Get Halsin. Get to the creche. Remove tadpole. Steal Tav away. No more others. Just them.

Fuck.

"Here's the stream. We're about halfway there." Wyll called over his shoulder from the front of the pack.

"Thank the gods, I want to shower off that nasty bog smell!" Karlach darted forward, her large body clearing a path for everyone behind her to walk through.

"A rinse would do this wizard good," Gale agreed, looking to Tav. "Shall we stop for an hour or so?"

"I don't think there's any stopping Karlach, anyway," Tav chuckled, dropping her pack on the edge of the stream. The tiefling was already throwing her clothes off over her shoulder, leaving a trail of boots and belts behind her.

"There's a waterfall!" Karlach cried, and as the rest of the group caught up, Astarion could see her already splashing her way over to it. Wyll, Lae'zel, and Shadowheart were quick behind her, stripping down to their underwear and splashing each other as they sank into the rushing water (Lae'zel and Shadowheart splashing each other with particular aggression).

"Gods, this feels good on my engine," sighed Karlach. The waterfall ran over her turned into a giant cloud of steam.

"Maybe I can hug you if you're standing under there!" Tav said excitedly. Astarion averted his eyes as she removed her clothes and waded over to her friend. Why is she always hugging everyone?

Next to Astarion, Gale picked his way gingerly through the shallow part of the stream until he settled himself in up to his chest.

"It really does feel quite nice," the wizard informed him, clearly confused as to why Astarion was still fully dressed and standing tensely on the bank. Astarion shot him a dark look.

Wyll floated back over to Astarion and Gale, sighing dreamily. "Ah, women. Is there any sight better?"

The three of them looked quietly as the four girls laughed raucously under the waterfall. Even Lae'zel was in on the fun, an uncharacteristic smile across her unusual features. Astarion swallowed thickly as his eyes fell on Tav, her skin slick and shining under the rushing water. Her sheer joy almost choked him with its purity. He turned away.

"I'm going to find some privacy," he told the men pointedly so that they wouldn't try to follow him. He wasn't in the mood for a boys club atmosphere with those two.

A few meters away, Astarion at last toed off his boots and removed his clothing and gear, folding them neatly on a tree trunk before wading into the stream. He scrubbed himself with his bergamot soap, sighing as he realized how stiff his shoulders were and how sore his feet and legs were. He leaned back and dunked his blonde curls, using his fingers to scrub through the grime.

Suddenly, he heard splashing coming towards him and he instinctively ducked so that the water covered up to his chin. Infuriatingly, it was Tav wading towards him.

"Hi," she said with a smile.

"What do you want?" he felt defensive and vulnerable with his clothes off; it made him snippy. She cocked her head at him, but the smile didn't falter.

"I'm sorry, I've intruded on you," she observed. "I only wanted to see if you were alright. You've been so quiet today I rather thought a monster hunter had stolen you away."

"I'm fine," he snapped. Her gentle tone made his teeth grind. He wished she would kneel further into the water so that he couldn't see so much of her, as it was very distracting.

"My, you're awfully acidic today. If hunger's the cause, you can come and feed on me again tonight." She said it so casually, as though she told him he could borrow a cup of sugar. He gaped at her. "Not as much as last time, though, I need my strength for tomorrow. I'll make sure to eat a big dinner, too." The last bit she said more to herself than to him, and then looked at him expectantly.

"I - uh - alright," he replied uncertainly. He hated how much he wanted it. Hated that it was physically impossible for him to say no. Hated that she was so bloody nice about it all.

She smiled. "Brilliant. I'll leave you to your primping, then."

Once they had all dried off in the afternoon sun, they set off again. It took all of Astarion's strength not to let his eyes rove over Tav's body as she lay bathed in the radiant light. He chose instead to focus on attempting to inflict psychic damage on Gale, who was letting his eyes rove plainly and with reckless abandon for his own life and safety.

When they finally reached the grove, Astarion realized how critical it in fact was that Tav had offered to let him drink from her. After confronting Kagha and disposing of the shadow druids, the chastised elf had offered them sleeping arrangements to stay in the grove for the night. Within the confines of the grove, Astarion would not be able to hunt, as all animals were sacred to the druids. And, honestly, he wouldn't be able to tell which ones were actually druids in wildshape. He didn't fancy picking a fight with one of these nut jobs.

Then came the selection of sleeping arrangements. Each room had two beds, which meant there would be an odd one out. Astarion obviously expected to be the spare, guessing Wyll and Gale would take one room and the girls would pair off. He stood off from the group as they discussed the arrangements, and turned to face Tav when she came to break the news. But again, she surprised him.

"Me and you, then?"

"I... what?"

"Lae'zel has elected to to sleep on the ground because 'beds are too comfortable'," Tav explained. "And, considering our plans for the evening, it makes sense."

Over her head, Astarion could see Karlach and Shadowheart whispering to one another and looking in their direction, smiling devilishly.

"Quite."

If Astarion had ever been inclined to believe in a god before, he knew definitively in this moment that they had all abandoned him. Confined to a private room with Tav, where they had every intention of entering an intimate situation. He might as well just stake himself in the middle of this hallway.

"Our room will be this way." Tav picked up her pack and gestured for him to follow, which he had no choice but to do. The room was simple and bare; druids were not known for great finery. But it was clean and smelled of cedar wood and fresh flowers. Admittedly, Astarion was rather looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed for the first time since he was abducted.

His eyes taking in the room snagged on her, standing awkwardly.

"I'm going to change clothes," she explained.

"Ah, right, of course." He turned away from her, pretending to inspect the bed. The candle on her side of the room cast her shadow on the wall next to him as she unlaced her jerkin and pulled her cotton shirt over her head. As she turned, he could see the silhouette of her breasts as she heaved a deep breath. Astarion raked his hand through his hair and busied himself unlacing his own boots.

After a few more quiet moments, she spoke softly: "Okay, I'm finished. I'm ready when you are."

Astarion closed his eyes to steel himself for a quick moment before turning to face her. She was laying on the bed wearing a thin tunic and smoothing her hair off of her neck. She had pulled the blanket haphazardly over her, but he could see the top of her thigh poking out; it did not seem that she was wearing any pants. Gods, hadn't he seen enough of her naked flesh today? The sight made him feel as though he was blushing, even though there was no warmth to his skin.

Slowly, he stalked over to her bedside, and she looked up at him with a frown.

"Perhaps I should lay on the floor? I don't want to spill blood on the bed."

"Don't worry about that, darling. I will ensure none is spilled. Just... make yourself comfortable."

She seemed satisfied at this, and settled back, turning her head so that her previously punctured neck was exposed. Now it was he that hesitated.

"I... would you rather I sit on the edge of the bed and lay across you, or hold myself over you like I did last time?" One way required him laying on her chest, but the other would almost certainly require him planting his knee between her legs to hold himself at the right angle.

"Oh," she sounded surprised, and a blush crept up her neck as she made the same realizations. "uhm, whatever is more comfortable for you."

Astarion wanted to laugh. He had never been so uncomfortable in his life. At least in Cazador's dungeon, he usually had an idea of what was coming next. Ultimately, he decided to sit on the side of the bed, and he sank himself down next to her.

"Not too much," she reminded him, and he nodded, putting his hand over his heart to show his sincere promise.

Well, here goes nothing.

He leaned into her, and her scent overtook him instantly. He parted his lips to her pulse point and felt her swallow, preparing herself. He lined his fangs up to the previous punctures, and slowly sank into her neck.

At the first taste of her blood to his tongue, he was completely and utterly lost. His hands clutched at her warm body beneath her as he grew dizzy with the scent he was coming to know as uniquely hers. It sang to him like a siren song, coaxing his hands to move on their own accord, clawing at the hem of her tunic and clutching at that thigh skin that had taunted him moments earlier. She gasped, and he thought he might be hurting her, but her hand flew to the back of his head and knotted in his hair. He moaned as she fingered his silver curls, her other hand rubbing up and down his forearm.

Everything was blurring together. He wasn't sure when he withdrew his fangs, but the next moment he was licking the rivulets of blood that ran from the punctures they left behind. Now it was she who moaned, still clutching him, pressing her body against him. He lavished her neck until the blood stopped running, but he couldn't tear himself away. He began nipping, sucking, and kissing his way up her neck, catching her earlobe, and then slowly crossing her jaw bone.

"Astarion," she choked out, her voice a breathy whisper in his ear. He pulled back immediately.

"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

But the hand still tangled in his hair firmly pulled his face to hers, crashing their lips together in a searing kiss.

That was it. He was completely broken. He opened his mouth hungrily, drinking her in. Their teeth clashed with the desperate need to be closer, to feel each other, their frenzied desire burning hot fire into his lifeless body. He felt her hands tugging his shirt untucked and roaming her hands over the skin beneath, and he did the same. Warm. Soft. He broke the kiss only long enough to tear her tunic off. He hesitated only the briefest of seconds before discarding his own shirt. Fuck it, he thought. It's just a fucking scar.

He dove back into the crook of her neck, their naked chests crashing blissfully together as he lavished her with kisses everywhere he could see. Her skin was so hot, he couldn't believe Karlach was the only one with an infernal engine in her chest. Astarion had been cold for so, so long. For the first time in 200 years, he felt alive.

This thought sobered him, and he slowed his kisses. He was afraid to get to the next part. She was so perfect, so beautiful and soft and warm. She deserved good things. He wasn't good. He was damaged beyond repair. He was a killer, a monster, no matter what she said on the matter.

He didn't realize how still he'd gone as this panicked thought grasped him until he felt her hands stroking gently across his face, their foreheads pressed together.

"Are you alright?" she whispered, caressing him.

Astarion opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak. He didn't even know what to say. Didn't want to hurt her, didn't want to ruin the moment even more so than he already had. He let out a sigh he hadn't realized he was holding.

He conjured an image in his mind of a request, one that he was too ashamed to vocalize because it was so pathetic. Then, he gently prodded at her tadpole. With their foreheads together, it felt like they were tapping on opposite sides of a window pane. She connected to him, and he showed her the image.

"Of course," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

She rearranged herself and motioned for him to lay down. He lay his head on her shoulder, face in the crook of her neck, and wrapped his arms around her waist. She took him in her arms, gently caressing his shoulders with her fingertips, and kissed the top of his head. After a few minutes of silence, she whispered again into the flickering candlelight.

"You don't have to share anything with me. But if you want to talk about what you're feeling, you can tell me anything. You're safe with me."

Astarion felt, of all things, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He swallowed and blinked them away, hugging her even tighter, if possible. Instinctively, he reached for a joke to distract from his discomfort. But it died in his throat as she continued with her gentle ministrations. There was something sobering about the dim light in the room that made him feel bare. He didn't want to lie to her. And he did feel safe with her.

"When I was under Cazador's control," he began slowly, "he made me do a lot of terrible things. I... was forced to use my body to lure victims for him." Her hand stilled for a moment as the shock of this revelation hit her, but she continued her caresses. '"He sent me out to find the most beautiful creatures in Baldur's Gate, and to ruin them. The things I've done..." he trailed off, eyes stinging again, "my body, it's tainted. It's a weapon. And I killed so many."

He lifted his head to look at her. Her lip was trembling. "I'm afraid to ruin you."

After a moment, she seemed to compose herself enough to speak. "You are not tainted. You were a slave, and you did what you had to do to survive, and because you had no choice. Gods, you are -" she huffed out a breathless laugh that lacked mirth, "- you are so beautiful, Astarion. And really and truly brilliant. You could never hurt me. I am safe with you." She cupped his chin in her hand and used her thumb to swipe a tear from his cheek, looking deeply into his eyes.

"You are not a monster."

Astarion pressed his face into her chest, unable to handle the kindness of her words. He didn't deserve them, but he wanted so badly to believe her.

"Thank you," he all but whispered, pressing a kiss to her skin. "No one has ever had a kind word for me. You're the only one."

"Get used to it." She squeezed his shoulders and resumed her gentle caresses. "And when we get to Baldur's Gate, we're going to kill Cazador."

Astarion chuckled. He wondered if Tav, in all her research, had any idea of how hard it would be to kill a vampire lord. But it was so like her to believe that she could, and he let her. He even allowed himself to envision the fantasy where Cazador was destroyed, and he would finally and truly be free. It almost ached, how much he wanted it to be true. Beneath his head, he felt her sigh, as though she were drifting off to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, my dearest one," he whispered as the candle flickered out, allowing her warmth to lull him into a sleep of his own.

Part 4

[spookyjuicefiction]

Violets & Plums: Astarion/Tav, Part 2

Part 1 Masterlist A/N: no thoughts, just bitchy vampire man and his Big Feelings

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In spite of his nagging uncertainty regarding what had happened between he and Tav the night before, Astarion emerged from his tent that morning in the best mood he'd felt in ages. His mind felt clearer than he could ever remember, and he could hardly even feel the scratching of his thirst in his throat. He only wished he didn't have Tav's blood to thank for it. He hated feeling like he owed her something.

Still, her willingness to allow him to drink from her boded well for his plan to seduce her into submission. With his newfound strength, he was ready to turn on the charm and entice her to his bed for a different purpose this time. And, well, if he could get a little blood out of it as well, then the deal was all the sweeter.

He was happily busying himself by packing up to head out for the day when Karlach's voice cut through the morning quiet around the campsite: "Gods, what in the hells happened to you?"

He turned to look. Tav had just emerged from her tent, and she really did look like hell. She was unusually pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her hair hung limply around her face and her shoulders sagged. Astarion winced slightly at the sight, knowing it was likely due to blood loss from his overindulgence.

"Didn't sleep well," she grumbled, helping herself to a scoop of scrambled eggs at the campfire. Shadowheart and Gale, who were eating nearby, exchanged a worried look that Tav did not miss.

"I'm fine," she insisted, "no need to worry. Had.. a headache that kept me up last night, that's all."

Astarion smirked to himself. That's one way of putting it.

If Tav was insisting she was fine, Astarion was not about to spoil his good day feeling guilty about her. He walked in the front of the party for once, cracking jokes and making witty commentary. He did not realize what a wide departure this was from his usual petulant brooding in the back of the group until Shadowheart fell into step beside him that afternoon.

"You're unusually cheerful today," she remarked. "Any particular reason?"

"Well, darling, the sun is shining, there are so many people that need killing, and I am exceedingly good looking. What more does one need to be cheerful?"

Shadowheart huffed out a laugh. After a moment, she asked, "there wouldn't be any particular reason why you're full of boundless energy and Tav is so exhausted she can barely walk, is there?"

"What?" He asked too quickly. "Why would you ask that?"

"No reason, just an observation," her voice intoned innocence, but Astarion could see impishness in her eyes and playing at the corners of her mouth.

He frowned, irritated. "I don't know what you're insinuating, darling, but in case you forgot: all Tav and I ever do is argue. We don't spend a lot of quality time together."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Please. Haven't you ever heard how schoolboys taunt and tease little girls when they have a crush on them?"

"A crush?!" Astarion's voice came out higher pitched than he would've liked. "What an asinine and juvenile notion, even for you." He snorted. "I assure you, I wish Tav nothing but pure misery for the rest of her days."

He saw the half-elf roll her eyes again. "If you say so, Astarion."

"I do say so," he snapped, and then sped up so that they were no longer walking in step. So much for not spoiling a good day.

It only got worse when Tav insisted they would help two idiots find their sister who was apparently taken by a hag, and this led them through the nastiest, most putrid bog Astarion had ever seen. Every day he missed Baldur's Gate more.

"Who cares about some brat? If she went to a hag, that sounds like her business," he complained through gritted teeth as foggy bog water splashed over his boots.

"Hags perverse magic. They're foul creatures. The people of this area won't be safe until she's disposed of." Tav led the group now, apparently undeterred by the unpleasantness of their walk.

"Goodness, I've never heard you so vicious!" Astarion brought his hand to his heart in mock shock. "I guess the kitten does have claws."

"Tav is right. We can't let this hag get away with using magic to lure innocents into false deals," said Gale, and Astarion rolled his eyes. Of course that bookish fiend would rush to her defense. He wanted to shoot an arrow into his stupid hair.

"I look forward to cutting her down. It has been many days since we've seen combat," Lae'zel hissed, cracking her knuckles. "I ache for battle."

"Well, I don't," Astarion sniffled. "I ache for a massage and a nice bottle of brandy."

"Perhaps we should rest for lunch and gather our strength before we charge in with weapons blazing," piped up Wyll, indicating a dry-looking hill that would suit. The others mumbled agreement and made their way up to the spot, fanning out to sit on rocks and pull food out of their packs.

Astarion settled on a large, fallen tree on the edge of the clearing and pulled an apple out of his bag and began to peel it, so as to appear that he was eating. To his chagrin, Tav sat on the other end of the log, shooting him an annoyed look.

"Must you always complain?"

But something had caught Astarion's eye and he turned to take it in: a man was approaching their group, and he seemed to be heavily armed. Being the closest to him, Astarion and Tav rose quickly to intercept him.

"Greetings," the man said with a good-natured smile that immediately set Astarion on edge, for some reason. "Forgive the aroma. Powdered iron-vine, and old hunters' trick. Most monsters will think twice before making a meal of me."

Ugh. Astarion wrinkled his nose. "You're a monster hunter? I'm surprised. I thought all Gur were vagrant cutthroats." He could hear the rest of the party's footsteps approaching behind him. Tav shot him a withering look.

"Ignore the elf, he talks too much," she told the Gur, turning back to him. "What sort of monster are you hunting?"

"A vampire spawn," Astarion stiffened, narrowing his eyes, "but I fear he's gone to ground. I am hoping the hag of these lands can help me flush him out, if I can afford her blood price. When I saw your group, I thought it was best to warn you. His name is Astarion, and he may be very, very dangerous."

"Indeed," Tav cut in, taking a step forward. She had noticed Astarion's hands moving toward his daggers. "And what will you do with this 'Astarion' if you find him? Kill him?"

"No," the man replied. "My orders are to take him back to Baldur's Gate. My people wait for me there."

Tav cleared her throat. "Well, we thank you for your warning. We'll be sure to keep a sharp eye out."

The Gur nodded. "Safe travels, then." He gave a wave to the group at large and headed away down the hill. Nobody moved until he was out of sight. Then Tav turned to look at Astarion, and he was sure everyone else was also.

"Well, I guess that's the cat out of the bag, then," he said, turning to face them. "Surprise?"

No one said anything for a minute. Finally, Wyll was the one who broke the silence.

"Well, mate, I'd say we've all got our hangups. As long as you keep your fangs to yourself, I see no harm in carrying on as things have been."

"Agreed," Shadowheart said, and Gale nodded along.

"If you so much as bare your teeth in my direction, I will not hesitate to slice you open from sternum to groin." Lae'zel, obviously.

"Now, there will be no need for any groin slicing," said Astarion raising his hands innocently. "I haven't tried to bite anyone so far, have I? Well, I would've bitten Karlach if it wouldn't have melted my perfect face off."

Karlach laughed at that and wiggled her eyebrows. "What you wouldn't give for a taste of Mama K! But you're alright with me, Fangs. No hard feelings."

All eyes turned to Tav. Of course, thought Astarion, no decisions can be made without her final approval.

"Then we're all settled. Now, finish up so we can go hunt some hag."

Astarion could only stare as everyone made their way back over to their packs. That was it? No one wanted to fight him? No one had given him over to the Gur? Wyll had called him mate? He was completely dumbfounded. What game were they all playing? Were they all actually insane, or did everything else, including vampirism, seem normal in comparison to the tadpole problem?

The whole ordeal set his teeth on edge for the rest of the day, swearing they were whispering to each other about him behind his back. But nothing had changed at all, aside from Karlach calling out "nice one, Fangs!" when he struck the hag with a particularly good shot during the battle. When they made camp that night, no one even moved their tents further away from his.

Astarion couldn't stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. He stood tensely outside of his tent door pretending to read a book, but staring over the pages at the others to catch them conspiring, Thus, his heckles were already raised when Tav picked her way over to him.

"So, what do the Gur want with you, do you reckon?"

What are we, bosom buddies now? "How the hell should I know?"

"You must have some idea."

Astarion sighed and closed the book.

"I expect Cazador sent him."

Tav's eyebrows shot up. "You think so?"

"I know so." Astarion frowned. "It's very like him to send a... message like that." Noticing Tav's confusion at this admittedly vague explanation, he continued, "It was Gur who attacked me the night Cazador turned me. Sending one after me now has to be some kind of sick joke. He's reminding me that I'll never be free of him. That he can still reach me."

Tav sighed. "Tadpoles, mindflayers, goblins, and now vampires. We've got quite a bit to contend with."

"Then why didn't you just turn me over to him then, and save yourself the trouble?" Astarion snapped. She looked taken aback.

"No, Astarion, that's not what I meant. Why would I turn you over to him?"

He scoffed dramatically. "To finally rid yourself for good of all of my complaining that's so annoying to you? I don't know, why wouldn't you? He's a monster hunter, and I'm a monster."

"Because you're my friend!" She threw up her hands.

Her stared at her. "I'm your what?"

She stared back. "My friend. Aren't you?"

"Am I?" She looked hurt. "I - well, I hadn't really... yes, I suppose," he amended, and she offered a small smile. Cautiously, she took a step toward him. He looked around at her and tried to resist the urge to step back, wary of what she might be about to do. To his great shock, she slowly lifted her arms and wrapped them around his shoulders, pulling him against her. She was giving him a hug.

"You're not a monster. A spectacular bastard, maybe, but not a monster," she murmured in his ear. He could feel her breath tickling his neck, making his hair stand on end.

Astarion didn't know what to do. He couldn't remember ever receiving a hug before. Carefully, he brought his hands up and pressed them so gently across her back that he was scarcely touching her. He felt her body shake as she chuckled and pulled away.

"We'll work on it. Goodnight, Astarion."

The second she turned away from him, Astarion made a beeline for the trees. He hadn't needed to breathe in 200 years, but suddenly there wasn't enough air. The camp was too crowded, although he was more than ten feet away from where anyone else was sitting. As soon as he hit the tree line he broke into a run, pumping his legs as fast as he possibly could. His brain felt like it was short-circuiting, synapses long dead suddenly lit up and firing at random.

He was overloaded with sensation: the warmth of her body, the curve of her against him, the low hum of her voice in his ear, the chill of her breath on his skin, the scent of her - her perfume, her blood, overpowering him, incapacitating him. The memory burned through his mind white hot, scorching him from the inside out like the sun would have prior to the tadpole.

The tadpole. Finally, he slowed his pace, dropping to his knees. He had reached the lakeshore, and he placed his hands palm down in the sand, trying to ground himself. The tadpole must be the reason the sensation was so powerful - it was amplifying the memory, playing out all the sensations in overdrive that shock had blocked out initially.

He squeezed the sand in his hands and took deep breaths, even though he didn't need to. The sensation was calming anyway. This intense reaction to receiving a fucking hug was scaring the hells out of him. He settled back into a crossed-leg position and stared out over the lapping lake water and didn't move again until the sun rose the next morning.

It wasn't the hug, he realized, that scared him. The hug had been... well, incredible. The first soft and gentle thing he could even remember in his life. No, the thing that scared him was being seen. Being seen by her. She saw him so clearly that he didn't even know why he bothered trying to keep the mask on. The only time he'd ever had the upper-hand over her was the moment they first met - ever since then, she'd read him as easily as if he'd opened his tadpole to her and let her see him laid bare. He had been wrong to assume that she was trying to manipulate him, but she'd done it all the same. Every mean-spirited joke, comment, or action had been a roadmap to his pain, and she had landed a critical hit to the heart.

"Because you're my friend."

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

He tried to return to camp with as much subtlety as he could muster, wanting to avoid any questions about his absence the night before. There was no reason to continue to pretend to join the group for breakfast, so he set to packing up his tent, pointedly keeping his back to a certain friend of his. He was so anxious, however, that the task took little time at all, and he was left wringing his hands while the others took their time tearing down.

He risked a glance at Tav, and almost immediately regretted it when his stomach did some kind of sick fluttering that he had never experienced in his living dead memory. She was brushing the sleep tangles out of her hair and pulling it up for the day while laughing with Karlach about something. The sunlight caught her jewelry, making it twinkle, and he skin was flushed from her mirth. Had she always been so pretty? Certainly she'd taken some beauty potion in the night. Or perhaps he'd never really looked at her properly before.

Her body was supple, smooth and curvaceous. As a sorcerer, she didn't need to have the rippling muscles of Karlach or Lae'zel, but she was no weak, wilting flower either. He had seen the solid way she handled herself when she trained with Lae'zel. Most impressively, she walked with ease and confidence, even in the face of men twice her size. Astarion wondered how many creeps had regretted messing with her in the streets of Baldur's Gate after she fixed them with one of her most murderous stares, conjuring pure static shock between her fingers. As she swept the hair off her neck, he noticed the puncture wounds from his biting her, and the sight made him swell with pride. Mine.

The word sprang to his mind as intensely as if someone had shouted it in his ear. He shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to clear it. What the fuck was wrong with him? Didn't he hate Tav?

She caught his eye and smiled at him, and his stomach did a somersault. It seemed, despite his best efforts, he most certainly did not.

Part 3

[spookyjuicefiction]

Violets & Plums: An Astarion WIP

Pairing: Astarion/Female Tav (reader) Rating: Mature (no smut yet, but it'll come eventually) Parts 4/?

Summary: Astarion can't stand anything about Tav. He especially can't stand how he can't stop thinking about her.

Excerpt: "When he had finished cleaning her, he sat and watched her for so long that he lost track of time. It felt as though he was trancing - thoughts seemed to come and go before he could catch them. They were tiny things, inconsequential. A vicious master, a putrid dungeon full of rats, a squirming parasite digging through his skull. An infernal tattoo. An army of cultists marching on the city. It didn't matter now, he knew. As he looked at her, he at last finally, calmly accepted the seismic shift in the cosmos. The center of his universe now lay on the table in front of him, dancing between life and death, the axis of the planet spinning unknowingly around the core of her being. He was but a tiny moon in her atmosphere, helpless to her gravitational pull. Perhaps it was time to stop resisting. With a sigh, he settled into orbit."

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[spookyjuicefiction]

Violets & Plums: Astarion/Tav, Part 1

Got an idea for an Astarion fic that I just need to start working through and here is as good a place as any. Part 1 of ?

_______________________________________

He had been wrong about her. And he hated being wrong.

He had seen her on the nautiloid, stuffed into a pod and infected with a tadpole just as he had been. He recognized her when he spotted her trudging up the path toward him away from the crash site. He himself had just clawed his way out of the wreckage and was getting his bearings when she and the she-elf emerged from the smoke. An easy target, he thought, quickly preparing a ruse to trap her. She fell right into it, and he was ready to kill her - that is, until their parasites connected.

When he agreed to team up with her and Shadowheart, it was because he planned to use them as human shields should he meet any attackers. Sure, they had the common goal of finding a healer to remove the parasite, but they certainly had no value as serious allies as far as he could tell. Even only being a vampire spawn, they were slow and weak compared to him. Not to mention stupid. He was the obvious choice to lead the pack.

Then why was it that he was standing at the edge of the campsite alone, scowling to himself as the rest of his merry band of companions passed around a bottle of wine and enjoyed each others' company? And why was she the one in the middle, with every adoring eye on her?

Yes, he had certainly underestimated her. Within hours she had every one of them wrapped around her magical fingers, and within a few days they had all deferred to her as their de-facto leader when decisions needed to be made. She seemed to have a gift for reading people, knowing exactly how to charm and persuade them. Her skills of deception even rivaled his own, though he was loathe to admit to his admiration of them.

His pointed ear pricked toward the campfire as new sounds arose; she - Tav - had started plucking a tune on her lute and leading the group in song. He rolled his eyes. Of course she sings, too. How irritating.

It was truly annoying how easily she gained the others' favors. Wasn't he supposed to be the one so well-versed in flattery and charisma? Yet she deigned to engage with them in ways that made his skin crawl, like listening to Wyll's obviously dramatized renditions of his escapades as The Blade of Frontiers. Or allowing Gale to ramble on about his cat - his tressym, as the obnoxious wizard was so fond of correcting them. Shadowheart seemed to like her just because Tav left her alone and didn't ask her too many questions, but chuckled along at all of her jokes at the others' expense. She had even gained Lae'zel's trust after asking her for fighting tips and electing her as the group battlemaster in case of combat. And Karlach took nothing at all - the two have been practically joined at the hip (from a fire-safe distance, of course) since the tiefling joined their camp. She must be hiding something, he thought. No one can be that good at gaining peoples' trust without good reason. He would know.

She tried to read him, too. She made little jokes and comments under her breath only for him to hear, trying to be conspiratorial. She complemented him often, trying to appeal to his vanity. But most obnoxiously, she went toe to toe with him in battles of wit. Any time he threw loaded grenade of snark and vitriol at one of their companions to entertain himself, she threw it right back. It was infuriating, being undermined and bested at his favorite game. That was probably why the others' liked her so much, because she was fond of shutting him up and making him seethe quietly in the back of the line. Nobody else liked him.

Good, he thought. Best to go it alone anyway. Never needed a friend before, don't need one now. As soon as I get this bastard out of my eye, I'll be gone faster than a rat in Cazador's dungeon.

The thought of rats unpleasantly reminded him of his thirst. Typically, he waited until the others were asleep to go off and hunt so they wouldn't suspect the truth about his condition. But seeing as they were all singing (except Lae'zel, of course), he guessed no one would notice if he stalked off.

He took no joy in his kill tonight, feeling grumpy as he continued to brood over his distaste for Tav. Two hundred years thinking of nothing but Cazador and he was finally free, only to spend every moment bemoaning his luck at being stuck with the spellcaster. He drained the boar of its blood and left it carelessly on the side of the path, electing to wander around for the remaining nighttime hours rather than returning to camp. He was too restless to trance anyway. And she was there. She probably conjures butterflies in her sleep and dreams rainbows, the foul beast.

"The hells is that?" asked Karlach, squinting at a large lump on the side of the path.

"Looks like a boar," said Wyll, going over to toe it with his boot, Tav close behind. "It looks... it looks like it's been drained of blood. There's no stain around it. I can't even see a wound."

"That's odd," remarked Shadowheart, quirking an eyebrow. Astarion shifted on his feet, agitated. Shit. He should have taken more care to cover his kill last night. Looking around, he started as he realized Tav was staring right at him.

"Oh, who cares, it's only a boar," he said impatiently, looking quickly away from her, unnerved. "Surely there are more interesting things to investigate. Look, I see goblins mounting an ambush through the gate up ahead. Let's go and kill something." He stalked off, not waiting for a reply and removing his daggers from their sheaths.

"Something on your mind?"

FUCK. Astarion couldn't remember the last time someone had snuck up on him. He had been pacing in a clearing just outside the camp, wondering if Tav somehow knew his secret. He was debating with himself whether he should abandon the group and set out on his own when her voice - the last voice he wanted to hear - startled him. Rounding on her with daggers drawn and his hair standing on end, he fixed her with his most murderous expression.

"Do you make a habit on intruding on people's private contemplations?" he hissed angrily.

"You know better than anyone the advantage of catching someone off-guard," she replied coolly, folding her arms and shifting her weight.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm as he lowered his weapons. He loathed her completely in that moment.

"Only wondering where you were. Looted some good food for supper from those goblins, if you're hungry." She tilted her head. "Or perhaps you've already eaten today."

They regarded each other cautiously as her words hung in the air. He was certain that she knew. Was she afraid he would hurt her, or the others? She could tell them his secret, and they would all turn on him. So what did she want in exchange for her silence? Was she shaking him down?

"I'm not hungry," he replied slowly. Slowly, he raised his empty hands, daggers now sheathed. A gesture of surrender. "I'm happy to keep watch while you all eat. I will ensure no harm comes to anyone."

She narrowed her eyes, seeming to understand the duality of his words. He was promising not to drink from them. After a beat, she replied with a stiff nod. He allowed his tense shoulders to drop. She was promising not to tell them. For now.

Satisfied at their new agreement, Astarion spent the next 2 days coming up with a new plan to manipulate Tav. With her being the the leader of their group, it seemed prudent to ensure that she would protect him should the others begin to turn on him. Much as he despised her, he conceded that she was his best chance to finding a cure for the parasite, and thus his best chance for true freedom from Cazador. If she was already willing to hide his condition from the others, it would not take too much more effort on his part to get her to play completely into his hand. All he had to do was try a little seduction. Even she couldn't best him at that game.

But even has his plan took shape, he could feel his thirst, an ever-present beast clawing up his throat, undermining him. It made him irritable, weak, and unfocused. Instead of charming her, he more often found himself arguing with her, stabbing her with vicious insults about her sorcery, her class, and even her looks. He didn't really even mean them; she had proven herself an adept spellcaster in both battle and everyday application, she seemed to come from a fine, middle-class family in Baldur's Gate, and her looks were perfectly adequate to the average person. Not beautiful enough to tempt Cazador, maybe, but enough that Astarion caught Gale's eyes lingering a little too long a little too often. For some reason, Astarion found that infuriating.

He had lobbed a particularly nasty mockery at her earlier in the day after she had insisted that they all run in to a burning building to rescue some helpless fool, so he was quite surprised to find her clearing her throat outside of his tent that evening.

"Come to shoot a firebolt at me since you didn't quite singe all of my eyebrows off this afternoon?" he inquired bitterly.

She rolled her eyes. "Can I come in?"

This was unusual. No one had ever asked to enter his tent before.

"I suppose," he replied cautiously, and she shouldered past him through the flap. He followed her back inside and she turned to face him, crossing her arms defensively.

"You've been a real arse these last days." She said it with a finality that left no room for argument. He poked at her anyway.

"Well, thank you," he broke into a smile and a shallow bow. "You should see me when I don't have a parasite in my head."

"I've had enough," she continued, as though he hadn't interrupted. "This ends now."

"What are you going to do?" he hissed, joking manner aside as he closed the distance between them threateningly. She was going to tell the others. "You'll be dead before you reach the door."

But as usual, the moment he had the upper hand, she pulled the rug out from under him. "I'd rather you not drink so much as to kill me, since I'm offering it out of the kindness of my heart."

He never could quite get his footing with her.

"Excuse me?"

"If you drink some of my blood, will you stop being such a devil's shite?"

It took considerable effort for Astarion to clamp his jaw shut and rearrange his features to mask his shock.

"You want me to drink your blood?"

"Want is a strong word. But I'm willing to make a small sacrifice for the good of the group if it'll shut you up long enough for us to find this Halsin without your moaning and whining."

"I do not moan and whine," he protested petulantly. "And I absolutely do not promise to shut up. But it will almost certainly improve my mood drastically." He licked his lips at the thought of it, eyeing her pulse point.

"Very well then. I suppose I'd better lay down in case I pass out."

Astarion watched motionlessly as she lowered herself onto his bedroll and swept her hair off her neck. His body seemed unable to move, yet his every instinct told him to tear her open right then and there. At the same time, the sight of her on his bedroll made him feel slightly nauseous - not because of her, but something akin to shame stirred in his abdomen. Just another victim for him to ruin. It was almost too easy. So why the sudden... guilt?

"Can we get on with it? I don't much fancy falling asleep in your bedroll."

Composing himself, Astarion dropped to his knees with a flourish and bent his body over hers. It was horribly intimate, and he could sense her discomfort. He lavished in it.

"Comfortable, darling?" he smirked at her and winked, and she rolled her eyes.

"If you accidentally kill me, you know that Karlach will make sure you burn alive. So, not a drop more than you need."

"Of course, my sweet. No need to worry. Only a teensy little sip and I'll be out of your hair."

She looked like she didn't believe a word, but she turned her head with a sigh, exposing her neck to him.

"It'll only hurt a pinch," he breathed as he lowered himself to her pulse point. He was struck for a moment by her scent - violet and plums and something smoky - before he bared his teeth. He felt her take a breath, and then he sunk his fangs in.

They moaned almost in unison, her in pain, and him in pleasure, as he began to drink. Gods, it was perfect, even better than he had ever imagined it could be. He could've sworn that her blood tasted like violet and plums as it splashed over his tongue. She was clutching his arms for support, and he felt his hand clamp down on her hip to hold her in place. But she didn't try to get up, laying stiffly beneath him as he suckled her lifeblood.

He could kill her. It would be so easy. She would feel like she was falling asleep, and he could drink her as dry as the boar on the side of the road. The image of it rose in his mind; her, pallid, bloodless, slack-jawed. No more stupid singing. No more butterfly dreams.

He retracted his fangs from her quickly, as though she had burned him suddenly. Her grip on his arms had weakened significantly, and her head seemed to loll on her neck.

"Oh dear. Don't pass out, darling."

He scooped his hand under her cheek and turned her face toward him. Her eyes were placid and unfocused, but she was blinking like she was trying to maintain consciousness. Already she looked pale. He bit back the resurgence of the guilty nausea and pulled a pillow under her head.

"Just a moment, love. We'll get you all sorted." His tone was light and airy as he rummaged in his pack for a healing potion, but he was more unnerved than he would've liked to admit.

"There we are." He uncorked the stopper and held her head up, tipping the potion down her throat slowly so as not to choke her. After a few deep breaths, she brought her hand up to her forehead and rubbed her temple.

"I said 'not too much', you arsewipe," her voice was weak, but clearly irritable.

"I can't help that you're so delicious," he cooed, relieved that the potion seemed to recover her somewhat. He noticed that her fingers were trembling, and a shiver wreaked through her whole body. Sighing, he pulled a thick blanket up around her. Her eyes on him were daggers, but she didn't push it off. "Just relax here for a bit. I won't be sleeping anytime soon, after that. It was quite... invigorating."

She eyed him curiously. "You say it like you've never done it before."

Sharp as ever. How did she always know?

"I... haven't. You're my first. My first... thinking creature, that is." He smirked at her, wiggling his eyebrows. "I bet you didn't guess I was a virgin."

She didn't take the bait. "So what did you eat?" Her fingers had stilled against her temple; he had her full attention now. He didn't like how her scrutiny made him feel. Somehow, even though she was so weak she couldn't raise her own head, he was the one feeling vulnerable.

"Oh, rats, flies, roaches, whatever one could find on hand 'round Cazador's dungeons," he said with forced nonchalance, examining his fingernails. "Cazador is - was - my master. I am his vampire spawn." He couldn't bear to look at her, sure he would see pity in her eyes that would make him want to claw his skin off. "How did you know about my condition, by the way?"

"You aren't as subtle as you think you are." His head snapped up at that, insulted. "And I've spent some time studying the condition. One of the guildmasters was hoping to imbibe a potion with some of the properties of vampire blood."

"To what end?" Astarion asked, curiosity piqued.

This time it was she who smirked. "The official story was that the research was focused on creating a more potent healing potion, since vampires are known to have such rapid regeneration. However," she pushed herself up gently on the pillows, "I always suspected they were hoping to create a potion of immortality."

"Well, that would be something," Astarion mused. "However did they get a vampire's blood to experiment with?"

"They didn't. It was all theoretical. I was trained to learn to recognize a vampire if I spotted one, with the hope of obtaining its blood for the research. With permission, or... by force." She looked as though the idea left a bad taste in her mouth. His face must have given his thoughts away as well, since she looked at him and chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm not going to steal your blood. I doubt it would have worked anyway."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well," she sat up further, the color beginning to return to her cheeks, "for one, I don't believe vampirism works in the way most mages think it does. It's not some kind of magical curse imbued with some mysterious arcane properties. I think it's... more like an illness. Like a plague, that can only be passed one way."

"Well, it certainly feels like a curse," Astarion intoned bitterly. "And if it's an illness, I've never heard of a cure."

She shrugged. "It's only a guess. But it is a little exciting to meet one up close, after all my research." She was smiling at him earnestly now, again making him feel uncomfortable.

"You're a strange creature. I just drank your blood and you're excited. One might think you have... odd predilections." He grinned wickedly at her.

She chuckled. "How are you feeling now? Less cranky?"

Astarion took stock of his body as he climbed to his feet. "I feel strong. I feel..." he trailed off a moment, searching for the right word. "Happy."

Tav clamored to her feet as well, with far less grace. She wove unsteadily for a moment, and he caught her waist to ensure she didn't pull his tent down in a fall. They were standing quite close again, and he felt his guard drop for a moment.

"Thank you," he said quietly, "for trusting me. I... this is a gift, you know. I won't forget it."

"I suspect neither will I," she murmured, smiling at him once more. "Well, good night then."

"Sweet dreams."

He watched her walk slowly and tiredly back to her tent on the other side of the clearing, head reeling with everything that had just happened. She had offered herself to him, but not in the way he was used to. She had offered her blood, and she had trusted him to take it. But why? What is there for her to gain?

She wanted him placated, clearly. Perhaps she was as annoyed by him as he was by her and really did just want to shut him up. Maybe she was mounting her own manipulation plan, forcing him to be dependent on her blood to do her bidding. He hated knowing that if she offered again, he would greedily accept. But what reason did she have to trust him so easily not to kill her, when all he had done since they met was insult her? What was she reading about him that he didn't even know himself? The questions plagued him as he hunted that night, wishing every sip of animal blood was hers. He had a taste for it now, and it ruined him. If he had thought about her constantly before, he was doomed now.

As he lay down in his bedroll to trance, he raked his hand over his face. Then, he began to laugh bitterly. All around him, the only thing he could sense was aroma of violet and plums.

Part 2

[spookyjuicefiction]

Warms my heart to know people are still reading and enjoying my fics. I know I’ve been absent and I’m sorry for not updating, but I’m grateful to everyone who is still enjoying 🥹

[spookyjuicefiction]

Sorry I haven’t updated my Legolas fic in a while, work has me by the neck 🥲 will be back to it asap

[spookyjuicefiction]

A King's Bounty, Pt. 6

Universe: The Hobbit/LOTR (films)

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x female!Reader

Description: Y/N is a bounty hunter sent to kill the exiled King Under the Mountain, but makes a deal that will benefit them both. What she doesn’t know is that this deal might change both of their fates.

Masterlist

A/N: I'm just gonna keep going with this until I get bored I guess. Fluffy af at the end

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, angst

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Y/N was truly and really afraid for the first time since she could remember. Her adult life was a constant thrill, every day a new battle to be fought. Admittedly, she was cavalier about her probability to die with each new mark she took. It kept her confident. It kept her alive.

But this time, she felt the cold, heavy stone of dread in her stomach as she ran for her life, barely able to see where she was going. Why was it different this time? A warg flanked her and she swung out at it with her dagger, just catching its massive shoulder. She shrieked as its teeth gnashed out at her and the orc atop it swung a sword. Why was she suddenly so afraid to die?

It seemed, after all this time, she had truly found a reason to live.

Somehow, she took out the warg and its rider, lumbering forward towards the chaotic sound of the company's voices fanned out in front of her. Her eyes stung with cold as she ran as fast as she could toward the voices, but stopped cold as she realized they were reaching the edge of a massive cliff. Panic rose in her throat as she whirled on her enemies and killed them swiftly. We're trapped.

"The trees!" Someone shouted, and she swung her head around, seeing the dwarves clamoring up the nearby trunks.

"Y/N!" She followed Thorin's voice and saw him nearby, reaching for her. She grasped his hands and ran up the tree trunk as he pulled her onto his branch, snatching her foot just out of reach of a warg's jaws. The helped each other up the tree, pushing and pulling one another out of the orcs' reach. They paused as they neared the top, gasping for breath. She and Thorin locked eyes. Now what?

Below, the orcs instructed the wargs to to push on the tree trunks with their massive claws. Y/N cried out and clutched the branch as she felt the roots of their tree dislodge from the ground. Around them, orcs were throwing torches into the brush and lighting it on fire.

"We must jump to the next one!" Thorin called to her, and she nodded in response as she readied herself. The tree began to fall. Thorin and Y/N launched themselves onto the next one, scraping their hands as they grasped the rough branches for dear life. All around them the orcs pressed the dwarves closer to the cliff's edge, pushing and burning down tree after tree. They kept jumping.

At last, all of the dwarves, Bilbo, Gandalf and Y/N were clinging to a final tree perched on the edge. This was it. The end of the line. Y/N turned back to the flaming landscape and saw him: the Pale Orc on his white warg, emerging from the spitting fire with an evil snarl on his scarred face.

"Thorin Oakenshield!" he boomed, holding out his severed arm. Through it grew some kind of gnarled hook, a gruesome amputation. "At last. Come and face me as your grandfather before you, and meet his same end."

The tree was tipping earnestly over the cliff edge now, nearly perpendicular. In front of her, Y/N watched Thorin pull himself onto the trunk, stand, and make his way toward the ground. She wanted to call out after him, but her throat was dry as bone and her words were dust.

Never had he looked so beautiful as he did then, brandishing Orcist in his hand, his oak shield on his arm, and a look of pure determination on his ash-stained face. It felt almost slow-motion as he stepped toward the orc. The dwarves around her also watched in mute fear and admiration as their king squared off for what looked to be his final battle.

But Thorin was no match for the world's largest orc and most fearsome creature.

The king swung his sword as hard as he could, but it was not enough. Azog overpowered him easily as his kin looked on in horror. The foul warg beast picked him up in its mouth and threw him across the clearing where he rolled, clearly heavily injured.

"Thorin!" Y/N choked out. She wanted to run to him, to take on the whole orc army herself, but her grip on the tree branch was faltering and she feared she would fall if she tried to clamor onto the trunk. The others around her seemed to be in the same position, looking on helplessly as Azog ordered another orc to cut off their king's head. Y/N felt a strangled sob in her throat as the orc brought up the axe.

That was when Bilbo appeared, knocking the orc aside and stabbing him to death. He rolled to his feet, turning to face Azog and the rest. Brave little hobbit, Y/N thought. Tears streamed down her cheeks knowing that she would now have to watch him die as well.

But destiny had other plans.

A strange cry erupted from the sky above and the company looked up in alarm, wondering what fresh horror could be descending upon them. Dozens of massive eagles swooped down onto the clearing and below the falling tree. Behind her, Y/N could hear Gandalf instructing the dwarves to drop from the tree onto the birds' backs and they began to do so, having little other choice. Y/N refused to let go of the tree until she saw one eagle swoop down and pick up Thorin and Bilbo in its claws. With one last horrified look at Azog, she dropped from the tree.

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

She watched Thorin throughout the entire flight, not saying a word to Bofur, who was with her on the eagle. She suspected he was doing the same. She could not see the king's eyes flutter and was not even sure if he was still breathing. Tears choked her at the thought of losing him now, when it seemed so incredibly clear that she loved him. She wished they had not argued about Bilbo. She wished she had kissed him in the hot springs. She wished for a lifetime with him. He was her home now. He had to live.

As the sun began to rise, the eagles descended on an open mesa dotted with a few trees and an abundance of lush foliage. The company disembarked their strange hosts and scurried over to where Thorin had been placed on the ground, seemingly lifeless. Balin held out his arm, preventing Kili and the rest from nearing the king.

"Give him some room, lads." His voice seemed solemn as he nodded to Gandalf, who approached Thorin's body. Y/N looked on with baited breath as the wizard murmured incantations and held his hands over the king's chest. She could feel tears streaming down her cheeks. Next to her, Ori took her hand and squeezed.

At last, at long, very last, Thorin awoke suddenly with a massive breath. The group around Y/N gasped in relief, clutching each others' shoulders and whispering grateful prayers in Khuzdul. Thorin lay panting for a few moments before sitting up, wincing in pain. Unable to help herself, Y/N rushed forward, fluttering hands around him.

"Thorin, please, you're injured, you must res-"

"Where is Bilbo?" his voice was gruff, his tone slightly alarmed. Bilbo stepped forward. Thorin shooed Y/N's hands away and pulled himself to his feet, again grimacing in pain. He nearly fell putting too much weight on one leg, and Y/N caught him holding him upright. He leaned on her reluctantly as he spoke to the hobbit. Sweetly, warmly, he apologized to Bilbo for doubting him and his previous treatment and thanked him for saving his life. Y/N was very proud of him in that moment. It seemed this very stubborn dwarf could admit when he is wrong after all.

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When his speech was done, Thorin grimaced again as the pain of his injuries took hold.

"Over here, lass," Dwalin indicated a large, smooth slab of rock and laid his cloak on it as Y/N shuffled a collapsing Thorin over to it, gingerly laying him down. He looked up at her as she fussed around him.

"Where are you hurt?" she asked worriedly, her hands busily untying his tunic and tugging it up over his abdomen in search of injury.

"I'm fine," he told her quietly, watching her eyes dart left and right and then hands to her pack, pulling out poultices and herbal remedies. She huffed out a hysterical laugh.

"'Fine?' You were dead just five minutes ago. I think not." One of the company members brought her over a bowl of warm water with a cloth in it. Her hands were shaky as she reached in and wrung it out, bringing it up to a gnarly gash on his ribcage.

He sucked in his teeth as she wiped the sensitive area. Her face, he noticed, was covered in ash, which made the streaks of shed tears all the more obvious.

"Where else are you hurt?" she demanded, dunking the cloth again. He indicated an area on his arm covered by his tunic, and she helped him lean forward to remove the shirt. He sighed as she ran the warm towel over him, cleaning off the blood, sweat, and dirt that stained his skin.

"That was all very foolish of you, you know that?" she asked him quietly. "Gave me quite the scare."

"I apologize, amrâlimê. It seemed the moment to face my destiny."

"Yes, well," she dropped the cloth in the bucket and reached for one of the poultices, pulling the stopper out, "it was very heroic and all. But I would rather you not die so soon. Perhaps for my sake you might practice a bit more caution in the future."

"I seem to recall you throwing caution to the wind when I asked you to follow Gandalf in the Goblin City and instead staying to fight by my side against my orders."

"This might sting," she warned. He did not know if she meant the poultice or her next words. "That," he winced as she coated his wounds, "was a battle I knew we would have no trouble winning. Plus, we make a most excellent team."

"You did not ask me what amrâlimê means," he remarked, his eyes transfixed by her beauty as she focused on her task. He was too enamored with her to argue.

"I am trying to prevent you from getting an infection and waking with a nasty fever tomorrow," she reminded him with a smirk. "But tell me what it means, if you so wish."

He caressed her cheek again, pinning a lock of hair behind her ear.

"It means 'my love'."

She met his eyes and smiled warmly, leaning into his touch. "It is a beautiful word."

"Fitting for you, the most beautiful," he whispered. "Thank you for tending to me."

"It is my honor and my pleasure," she wrapped her hand around his against her cheek, "amrâlimê."

Thorin felt his heart hammering in his chest. It seemed so unbelievable that this could be happening to him, at his age, moments after returning from the brink of death. It meant so much more now. Without her, Erabor could not be possible. Without her, he would be incomplete.

He pulled her face close to him and she leaned forward, their breaths hovering together for a brief moment before he captured her lips in his in a sweet and loving kiss. They pulled apart after a moment, their eyes sparkling with adoration as they gazed at each other.

"Amrâlimê," he whispered again, pulling her into another kiss. The word was as foreign on his own mouth as it was to hers. He had never had occasion to use it. Now he wasn't sure that he could ever stop.

[spookyjuicefiction]

A King's Bounty, Pt. 5

Universe: The Hobbit/LOTR (films)

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x female!Reader

Description: Y/N is a bounty hunter sent to kill the exiled King Under the Mountain, but makes a deal that will benefit them both. What she doesn’t know is that this deal might change both of their fates.

Masterlist

A/N: I'm on a roll today ya'll. Lot of movie recap here sorry. I took some liberties with dialogue

Warnings: Swearing, fighting

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Y/N was woken violently as Thorin dragged her to her feet, the sounds of the dwarves panicked yelling all around her.

"What-"

"Goblins. Ready your weapons." Thorin all but threw her across the cave toward her pack, where she wasted no time in strapping it to her back and unsheathing her daggers. They were freshly sharpened in Rivendell and she found herself almost excited to see a bit of combat after feeling so useless the last few days. But none of them could have been prepared for the sheer mass of the throng of goblins that descended upon them.

It happened too quickly; before she could turn around, Y/N's senses were overloaded, her vision crowded with limbs, her ears with the high-pitched screeching, and her body with dozens of grimy hands all over her, forcing her down a pathway with her head down. She recognized a dwarf's boots in front of her and knew they must have all met the same fate. The screeching and clanging grew louder as they descended into the cave, echoing deafeningly off of the walls in a relentless ricochet of sound.

At length they were shoved forward onto a platform, their weapons wrung out of their hands onto the floor and arms held behind their backs. Finally, she was able to raise her head and look around her. The cave was enormous, its walls lined with row after row of crude scaffolding upon which thousands of goblins jumped and leered at them. In front of her, a massive goblin covered in mutated boils and rolls stood from his large throne, a lopsided spiky crown on his ugly. lumpy head.

He asked the company to explain who they were and why they were here, threatening them with torture when no explanation came. Then Thorin stepped forward, and the Goblin King regarded him with interest.

"Well, well. Thorin Oakenshield, the king under the mountain. Only, you don't have a mountain, so you aren't a king. I guess that means you're... nothing."

Around her the dwarves bristled at the insult, Y/N among them. She let out a low snarl that earned her a swift kick from one of the goblins holding her in place.

The Goblin King continued. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Perhaps you know of whom I speak? A pale orc that rides a white warg?"

"Azog the Defiler is destroyed," Thorin growled, though his words lacked conviction. Of course, she remembered, the orc that earned Thorin the name of Oakenshield. The one who lost his arm to the future king. Y/N shuddered at the thought, having heard stories of the Pale One, larger and more fearsome than any of his kin. It seemed he was alive. And he was out for revenge.

At that moment, a huge crash sounded on the landing, the force of which knocked dwarves and goblins alike to the ground. Y/N lifted her head, squinting at a figure obscured by bright light that now stood in front of them, and her heart leapt out of her chest.

It was Gandalf.

"Take up arms!" the wizard cried, and at once the dwarves scrambled to their feet and plucked up whatever weapons they could find. Y/N, fastest of all of them thanks to her years of roguish practice, made sure to grab her prized daggers, sheathing them in favor of a large goblin pike, and rounded on her enemies. She had taken out several before they even had a chance to climb to their gnarled feet.

"Run!" She heard Gandalf shout over the uproar of battle as she swung the pike expertly around her, knocking five goblins off of the platform away from her. Next to her was Ori, the most inexperienced fighter, so she picked off a few of his attackers as well earning a beaming smile from him before they took off down the wooden footbridge after Gandalf.

Chaos ensued. The platforms seemed to shift and buckle beneath them with every step. She saw Bombur fall rear-first through several levels and scurry back up the other side, while Fili and Dori took on a massive throng of attackers on a taller platform to the right. At last, she caught sight of Thorin, who was singlehandedly defending the pathway Gandalf had started down. Y/N shoved Ori after Gandalf and hopped up to join the king. Between blows he shot her an agitated look.

"Follow Gandalf!" he commanded, but she rolled her eyes and stood back to back with him, brandishing the pike. Together, they drove back the goblins long enough for all of the party to pass over the next foot bridge, the pair ducking and swinging around each other as though they had fought together for many lifetimes and knew their fighting rhythms by heart.

"Much as I'm enjoying this, it's time to go!" She shot him a grin before taking off after the others, Thorin hot on her heels. She threw the pike at two goblins who were trying to swing over to them on ropes, skewering them both in the process, and leaped onto the next platform with a victorious whoop.

Somehow, the platform containing the dwarves separated from the other and swung through the air on a giant rope. Someone yelled "jump!" as it reached the next part of the path, and half of the dwarves made the leap. Still bringing up the rear, Y/N and Thorin turned as the pendulum swung back, bringing an onslaught of goblins leaping toward them. Trusty daggers in hand, Y/N helped Thorin throw the unwelcome stowaways off the platform until it swung back. She was yanking her dagger out of a goblin's chest when Thorin pulled her back with all his might, using their combined weight to throw them off the swinging bridge and onto the next platform. No time to catch their breath. Scrambling to their feet, they took off running again. The doorway was just ahead.

That was when the Goblin King descended and blocked them off. Gandalf overtook him easily with a slice to the throat, but the weight of his fall caused the entire platform to dislodge from the scaffolding. Y/N grabbed onto Thorin as they crouched down, trying to keep the platform level as it descended down the shaft of the cave. At last it reached the bottom, the legs beneath bracing the impact so the dwarves, Y/N and Gandalf simply spilled over the side a few feet onto the cave ground. They all lay silently for a moment, their breaths heaving from the exhausting escape, unable to believe they were still alive after such a chase.

Y/N rolled over onto her back, catching her breath, and turned her head to the left to look at Thorin. He was beginning to push himself to his feet.

"Are you alright?" she asked him as he grimaced slightly.

"Fine. You?"

"Fine." She sat up and checked her belt and back. Amazingly, she had even managed grab her pack during the escape, and both daggers lay at her side. When she had sheathed them, Thorin reached out a hand and pulled her to her feet. He looked annoyed.

"When I tell you to run, you run," he said crossly.

She rolled her eyes. "You're not my king, lest you forget. I don't have to listen to you. And besides," she wiggled her eyebrows at him, his face growing even more irritated, "wasn't that fun?"

"I certainly enjoyed it," Kili said behind her, plucking up his sword and replacing it at his hip. "Well done everyone!"

"Where is Bilbo?" Bombur's voice sobered them as they looked around.

"I don't... I don't think he was on the platform with us," Y/N said, wracking her brain to remember.

"Typical burglar," Thorin all but spat. "Must've snuck off to save himself."

The look Y/N shot the king was vicious enough that the other dwarves nearby shrank back. He stared back at her silently, not amending his words. After a moment, she turned on her heel and caught up with Gandalf to alert him that Bilbo was missing. Smitten as she might be with Thorin Oakenshield, she would not stand for his constant bullying of the hobbit. He could take his sweet Khuzdul words and shove them up his ass for all she cared if he was going to behave that way.

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As was often the case, Thorin Oakenshield was brooding. He brought up the rear of the company as they made their way toward the cave exit, Gandalf and Y/N leading at the front. It was the opposite of their usual positions. He found he did not like it, because when he could always see her, he could always think about how much she drove him absolutely mad.

He was angry that Azog was alive, and thanks to the Goblin King's warning, would be hunting him down, putting the entire party at risk. He was angry at Bilbo for abandoning them. Perhaps most of all, incredibly, he was furious that this woman, Y/N, was the most insolent, childish, and petulant fool he had ever had the displeasure of knowing. She did not obey orders, she did not run away from a losing battle, and she did not back down under even the icy stare of a king, making him look like a fool in front of his own subjects. She was monstrous. She was terrible. She was the most beautiful creature in all of Middle Earth, and Thorin was undoubtedly in love with her.

At last they reached the mouth of the cave, and he was nearly blinded by the light that shone through it. The group stepped through the cave's mouth and stopped under the cover of some trees a few meters off, taking a moment to catch their breaths and mend small wounds. Thorin found he could not sit even for a moment.

"We mustn't linger here," his tone was laced with agitation as he directed his words towards Gandalf, refusing to look at Y/N. He could tell she was still staring daggers at him. "Azog will be hunting us with a pack of orcs and wargs. It does not matter how far ahead we are, they will sniff us out and they will be faster. They will be upon us in no time."

"But what about Bilbo?" asked Ori sheepishly. "Shouldn't we wait an hour, in case..."

Thorin rounded on the dwarf who shrank back at the infuriated look in his eyes. He was about to unleash the foulest of curses against the stupid hobbit when the stupid hobbit himself emerged from the tree line, shocking everyone, especially Thorin.

"Erm, hello," Bilbo said nervously, wringing his hands as he stepped forward. "It seems I slipped through the cracks."

The dwarves erupted in a cheer and swarmed the hobbit happily, bombarding him with questions about what had occurred. Thorin watched Y/N catch Bilbo in a tight embrace. Over his head, she shot Thorin a sharp look. Watch your tongue, it said. I was right about him. The king turned away, bristling with irritation.

"Let's move!" He shouted crossly, and the others, picking up on his foul mood, hastily gathered their things and followed him as he led them on.

The moved quickly as the sun went down, fear crawling up the back of Thorin's neck. Destiny nipping at his heels. A howl sounded in the distance.

"What was that?" Y/N's voice rang out from behind him, sounding slightly panicked. She was nearer to him than she usually walked and sounded more fearful than he had ever heard her. He glanced at her over his shoulder. Her knuckles were white as they gripped her knives and her face was sickly pale.

"Most likely a warg," he answered, and she shuddered visibly.

"I hate wargs," she spat under her breath.

"Well well, would you look at that. She actually is afraid of something," Fili teased, ribbing her. She didn't crack a smile, only gripped her daggers harder as another howl rang out.

"They're getting closer," she whispered, finding Thorin's eyes. And then the orcs descended.

[spookyjuicefiction]

A King's Bounty, Pt. 4

Universe: The Hobbit/LOTR (films)

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x female!Reader

Description: Y/N is a bounty hunter sent to kill the exiled King Under the Mountain, but makes a deal that will benefit them both. What she doesn’t know is that this deal might change both of their fates.

Masterlist

A/N: Finally know where I'm going with this one woo! Lots of fluff!!!

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of nudity but nothing crazy.

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For the next few hours, Y/N could not shake this morning's conversation with Thorin from her mind. It had been more casual than any they had shared before, perhaps even verging on flirtatious. She was sure she had seen him glancing down at her lips as if he might want to kiss her. Her head was reeling with the idea, stomach flipping at the thought of his lips pressed against hers--or worse, every dwarf in the camp seeing it happen. She shuddered imagining the relentless teasing she would certainly endure from Fili and Kili alone.

The terrain had become increasingly uneven as they reached the mountains, so the company was unusually quiet so as to keep their breaths. At length, they crested a large hill and paused at the top, wiping away the sticky, uncomfortable sweat one gets when the air is cold but your coat is too warm. Y/N's eyes snagged on Thorin as he swept his long hair over his shoulder and threw back his cloak, allowing his strong arms some fresh air. Blushing, she looked away before letting her mind wander any further about his good looks.

"Well, would ye look at that," said Oin with a whistle. Everyone looked at him curiously. "D'ye see that steam rising up through the trees there? I'd bet my best axe that there's a hot spring."

Excited chatter broke out amongst the company at this, and two scouts went down to see if Oin was right. They peeked back through the trees grinning broadly and waving the party toward them; it seemed everyone would be having a hot bath today.

Cutting through the trees, the party reached the edge of the spring which sloped gently down like a riverbed. The dwarves gleefully began dropping their packs and tossing off their boots and clothes to wade in, remarking cheerfully about the water's warm temperature. Y/N picked her way up the stream a bit towards a cluster of bushes and chose to undress in their relative privacy. She pulled her hair brush and a chunk of soap out of her pack and carried them into the stream with her, relaxing as the warm water lapped around her sore ankles and knees.

Sighing, she began lathering herself with the soap as she sunk her aching body into the steaming spring. It was such a lovely, relaxing moment in all the chaos of the trip, sunlight trickling through the swaying tree branches and the dwarves splashing merrily a few meters away. She dragged the brush through her hair as she watched the party all try to pull Bilbo into a game of some sort.

Her eyes found Thorin; he was sitting apart from the others, as usual, and looking on with an unreadable expression. Above the water line, she could see a finely muscled chest covered in a neat patch of dark curls. His arm muscles rippled as he stretched them out in the water and lifted his hands to comb through his own course hair. He frowned as his fingers snagged. With a breath, Y/N started towards him, careful to keep her breasts below the water as she moved through the water.

He turned toward her as she approached and dropped himself lower into the water as if he, too, was embarrassed by his nakedness. Wordlessly, she outstretched her hand, offering him the hair brush. He took it gently with a nod and again set to work on his long, brown locks. Y/N wondered if she should drift away from him and give him privacy, but she found it difficult to do so. There was something about his presence that drew one close, made people want to watch and listen to him. Though he was so often sullen and silent, the times where he did speak were moving and fascinating. So she lingered near him, watching as he worked the brush through his hair. The other dwarves' game had taken them further down the stream, and a soft quiet settled around Thorin and Y/N as the stream bubbled.

A frown crossed Thorin's face as he hit a particularly matted section on the back of his head that he could not reach well. Y/N did not stop to think the better of it before she took another step toward him and asked,

"May I?"

He regarded her carefully as though trying to determine whether she might complete her bounty after all, but eventually he handed her back the hair brush and turned around. Another step forward and she was right behind him. Cautiously, she caught his locks in her fingers and began working the brush through the knots and tangles that he could not reach in the back.

"Shit, sorry," she cursed as a particularly large knot yanked his head backwards and he grunted in surprise. Without thinking, she ran her fingers over the spot on his head where it had yanked to soothe it. She saw Thorin's shoulders relax at her touch and heard a small sigh, almost imperceptible over the babbling of the water around them.

"Gentle as a bounty hunter," he grumbled, but there was joking and warmth in his tone.

With the knots combed through, she drew the brush to the back of Thorin's head and stroked down gently so that the bristles lightly scratched his scalp, following them with her fingers. She smiled as he leaned into her touch with another sigh.

They sat like that for a few minutes, quietly soaking in the hot water while she brushed the king's hair. It occurred to her that this was one of the more intimate moments of her life and her cheeks flushed a little, remembering that they were both naked. Oddly, though, it did not feel uncomfortable. Perhaps they had both needed a small moment of quiet relief.

At last, Thorin let out a low chuckle and turned around.

"I nearly dozed off just now," he admitted. "I... thank you. That was lovely."

"Any time," Y/N tried to reply breezily, but her mouth had gone dry. The relaxed atmosphere was gone, replaced by an unnamed tension that crackled as their eyes met.

"You continue to surprise me," he murmured, more to himself than to her. Sighing once more, he took a step back and turned away. "I, err, shall look away while you get out. We ought to keep moving." With that, he started off towards the others. Y/N climbed out of the spring and shook herself dry, pulling her clothes back on in the cluster of bushes. Carefully, she packed the hair brush back in her pack, suspecting there may come a time when she might wish to use it again sometime soon.

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As it turned out, the afternoon in the hot springs was to be the last moment of relaxation for the company for some time. Thorin led his kin through more rough terrain until they were in the mountains in earnest, trekking dangerous paths laid thickly with ice and snow. He frowned to himself as he considered their situation: the dwarves were biologically conditioned for such weather with their natural warmth and insulation, but Y/N and the blasted Hobbit would surely catch frostbite after too much time in the snow. He needed to focus if they were going to make it out of this alive.

Thorin's temper grew irritable as they pressed on. He barely spoke to anyone and kept a relentless pace up the mountain. He could hear the others murmuring behind him about his demeanor but he paid it no mind. The truth was that for the first time on this journey, he felt truly afraid. Afraid that they might all keel over from starvation or exhaustion and die of frost bite in the snow. Afraid that someone would lose their footing and fall off of the cliffside. Afraid that the damn burglar would slow them all down too much. Very, very afraid that he might not feel Y/N's fingers through his hair again if she did not make it over the mountain.

And then it got worse. The party found themselves in the middle of a fight between a group of frost giants who were chucking balls of rock and ice at each other, shattering pieces of the mountains and creating avalanches. Thorin tried to tamp down his panic as he looked back at the bedraggled group shuffling behind him. The dwarves looked miserable, but Thorin's stomach sank at the sight of Y/N. Her blue lips were pursed with determination, but he could see that her entire body was wracked with shivers in spite of Kili and Fili pressing themselves against her from either side.

"We have to find shelter!" Someone yelled. "The human and the hobbit are not going to make it!"

"I'm f-f-f-f-f-fine!" Y/N spat back, taking a labored step forward. Thorin's heart twisted with an unfamiliar pain: admiration mixed with adoration mixed with abject terror.

"We cannot stop!" Thorin called back. "It is no safer!" The company lurched forward as another shower of frozen rock fell overhead, nearly burying them. They continued dodging for what seemed like forever as they pressed forward, pulling each other back from the cliff's edge. Thorin wondered if Y/N had any toes left. It made him sick to think about it.

"Here, in here!" Someone behind him called. He whipped around and saw a cave opening. Several of the dwarves were already shoving Bilbo and Y/N through it. Thorin took in a breath to yell at them for disrespecting his orders, but the curse died in his throat at the sight of Y/N's cheeks turning purple. Reluctantly, he followed in behind them.

The sudden silence was shocking. Thorin's ears still seemed to be stinging with the sound of the whipping wind, now only heard in the distance. The cave made him feel uneasy as he looked around, and he felt immensely frustrated that they could not press on. He shot a murderous look towards Bilbo as he went and sat in a corner. It was easy to be angry at the hobbit; easier, he realized, than being angry at himself for how much he cared for Y/N's well-being. As king, he should have thrown her to the snow so that their quest not be stunted by her weakness. But it seems it was his own weakness now that interfered.

The group had started a small fire and sat Y/N close to it, piling their coats on top of her. Thorin frowned. She was still shivering, her eyes glazed over as if she saw nothing at all. The king felt torn, wanting to go to her and tend to her himself, but fearful of his kin seeing his weakness for the girl. Instead, he allowed Fili and Kili to warm her and feed her and stroke her hair, trying to get her to blink and come back to reality. It hurt him to watch, so he turned away, his stomach a bundle of nerves.

At length, Y/N thawed out. Thorin's head snapped toward her when he heard her voice after an hour or so of sulking. It was quiet and strained as she thanked Bofur for a ration he handed her. She seemed to crack a joke toward his nephews because they chuckled and nudged her playfully. Thorin watched as she demanded that all of the dwarves take their cloaks back, insisting that she was fine and that they all needed to keep warm as well. Finally, everyone began settling down to sleep, but Y/N stayed seated by the fire. When all the other heads lay on the ground, she at last made eye contact with Thorin.

He watched her clear her throat as she rose and padded carefully over to him.

"May I join you?" she looked sheepish, her voice like a mouse's. Thorin realized he must still be wearing the murderous expression he had adopted all day.

"Of course," he replied gruffly, making room for her. As she was now no longer by the fire, he removed his cloak and wrapped it gingerly around her. She protested.

"Thorin, really, I'm alright-"

"Just wear it. Please." He sounded harsh and exhausted, even to his own ears. His body was stiff as a board as he settled back into his position.

With a steadying breath, she kept her head bowed as she said, "Thorin, I am very sorry to be slowing you down. You cannot imagine the guilt I feel knowing that without me and Bilbo, you all could have pressed forth tonight. I hope that I might make it up to you one day."

Thorin sighed, gritting his teeth. "There is no use fretting over it now. What's done is done."

Out of the corner of her eye, he saw her nod. She looked miserable. He even thought he saw her lip twitch as though she might cry. Oh, please do not cry. Thorin was enough of a nervous wreck without making the object of his affections weep in a freezing cave.

Cautiously, he leaned into her slightly, pressing the warmth of his arm into hers. He relaxed his posture as she returned the pressure. He slipped his hand under his cloak and found hers balled into a first. He caressed it gently, asking for permission to hold it. She uncurled her fingers and he wrapped the freezing digits into his large, warm palm. He could feel callouses on her fingers, but the skin on the back of her hand was more soft than he could have imagined. He traced it with his thumb as she laid her head on his shoulder.

As when she had brushed his hair, Thorin's heart fluttered. It felt almost silly to an old warrior like him. Never had he had the desire to pursue such pure and genuine affection, and yet he could not deny the warmth that bloomed in his chest around Y/N. It seemed that he'd been chasing her around the corners of his dreams since she had first withdrawn her hood at the Prancing Pony, he at once enamored by and fearful of the power she instantly held over his heart. It was a distraction to his mission at hand. And yet, he was not sure he could go on without her now that she was there.

"I am grateful you still have your fingers, mizimelûh. I thought perhaps you might have lost one," he murmured into her hair.

"You have not yet seen my toes. What does that mean?"

His voice was husky and low as he replied. "It means, 'jewel of all jewels'." He planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. "I would be happy to hold those as well should you fear them to fall off."

She chuckled, leaning further into him, wrapping her other hand around his elbow and hugging his arm to her. Thorin thought his heart might burst with the sweetness of it.

"I am no jewel, more like a rusted hunk of copper," she sighed. "Certainly not sitting next to you, the king of kings." She yawned as they settled back against the rock. He felt her grasp on him slacking as she began to doze off.

He leaned his lips to hear ear and whispered, "Well, you are very precious to me."

He looked down and saw her lips drawn up in a small smile. As sleep began to take hold, she breathed, "And you to me."

[spookyjuicefiction]

A King's Bounty, Pt. 3

Universe: The Hobbit/LOTR (films)

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x female!Reader

Description: Y/N is a bounty hunter sent to kill the exiled King Under the Mountain, but makes a deal that will benefit them both. What she doesn’t know is that this deal might change both of their fates.

Masterlist

A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I updated! Been working a lot since my Covid Christmas and been hella depressed honestly. It's snowed quite heavily where I live so it should be a good week to stay in and work on these a bit. Thanks to everyone who's been liking my chapters, it feels amazing to think anyone is enjoying reading things I wrote!

Warnings/chap notes: Swearing, bit of angst but mostly just fluff

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Gandalf came to Thorin's room in the night to warn him that he suspected the Council to hold up their journey, and that he and the rest of the party should press forth with the quest without him for now. Although Thorin did not relish the idea of continuing on their journey without the powerful wizard, he suspected that it was wise to heed Gandalf's word. He spread word to the other dwarves and to Bilbo and Y/N that the company would depart on the morrow when the Council was in session, and everyone prepared their things to depart.

As the sun was climbing to her peak, the company met in the courtyard and set out from Rivendell. As the only remaining human-sized person, Y/N volunteered to walk at the rear of the party so as to keep an eye on all of the shorter heads ahead of her while Thorin took the lead. He scolded himself for briefly wishing their roles might be reversed so that he might look upon her as they ventured forth. But now he needed to lead more than ever, as the group seemed nervous to be lacking their wizard companion.

Thankfully, they were not stopped by any Rivendell guards or scouts on their way down the road toward the Misty Mountains. A few days' journey lay in front of them, and Thorin was glad to have avoided any conflict with the elves. They would need their strength to traverse the mountains.

They travelled in high spirits that day, the sun shining down on their clean clothes and full bellies from the much-needed hospitality they had been shown in the elven kingdom. A few party members hummed lively dwarf tunes and made up rhymes, while others strode along in companionable silence. Thorin caught himself wishing more than once that he had eyes in the back of his head so as to observe the party members bringing up the rear.

At midday, they stopped for a light lunch and sip of water. Thorin looked around the group and caught Y/N standing with Kili and Fili, laughing raucously at some long-winded joke his nephews were telling.

"Couple o' flirts, those two," Balin laughed, coming up beside Thorin and taking a long swig from his water skein. "They'd charm the pants off an orc-wife."

"They would do better to practice their sword work than their storytelling," Thorin grumbled. Balin chuckled at him, pulling out his pipe and lighting it.

"I suppose, then, you don't remember being a lot like them at their age." The old dwarf smiled sadly at his king. "Your spirit was lighter then. Not so burdened with such a heavy purpose."

"To be king is to carry heavy purpose, and great honor," Thorin replied gravely. "There is not time for charming smiles and serenades. It only makes one more vulnerable."

Balin sighed. "It is a shame you think so. A charming smile, a companion, a... woman, could make you the strongest man in Middle Earth."

Thorin shot him an annoyed look. "Meaning?"

Putting out his pipe, Balin laid a hand on the king's shoulder. "It could make you happy, my lad. Happier than gold, happier than honor and purpose. And," he slung his pack over his shoulder, turning toward where the rest were gathering, "she could temper your worst impulses."

Thorin frowned at the implication of the old dwarf's words, understanding their meaning plainly. All his life, Thorin had feared his father's weakness, that it grew inside of him as well. Not only that, but he did not miss Balin's head tilt toward Y/N as he said "she". He did not understand how Balin could miss the irony of saying that she could make him happier than gold, when gold is the reason she tried to kill him and then spare his life in the first place. It seemed to Thorin that the one thing that he and Y/N actually did have in common was the belief that The Lonely Mountain was the key to happiness. It was with this thought that Thorin contented himself as the group set out again, passing by Y/N and his nephews without a second glance.

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The next evening, the party found a hollowed out cave in which they could sleep shielded from the chill in the air. It was beginning to grow colder as they neared the Misty Mountains, and the group was grateful to gather around a couple of small fires. The king sat against the rock, intending to keep watch over the party throughout the night in addition to those who had volunteered, but his body began to relax as the warmth of the fire spread over him. His eyes fell on Y/N, curled up with her eyes closed near Bofur, who was gently playing a lullaby on his flute.

He had never seen her looking so peaceful and relaxed, as usually she was alert and on guard, always ready to detect a threat or throw back a retort at a teasing dwarf. Thorin thought she looked nice this way, not so aggressive or perfectly poised, her lips parted slightly and her hair fanned out on the bedroll below her head. The hands which usually gripped sharp daggers lay softly pressed under her cheek. As he began to drift into sleep, Thorin wondered to himself what they might feel like, if they were soft as a woman's hand should be, or if they were calloused from years of fighting. He thought he wouldn't mind much either way, for holding her hand would be sweet enough. The king fell asleep with this thought on his mind, a soothing balm for the troubles that usually brewed there.

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Thorin awoke suddenly, startled out of a nightmare where a dragon was lunging toward him, its throat igniting in red-hot flames. He sat up and looked around, steadying himself with a few deep breaths as he counted the party around him. All dwarves were present. One Hobbit. And... and one human, crouched over the fire, stirring something in a large pot.

Looking around, Thorin registered that birds were chirping and the sky was beginning to light a dewy morning gray. He got up carefully so as not to wake those sleeping around him, allowing the lads a few more winks of sleep before another long day's journey. He crept toward Y/N and picked up a delightful smell wafting off of the pot. She caught his eye as he came towards her and tilted the corner of her mouth in a half-smile.

"Hungry?"

Back in her linens and road leathers and without the fancy elven garb, Y/N seemed less inclined to refer to Thorin with honorific titles. He found he preferred this from her for a reason he could not identify. He would have cursed the house of Elrond had the king not addressed him appropriately, but it felt strange for this lowly human mercenary to call him "my king" or "my lord". Perhaps it was because she had proven herself his equal when she first cut him down on the way to Bree. As embarrassed as he was, Thorin had to admit he had been impressed.

"What is it?" he asked, crouching down next to her and looking into the pot. The scent made his mouth water. It was a stew of some kind, more hearty and savory-looking than anything they had been given in Rivendell.

"Rabbit, lemon, and rice," she said, ladling some into a small wooden bowl and handing it to him. "Had a lucky hunt this morning."

"And as for the lemon and rice?" he asked, cocking his brow and raising the bowl to his lips. It was delicious.

"Nicked from the Rivendell store rooms," she shot him a lopsided smile and filled herself a small bowl, taking a sip. "I figured they might have some ingredients we wouldn't find in the wild here. Lovely stash of herbs."

The pair sat quietly for a moment as the sky lightened, slurping the stew. Thorin was unsure if she wanted to continue conversing, but he found himself wanting to learn more about her. At last, he asked, "Do you like to cook?"

"I do. I'm a bit of an herbalist, actually. So many plants have amazing healing qualities. Can really come in a pinch when you've got a knife wound and a fever a hundred miles from the nearest healer."

"Perhaps you should consider a new profession."

"Mercenary to healer? Go from killing people for a living to saving them?" She chuckled, but her face grew dark. "Think it's a bit too late for that. I've already laid my path."

"You can always change it. Take a different road."

Y/N turned toward him, meeting his eyes.

"It is ironic of you to say that, Thorin Oakenshield. You've been following the same path all your life, and continue to do so, even though it most likely leads to your death."

"If that's what you think, then why did you join us?" Thorin bristled slightly at her words, but was struck by her observation.

She looked away from him and into her bowl, taking a sip before answering. "I do not know. Perhaps I find it difficult to turn away from a challenge. Or..." she trailed off a moment before turning back to him, searching his face for answers. "Or perhaps there was something about you that drew me in."

"My mountain of gold?" he quipped, a small smile forming at the edges of his mouth, leaning towards her. Perhaps Balin was right and he had a bit of charisma after all.

"Well, it certainly wasn't your sparkling personality," she smirked. Their faces were quite close now, and he found himself glancing down at her lips and back into her eyes, were were looking at him intently and playfully. He wanted to reach out and caress her cheek. He had nearly removed his hand from the wooden bowl to do it when a loud cough from the other side of the clearing shook him from his reverie.

The pair jumped back, Y/N sloshing a bit of stew onto her jerkin with a whispered "fuck". The dwarves around them were stirring awake, but Thorin could not tell if any had witnessed his and Y/N's intimate encounter. He quickly drained his bowl of stew, cleared his throat and stood, offering the bowl to Bofur.

"Y/N has cooked a good meal for us. Eat up quickly, everyone, and we will set out shortly." With a blush, he nodded at Y/N and walked briskly back to his pack to gather both his things and his wits. To his annoyance, Balin came up next to him with a loopy grin.

"Lovely breakfast, my king?"

"Shove it, Balin."

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Part 2 Part 4

[spookyjuicefiction]

Series Masterlist: A King's Bounty (Thorin x f!Reader)

Universe: The Hobbit/LOTR (films)

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x female!Reader

Description: Y/N is a bounty hunter sent to kill the exiled King Under the Mountain, but makes a deal that will benefit them both. What she doesn't know is that this deal might change both of their fates.

Snippet: "Perhaps most of all, incredibly, Thorin was furious that this woman, Y/N, was the most insolent, childish, and petulant fool he had ever had the displeasure of knowing. She did not obey orders, she did not run away from a losing battle, and she did not back down under even the icy stare of a king, making him look like a fool in front of his own subjects. She was monstrous. She was terrible. She was the most beautiful creature in all of Middle Earth, and Thorin was undoubtedly in love with her."

Read on Ao3!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

[spookyjuicefiction]

Series Masterlist: Prisoner (Legolas x Reader)

Universe: The Hobbit/LOTR (films)

Pairing: Legolas x Dunedain!Reader

Description: Y/N is kidnapped along with Thorin's party as they are travelling through Mirkwood, and she finds herself a prisoner of the Elvenking when the dwarves manage to escape. Things become confusing when a friendship develops between her and Mirkwood's fair prince, Legolas. Down the line, she knows loyalties will be tested.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

[spookyjuicefiction]

Prisoner pt. 3 - Legolas x Reader

Pairing: Dunedain!Reader x Legolas

Warnings: swearing probably, drinking alcohol

Part 1 - Masterlist

A/N: I don't know why this story suddenly turned into Beauty and the Beast but whatever

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Y/N ran an elegant comb through her wet hair as she sat wrapped in a towel at the dressing table. As she dragged the comb down, she took in her mirrored appearance. Her eyes looked sunken from sleepless nights and she could see a constellation of cuts and bruises across her entire body. She frowned at the way her skin seemed to hang from her bones: too many thin meals on the road, or meals skipped altogether in favor of travel or sleep.

At the thought, her stomach growled. She looked forward to the fine elvish meal she would soon eat, although she was less certain about the company she would be keeping as she did so. Crossing the room, she pulled some clothes out of the dresser drawers and surveyed her options. She frowned; nearly every item was a long dress with long, belled sleeves. With her lifestyle, Y/N was the sort of woman who preferred to dress with practicality: pants, vests, and sleeves rolled up. Though, she reasoned, her usual attire would hardly be appropriate for dining with an elfin prince. Her stomach flipped for an entirely different reason this time.

In the end, she chose a midnight blue gown with silver embroidery around the sleeves and hem. It reminded her of a starry night sky, and she thought the color might compliment her skin tone and eyes. She oiled her hair with a fair-smelling potion and tied it up loosely, a few strands falling to frame her face. Satisfied, she slipped on a pair of elfin slippers and left the room, pausing to ask a servant for directions.

As she made her way through the hallways towards the garden, Y/N felt self-conscious of the lack of grace in her walk compared to the elves she passed. She envied how effortless it was for them to look composed and elegant as she reminded herself to pull her shoulders back and walk with her chin up. At last, she passed out of the palace doors and descended a wide, wooden staircase into a quiet, shaded tree grove. Between the trees grew wildflowers and bushes that spilled into the walkway in a sort of controlled chaos that Y/N found charming.

Legolas stood with his back to her under a pergola in the middle of the grove, likely staring with his elf eyes out into the Greenwood that lay beyond the city's walls. Y/N wondered if he could see the dwarves if he looked hard enough. As he turned toward her, she also wondered if he recognized her footsteps as being heavier or more uneven than all of the elves', for she felt conscious of it as she stepped down the path.

He regarded her warmly and gestured toward the table laid out for them; Y/N's stomach growled hungrily as she took in the cornucopia of delicious food that awaited. She smiled tightly at Legolas and made towards her seat, but was caught by surprise when he cut in front of her, pulling the chair out.

"Thank you, my lord," she said awkwardly as she sat and he pushed the chair in. She was wholly unused to being treated like a lady. "And I thank you for the invitation. It is truly a lovely evening to dine in the Greenwood."

"Indeed," Legolas agreed as he took his own chair, "far too lovely for one to enjoy alone. I hope you will like seeing the sun set. It has a... special effect on the trees here." Servants had appeared and poured them glasses of wine, and Legolas raised his. Y/N raised hers in return.

"I look forward to it. Almien (cheers)."

"Almien," Legolas toasted, eyebrows raised. "Do you know much Sindarin?"

"A fair amount. I have done my share of traveling even before this mission."

"Surely you can be no more then twenty and some years?" Legloas asked with obvious surprise, taking a sip of his wine.

Y/N smirked. "It does appear so, does it not? Some would say that is the blessing of my kind." The elf prince still looked confused, so she clarified. "I am Dúnedain. My age is pressing upon fifty years."

"Dúnedain! How very fascinating," Legolas replied with unbridled interest. "From the north?"

"Yes, am one who became a ranger. Perhaps this is why Gandalf thought me fit to assist in Thorin's quest. My people are not unlike his, scattered amongst the ages, awaiting the return of their king," Y/N mused as she began cutting into her food, mouth watering.

"You continue to surprise me, mellonamin (my friend). I am grateful that you joined me for dinner. Although I have lived many years, the elves would still consider me young. I have not had the pleasure of meeting one of your kind before. My father..." he trailed off a moment, taking a bite of food, chewing, and swallowing before continuing. "My father is a fearful man. He fears to lose me, and thus rarely allows me to travel beyond the Greenwood. My fingers itch to carry my bow to new lands and have my own adventures. I envy you."

"Take care what you wish for," Y/N cautioned him, although she was charmed by his boyish wanderlust. "I have spent a lifetime wandering, and I envy you a warm bed and plate of food to come home to at the end of a long day of travel. And, not least of all, a father's love."

Legolas smiled sadly at her. "Perhaps we are always doomed to covet that which the other has. Ah, the sun is setting! Look to the trees."

Y/N obeyed, her eyes scanning the tree line in the distance. At first, it looked ordinarily lush and green. After a moment, though, the view transformed before her eyes. The treetops turned bright gold as though they reflected the sun itself, like a wall of sparkling fire licking the edge of the sky. She gasped, never having seen anything like it.

"Our legends say it is the gods burning away today to ash to begin a new tomorrow," Legolas said quietly, his eyes on her face as she watched the golden trees bending and swaying in the evening breeze. "This day must be embers in order for the stars to come out and light our way until the new dawn."

"It is beautiful," she breathed, and looked back at him. "The sight, and the legend as well. I have always enjoyed your peoples' reverence for the natural world. Will you delight me with some more elfin tales?"

As the sun set, the pair swapped stories of gods, men, and elves as they finished their meal. The pair sat engrossed in each others' words until the stars brightly lit the velvet dark sky. Y/N, a little drunk from the wine, admired how Legolas's porcelain skin shone like the moon, his blue eyes twinkling with pure starlight. She liked the way he tilted his head as he listened to her, leaning forward slightly as if to absorb every sound she made and commit them to memory.

When the wine was drunk, Legolas rose from the table and offered to walk her back to her chamber for the night. Though she wanted to continue their conversation, she could not help but look forward to her first sleep in a proper bed in many weeks. She agreed, and the pair walked side-by-side up the pathway.

At the top of the stairs, Y/N tripped slightly on her skirts and she cursed the divine elvish wine. With a laugh, Legolas took her hand and gingerly looped it around his arm. She grasped his arm firmly and leaned against him slightly as they went forth. Legolas took them around the back of the castle and in through a side door, for which Y/N was grateful as she did not want to be seen giggling on the prince's arm. At last they reached her door and she placed her hand on the handle, turning towards him once more to say goodnight. She was surprised to find him quite close to her.

"I thank you again for this most enjoyable evening. I hope the stars bring you only the sweetest of dreams," he said softly as he took her hand in his and pressed a feather-light kiss to her knuckle.

"It is you I must thank, mellonamin." Y/N smiled shyly, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "Good night." Reluctantly, she pulled herself away and closed the door behind her before the wine drew her any closer. She leaned her back against the door with a heavy sigh and listened to his footsteps retreating down the hallway.

What in the name of the gods am I doing?

But she feared it was too late. When she had undressed and climbed into the silken bed, she squeezed her eyes shut and saw nothing but Legolas's handsome, ivory face. Shame flooded her for not thinking first of Thorin and the company's safety, but it could not be helped.

It seemed she was falling for the elven prince, prisoner or not.

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

Let me know what you think!!

[spookyjuicefiction]

Prisoner pt. 2 - Legolas x Reader

Pairing: Legolas x Dunedain!Reader

Warnings: swearing maybe?

Part 1 - Masterlist

A/N: I’m writing this on my phone so I guess the formatting is probably going to be way off, I’ll try to fix it and spell check on my laptop tomorrow! I have fucking Covid so I have nothing but time 😑 thanks to y’all who wrote that you wanted a part 2!!

—————————————————————-

Y/N spent the next few hours tossing restlessly on the cell floor, irritated by her interaction with Legolas. More than anything, she was frustrated by her own girlish reaction to the prince’s final, honeyed words. She hadn’t time for flirtation: the quest was in peril, and she needed to devote her thoughts completely to mending the drama between Thorin and the Elvenking.

Perhaps this is why Lothlorien is so peaceful, she thought. They have a queen instead of a king.

Suddenly, she began hearing urgent whispers from the cells below. Scrambling to her feet, she peered out towards the cells she could see. Around her, she could hear the dwarves stirring and murmuring. At last, she saw why: Bilbo was making his way through the dungeon, armed with the guard’s keys, and unlocking all of the dwarves’ cell doors. She grinned as he released Fili and Kili; that clever hobbit.

The dwarves began scurrying towards a far exit that seemed to lead towards storage. At the same time as she saw Bilbo craning his neck trying to find where she was imprisoned, she began to hear the footsteps and shouting of the elves above. They were running out of time.

Bilbo spotted her at last, looking exasperated at the realization that her cell was isolated up a separate flight of stairs. He started towards her, but the footsteps grew louder. A decision needed to be made.

Y/N took a deep breath. “There’s no time. Just go with the others. I promise I’ll catch up,” she hissed.

“But-“

“Bilbo, there’s no time, just go.”

His face was pained as he realized she was right; the elves would burst in any second. With a sharp breath and a quick nod, Bilbo turned and scurried after the others. Y/N heard the door latch behind him just as the elves burst into the dungeon and began fanning out, calling to each other in Sindarin. A guard came running up to her cell door.

“Where did they go?” He barked.

“What makes you think I know?” She shot back with annoyance. “They left me here, didn’t they?”

With a scowl the guard turned and rejoined the search. After some time, the dungeon emptied out save for the sound of Y/N’s own heavy breathing. If the dwarves were caught, what then? Would Thranduil have them killed? It seemed he did not take Thorin’s rejection lightly. Swallowing thickly, Y/N paced the cell and waited.

Hours stretched on, and no dwarves were returned to their cells. Y/N could only hope that meant they had escaped, for the alternative was far too grave to dwell upon. She wondered if she would be forgotten down here, alone and of no use to the Elvenking. Exhaustion took hold as she tried to formulate her own escape plan, and soon she was asleep, slumped up against the cell wall.

————————————————————

"Wake up, please."

The words were spoken gently, yet they startled her. She shot up and instinctively reached for her weapons, realizing quickly that she still did not have them. Her breath released as she recognized Legolas standing at the cell door. She eyed him cautiously, unsure of what he may want.

She was about to tell him that she did not know where the dwarves were when he reached out toward the door with a key in his hand and unlocked it, holding it open and gesturing for her to walk out. Y/N hesitated.

“Where are we going?”

“My father has agreed to release you into my supervision,” the prince replied. “I have had a room prepared for you. I hope you will find it a more preferable accommodation to this.”

“So I am still your prisoner.”

Legolas sighed. “My father believes he may be able to use you to negotiate with the dwarf king if he should reach his mountain.”

“And if he does not, and my usefulness should expire?”

“Let us take it by day, if you please.” The prince looked a bit tired, as though he had spent a day chasing a party of dwarves and arguing with his father. Y/N gave a reluctant nod and began to follow him out of the dungeon. He led them through the palace. A few elves cast curious glances in her direction, but no eyes dared to linger as she was accompanied by their prince.

At length, they reached a wooden door in a quiet hallway seemingly near the servants’ quarters. Legolas unlocked the door and held it open, gesturing her inside. She took a step in but paused when she was next to him, turning to meet his eyes. They were bright, crystal blue, and their expression was unreadable.

“Are you going to lock me in here?”

“No,” he replied quickly. “You are free to walk about the palace and the city, you only must remain within the city walls. There are fresh clothes in the dresser and a few books if you are inclined to read. If there is anything you might desire for entertainment, you need only ask your servant.”

“And what if I should desire my sword?”

“That,” Legolas smiled sadly, “I am afraid I cannot provide you at present. Perhaps,” he lowered his voice and leaned in closer, making Y/N’s breath hitch slightly, “if you earn my father’s trust, he will reward you.”

“I’m not much for kissing arse,” she said bluntly, earning a chuckle from Legolas as he stepped back.

“I can see that.”

She peered into the room she would now be occupying: a large wooden bed made with fine linens, an ornately carved dresser, a large washbasin, a dressing table lined with oils and potions, a small bookshelf and a window bench with a lovely view of the Greenwood.

“Well, this is certainly more pleasant than the cell floor,” she admitted, turning back to him. “I… I thank you, for making these arrangements under the circumstances.”

Legolas nodded. “Of course. I wonder…” he trailed off, shifting his weight for a moment. “I wonder if you might join me for dinner in the garden this evening. Forgive me,” he rushed, seeing the puzzled look on her face, “it is not often these days that I am able to meet non-elves.” He smiled then. “Conversations get a bit boring after a few hundred years.”

Y/N smiled back at that. “I would imagine so. Very well, I will dine with you, my prince.”

The pair’s eyes lingered a few moments as they stood in the doorway, before Legolas straightened and cleared his throat.

“I shall send a servant to run you a hot bath, if you wish.”

“That would be lovely.”

With a breath, Legolas nodded curtly and quickly started down the hallway. Y/N knew that elves rarely showed any emotional tells the way humans did, but she could have sworn that the tips of his elfin ears were pink with embarrassment.

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Part 3