#Cazador x Mystra | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amandacanwrite · 11 months ago

Text

A Plain Stack of Parchment - Gale x Tav/reader

Pairing || Urchin Backstory Tav/Reader (unspecified gender) x Professor Gale

POV || Second Person

Length || 3,200 words

Scenario || Gale has tasked you with writing your wedding invites so that he can finally take them to the courier. The only problem is, you don't have anyone to send invites to. In hopes of smoothing over the conversation in which you finally tell him that you really don't have any family, you attempt to make dinner....and destroy his beautiful kitchen in the process.

A/n || This is my first piece of fanfic I've ever shared publicly, please be kind to me about it. I don't really know what the rules are. This has been brewing in my head for days, though and I must get it OUT.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” you’d asked.

“Hah…I suppose I am,” he’d responded.

He’d carried on about how much Tara would love it, and of course his mother. Words to fill the silence while you’d found yourself bound in stunned silence; words to cover his nerves while you’d worked through the shock of having been asked to join his family.

Family…a real family. You’d never had one before. It had been an easy answer to give, a joyful one to give.

“I accept. I’ll marry you, Gale Dekarios.”

He’d begun to prattle on again in that way that you’d loved and it’d been impossible not to smile as he spoke about arrangements. That was until he’d said it.

“--And you’ll have invites of your own to send out, I’m sure…but that’s all to come.”

You’d not had much time to worry about it, though. Moments later he was kissing you, his fingers curled into the hair at the nape of your neck in that way that always made you melt. You could worry about this conversation another time, you’d told yourself.

But that time never came around. Gale had accepted his position as professor at Blackstaff, and you both had spent so many long nights on repairing the crown of Karsus so that he could finally be free of netherese magic inhabiting the space so dangerously close to his heart. The day Mystra cured him was one you’d remember forever, because you were both finally free of not only the danger looming over your love for one another, but from the ghost of the past Mystra had been since you’d met him.

But now? Now you felt regret.

Gale was working late–a problem student he took on as a project needed his help. He implored you for the umpteenth time to please finish your invitations. They really must be sent out, dearest, if our families are to have time to travel for the wedding.

How could you tell him you had nothing to send out? How could you explain that you didn’t come with a family; didn’t come with any kind of support system?

His mother had accepted you as one of her own so quickly. Tara had become just as doting and fussy over you as over the wizard himself. But you couldn’t give him that in return–with your there would be no inlaws, no great aunts, no distant cousins…no grandparents should you decide to have a family of your own one day…

You looked at the optimistic stack of parchment he’d left for you, the quills, two pots of ink. He’d even left you his very own signet ring to press the Dekarios clan crest into your sealing wax, so ready for you to join his family that he would let you claim his name prematurely.

You wondered if that would change once he knew…once he knew that you’d always been scrappy and alone before the tadpoles and nautiloid brought you and the others together. That was why you’d done everything that you did. It was why you helped Astarion destroy Cazador, why you did everything you could to figure out how to fix Karlach’s infernal engine, even now. It’s why you lifted the shadowcurse for Halsin and helped Wyll rescue his father. It’s why you’d urged Shadowheart to endure the pain of her curse…

Because they all had family, and with time they’d become your family. You’d wanted so long to have one, to have a reason to be good. No one had ever asked after you–where you’d come from, how you became who you were. And you were relieved to not have to tell the truth of the matter.

You were unloved.

Thrown away by a mother who couldn’t care for you and living off of scraps you could find in the streets or coin you could slip out of the pockets of strangers.

So all you could do was stare at that pile of parchment and try to scrape every recess of your memory for anyone; any single godsdamned person to send a wedding invitation to. Damn Gale Dekarios for sending off the ones for your old companions. At least you would have had something to show when he got home today.

In the end, you gave up. You took the time to put the fine linen parchment away and place the ink pots back on the shelf with the others. You placed the sharpened quills back in the glass goblet he kept dozens of others and…and simply placed the signet ring in the middle of his writing desk where he’d left you hours before.

And then you decided you would make dinner.

Gale always cooked, even after his longest of days. You’d offered to do it many times but he always insisted that he liked to cook. That he liked to feed you.

But the sun was setting lazily behind the Waterdhavian horizon, and Gale was certain to be exhausted after dealing with his problem student all evening. Dinner was the least you could do. Sure, you were never much of a cook, but it couldn’t be that hard to roast a chicken and some vegetables, right? There was certainly no shortage of recipe books in the tower. You were the savior of Baldur’s Gate, you’d taken down an elder brain! Certainly you could figure out cooking a bird.

You got to work.

Things seemed to be going pretty alright at the start of it, too. Coat the skin in butter and herbs; check. Scallop the potatoes; check? At least you thought that’s what a scalloped potato looked like. Blanch the asparagus…what did blanching mean?

Okay. No asparagus then. Gale could be a meat and potatoes man for one night, couldn’t he?

When you put the chicken and potatoes in the oven to roast and started working on reducing some red wine and spices for a sauce that things started to go south. Things started to go south very, very fast.

First, you realized the red you grabbed was not a Waterdhavian red as you’d thought, but a bottle of fire wine. Fire wine was already heavily spiced, so the the spices you added would be too much. Okay, okay–so, you would try again.

But when you lifted the saucepan to…hide the evidence somewhere, you also spilled that fire wine directly onto the stove, directly into the flame. You eyes landed on the quickly spilling liquid just as the puddle ignited.

“Oh, for fuc–”

The explosion was nothing less than spectacular; it sent you sprawling across the room, smashing into the brick wall on the other end of the kitchen. The room filled up with black smoke as you tried and failed to get back up to your feet. Your head was spinning and you could barely get a breath in your lungs.

Shit, shit, shit. You needed to get up. You needed to get up and figure out how to clean this up before Gale got home. He was no stranger to explosions, sure. But gods help the man or woman that prevented him from making his morning cup of tea and enjoying it at the kitchen table.

You steeled yourself. “Come on. Savior of Baldur’s gate. Come on, get up,” you said.

But as you slowly got up onto shaky legs you heard a familiar voice booming through the room. A second later, a great storm cloud formed above you and then doused the room in torrential rain. Your soft-soled boots caught on the wet tile floor and you slipped, falling to the ground again. Gale had casted Create Water.

“Nine hells,” he shouted as he ran over to you, cupping your sooty face in his rough hewn hands. “Are you alright, my love?”

His hands patted over your body, then. Your arms, your hands, bending and extending your legs, checking your ribs. “Is anything broken?”

“I’m fine,” you coughed out. “Just…wet. And embarrassed.”

“Better than being incinerated. Did I leave something out–we’re working on disarming traps in class and–”

“No, no,” you said. “I–I was just trying to make dinner.”

His face contorted into an expression that looked almost affronted. “Make dinner?” he said, sounding confused.

He looked back at the smouldering wreckage of his kitchen. “Oh no,” he said as he slumped onto his knees and slipped his hands into his wavy, brown hair. “What have you done?”

He must not have fully registered the room he’d doused, which you supposed was very sweet in it’s own way. He’d only hurried to make sure you were okay, he didn’t think for a moment on the damage. At least not at first.

“I just…I thought that you would like to come home to dinner prepared for you, for once. I was trying to surprise you,” you said.

“Well you most certainly succeeded in that, didn’t you?” he asked, his tone biting. “This is just what I needed after dealing with Jeremi all day. To leave a destroyed classroom to come home to a destroyed kitchen. Just–fantastic.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I just–”

“Tell me that you at least got your invitations done,” he snapped. “That this wasn’t some sorry excuse for a distraction from planning our wedding? That you didn’t destroy my kitchen and almost kill yourself and potentially Tara so that you could claim you forgot again?”

He looked at you, his brown eyes tired and a little sad. You almost wished you had been incinerated. You knew he didn’t need to use Detect Thoughts to read your mind. You were certain your expression said it all.

“Your silence speaks volumes,” he said as he stood up and started cataloging the extent of the damage.

You knew he’d just had a bad day, that the vitriol was more because of the late hours and the unpleasant surprise. The sharpness of his tone still cut like a knife. It was all you could do to sit there and watch him clean up after you.

You usually loved to watch him do little mundane tasks with his magic. You found the delicate flourishes of his hands so charming, loved the spark of joy in his eyes as the weave spun to meet him. But watching him now, watching his sharp, staccato movements as he zipped recipe books back into place and disappeared broken glass into some pocket dimension…you felt like an utter failure of a partner to him.

You just sat there while he worked, wanting to get up and help, but afraid that another sharp comment would eviscerate you. You’d had disagreements with him before, of course. And he had been sharp with you about a few of your more adventurous choices (he still brought up the time you licked a dead spider once in a while.) But he had never been truly, truly angry with you. Not like this.

He opened the demolished stove and took out the raw bird sitting on the bed of potatoes. He hissed out a tight breath and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I have a feeling I am not ready to hear the answer to this question, but have you changed your mind?” he asked.

The question took you by surprise. “Changed my mind?” you asked. “About what?”

“What do you think?” he snapped, looking at you. “About the wedding. About…about marrying me.”

“What?” you asked. “Of course I haven’t changed my mind, why would you ever think something like that? I’m more excited than I’ve ever been to be a part of your family.”

“Then why?” he asked. “Why have you been avoiding writing your invitations. I have asked you to do them at least half a dozen times now, and every time you have some excuse to tell me. ‘Oh, I just got caught up in this book.’ ‘Sorry, dearest–the tadpole headache strikes again.’ And now? Now dinner?”

“Is it a crime for me to want to make dinner for my intended?” you said.

“My love. My flawless, exquisite, darling,” he said. “You are many things. A gifted fighter, an astonishing leader, an excellent dancer, and none too shabby beneath the sheets. But you. Are not. A cook. I allowed you to cook ONE time. A singular time in our travels together and do you remember what happened?”

You pouted. “Everyone got sick,” you grumbled in a low voice.

“YES! Everyone GOT SICK,” he shouted. “Everyone got so sick that we had to spend THREE DAYS in camp. And do you remember what you swore to me that day?”

“That I would never cook for people again,” you said.

“THAT YOU WOULD NEVER COOK FOR PEOPLE AGAIN!” he shouted triumphantly. “So then, why, my love. Why would you be cooking now if not to avoid sending your wedding invitations? And why would you want to avoid sending your invitations unless you had changed your mind about spending the remainder of your days with me?”

You nibbled on your lip and exhaled, looking down at your soot-covered hands.

“I don’t…” you said, almost choking on the words, almost looking for a lie. “Gale, I don’t have anyone to send invitations to. And every time I think to tell you that, I get terrified that you’ll realize the mistake you made in proposing to someone who brings nothing to the table.”

“No one to send invitations to?” he asked, seeming surprised. He looked at you with a quirked eyebrow. “No, I’m sure that isn’t true. We’ve talked about your family before, haven’t we?”

“Not that I remember,” you said.

“During our travels, you…we…we shared stories,” he said. “All of those times around the campfire. The nights alone between us.”

You watched as his eyes became distant, as if he’s searching his memory for some cache of data he’s stored about you. He smoothed his hand over his chin before covering his mouth with his hand. His brow furrowed and his expression saddened before he dropped his hand and crossed his arms.

“Gods,” he said. “Every story you told us, everything you shared…tales of treachery, of bar fights and street brawls, the times you told us you almost lost a hand. All the times you told us about those…strange meals you would scrounge up with that glimmer of warm nostalgia in your eyes.”

He walked slowly over to you and kneeled in front of where you sat, still soaked to the bone and covered in soot. He took your hand in his and squeezed your fingers.

“I may be an impressive scholar, but I am a fool, my love,” he said. “All of this time together and I was always so caught up in how lovely it felt to be truly accepted and understood. All the times you told me that I was enough for you as I am and I couldn’t even spare the proper courtesy of asking you about your family. You must think me an ogre of a man.”

You forced a little airy laugh from your lungs and shrugged. “Not much to tell about,” you said weakly, swallowing as your throat became uncomfortably tight. “Nothing really at all.”

You bit the inside of your lip and looked down at your hands again, willing yourself not to cry. You promised yourself a long time ago not to cry over this anymore. No one got to pick their hand in life, it was useless to cry over it.

Gale cupped your cheek in his hand, angling your chin up again so you’d meet his eyes again. “I asked you to write invites to a family you didn’t have. Then you tried to make dinner for me when you couldn’t do it, and I shouted at you for ruining my kitchen. Please forgive me, my love. I have been a miserable, self-centered ass.”

“I’ll forgive you if you forgive me for ruining your kitchen?” you offered.

“You have yourself a bargain,” he said.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft at first; chaste, even. It reminded you of your first kiss with the girl who sold papers in the lower city. But then it changed. He scooped the hand cupping your chin back into your hair, curling the locks around his fingers before smoothing his free hand up your thigh, gripping your leg and pulling you closer.

He hitched you up onto his hips and stood, still surprisingly strong despite the more sedentary life you both were living these days. You draped your arms over his shoulders, loosely hooking your fingers together as you tilted your head, parting your lips to breathe in that ever present scent of cinnamon and warm tea.

He let out a low hum, the sound of his buzzing against your mouth.

He parted from the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours as he sat you down on the charred countertop. “You are lovely,” he said. “Your beauty, your generosity? As intoxicating as any glass of wine.”

You let out a little huff and are surprised when you feel a few drops of wetness fall onto your cheeks. Gale tuts, backing up just far enough to swipe that wetness away with the rough pad of his thumb. “I’m so sorry,” you said. “I…I never cry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he said. “Don’t you even think about it.”

You gave a sheepish smile and exhaled, nodding once.

“You know what?” he said. “The kitchen can wait.”

“But your morning tea…” you said.

“Tomorrow, you and I will get tea together at that little bakery I haven’t had a chance to show you, yet. And tonight? Tonight we’ll walk to the vendor down the road, we’ll get some delicious Waterdhavian street food and we won’t think at all about the origin of said food, trust me, it’s not worth it,” he said. “And then we will cuddle up on the balcony and I will ask you extensively and exhaustively about your life before you met me.”

“What if you don’t like what you hear?” you asked. “What if I was never honest, or smart? What if I didn’t have a wholesome youth like you did?”

“My love,” he said. “When you met me I was a man with a tadpole in my brain and an orb in my chest that would level the whole of Waterdeep if I didn’t eat your precious magic artefacts. I was a man who tried to become a god, and when I thought of making the same mistake a second time, you’re the one who talked sense back into me. You’re the one who showed me that I was worthy of love, just like this.”

You smiled and nodded as he kissed your forehead. “You’re a remarkable wizard of great renown,” you teased.

“I’m just a man, and a teacher with a student who seems intent on torturing me,” he said. “I’m also remarkably humble.”

“And?” you said.

“And nothing you do or say could make me stop loving you,” he said, “Not even you…destroying my beautiful, wonderful kitchen.”

“I thought I was forgiven,” you said with a look.

“I have most certainly forgiven, but I have not yet forgotten, my love,” he said.

“Perhaps I could remedy that tonight, after your questions,” you suggested, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Give you a bit of a distraction.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you made me forget something with your diversions,” he said. “That sounds like the perfect way to end the night.”

“Well, then, let’s get cleaned up and go buy some of that questionable food,” you said.

“With pleasure.”

#writing community #writers on tumblr #writing #authors #writeblr #my writing #fan fic #fanfic #bg3 headcanons #bg3 romance #bg3 gale #bg3 gale fanfic #tav x gale #reader x gale #reader x gale bg3

230 notes · View notes

thatfreshi · 1 year ago

Text

I Know - (Astarion x Reader)

Post-ascension angst, where Tav leaves Astarion. (Also Gale makes an interesting appearance??)

tw - mentions of sex, mentions of drinking, themes of death, grief, rebounds

Recommended Song: cardigan - Taylor Swift

It's been a long three decades. Sure, compared to two centuries it's barely anything, but two centuries of a man leaves quite the impression. It's been thirty years since he told you how much he appreciated your support with that damned drow Araj, thirty years since you stood in the shadow-cursed lands holding hands, wrapping your arms around him and his shaking figure. You could recite that entire conversation from memory, how he held back tears saying that not sleeping with you almost sounded like a challenge. It's also been thirty years since you lost him.

You're in that sad old graveyard, sitting by Astarion's 'tombstone.' It's been exactly thirty years since he left, since you lost the love of your life to rancid fate. Cazador was there, lying fearful on the floor of his palace, and Astarion had that damn ritual dagger.

"You'll be just like him if you do this, you'll lose yourself in it."

You pleaded, almost screaming. Your fellow companions simply watched, knowing if anyone could convince him it would be you.

"But no one will hurt me again Tav. You'd deny me that?"

"You can be safe in my embrace, or safe in this ritual, but you can only choose one."

"You said-"

"I know what I said. But this? You can't do this and be the man I love."

He's practically ignoring Cazador now, knowing he's already won.

"We could have everything my love, I can only have everything I want if I have you."

"I won't have you if you do this, I'll have a master. You and I both don't want to see it come to that, me fall to your whim, you become what you despise."

You know in that moment, that the words don't matter. You're fighting a losing battle, one in which the words only pour in one ear and out the other. Stubborn, one thing he's always been. And yet you don't blame him one bit.

"I'm sorry Tav. I can't risk this, I can't live in fear anymore."

Anger, sorrow, guilt, numbness. The water fills your eyes.

"I know."

The memory fades, knowing you walked away without a word, that his cries of 'I love you' fell on deaf ears. You went to Waterdeep with Gale for a while, while he packed up all his things to move to Baldur's Gate.

"You did everything you could've, you know that right?"

His words woke you from a warm cup of tea, Tara rubbing against your leg.

"It wouldn't have mattered what I did Gale. He knew what he wanted before I spoke a damn word."

It manifested as anger for a long time, for probably five years it was nothing but rage. You lived with Gale for those five years, complex relations. Looking back on it, he probably deserves an apology. You overstayed your welcome, crossed your own boundaries to try and heal invincible wounds. He knew you were grieving, that it was impossible for you to truly love him in those moments, but he let his hopeless romanticism get in the way of the truth. You'd be lying if you said there weren't nights that you closed your eyes, imagining a very different man than who was before you. Rage makes a good, passionate lover though, reckless nights, drunken stupors, meaningless whispers that made his hair stand on end. Just like Astarion, getting what you want to avoid what you need.

After five years of 'what are we?'s and screaming matches and intimate moments, he kicked you out, knowing he was a plaything, just like he was to Mystra. You tried coming back, tried telling sweet lies to suppress that anger deep inside, but he knew better. You spent the next ten years wandering aimlessly, sleeping with strangers, occasionally staying with an old friend. Not your old companions though, who heard of what you'd done to Gale. You received many messages expressing their disgust in you, how Astarion's choices didn't need to make you a monster too. After those ten years of drifting between bodies and jobs, you tried to get back on your feet, buying a small apartment in the city.

It was around this time that you started noticing the vampire spawn crawling the city streets at night. Hard not to recognize them after a whirlwind romance with one. They would try to approach you, and you'd simply walk away, knowing they had some message from your ex-lover, knowing Astarion knew you were still in the city. Over the last fifteen years you slowly put your life back together, avoiding any communications from the vampire lord. You tried to fall in love a million times, only ending in tears and heartache, never truly finding what you lost. You even tried writing to Gale, telling him you were sorry, telling him he deserved better. He never wrote back.

Sitting in the graveyard now, it's the first time you've visited his grave in thirty years. You slowly let the sorrow unravel, the tears fall, the emotions run wild like ghosts from the nearby crypts. You're screaming at the empty grave, knowing there's no body, knowing he got everything and you were left with nothing. You could piece together old parts of yourself, but you'd remember his betrayal for a million lifetimes. In all the rage, you see the first time you were intimate again after everything at Moonrise Towers, how he said this was the first time he truly felt alive since he died. Ecstasy, teeth in your throat, hands grasping hair. That night you went til the sun rose, staying wrapped up in each other whispering sweet nothings and giving each other things you'd never imagined taking from someone else. The screams die in your throat, and they turn into soft whimpers, salty tears in your sleeves.

That's when you feel steps behind you, and a body lightly sitting next to you, not daring reach out.

"You came, after all this time. Surprise after surprise with you."

"I didn't come for you. I came to let you go."

"I figured, after hearing you yell at nothing but thin air."

Astarion chuckles, that old joy in his laugh long gone. You don't turn to meet his gaze, knowing he's taking your image in.

"You have to stop sending your messengers. I'm not going to respond."

You try to be cold, try to remember why you're here.

"But wouldn't it be nice to at least stop by? See what I've done with the place."

"No."

That's when he tries to wrap his arm around your shoulder, and you shrivel away from his touch.

"Come now, I may have a consort now but it's not as if they're anything like you. You're the last missing piece Tav, the last thing I need."

Those honeyed words, the same he used on you forever ago at the tieflings' party.

"I'm the last thing you want. You have everything you could ever need."

"I suppose that's true darling."

There's silence, the static air of the graveyard and the scent of overgrowth.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

He meant it back then, but not now. It was a ploy to get you wrapped around his finger again, so you could be some furniture piece in a palace that was never meant to be his. You smirk, realizing you've won. No matter how happy he is with this power, no matter how no one could ever hurt him again, he'll never have that last piece. He'll never have you, and it will haunt him for centuries to come, that last piece of the man used to be.

"I know."

And the same way you did thirty years ago, you walk away without another word, finally feeling some peace, knowing he will never have you, knowing he can have all the safety he wants, but it comes at the price of love. Somewhere deep down though, you know he did what he thought he had to, that he was petrified, that you couldn't offer him the safety ascension could. And somehow you don't blame him, even now. Maybe that's a part of letting go, coming to peace with being left behind. You don't know how long he stayed in the graveyard afterward, if he stared at his tombstone wondering who he used to be, wondering what those feelings for you truly were. All he knows it there's something out of place, and it will never be fixed. In the end, he lost. You both lost, but you were done playing the game. The sun rises, and you walk home, not letting yourself cry any longer. It's over. Thirty years later, and it's finally over.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #angst #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #gale dekarios

261 notes · View notes

stars-and-inkpots · 1 year ago

Note

could you possibly do one where Tav is on the verge on burnout in Baldur's Gate, from carrying the litteral weight of the world on her shoulders, plus the murders, dismembered clown, emperor chattering away in her mind and just tryingto help every soul in the city... oh, and everyone looking to her for guidance in making difficult life decisions... possibly after advising Wyll not to take the pact and/or one of their companions being abducted

And Gale being there to help her and lift her spirits up (maybe a little guilty about being too wrapped up in his hubris before having a forgiving audience with Mystra to notice how hard it all was on her)

I loved this idea so much because Act 3 really is just so overwhelming and stressful I was excited to write something about it! Thank you!! I hope you enjoy!

The Weight of The World | Gale x Reader

There is so much you have to do. So many things you have to fix and people you have to save. It's starting to become overwhelming carrying so much alone.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Blood and injury, panic attacks (kinda), hurt/comfort, comfort, angst, cuddling, spoilers for Act 3

Ao3 Link: The Weight of The World

Word Count: 1,799

You like helping people. If there is a way you can make someone else’s life easier, you are both eager and happy to do it. It’s in your nature to give.

But you’re wearing yourself thin.

It seems that ever since you got off that nautiloid, you’ve been helping people. First, it was the tieflings in the Grove; then the Shadow-Cursed lands; then the refugees on the way to Baldur’s Gate. And along with all of those problems, you’ve also been helping your companions with their own; some with higher stakes than others.

Wyll is quiet today, and when you notice the look on his face, guilt quickly settles in beside the exhaustion that rests on your shoulders.

He is free now, but it has come at such a steep price. You were there with him when Mizora appeared to offer him the deal. He had asked you for advice. You told him that he deserved a chance to be free from the infernal chess board he had been forced to play on for so long.

But what if you were wrong? What if you don’t find a way to save his father? What if Baldur’s Gate is worse off without the duke once everything is done and over with and the dust has settled. What if Wyll ends up blaming you for the death of Ravengard, resenting your decision that was his own to make.

You’re happy to help… happy to give counsel to your companions when they (so often, it seems) need it, but why should you be the one making the decisions for such things? How can you be expected to decide between Wyll’s freedom and his father’s life?

You haven’t even begun to prepare for what could lie beyond the walls of Cazador’s palace, but you’re certain it can be nothing short of dreadful.

Shaking your head, you try to focus on the task at hand. You have potential murder victims you need to find.

More people that need saving.

---

Finding the Stormshore Tabernacle after Elminster arrived to tell Gale that Mystra had yet another message for him was only another goal added on the growing list of things you needed to do. This, of course, took a little priority, given how much you could tell it mattered to Gale.

You brush off the growing exhaustion that hasn’t had a chance to fully dissipate in the wake of so many new problems.

You stand in front of the statue of Mystra, Gale beside you while the others wait outside. You can feel the magic that flows around it, crackling and humming like an electric current. It is not a feeling that brings you comfort or a sense of calm that one might expect from a god; perhaps that is mainly because of your own opinions of the goddess though. While he does a good job at hiding it, you can tell that Gale’s nerves are beginning to get the better of him. You bring your hand to rest it on his shoulder.

“Time was I’d have given my right arm for a chance to speak with Mystra again. The left one too. Maybe a knee…” he says quietly, and as much as you want to believe he is exaggerating, you know there is an air of truth to his words.

“You know you don’t owe her anything, Gale.” You hope he knows that. It’s impossible for you to understand the nuances of their relationship, and you recognise that, but you know that what she had asked of him was cruel and manipulative.

“Perhaps,” he answers. Then adds, “Her first love was always the weave. At best, I was always a close second.”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to justify Her actions to you, or simply giving himself a reason for them that hurts less than the idea that she did not truly care for him like he did for Her.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Despite your personal distaste for the goddess, you would accompany him in an instant if it was what he desired.

“As much as I’d prefer not to face her alone, I’m afraid the magic is only able to bring one person through. I’ll only be gone a minute though. Wait for me, please.” His voice shakes only slightly. You would wait for him even if he didn’t ask.

When he turns to face the statue again, he moves his hand like he’s grasping at something in the air. Then just as quickly, he is gone.

You wait there anxiously. You wonder if you should have told him not to come here. It was entirely possible that Mystra only asked him to come here so that she could punish him for not following her orders to blow up both himself and the Absolute. It would be another lapse of judgement that would impact only your companion.

The stress of the week is steadily catching up to you again, pushing itself into the forefront of your mind while you wait for Gale to return. Thankfully, he doesn’t take long.

Gale reappears in a small flash of shimmering purples. He is smiling, which you assume is a good thing in spite of the general unease the thought of him speaking with the goddess brings.

He recounts the visit with you while the two of you find the rest of your party outside.

---

No one says anything when you go straight to your tent after you return to camp, Gale letting go of your hand to give you a moment to yourself.

Lae’zel is gone, taken by Orin, and being held ransom in the Temple of Bhaal. The memory of the encounter makes you sick to your stomach.

Lae’zel rounding the corner, bloodied and limping, clutching her side while blood pours out in thick rivulets. Your heart beating so fast that you worry it will stop entirely. Grasping her arm to pull her with you, refusing to leave her behind. The feeling of her flesh shifting under your palm, moving, undulating in that unnatural and revolting way you had come to recognize in the shapechangers you had encountered. You recoiled backwards into Gale, watching in horror as Lae’zel’s form shifted; her neck snapping to the side sharply. Her green skin fading to pale grey. It was never Lae’zel at all, but Orin.

She cornered you into making a deal with her. You were to return with Gortash’s netherstone, or Lae’zel would be left to bleed out on the temple floor.

You can imagine Lae’zel’s voice, condemning you for giving in to the Bhaalspawn’s orders. But you know Lae’zel. You know that she is not as unshakeable as she likes to present herself. You know that, wherever she is right now, she is scared.

You can barely think. Everything feels blurry, the world fraying at the edges of your vision dissolving into a mess of colour and sound.

You should have noticed. Gortash had warned you.

You still have so much you need to do.

How did you let this happen?

---

Gale waits a few minutes before he follows you to your tent. He waits nervously outside, unsure.

“Can I come in?” He asks softly.

“Please,” you answer, and his heart breaks at the roughness of your voice; no doubt from crying and struggling to keep the sobs quiet enough that the rest of the camp wouldn’t hear them.

Your eyes are tired, fresh tears still flowing freely down your face.

Gale is terrified too, just like you and so many of the others, but something else weighs heavy on his chest. Guilt, he quickly realises as he looks at you.

You’ve been dealing with so much, and so much of it alone. You’ve taken their problems and made them your own; you’ve done everything for them. You’ve bore their worries, their concerns, and their mistakes. You’ve had no one to do the same for you.

“Gale-” you start, but a sob bubbles out of you cutting you off as your shoulders shake.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispers into your hair after he quickly gathers you into his arms as he sits beside you. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you like he’s protecting you from the world itself.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise through hiccups against his chest. He only gently shushes you, carding his fingers through your hair.

“If there is any apologising to be done, it is us to you. You’ve been doing so much for us; carrying our burdens and helping with them. I will admit even I have been far too preoccupied with my own mess that I failed to consider the weight that we’ve put on you.”

“I should be able to bear it,” you say mournfully.

“Absolutely not,” Gale objects. “It’s impossible to do that alone. You are only one person. You are not weak because you failed to carry the weight of the world alone.” He sounds so certain, so genuine in everything he says that you know he isn’t merely saying this to comfort you. “Even if you struggled with even the simplest problem, it would be no slight on your abilities.” His words, as reassuring and comforting as they are, bring on yet another wave of tears. He rubs his hands soothingly along your back.

“You are not weak because of this,” Gale assures you once you’ve mostly stopped crying.

“Thank you,” you answer after a while. “Thank you.”

The two of you sit there together. The steady rise and fall of his chest while you lean against him helps calm your racing heart. Gale hums softly, and you relax in his arms.

“Everything is going to be alright. We’ll do this together,” Gale says, with a finality that leaves no room for disagreement.

You nod, too exhausted in both body and mind to bother with speech for now. You reach blindly for one of Gale’s hands, holding it tightly and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. You feel him return a kiss of his own to the top of your head. You don’t need to use your words to explain your gratitude for his presence in your life. He understands you all the same. Your love may go unspoken, but never unheard.

You let yourself relax. The weight of the world may be both figuratively and literally on your shoulders, but your companions can help you hold it.

Yes, you think to yourself as Gale moves you both to lay down on the bedroll, everything will be alright. It will be difficult, but you will be fine. And at least, in his arms, you can pretend that everything will be fine for now. You have to hold onto the hope that everything will be fine.

#gale x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate x reader #x reader fic #gale dekarios #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate gale #gale x you

238 notes · View notes

baldurs-gape · 22 days ago

Text

I Want To Believe

After Quantico, Gale had joined the Behavioural Sciences division of the FBI under Mystra's wing. He was exceptional, brilliant, more outstanding than a scarecrow in his field. But he wasn't happy, not all the cases tied up neatly, things were left unexplained. Each time he brought it up to Mystra, she silenced him, either with threats or sex, usually both. It worked, until the Karsus case where Gale saw, with his very eyes, things that went against all scientific explanations, no amount of behavioural theory and extrapolation could ever explain why their serial thief targeting dental practices turned into a lump of orange jelly and ascended into what was definitely a U.F.O. in a beam of light. Gale wanted answers. Mystra wanted rid of him.

Baldur's Gate was the home of the X-files, Gale's new assignment. Elminster was being redeployed though it was no secret he was back in Mystra's good graces and Gale was very much out of favour. After the initial shock of the reassignment, of having to uproot from Waterdeep, of losing everything he had worked so hard towards, Gale found himself intrigued. The X-files were a career dead end, everyone knew that. And yet. Something about them drew Gale in. The knowledge, the opportunity to see and do what nobody else had. What was meant to be a punishment detail turned into his passion, his entire existence. Offers to move to other departments went ignored, he didn't even bother turning them down. Down in that musty basement he was onto something. Karsus wasn't human, wasn't even of the realms they knew about. And Gale was going to prove it.

Assistant Director Szarr absolutely had favourites. Whether it was lucky to be considered one of 'his' was very much up for debate. Astarion hadn't fucked up as such, simply didn't deliver the desired results. Don't get him wrong, the bad guys were on the bus to jail but there were more of them than Cazador had wanted to send off. Not that he was corrupt piece of shit or anything (he absolutely was). So now, Astarion's next task was to infiltrate and disrupt the X-files, have Gale Dekarios either reassigned, fired or conveniently killed in line of duty. While Astarion knew which one Cazador would prefer, he was having doubts about whether the man was right or not. Though he wouldn't outright defy him, Astarion had enough suspicion that he wasn't immediately plotting the demise of Gale. Until he met him.

That man was infuriating. All he cared about was his work. And his cat who, rather against regulations, came to the office with him on a little harness then proceeded to lounge on her very own desk. The desk which should have been Astarion's. If there was such a thing as love at first sight, Astarion was a firm believer that hate at first sight was also not only possible but very much a thing he was experiencing. He was a man of science, believed in reality while Gale...he was all about the little green men, ghosts and the like. Nothing was worse than arguing that a door could open by itself if there was a high enough temperature and pressure difference on either side of it, all while Gale was insisting that it was the work of some paranormal entity.

All the same, Astarion headed out into the field (sometimes literally) at all hours of the day. Watching the skies in some abandoned airfield sure beat staring at his ceiling as insomnia refused to grant him rest. He conveniently didn't think of how Gale was comfortably stretched out next to him. Or how the low flying things they saw were absolutely not weather balloons or training flights for the army. Even if that was that Astarion noted in his reports. He didn't think Cazador would appreciate him talking about U.F.O. sightings as a credible explanation. Plus, the longer he drew this out, the more time he could spend in the basement with Gale and Tara. Not that Astarion was wanting to remain assigned to the X-files for long, he was there to do his job and then go onto greater things.

Except weeks turned into months. The more Astarion saw, the less certain he was that Gale was just another insane bastard who was so desperate for escape that he would believe anything. They threw insults at each other with smiles rather than glares now, Astarion couldn't remember the last time he ordered a single coffee rather than two to carry down the stairs into their office. Perhaps the worst realisation was that he almost always had some cat treats in his pocket for no reason other than to bribe Tara to lie on a different file than the one he needed.

Another late night outing. This time Gale had brought gluten free gyros, home made from scratch, as they headed to some forest with suspicious lights. Astarion privately thought it was probably just some teenagers mucking around with LED torches. It was the most likely explanation after all. However, he dutifully traipsed after Gale, even chuckled a little at the lightshow up ahead. That laugh died in his throat as they crested the incline and looked down at the source of the lights. It most definitely wasn't of their realm. Instinctively, his hand slipped into Gale's, both of their palms cold and clammy. The hiss of a door opening drew their attention and a figure emerged.

Standing up straighter, Gale cleared his throat and walked forwards, Astarion's hand still in his.

"Lae'zel, I presume? I'm Gale of Waterdeep, the one you've been communicating with all this time."

#bloodweave #astarion/gale #gale x astarion #astarion #bg3 astarion #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

23 notes · View notes

emocxnteddie · 10 months ago

Text

!-! The Candle !-!

Couple/Ship; Astarion x GN!TAV[They/Them Pronouns]

Genre; Angst.

WARNINGS; Grief, Loss, Crying, Sad Astarion, TAV is dead, praying, swearing, death. {Let Me Know If More Is Needed}

Astarion made his way over to the shrine dedicated to a deceased follower of Eilistraee. The deceased person in question was TAV L/N.

Astarion kneeled down in front of the shrine, beginning to light each of the candles. He wasn't usually the kind to make any attempt to seek out the divine or even think about the divine, but TAV used to. His TAV, his darling.

TAV showed him how to love again, and freed him from Cazador. Astarion still would never accept that TAV was taken from him so soon, far too soon.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you." Astarion sighed and looked at the painting of TAV, the memories flooding back to him.

He couldn't hold it in anymore, he just felt himself break down. Tears streaming down his face. It pained him to know that he would no longer feel TAV's warm embrace or the way they'd laugh with him, how they'd comfort him whenever he needed it.

"Gods damn it. Why did you have to leave so soon!? Why did you even do such a reckless thing! You got yourself killed!" Astarion sobbed as he looked at the portrait, his heart hurt, everything hurt.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Astarion, they did a brave thing," Gale said and kneeled down next to Astarion, placing his own candle by the shrine and lighting it.

Astarion looked at Gale, wiping his tears. "Whatever..why are you here anyway?" Astarion mumbled and Gale looked at the portrait of TAV.

"You're not alone in missing them, all of us miss them, after all, they were the captain of our group," Gale said with a small smile.

Astarion stayed silent for a while, eventually nodding. "Yeah..but why would the gods take them away right after we won?" Astarion asked and Gale shrugged.

"The gods are weird like that, I should know since I was Mystra's chosen." Gale chuckled and clasped his hands together.

"You wanna pray with me?" Gale asked and Astarion smiled halfly, nodding. "Yeah, I can." Astarion sighed and clasped his hands together as well.

"Thanks, Gale." "Of course, we're friends after all."

#bg3 #x reader #gay #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 companions #bg3 tav #angst #tav angst #astarion angst #astarion ancunin angst #angst bg3 #gale of waterdeep #Spotify

58 notes · View notes

consistencynevermether · 1 year ago

Text

Breaking down walls- Astarion x reader

Astarion x "uses humor to cope" reader, second person POV, 1.4k words, gn reader

tw- Mentions of Cazador, nothing else really?

a/n- ive been so obsessed with this little dude i love him sm. this is my first time writing fanfic online so any advice is welcome :)

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

You had never been good at genuine emotions. It was always so much easier to joke about such things, as a way to make people feel less shitty about their situation than to actually talk about the reality of things.

It’s what you had done with Karlach, making up all sorts of outrageous stories about the fun you and your best friend could get into once she was free from the furnace that burned inside of her. Even though deep down you had no idea how to free her from the flames.

You had done it with Gale, making up jokes about his stereotypical “wizards tower” whenever he was feeling down about Mystra. Even though deep down you had no idea how he was supposed to cope with what she demanded of him.

It was easy to joke. To make people feel good and laugh for a short amount of time. That’s what you told yourself.

But the truth was, the alternative was hard. Feelings, reality, genuine bonds, they all meant you had to put down your walls. And the other person had to do the same. And deep down, you feared letting down your walls for someone, only for them to keep theirs up.

It was probably why you liked Astarion so much. While you put up a front of jokes, he puts up a front of flirty advances. Both of you knew you were putting on an act, yet neither minded. Neither dared try to climb the other's wall.

And so the two of you formed a bit of a routine, he would flirt, and you would tease. Both of you dancing around how you really felt like leaves fluttering in the wind. A subtle glance there and a stray brush of the fingers here made you think, or maybe hope, that he really felt something for you. Just a little. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on your part.

But he’d never seen the sadness in your eyes when he would say those sweet words to you, both knowing he didn’t mean them. And if you had any say in it, he never would. It was better that way. Easier. Safer. And you’d be damned if you ruined the current relationship you had with him. Because at least you got to be close. A few genuine words among a sea of deception was far better than him shutting you out completely. Better savor what little you can have than lose it all right?

That had been your mantra, right up until that night.

You had had a bout of insomnia the night before, and so you had offered to take the first watch tonight. You'd hoped staying up extra late meant that after your watch you would instantly crash and hopefully fix your sleep schedule a little.

It had started a little before midnight, you had heard Astarion mumbling something under his breath, tossing and turning. You had heard somewhere that elves only sleep for about 4 hours, so you figured it was best to leave him be. He’d be up soon anyway.

And that plan worked fabulously. For about 5 minutes until the mumbles became more like cries for help. You knew what, or rather who he was dreaming about, and it hurt to see him in so much pain.

Lifting yourself up from the rock you were seated on, you made your way to shake him awake, only for Astarion to shoot upright as you were about to grab his shoulder.

Your eyes met, only inches apart, your face filled with mild shock and his with horror.

Quickly recovering, you took a step back, giving him proper space so as to not add to his obvious terror. Unfortunately for you, trying to get away meant stumbling over your own crouched form and landing on your rear with a yelp.

For a second you both sat there, you not daring to even breathe too loudly. while he looked at you in slight confusion, though that was mostly covered by the blinding terror still on his face.

You sat there in silence for a few more moments, before your brain finally kicked in and you realized you needed to say something, now. Preferably without sounding like a complete lunatic, freak, or wackjob.

“I-“

you open your mouth to speak, but Astarion beats you to it, his velvety voice cutting through your uncertain, cracking tone.

“You know, you’re not the first person I’ve left speechless, although normally it’s for quite a different reason.”

Astarion's tone was playful, but the slight shake in his voice was obvious. Once again, you couldn’t see beyond the walls he had built.

“Anyways love, sorry for disturbing your watch. Feel free to go b-“

“I was thinking of what to say.”

Your sudden interruption earned an eyebrow raise from the pale elf.

“That hard for you darling? Maybe because you’re stunned by how beautiful I look when asleep?”

He was giving you a way out. A way to laugh this all off and pretend like it never even happened the next morning. If it were any other time you might have taken it. If you didn’t see the fear in his eyes. If you didn’t see the way his hands were still shaking. If deep down, you didn’t want to break down your walls for him.

Before you could think better of it, you opened your mouth.

“I could say that Cazador can’t hurt you anymore. That you're safe here. But you're clearly hurting, so that isn’t true.”

Now it was Astarion’s turn to look shocked. He hadn’t mentioned the dream was about Cazador but he didn’t have to. You knew all the same. He looked like he wanted to say something, to object maybe, but if you didn’t say what you wanted to say now you may never do it again. So you spoke again before he could.

“I could say that I’m going to rip that bastard limb from limb for you, but-“

You shrug and gesture vaguely to the camp around you. The supplies you all had managed to scrounge together, and your weary companions sleeping silently nearby

“We don’t exactly have a plan now, do we? Hells we can’t even figure out how to be rid of this damn tadpole. So saying that’s definitely out, nobody wants to hear empty promises”

A dry bark of laughter escaped Astarion,s lips, probably out of shock from your brutal honesty, but you weren’t done yet.

You opened your mouth one more time, voice shaky but eyes locked onto his all the same.

“I could-

I could tell you that I don’t know everything about your past. About what all he did to you. But I do know that whatever your future holds, I will be there. I will stand beside you and I will not leave. No matter what you choose I will support you. I will stay. And you will not go back Astarion. You will never go back under him. Not while I breathe. Not when you can still fight. You won’t do this alone, I swear that to you.”

And just like that you had broken down your walls. There were no jokes, no double meanings, no way out of it. Because despite the fear, you wanted to be seen. And you wanted to see him too. Not the act that he put up, but the real genuine version of him, scars and all.

Astarion looked at you in silence, it was his turn to be rendered speechless. Despite all your bravado before, this was terrifying. Honestly, jumping into a pit of hungry manticores seemed more appealing than this current conversation. You looked down at the ground, unable to hold his gaze any longer. A million thoughts ran through your mind, but no matter what you wouldn’t take it back. You couldn’t go back to stealing glances at him and smiling at his honeyed words, secretly wishing he’d meant them. Not again, you just ca-

A cool hand against yours stopped your train of thought right in its tracks.

Long, slender, Pale fingers wrapped around yours. And your mind went silent.

You whipped your head up to Astarion, but he wasn’t looking your way. His eyes were focused on the horizon, not even stealing a glimpse in your direction. But he gently weaved your fingers together more. His grasp was firm, yet still slightly shaking.

A crack in his wall. A start. A glimpse at the real Astarion you so desperately wished to see.

You sat together in silence. Your hands never left each other's grasp, not until you were eventually overtaken by sleep.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion romance #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x mc #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion fic

118 notes · View notes

lirotation · 1 year ago

Text

I Hail from Silverymoon: The New Beginning

POV my little fanfic Astarion X Amaara(my Tav). I won't delve into the ending of BG3, as it tends to put me in a sour mood. I just want to say that as someone who is married for 10+ years, I can already hear Astarion bringing up his "sacrifice" over and over and over again in their future.

______________________________

The morning after their wild victory celebration, Astarion had woken up feeling rather content, despite the fact that he lost the ability to walk under the sun. The room was beautifully decorated, and having Amaara next to him was nice.

"Good morning, my sweet," he purred into her ear, his lips brushing gently against her skin. He expected her to respond with a playful smile or a teasing remark, as they often did when sharing such intimate moments.

However, her groggy reply had taken him aback. "No, let me sleep," she muttered, turning away from him.

Astarion chuckled softly, but he continued to attempt to engage her in conversation. He gently nibbled on her ear, and whispered, "I was thinking about going to the Underdark, the spawns we freed need a leader."

"You can go," she muttered, seemingly without any hesitation. Astarion's frustration grew as he realized that she was agreeing to him leaving alone.

"And where will you be going?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation and hurt.

Amaara, still battling a throbbing headache and not fully awake, replied without much thought, "I am going to Waterdeep with Gale."

Astarion's anger flared. "What? With Gale? " He raised his voice, "After everything I sacrificed for you? How can you do this to me?" he said, his voice tinged with hurt.

Amaara was taken aback by his sudden outburst. She winced as the noise aggravated her hangover, and she gingerly sat up in bed, cradling her throbbing head. Confusion clouded her expression as she tried to make sense of his words.

"What did you sacrifice?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine puzzlement. She truly didn't understand what he was referring to. "And what did I do?"

Astarion took a deep breath, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. He looked at her, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. Finally, he said, "I gave up the profane ascension for you! I gave up my ability to be under the sun for you! Now, you are casting me aside?"

"Wait, what? I am not casting you anywhere," Amaara replied, her confusion deepening. Her foggy mind struggled to make sense of the situation. "I am going to Waterdeep, with Gale." she repeated, "we talked about this, now you don't want to go with us, you wish to go to the Underdark, I respect your decisions. I will go find you once I am able."

"When did we talk about this?" Astarion was furious, "You would rather travel with Gale than with me?"

"…" Amaara was getting pretty frustrated too, her head felt like splitting open, patience, Amaara, she took a deep breath. "We talked about this right after Cazador's death. I said I will go to Waterdeep, Candlekeep, and even Silverymoon to find a cure for you." She signed, "now we have Mystra's chosen as a friend, I intend to use that connection. I assumed you would go with me, but you are your own person and can make your own decisions. Maybe it is for the best if you go wait for me in the Underdark."

Amaara's explanation seemed to calm Astarion's anger somewhat, although a trace of frustration still lingered in his voice. "I don't remember much from that day," he admitted, "I was not myself." He paused, then he said with a small voice, "I would still like to travel with you."

"Then we will travel at night and rest during the day. "She smiled. "We have to wait for Gale to return from Mystra. In the meantime, I will dig in Baldur's Gate to see if there is anything helpful here. Waterdeep is more promising though. In our travels, I found a hint that the Cloak of Dragomir was last seen around Waterdeep."

"What is that?" he asked.

"A cloak that allows a vampire to travel outside during the day in full view of the sun." She answered, "with drawn backs, of course, you will probably hate it, but we will have more autonomy with it. We won’t always be in the cities. There is that ancient dragon who ate my entire caravan when I was traveling to Baldur’s gate. I want to see if there is a wish spell somewhere in her hoard."

"You…put a lot of thoughts into this." His voice grew quiet.

Amaara couldn't help but chuckle at his comment, "Well, someone has to think ahead," she teased, "especially when I have a lover as reckless as you."

A smile appear on Astarion's face, "I am sorry about earlier."

"It's alright," she reassured him. "I understand you were frustrated. Forgive me for being unclear too. I am having a massive hangover. Please take pity on your lover who does not share your fast regeneration."

He grinned mischievously. "Ah, but that's the price of a good time, my dear. Perhaps I should teach you a thing or two about handling your drinks."

Amaara chuckled, her fingers gently tracing a pattern on his arm. "Then it's settled. We'll search the city and wait for Gale to return. And when he does, we'll set out on our journey together."

Astarion leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. "I look forward to our adventures, my dear. Everything is a lot more fun when we do it together. We make an excellent team."

With their plans now aligned and their connection strengthened, they faced the uncertain future with renewed determination and hope.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion fanart #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanart #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #procreate #i hail from silverymoon #my tav #amaara ashvale

106 notes · View notes

unreadpoppy · 6 months ago

Text

down by the river - Chapter 15 (THE END)

Raphael x Warlock!Tav

Read on AO3

chapter 14

A/N: This is the end. I'm sorry.

TW: Death.

Six Months Later…

Ever since the defeat of the Netherbrain, each member of their little group had gone their separate ways.

Tav had tried keeping contact, but some of them were too hard to find. Gale was perhaps the only one she kept close to, as she promised to find a way to solve his orb issues. In the end, Mystra had indeed summoned him, saying that the orb would trouble him no more. The wizard had been ecstatic, and was now working as a professor in the Blackstaff Academy.

Tav, after staying with him awhile, left to visit Halsin in the now cured shadow cursed lands. He was slowly building his community with the refugees, and plants were already starting to grow back. She could see children, most of them orphans, running around, laughing. Halsin told her of his plans for the community, on helping others and creating a haven for everyone in need.

After that, she mostly stayed in Baldur’s Gate, helping rebuild the Upper City. Over time, she noticed the little signs of aging returning to her. Frown and smile lines, and gray hairs growing on her head. She hadn’t seen Raphael since she gave him the crown - his excuse had been that it would be too much work to claim Avernus and since she wanted freedom, he didn’t need her - but at least he kept his end of the deal.

Overall, Tav was fine, with a lot to look forward to. When a letter arrived in her house, signed by Withers, she put on the best clothes she could find and headed to the wilderness in which their adventure had begun.

…

Arriving at the party, she immediately made her way over to Karlach and Wyll. Hugging both of them, she said “I’m very glad you two could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything.” Karlach said. She eyed Tav for a moment and then said. “There’s something different about you. Did you get a haircut?”

Tav laughed. “No, but there are some gray hairs in my head now.”

Wyll’s eyes widened. “You’re..old now?”

The tiefling elbowed him. “Wyll, it’s rude to say something like that!”

“Don’t worry, Karlach. He didn’t mean it like that.” Tav reassured. “ Part of my old contract is that I wasn’t aging.”

“Old contract? Does that mean…” Wyll began and Tav nodded.

“I renegotiated some of my terms with Raphael. That included that once I die, either of old age or any other way, I’ll be free of him.”

Karlach raised a brow. “And that’s a good thing because…”

“Because I can live my life again, and not just go mission after mission because of Raphael.” Tav took a deep breath. “Somehow, death being back on the table has made me feel more alive than ever.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it, soldier. Thought your patron has been causing quite the stir in Avernus.”

The pair proceeded to talk of their adventures in the Hells, even mentioning a possibility of fixing Karlach’s engine for good. They spoke of how the blood war had seemingly stopped because of Raphael’s forces, and how they hoped to get out of there soon.

Eventually, they told Tav to move on and talk to the others, not letting them hog her attention. Everyone shared their tales: Shadowheart now lived in a farm with her parents, Astarion was living in the shadows but without Cazador around, he felt freer than ever, Minthara had gone back to Menzoberranzan to reclaim her house, and Lae’zel was working with the githzerai to end Vlaakith’s reign.

Before the party ended, Tav approached Wyll once more, a book in hand. “I wanted to give you this.”

“What is it?” He asked, opening it and skimming a few pages.

“I decided to put down in pen and paper all the things that have happened to me, in these four centuries.”

“Then why are you giving it to me?”

Tav sighed. “You have been a really good friend to me, Wyll Ravengard. If there’s anyone I’d like to share the wisdom I have gathered, it is you.” She smiled softly at him. “I hope these words help you even after I’m gone.”

Wyll shook his head. “You speak as if you were to die tomorrow.” They both laughed a bit.

“Hopefully, I won’t, but we never know what the future might hold. Besides, if the gods be willing, you’ll live much longer than I will.”

Wyll smiled and hugged Tav. “Thank you for everything, Tav.” He looked at her. “We wouldn’t have gotten here without you.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have gotten here without you - all of you.”

…

All in all, Tav was glad that her companions were somewhat safe and carrying out their own destinies. After Withers final speech, she walked near where the river was and began playing her lute.

‘Lace your heart with mine

Let your sleeping soul take flight

Take me through the night

Down, down, down by the river’

Then, she felt a burning sensation on the scar in her collarbone. It was a familiar type of ache and Tav knew what it meant: Raphael was near.

In an instant, Tav was engulfed in flames as she was sent to the dining hall of the House of Hope. The table was set with various delicious foods, and sitting at the end was Raphael. Adorning the crown and his best clothes, he stood up.

“What is the meaning of this?” Tav asked.

“I promised you dinner.” With a flick of his wrist, one of the chairs next to him was pulled. “And you’re even dressed for the occasion, how nice.” He chuckled to himself. “Now, sit, eat and enjoy. Indulge your patron one last time.”

Tav frowned at that wording but did so nonetheless. She looked at her plate of food, and quickly realized that those were the same dishes her mother used to make. Taking a temptive bite, Tav hummed with delight, as they tasted the same.

“I see that the food is to your liking?” He asked, taking a sip from his glass.

“Very much so.” She drank from her wine. “This is delicious.”

He nodded his head. “It was hard to track down your mother’s old recipes. I’m glad to see that it paid off.”

“How did you do it?”

“My dear, I’ll soon be Lord of Avernus. There is a lot that I can do that you don’t know.” After that, the conversation turned to Raphael’s plans and what he would do once Avernus was fully his.

Tav listened, but part of her was elsewhere. Looking around the House of Hope, she wondered if she would miss this place. It had been her pseudo home for a long time, after all.

As they finished eating, Raphael rose from his seat once again, beckoning Tav to follow him near a balcony. With a snap of his finger, the sound of music filled the air. He extended his hand to Tav, and she looked at him. “Dance with me.” He said.

“Why?”

“Because this is a special occasion.” Was his reply. Before Tav could inquire further, he added “And because you are still my warlock and must obey me.”

She sighed and nodded, grabbing his hand and allowing him to lead her in the dance. They had done this before, long ago, when one of Tav’s mission included infiltrating a high society party. Raphael had insisted on teaching her the basics as she would need to pass off as a lady.

Now, the two of them eased into a slow rhythm. Tav’s hand was on his shoulder, as he held the other, one of his hands on her waist.

“I’ll miss this.” He whispered. “This quiet peacefulness. But mostly, I’ll miss you.”

“What do you mean?” She furrowed her brows.

“You will die, Tav, and no longer will you be my warlock.” Raphael looked down at her. “It saddens me that our partnership will soon come to an end.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear “You were always my favorite, but tell Korrilla that.”

Tav looked back at him, smirking. “This is new. I’ve never seen you this sentimental.” He gave her a twirl, and then she said “But it’s not like I’m dying tomorrow. There might be many years until we see the end of our contract.”

“Ah, but when you’re as old as I am, a human’s life goes by in a second.” He sighed. “It feels like it was just yesterday when we first met.”

After that, the two felt silent, as the music was getting closer and closer to an ending. Feeling tired, Tav placed her head on Raphael’s chest, as the two were just swaying in place.

“I have missed you.” She said. “It was strange to have so much time to myself.”

Raphael chuckled. “I hope you made good of that time.”

“I did.” She sighed and looked up at him. “Do you remember that time…that time when you kissed me?”

“I do.”

“I remember back then, I thought I was in love with you. I thought you my savior, my whole world. I thought you had cared about me.”

The swaying stopped as Raphael asked Tav “And now?”

“I don’t know. But you threw it all away when you told me you’d put the tadpole in my eye yourself if it meant getting you the crown.” Tav took a deep breath. “There was once a time I would have gone to the ends of the world if you asked me to. Now I know I was just a pawn all along.”

She closed her eyes, and put her forehead in his chest. A few tears streamed down her eyes, as she thought of all that could have been. She felt him put his arms around her, holding her close.

“This is all your fault, you know.” She whispered in his chest. “If you miss me when I’m gone, know that if you hadn’t been so selfish, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“I know.” He said, and then placed two fingers underneath her chin, raising her head. “And I’m sorry for this.”

She furrowed her brows, unsure of what he meant, when suddenly, she felt a blade pushing itself into her waist.

Tav let go of him and looked down, seeing a dagger stabbing her in the stomach. She looked back at him, shocked.

“Wasn’t that what you wanted, Tav?” He said, holding her arm, not letting her run away. “Freedom from me in death? Well, you’ll have it.” He held the dagger twisting it before removing it, Tav’s blood oozing on the ground.

Tav gasped in pain, holding onto him as her knees buckled. Her heart raced, trying to survive. Raphael held her and lowered her to the ground, cradling her head in his hand, as if he was holding on to a dying lover.

“How….could…you…” She rasped and then coughed blood. She tried to stop the bleeding with her hand but it was useless.

Tav was going to die.

“You know too much. I cannot risk everything I’ve worked for if someone decides to use you against me, or if your resentment causes your tongue to slip.” Tav’s breathing began to slow and she fought to stay present. “You gave me the crown, and for that, I am grateful. But if you won’t work with me, then I have no other use for you.”

“Raphael…” She rasped.

“Go, Tav.” He kissed her forehead. “Go and be free.”

Those were the last words Tav heard as her consciousness faded, her soul leaving her body. Raphael wiped a stray tear from his left eye, and closed her eyes. Standing up, he carried her away.

…

Tav kneeled on the ground. “Why? Why did it end like this?” She said, weeping. Looking around, Tav did not know where she was. She felt immaterial in a way. Was this the Fugue Plane?

“Do not weep, child.” She heard the gravelly voice of Withers; She stood up to look at him. “Thy life may have reached its end, but thy story shall live on in thy companion’s hearts.”

“What do you mean?” Tav slowly stood up.

“Thou, who hath lived many lives, shall live a thousand more in the stories they will tell.” The skeleton put a bony hand on her shoulder. “Thou hath found the freedom thou has always wished for.”

“I…I don’t understand.” She said weakly. “I’m dead. What more can I do?”

“Thy life may be forfeit, but thy death hath only begun to unfold.” He said. “What awaiteth thee is a mystery even to me. I cannot account for thee, adventurer….hero…friend.” Tav smiled a bit at that “But I know thy story hath not endeth here.”

“Death itself hath many byways, and thou might yet have a new, and different role to play. “ Withers began to walk away and Tav followed after him, not knowing what awaited for her, but with newfound hope for whatever the future might bring.

THE END.

#raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael the cambion #bg3 tav #baldur's gate 3 #fem!tav #warlock!tav #bg3 #raphael bg3 x tav

23 notes · View notes

dreamingofthewild · 6 months ago

Note

hi! did you see the post i wrote mine in response to? i didn't want to comment on it because i don't want to invalidate anyone's interpretation. i do feel that gale and astarion are extremely similar (having done both romances this was so evident to me and my multiplayer group that we were like wow) and even for similar reasons because they both want to be safe & power = safety to them imo

See, I think they are plot foils. Astarion is also a plot foil for Wyll as Gale and Wyll share many similarities, but I will not detail that here.

They represent bad vs. good, light vs. dark. They are opposing forces that highlight each others traits.

Here are some ways they have similar themes with opposing ways of going about it.

On a similar note, Astarion tries to gain the PC's support through manipulation and Gale through helpfulness.

Dependency: Astarion needs the player's character for protection. Gale relies on the player character to help manage the orb. They both rely on the character's support and choices. Which is why you can convince Gale to stay with you in an evil playthrough, and the only way Astarion will leave is if you're antagonistic towards him. The other characters don't rely on the PC as much.

Pursuit of Power: Both are drawn to power but for different reasons. Gale seeks power for knowledge and autonomy, while Astarion seeks it for freedom from his past and for control. Unlike Shadowheart and Lae'zel, who want to become chosen, Astarion and Gale aim to surpass their respective abusers.

Redemption Arcs: Their stories both involve redemption but from different angles. Gale seeks self-forgiveness and understanding his worth, while Astarion’s redemption, in a good playthrough, is about finding humanity and empathy after a life of manipulation and survival. Gale doesn't need to be redeemed. He just thinks he does. Where Astarion needs to be redeemed but thinks he can't.

Worldview and Personal Growth: Both need significant shifts in their worldviews. Astarion needs to learn empathy and trust, while Gale needs to understand his value beyond his powers and reassess his relationship with Mystra. Both don't think they're worth anything other than what their abusers made them to be. Gale with his magic and Astarion with his looks.

Charisma: Both are charismatic but in different ways. Astarion uses seduction and cunning, while Gale uses intellect and persuasion. Astarion's flirtations are inauthentic, while Gale’s charm is genuine.

They are opposites because Gale is good but has the potential to be corrupted by his own insecurities if you don’t convince him that he is enough. Where Astarion is a bad person who has the potential to become better if you can convince him that the world is not a bad place and he is worthy of being saved. Both need to be challenged and know that they can change.

Self-Identity: Both struggle with self-identity and have moments of deep self-reflection and doubt. Gale struggles with his sense of failure and worthiness in Mystra's eyes. Astarion struggles with his autonomy and whether he can be more than a tool used by others.

The thing is, it's not the Gale x Astarion shippers who are villianising Gale and turning him into a power-hungry karsus Jr. Toxic Bloodweave exists, but it's only a small portion of the ship. Most fics deal with Gale just wanting love, acceptance, recognition, and approval. Astarion wants the same things but doesn't feel worthy of having them until Cazador has been defeated. Once in love, they are both fiercely loyal.

They balance each other out. And when we say they're similar, we're not saying Gale is inherently evil or Astarion is always good. We're saying that they both need saving from themselves because they are both more than what their abusers made them to be. Both their stories are more fulfilling and sweeter in their romance route.

I managed to get Astarion’s good ending while not romancing him and having only 52 approval points with him. Wyll and Karlach were proud of him. Wyll seemed to like Astarion. I'm Act 3 in my playthrough, and I doubt Wyll the monster hunter would be proud of Astarion the monster if he thought Astarion was evil even in a non-ascended playthrough I'm adding this because some people don't see that Astarion has a redemption ending. I don't think Wyll, Gale, or Karlach (but especially Wyll) would associate himself with Astarion if Astarion was fully evil even in a spawn ending.

#anyway these are just my thoughts #It mainly comes from people who don't like Astarion or don't like Bloodweave #I think that is why they clash and why they don't get along in Act 1 #Because they see each other #bloodweave #I'm tagging this as Bloodweave as it's vaguely Bloodweave related so people who don't like it can avoid the tag #It's not explicitly ship related but I know some people who follow me don't like Bloodweave so I'm tagging it to be on the safeside #But like if Gale was power hungry and Astarion was only evil I wouldn’t ship them both together

16 notes · View notes

skye-the-dragon · 8 months ago

Text

Bloodweave x My Tav, angst things

Tw/Cw: Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Ideation, Self-Harm, Eating Disorders, past Sexual Abuse and Torture

Sometimes, when being intimate, Astarion gets flashbacks of Cazador’s abuse. Of course, Zion and Gale immediately stop when they see it, but they wish they could just will the memories away for Astarion not to hurt. As is, they simply do whatever they can to help him through it

He also still sometimes feels as if he doesn’t have worth past his body, since he’s been conditioned to believe that for 200-ish years

Back when Gale was with Mystra, he used to watch his diet obsessively, wanting to appeal to her godly standards. There’s still times when he starts to starve himself, despite knowing Astarion and Zion love him as he is. He can’t help it, old habits die hard

He also gets insecure about his weight (He’s chubby no I don’t take criticism). Zion and Astarion do their best to reassure him, but sometimes it’s still not enough and he ends up watching his diet obsessively again

Zion has depressive episodes from time to time. Sometimes, when it gets bad, they have to force themselves to ask Gale to put the hold person spell on them, until they can trust themselves to not do anything all of them will regret. Other times they don’t manage, and end up scratching their forearms until they bleed

The three of them don’t argue often, it’s mostly playful banter, but when they do it’s not pretty, whatever the subject of their argument may be. Astarion slips back into his mask, Zion’s mind numbs them as a defense mechanism, and Gale just feels so, so guilty. For the most part Zion is the one to resolve the aftermath, because despite their numbness they still want Gale and Astarion to be happy

On that note, Zion would do literally anything for the two of them, even to the point of disregarding their own needs, comfort and/or safety

They once let slip that, if they knew how, they’d kill Mystra in an instant. Gale tried to talk them down, and it led to a serious argument between the two. For once Astarion had to try and resolve this one. He did manage, but not without trouble. Gale still lowkey holds it against Zion they want to kill the goddess of magic

Zion often talks about their own death, or death in general, as something more good than bad, even beautiful, because their depression and suicidal thoughts have forced them into that mindset to stay somewhat sane

Once a person found out Astarion is a vampire. He ended up killing them for the word not to spread. He came back to the tower really shaken, despite knowing it was self-preservation that caused him to do that, but he still felt guilt. Zion and Gale still don’t know about it, but they have their suspicions

If I think of anything more I’ll make another post lol

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #my tav #bloodweave x tav

21 notes · View notes

waterdeepwife · 1 month ago

Text

PLEASE READ EVERYTHING BEFORE REQUESTING. THANK YOU.

Requests: OPEN

In the works: 1

💜Masterlist💜

🔮This blog is for fanfics for Baldur’s Gate 3, but Gale Dekarios takes priority because I play favorites. The only companions I don’t write for are Minthara, Jaheira, snd Misnc.

🔮This blog is for ADULTS ONLY. If you are underaged I will be blocking you!

🔮I have a job and college so I will be slow to write but I am trying my best! So please be patient with me I will get to your requests.

🔮I am only writing female readers, sorry but it’s what I’m most comfortable doing. I also try to keep the body/race vague (unless specified) so everybody can enjoy and read!

🔮You are welcome to submit asks that are requests. If you want to chat or share opinions that is welcomed, just be kind to everyone. On that note you may not agree with my headcanons for Gale and that’s okay, but please don’t be rude about it.

🔮Currently not doing angst requests due to being in a bad head space.

🔮Mystra, Mizora, Cazador Hate Zone

🔮Hello! My name is Cricket, which is a nickname my family gave me as a kid. I use She/Her pronouns and I’m currently obsessed with Bg3 and specifically Gale. I love to write in my spare time and I’m always open for a chat!

What I Write

Headcanons

Oneshots

Smut

Fluff

Canon x Reader

What I Don’t Write

Non-con

Suicide/Death of Tav or Gale

Incest, underaged, zoophilia will NEVER been tolerated here. (I can’t believe this has to be said.)

Canon x Oc

Canon x Canon

Age regression.

God Gale

Ascended Astarion

#gale dekarios x reader #bg3 gale x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur’s gate tav #bg3 gale x tav #baldur’s gate 3 gale #Gale Dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 Gale

10 notes · View notes

thatfreshi · 1 year ago

Text

Take This and Leave (Astarion/Gale x Reader)

Wasn't expecting this to be the sequel to "I Want To Mean It" but uhhhhhhh, here you go? Moreso a prequel I guess. Might still make more in this universe.

Recommended Song: i love you - Billie Eilish

"I cannot believe you're still going through with this."

Gale sighed, continuing to add to the cauldron.

"I mean why not? We've been going on about this for weeks, seems unfair to cancel on you now."

"I guess so."

He keeps his eyes on the bubbling mixture, something miserable lying beneath.

"I just hope you know what you're doing."

You laugh, assuming he's joking.

"Well if you mean in terms of the ambrosia, that's not really my job. But, if you means in terms of what the ambrosia will do, yeah, I know what it'll do. I want to be with him forever Gale, and I want him to know that I mean it."

"I wish you weren't so naive sometimes."

For a while, you were simply twiddling your thumbs, staring at the fancy new wizard tower Gale had procured, the books and tomes lining the walls.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It feels like you don't even think for yourself sometimes."

You're hurt. The best man of your wedding, implying that your decisions are crafted by some higher power, something you yield to.

"What, like how you were going to let yourself explode for Mystra? Seems like I'm the only one truly thinking for themselves. I had to talk you out of some grand suicide mission."

"And I never asked you to do that. Perhaps it would be best if that's how it went."

"Where is all of this coming from Gale?"

"I just don't think you know what you're getting yourself into. Eternity with a vampire, a vampire that can't keep his murderous hands to himself. He's reckless Tav, he almost killed you when you met, and you act like it's some grand romance story."

"He was scared Gale, that's hardly fair."

"We were all scared, and I never held a dagger to your throat."

He chokes up, staring back down at the cauldron.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

It's the day before your wedding, and your best friend has just now decided to tell you that he doesn't trust your soon-to-be husband, in a tone that's awfully laced with jealousy.

"Out with it Gale."

"I'm just saying, I think it's a little foolish to fawn after a man who could decide to destroy you one of these days, kill you in your sleep for a meal."

"He slept in camp with us for months, and you never said this. If you're so scared of what he's capable of, why didn't you say something then?"

"Because damn it, he wasn't in love with you then!"

"Wow, okay. Are you being serious right now?"

"I kept it contained because I didn't want to cause a divide, but now you're throwing your mortality away for someone who manipulated you, threw himself at you for his own gain, and you still truly believe he's in love with you? This is a long con Tav, he's looking for any way to further secure himself, because even with Cazador dead, he is never going to feel safe."

You glare at him, eyes boring into his skin.

"You don't mean that Gale. He's come so far and you know that. He could've become some rancid vampire lord, and he gave that up to be a better person, to change."

"Because being a lord would've meant having enemies, having a target on his back. Cazador died, didn't he? Had you seriously never thought about this?"

"No Gale, because it's a wild accusation that makes no sense!"

He quickly steps to a nearby cabinet, grabbing a vial and a small metal spoon.

"You want the lying vampire so bad? Fine, take this and leave. He'll just have to think of better ways to get rid of you when he finds a better opportunity along the way."

Gale furiously pours the liquid into the vial, corking it and slamming it into your hand. You drink it, some power play to tell him you're not dealing with his childish antics. That artificial joy runs through your veins, only to be quickly overpowered by your rage. You're glowing from the ambrosia, but your scowl tells a different story.

"Now get out, and don't come back here, not when he leaves, not when he disappears, don't come crying to me when you realize he doesn't love you."

"No, you haven't held up your end of the bargain. I need the paper from your journal."

He scoffs angrily, scribbling down his research notes, short sentences full of spite, seemingly normal on paper. When he rips it out and shoves the paper at you, he almost pushes you over.

"Now go."

You storm out, putting the vial and the scroll in your pocket, slamming the door behind you. And then you start crying as you walk down the street, realizing how ridiculous you must look to all the strangers walking past. It's the middle of the day, and you're sobbing out in the open, hands shoved in your pockets, as if protecting yourself.

How could he say all of that? Lie about being Astarion's friend, so what? He could keep you safe? Bullshit. He's a coward, who couldn't tell you the truth until he could hurt you with it. You rush home, hoping this doesn't ruin everything, hoping you were right all along.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #angst #gale x tav #gale x reader #baldurs gate gale

247 notes · View notes