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whaledenwtf · 1 year ago

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Halsin x Druid!Reader - The Forest's Calling

I'm currently HYPERFIXATING on Baldur's Gate 3. This is my love letter to Mount Halsin, the elf I would climb until my limbs fell off. You're welcome (or I'm sorry). Cross-posted on AO3 here: Link Enjoy!

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Dom/Sub Dynamic, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Choking, Oral (Female and Male Receiving), Kinky DRUID Forest Sex, Misuse of the Entangle Cantrip (hehe), Size Difference

I tried to keep Halsin in character as much as possible, but there is a significant change when y'all get funky

WORD COUNT: 4691

Nature calls to you, as it always had. The sounds of the forest have always been your favourite. Silvanus' creations had made you feel complete. The moss between your toes, and the swaying of trees; you had never felt so much peace during such perilous times. It's at times like this you are gracious for your god's teachings; nature is chaotic as it is gentle, and things will sort them out- if that is what is determined. This is how you kept such a level head during this adventure. Some of your companions saw your level-headedness as worrisome, but you always remind them that to persevere is in the forest's nature, and so it is in yours.

No good ever came from stressing over obstacles in your life.

"If you could stop thinking about the grass for five seconds, I'd appreciate you listening to me. Tch- tree huggers." Astarion tells you annoyed. You look into his crimson eyes and smirk.

"This tree hugger is your key to freedom. Unless you forgot about the tadpole in your brain." Astarion's eyes widen, before he smirks.

"Keep talking dirty, sweetheart. Might not resist taking a bite~" You chuckle.

"Settle down. Like I told you beforehand, we must seek out the Archdruid Halsin before we continue our journey. Nobody could come close to him in terms of knowledge-" Lae'zel rolls her eyes.

"Nobody could come close to the information about the ghaik than us githyanki. You istik entertain such useless ideas." You roll your eyes at her. Before you could speak up, Shadowheart speaks to the githyanki.

"Yes. I'm sure your barbaric race would know much more." She says sarcastically. "I, on the other hand, would much rather any other option besides yours." Before Lae'zel could fight back, Karlach speaks to them both.

"Shut the fuck up and kiss already. Wasting time when we could be slaying goblins and getting closer to being free. Stop fucking around and listen to (Y/N)." You nod your head in appreciation to the tiefling.

"Besides, even if Archdruid Halsin does not know how to help us, he may offer his services regardless. Leaving him with the goblins is a fate worse than death. His ally-ship will be indispensable." This appeases those in the group who were unsure of your leadership.

"Always the cunning one, aren't you sweetheart." Astarion speaks up. You turn your head and wink.

"Let's push forward and assist in any way we can." Wyll speaks up. Gale nods, looking over our group.

"Let's be smart and proactive, we do not want to lose eachother, nor do we want to get caught. We shall stay in hiding for as long as possible. Stealth is the best way forward with our little information we have." Astarion taps your chin.

"I like you like this." You smirk at him before leading the group to the Goblin Camp.

After killing every goblin in the vicinity, you all venture forward to a cage where a bear is roaming.

"A bear. He was probably going to be goblin fodder." Astarion says, smirking.

"Hush. Poor thing was being attacked by these goblins." Karlach speaks to him, bumping her shoulder into Astarions. He gasps, the wind being knocked out of him.

"Careful. I bruise like a peach!" He tells her angrily. She chuckles.

"And you're just as bitter as a rotten tomato-" Astarion bristles. You cut him off.

"Settle down, girls. We have time for play later. Show some respect. That bear is our charge." You unlock the iron gate before walking in alone.

"I don't think that's a good idea-" Gale says worriedly, but you shush him. When the bear makes eye contact with you, you see the gold swirling in his eyes. His mouth opens to show his sharp teeth, a warning.

You bow down infront of the bear, laying a hand out towards his snout.

"Are you sure that's... wise, sweetheart?" Astarion asks, concerned. You ignore him before speaking.

"Archdruid Halsin, it is my absolute honour to stand before you. We have come here to free you from your imprisonment and bring you back to the Emerald Grove. May Silvanus preserve us." Without a beat, the bear transforms into a tall, handsome, elf. Your eyes widen at his stature, but more at his beauty.

"Ah, a fellow druid. Silvanus has certainly looked upon me in favour. Thank you for assisting me." You realize you are still kneeling, at crotch level with the Archdruid. Your eyes flicker to his pelvis, and eyes widen at what you see. You rise to your full height, which makes you eye level with his chest. Your head tilts to look into his eyes, and notice him watching you, with a small smirk. He saw you gazing at him, how embarrassing.

"Of course, Archdruid Halsin." He shakes his head softly, braids swaying with the movement.

"Please, call me Halsin. My savior shouldn't have to call me by such a title." You nod, before looking over your shoulder at your companions. They are all looking at the tall elf in shock.

"He just- he just turned into a man!" Astarion says out loud. You chuckle.

"Yes. My preferred wild shape is a bear." He responds to the shorter elf, not looking away from you, glancing over you in curiousity. You turn back to look at him. Your eyes stay locked while you speak to your party.

"Let us leave. We will bring Halsin back to the Emerald Grove and then we can rest. I want to wash off this gods-awful goblin blood before it stains my armour." Everyone nods at that. They turn to walk out, ready to escort Halsin back. You follow your group, Gale and Wyll leading you all forward.

"Thank you, little flower. I truly appreciate you aiding me." Halsin whispers to you, matching your strides behind the group. Little flower... the nickname made you giddy. You blush softly, the heat reaching to the peaks of your ears.

"I can't leave a fellow druid behind. Especially with what those goblins were doing to you." You shake your head, looking over him and the dried blood that caked him from his wild shape form. He chuckles at your worried gaze.

"Nonetheless, the Oakfather has blessed me with your assistance. I am indebted to you for life." You turn to look at him, his easy smile and warm eyes making you feel something... magical.

"The Oakfather has blessed us many times anew. The air we breathe, the ground we walk upon, the forests. But alas, I did come to release you because we need your assistance-" His eyes widen lightly, before he looks down at you.

"What do you need, little flower?" The way he speaks to you is soft, unconcerned of the questions you will ask him. His caring nature speaks to the softest parts of you.

"I will ask you once we bring you to the Emerald Grove. However, I must warn you-" You stop walking and grab his arm. Holy hells his arms are buff. You must have paused for a moment too long.

"What is wrong?" You shake your head at your own thoughts. You're acting like a toddler, instead of the adult elf you are.

"At the Emerald Grove... Kagha is planning to do the Rite of Thorns, and is releasing all the Tiefling refugees..." Halsin's eyes almost bug out of his head.

"We must stop them! That rite does more harm than good! Those Tieflings... fleeing towards death. It is not right!" You tell him passionately. He takes your hand from off his arm and grips it in both his large hands.

" We will stop them, little one." You nod. He continues to hold your hand.

"The shadow curse has been on my mind for so long, I cannot believe I trusted such a-" He shakes his head, cutting himself off.

"We will continue our trek and once we stop the rite, I will tell you all you need to know." You bite your lip.

"If I could help carry your burdens, I would." He chuckles, a light blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

"I'm sure you would, little flower. Now, let us continue our journey. I appreciate you warning me." He lets go of your hand and waves his hand out, gesturing you to go forward, so you do. You can't help the chill that you feel when his hands release yours.

After stopping the rite, you did speak to Halsin about the tadpoles. He sighs when he says he cannot heal you of your affliction. A shiver of fear goes through your body. If someone as knowledgeable with healing like Halsin cannot heal you, you cannot imagine how to move forward. Its then that he tells you that the Shadow-Cursed Lands may be the key to assisting you in your journey. You bite your lip worriedly.

"I will continue to assist you. I will follow your party and do what I can. Not only for the cursed lands, but also for you." He says it with such conviction, such passion, you cannot help but feel safe and warmed from his sentiments.

"I feel indebted to you Halsin. Truly." He shakes his head.

"You will be helping me much more than I, you." You smile up at him. He cannot help but be captured by the radiance of your smile. Oakfather preserve him, you are the most beautiful of his creations.

"I will help you with this shadow curse. Take back nature and restore balance. I just hope I don't grow any tentacles in that time." You say humourlessly, your laugh hollow. He grabs your chin with his hand, his thumb stroking the side of your face.

"I promise on all of the Oakfather's creations, I will not let anything happen to you." Your eyes flutter, and you glance down at his lips before looking back into his eyes.

"Thank you." You whisper to him. His attention is taken elsewhere, and his hand caresses down your neck before releasing you, and moving to the Tiefling asking for him.

You feel this feral need to have him, to help him. You're attracted to him, and you can tell this will be problematic. Oakfather preserve you.

That night, the Tieflings throw a party for you all. The music is loud, and you can see them enjoying themselves. You look over your companions and see all of them enjoying themselves; albeit in their own ways. While looking over the festivities, you see Halsin standing away, gazing over the festivities and people watching. Your eyes make contact and you blush.

"This wine tastes like goblin piss." Astarion tells you, gagging on the swig he just took. You chuckle at him, breaking eye contact with the handsome druid to look over at the vampire.

"Not your type of red drink?" You ask him flirtedly. He smirks at you and leans into you.

"No, sweetheart. My type of red is standing right next to me, as radiant as ever." His face gets close to your neck and he sniffs you deeply.

"All of a sudden, I am thirsting for something else." He tells you. You chuckle at his advances.

"Are you now?" You flirt back. He smirks down at you.

"You're much more fun to speak to like this, sweetheart. I can't help but want a taste." You giggle at him, before taking the wine from his hand and taking a couple mouthfuls.

"Oh gods it does taste like goblin's piss." You splutter out. He laughs at your turmoil.

"Oh darling, you make me laugh." He tells you. You grin at him.

"Glad my misfortunes bring you joy." He smiles at you, sharp teeth glinting in the campfire's light.

"Mm. The only thing that would bring me more joy in this moment is having a taste of you." His voice lowers to a whisper. You roll your eyes.

"Easy there. If I didn't know you better I'd say you're a bard, singing my praises so I could follow you to your tent for the night." You push his chest gently.

"I'm sure I can make you sing, sweetheart." He tells you, looking at you with a smirk.

"As much fun as we would have, I think you've had enough to drink." You tell him jokingly, waving the bottle of wine in his face. You take another swig, and swallow down the bitterness. You go to walk forward, the alcohol driving you to your destination; Halsin.

"Ah, my little flower! It seems you were having fun." Halsin tells you, smile on his face. The crease between his brows tells you that he'd much rather had been the one sniffing your neck, rather than Astarion. You feel a rush of confidence surge through you, aided by the alcohol in your system.

"I decided to turn my attentions elsewhere." You tell him confidently. He smirks at your words.

"Is that so? Well, I am honoured to have such attentions on me." He tells you in a whisper. You almost whimper at his words, feeling hot. You feel as though molten lava has replaced the blood in your veins, and the heat is centralized at the apex of your thighs. You rub them lightly, which catches the elder druid's attention.

"You could have much more than attentions on you tonight, Master Halsin." Your voice lowers to a whisper, and the effect is immediate. His eyes shine golden and his smile becomes wider, more primal. Just like in the Goblin Camp, it was a warning.

"Is that so, little flower? Are you offering yourself to me?" He asks you gently, taking a step forward. You are now flush with his body, and the carvings on his undershirt graze the peaks of your breasts deliciously, hardening them. You moan quietly, looking up at the gargantuan man through your eyelids.

"I'd like to explore you, Master Halsin. See if those rumours of your... generosity are true." You feel his arm wrap around your waist, his hand resting at the small of your back. His fingers seem to tighten, digging softly into your skin.

"You seem to enjoy calling me by my honourifics." You hum, smirking at him.

"I'm just calling you by title. You would like to be my master, would you not?" He growls lowly, much like a bear would.

"You're playing a dangerous game, little one." He tells you huskily. You giggle at him.

"The only games I would like to play are with you, Master." In his eyes you can see him having an inner battle. You take the hand on your waist in yours, which snaps him out of his inner turmoil. The alcohol is rushing through you now, your (very little) inhibitions non-existent now. You pull it closer to your face, before taking a thick finger in your mouth and worshipping it. You kiss at the pad of his forefinger before licking it; inevitably taking it into your mouth and sucking on it softly. He watches you entranced, groaning softly as you let go of his finger with a pop. You take his hand in yours, and pull him towards the edge of the camp, leading to the forest. Once you find the small grove in the forest, you let go of his hand, spinning in place and enjoying the silence of nature. He stays at the edge of the tree line, watching you with sharp eyes.

"Little flower-" Halsin says softly. You turn to look at the man with a smile.

"Our worries are for dawn. With the moonlight shining on us, and the trees as our witness, I would like to show you the pleasures of the flesh, as nature intended." He groans loudly now, far enough from the camp that your voices would not carry.

"I'm afraid to lose myself. The beast-" You pull off your nightshirt, exposing your breasts in the moonlight. You then pull off your pants and undergarments in one shot, fully baring yourself to his sight. He inhales deeply, eyes looking at you up and down multiple times. You begin to to dance sensually, your hips seeming to beckon him forward. He takes a couple of uncertain steps.

"Halsin. I am not one so easily afraid of beasts. Let me help you forget your woes for a night." His resolve seems to crumble, and he runs to you, leaving you both chest to chest.

"Little flower, I will devour you-" You moan, pulling his hair to bring him to your lips. His chapped lips touch yours, and it feels as if there is magic flowing through your bodies. His hands find purchase under your thighs, lifting you up into him. Your legs wrap around his waist, and you moan into his mouth. His tongue prods at the seam of your lips, persuading you to open your mouth to his. Your tongues find each other, and a battle of dominance begins. You lose easily, his gifted tongue prodding and licking at yours with wanton need. You release each other to inhale deeply. He inhales from his nose and groans.

"I can smell your need, little one." You whimper, looking into his eyes.

"You're overdressed, Master Halsin. Allow me to undress you." He lets you down out of his embrace, and you begin to untuck his sleepshirt out from his pants and over his head. You begin to untie his pants, helping him out of them as well. That's when you notice he is wearing no undergarments, and his cock is thick and long, closer to the length of your forearm. You whimper, falling to your knees and looking up at him.

"You don't need to please me-" You cut him off.

"I want your cock to hit the back of my throat until I am unable to speak." He moans loudly, before your hand grasps him at the shaft.

"The Oakfather blessed me with such a giving partner. I- Oh Silvanus-" You take him in your mouth, licking at the tip. You taste his musk, and he tastes like pine and mint, and something that makes you absolutely feral. Without a care for your own wellbeing, you try to swallow him whole, his tip hitting the back of your throat, and then some. He groans, eyes closing as one hand finding itself locked in your hair and the other forming a fist at his thigh.

"That's right little druid, take Master's cock into the back of your throat." His voice goes down an octave, and you feel a rush of slick leave you. Taking him out of your mouth, you kiss the shaft downward until you take his heavy balls in your mouth and suckle. You're panting with need, moaning into his skin. You let go of him, one hand stroking his cock and the other inching down your body to touch your cunt. He looks down at you then with hooded eyes, and moans again.

"Are you touching your needy cunt, little flower? I cannot wait to fill you with my seed until your entire being is satiated." You moan, needing him back in your mouth. You remove the hand on his shaft and deepthroat him again, only getting two thirds of his member into your mouth. You hear your need, the wet sounds coming from your pussy only arousing you further. He begins to thrust into your mouth and you choke on him. After making sure you were alright, he continues his movements, thrusts getting rougher. The hand in your hair tightens and pulls you off his cock, as he growls.

"I will pound your quim until you are unable to walk without my healing, little one." His hands grip your upper arms and lifts you up to stand. Your face is smeared with his precum and your spittle. Once you are stable on your two feet, he kisses you passionately and you moan into him. His hands are touching you everywhere. His touch is searing hot. His hands find themselves at your breasts, rubbing and pinching the peaks of them.

"O-Oh Halsin. Don't stop." He chuckles into your ear.

"I'm not planning to stop until dawn shows itself." You whimper at his words, thrusting your chest deeper into his ministrations. You hear Halsin whisper before your hands are being pulled behind you, tightly grasped. Your feet are also held up, spreading your legs open. You notice that vines grew from the ground and are holding you up like a platter to Halsin.

"As much as I love your touch, little one, I don't want you to push me off when I get a taste of your ambrosia." You moan loudly, almost caterwauling for the elder druid.

His large hands caress up your leg, massaging the skin of your calves, before going higher.

"I wish you could see yourself as I do in this moment, little flower. You're exquisite; truly one of Silvanus' greatest creations." You blush, heaving.

"H-Halsin, please-" He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

"Don't fret, you will be chanting my name soon enough." His confidence is addicting, you could feel how drenched you were even with your legs spread so far apart. His hands finally reach close to your core, and he spreads your slit further open to look at you. You could feel your hole contracting, as if begging for an intrusion.

"By the gods... Look at your tight cunt begging for my cock. Can't wait to have a taste." You feel his breath on you. You look down and see him watching you, as his hands slide up to your breasts to play with your nipples like he had before. The first stroke of his tongue on your clit sent a sensation of pleasure up your spine. You struggle against your bonds, with an insatiable urge to grasp his hair and tug him deeper into you.

His tongue then ventures lower, tasting your essence. He moans loudly into your body, the vibrations of his moan pleasing you greatly. He continues licking you, tasting you as he tweaks your nipples, tugging before massaging. You felt powerless against the bonds, barely hearing anything more than the rush of blood in your ears.

"Your nectar... is just like honey. I can't wait to have you cum on my tongue multiple times." You moan. You can tell you're already close to your precipice, his words, moans and tongue vibrating and licking against your clit deliciously.

"Please... please Master Halsin-" He groans at the honourific. He plunges his tongue into you, lapping you at your source. His nose nudges your clit and that sets off your orgasm. You feel yourself leak onto him, his tongue cleaning your mess. You're shaking with oversensitivity, but he does not stop. One of the hands on your breast caress back down the length of your body, before he pulls away from your core. He grins up at you as he thrusts two of his thick fingers into you. He curls them, as you begin to shake harder.

"That's it, little one. Let all those in the forest know who is making you feel like this, making you cum and feel pleasure-" His words go straight to your core, and more of your slick leaks around his fingers.

"Halsin-H-Halsin- Oh GODS-" His lips wrap around your clit, sucking and licking at you. The attention was too much; you cum again. This time, you can feel much more than slick leave your body- did I squirt? You wonder to yourself, as your body is now lashing against the constraints. You didn't have much time to think about it, as he pulls his fingers out to taste you, moaning. You look down at him, panting. He spreads you open again, this time with both hands, before his tongue is back in you, tasting you like you were water and he was a man dehydrated. You whimper, begging him to give you reprieve. He pulls off of you, his mouth and chin covered in your release. He was panting, his eyes glowing a bright amber.

"You have no idea what you unleashed, little one." He growls out. You feel the vines dissipate. You're laid on the forest ground gently. Before he could move, you flip yourself over with enthusiasm, laying your upper body parallel to the floor and your lower body in the air. You wiggle your ass, one of your hands going between your legs and spreading yourself open. You look over your shoulder and look him directly in the eye. He is watching you with wonder, before you speak.

"Breed me, Master Halsin. Empty your seed in me and fuck me into a stupor." He growls, before kneeling behind you.

"I'll make sure you can't walk for weeks, little one. I'll spread you nice and good." You feel the tip of his cock at your entrance. He rubs himself up and down your slit, gathering your juices.

"Look how wet you are. Such a good little druid for me." You whimper at his words. Without warning he thrust into you, going to the hilt. His heavy balls hit against your clit, and your mouth goes open in a silent scream. He begins a brutal pace, pounding into you. One of his hands reach around your body, his large hand grasping your neck. His hold is tight, but not painfully so. You feel lightheaded, all your senses being overwhelmed by the Archdruid. You feel as though your floating, the only thing tying you to this plane of existence is the continuous thrusts from the elf behind you. You felt as though you were split open repeatedly, his cock reaching places in you that you were unsure existed before today. He growls as he pounds into you, and you begin to feel claws against your neck, before they retract.

"You make me feral, little one. I'm gonna fill you with my seed, fill you with pups." You moan, breathless. His thrusts begin to falter, but they seem to go deeper. You feel yourself fluttering around him, as you gasp.

"I-I'm close." You whisper to him. He groans.

"I feel you fluttering around me, little one." He chokes out. After a handful of thrusts he cums with a shout, and you constrict around him, cumming once more. You feel his seed in you, so abundant that it leaks out around him. You both pant for a couple seconds. He releases your neck and you gasp an inhale.

"Did I hurt you?" He asks you softly. You shake your head enthusiastically.

"N-no. Oh gods Halsin. I am unsure how I will walk right ever again." You tell him breathlessly. He chuckles at that, caressing your back and thighs with gentleness. You feel him slowly pull out of you, taking care to not punish your core anymore. You whimper at the loss, feeling your mixed spend leaking out of you. He flips you over softly, wanting to look you over. His hand goes to finger you lazily. You shriek, body seizing up.

"Not a drop goes to waste." He tells you huskily. After a couple moments, he pulls his fingers out too, and directs them to your mouth. You suckle on the digits, the taste arousing you once more. You both look into each other's eyes as you did this. Once he removes his fingers from your mouth, his lips replace it, tasting both of you on his tongue. He groans into your lips. You kiss for a couple moments, before you both need to separate so you could inhale. You felt utterly spent. He goes to lie down next to you, and your eyes follow him.

His hands begin to massage your sore muscles, before pulling you onto him. You felt utterly spent. He holds you into a lover's embrace and you can't help but sigh into his chest, caressing his pectorals and cuddling into him. You feel his lips on the crown of your head, leaving a trail soft pecks and kisses. You both lay there, absorbing the beauty of nature and speaking about your lives before the parasite and the shadow curse until the sun rose.

END

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preciouslittle-bhaalbabe · 7 months ago

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Thoughts about Ascended Astarion! (This is a long one, and I'm not trying to change anyones opinion, just highlighting the fact that the player is in complete control of the situation at all times. This game is about choices.) First off, I don't usually prefer to ascend him. But I love all versions of Astarion. His character is so well written and all of his arcs deserve praise and attention no matter what your personal opinion of them are. The devs did an incredible job. If any parts of his arc (ascended or spawn) make you uncomfortable, then romancing him isn't for you. If the dynamic between AA and your character makes you feel scared or upset, don't ascend him. That dynamic is supposed to be 100% consentual. He's a tough nut to crack and his story can be very triggering. I myself broke down a few times hearing him talk about what he went through. There are other companions with lovely character development that you can choose. When people go "ugh he's ruined I didn't want this" My dear, with all due respect. This is the dark fantasy romance option. Emphasis on the fantasy. You didn’t get his approval by being nice. It's not like he's the only option. You chose to romance the vampire. The game warns you of what exactly you're about to do multiple times. You willingly help him murder thousands of people for freedom. A vampire who was a literal slave for longer than he was even alive for just got a MASSIVE amount of power. Were you expecting he was gonna just be a good guy now? He has had NOTHING for so long. His entire life trajectory changed within moments. He’s still figuring himself out. You as the player are still completely in charge. He owes everything to you and he knows that. You can walk away at literally any point. He asks you to kneel and obey to establish trust and a dynamic. To confirm this is what you want. YOU CAN SAY NO. Then, he gets right down on the floor with you. He's either gentle or rough based on your choice. If you don't like the vibe just break up with him at that point like he literally lets you do. Or, even just reload the save. But just remember. "That's what you want, isn't it?". When Astarion ascends, Neil says it best. His mask is off and he's allowed to be at his most terrible with no fear. He doesn't have to perform or be aloof as a distraction from the pain anymore. He was never good aligned. But now, he has the power and ability to give himself and his favourite person the life he thinks they wanted. Otherwise why would you ascend him? His love language becomes acts of service and gifts. He ADORES tav to almost obsession. He's always doting on them and calling them his. The ritual only amplifies that. "but what about what he says if you convince him not to go through with it?"

He’s not lying. He knows tav saved him from himself. It is technically the “good” ending. But that’s not what matters here. The ascension is for characters who are not good aligned. It is for characters that are just as much of a power hungry monster as ascended Astarion is. They want to be a monarch that rules the world over. It’s a role playing thing. Is it wrong? That’s for you to decide for yourself. Not others.

"but what about karlach? He's a massive jackass to her when he ascends" ...Yes. He's not a good guy. Karlach is basically the goodest character in the game. It won't work. And if you do break up with him, he lashes out and says some extremely hurtful things. Because you just broke his heart. It's a perfectly normal response from someone being completely blindsided. He thought you wanted this. You said you wanted this. After everything you both did you get here, he feels betrayed. Not even to mention ascended Astarion does not make you just a regular spawn. You quite literally become his vampire spouse. He thanks you for putting your trust in him. Then eventually you become a true vampire with time. He wants to make sure tav doesn't go insane after being turned. If you wanna learn more about vampire spouses in DnD I highly reccomend doing some google searches. It's fascinating. Is ascending him the right thing to do? No, but it's not "wrong". The game doesn't work that way. Is keeping him a spawn the right thing to do? Maybe, if your character thinks it is. Either route has their sets of pros and cons. It's up to you which ones you think work for your playthrough.

I almost always convince him not to go through with the ritual. But ascended Astarion + durge is a power couple and the vibes are immaculate for evil runs. Just have fun with the game! The devs made all these character arcs for you to explore! Thanks for reading <3

#baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion baldurs gate #ascended astarion #spawn astarion #vampire spawn #dark consort #dark romance #astarion analysis #ascended astarion analysis #let people enjoy things

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smallnico · 8 months ago

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durge desensitizes to casual positive affection and friendship compilation

also known as real feline durge hours. esper's companions look at them and say Is Anyone Gonna Manhandle That Murderous Twink and then not wait for an answer. contexts/explanations under readmore for the curious

lae'zel and esper do morning exercises and meditation together. most of the time they pass the time in silence, but sometimes they're joined by the local wildlife. esper is a great fan of showing their friends things they might find interesting as a form of affection instead of words, especially with lae'zel, since they have a common discomfort with small talk.

esper doesn't like looking at themself in the mirror, so their makeup is always ancient and haphazardly applied, a fact that distresses the more image-conscientious shadowheart. she and esper have a sibling-like relationship fuelled by mutual amnesia and goth solidarity, among other things, but sometimes a sister has to take it upon herself to fix her stinky sibling's wings.

i already expanded on wyll and esper's dynamic a bit in this piece and i didn't feel like drawing the same thing twice, but suffice it to say, they have absolutely no idea how to talk to each other, but still look out for each other. the joke here is about how i've done a couple of long rests in-game with just alcohol i've found. hey 5 camp supplies is 5 camp supplies

jaheira unearths esper's forgotten mother issues. no real things to add here. no thoughts only cub.

gale said way back in act 1 that esper reminded him of tara, and esper isn't leaning into that on purpose per se, but as i said for lae'zel, they like getting their friends things those friends might enjoy. they also love chaos. show your evocation wizard some love by bringing him extremely destructive spells to play with. show your durge some love by casting chain lightning and letting them watch

i have no justification for this one lmao. esper isn't a Huge fan of being picked up and hefted around like a sack of oats, but maybe they should've thought of that before being small and scoop-uppable. socially, esper and halsin don't click especially well, but esper is fundamentally a creature, and therefore pretty easy for halsin to understand. obviously they don't mind that much :J

esper and karlach voted two most touch-starved nerds in faerun, they help each other cope by sleeping in a cuddle pile like cats. karlach runs warm even after getting her engine tuned up, but esper doesn't mind. she's cozy

astarion is by far the person esper is the most verbal with, probably because he's the only one who really thinks the durgeisms that slip out are funny and #relatable. everyone else errs on the side of caution with esper, but astarion knows he's allowed to take liberties with them, and he does. they have the same sense of humour. these two freaks are completely insufferable together because they're vibing so hard on a level incomprehensible to everyone around them, but astarion can put a stop to esper's self-destructive internal stress engine, and esper can drag him into helping and working hard. the others have no choice but to tolerate them as a couple because no matter how unhinged they are as a unit, they're so much worse for society on the whole as individuals. do not separate them

if you read all this, hope you enjoyed this illumination of esper's party dynamics, i love you <3 enjoy

#smallnico art #baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge #bg3 #bg3 dark urge #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 wyll #bg3 jaheira #bg3 gale #bg3 halsin #bg3 karlach #bg3 astarion #bg3 companions #esper #smallnioc #bg3 comic #durgeposting

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an-excellent-choice · 8 months ago

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A Tav romance dynamic that I would love is tav being the older and more experience lover. Tav that is similar to Halsin in a sense.

They aren't particular slutty in a sense but more on horny when a certain switch is flipped for them.

I want a Tav that isn't shy about talking about sex but just doesn't announce it as they see it disrespectful to their partner.

A Tav that will add their input about very lewd joking conversations with a sense of experience and everybody will be just like eyebrow raised in befuddlement.

A Tav that will correct or give tips to Shadowheart when she talks about bondage or when she is in bondage on knots that give more pleasure and security than pain.

A Tav that will gently wrap any blisters and ice any bruises Lae'zel gets after their very fiery and passionate sessions. Sessions that specifically included a hand wrapping around her neck and firmly squeezing.

A Tav that knows how to slow Karlach's hips down. Showing her the fun in indulging on unrushed and focused thrusts.

A Tav that Astarion knows have held and dominated dozens of lovers before him is now kneeling for him. That Tav chooses to kneel for him.

A Tav that shows Wyll all the possibilities love and passion could be. A lover that has so much love in their eyes that just meeting Wyll's eyes he feels passion in his belly roars. A Tav that shows love and lust doesn't have to be separate.

A Tav that shows Gale laughter during sex isn't always an insult. To have a lover that you can trust to have a laugh during sex is a great sign of love.

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shadowstarion · 8 months ago

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ahem ahem aheeem..... ermmmm as a poly party enthusiast, would youuuu possibly have any more headcanons on the tadpolycule? 👀👀👀 thank you so much!!!

YES I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS. i’ll go character by character for headcanons and how i imagine different dynamics.

tadpolycule headcanons!

shadowheart is basically programmed to be non-monogamous and extremely repressed at the same time. it’s just sex and physical attraction with astarion and karlach until it isnt and then things get complicated. the idea of casual openness throughout the camp is comforting to her— clearly if they were interested in pursuing other partners that meant whatever they had with shadowheart wasn’t anything serious, right? she’s definitely closest to astarion and karlach but not at all opposed to fooling around with anyone else (maybe even aylin and isobel if they’re into it)

astarion isn’t sure about all this, but the lack of exclusivity is similarly comforting. he can make his own decisions about who he wants, what he wants, and when he wants it. he can decide that he’s craving a particular partner or type of play and he’ll have it damn near guaranteed. he’s showered in love from head to toe in every way he could possibly want it. the additional benefit to having flexibility in partners is that he never has to go without blood again, but he does have his preferences. shadowheart, halsin, and wyll are his top 3.

karlach has big feelings for everyone. shadowheart is her primary partner in the sense that their relationship is both romantic and sexual. when it comes to the rest of the group it’s usually one or the other; she has strong platonic bonds with wyll and gale that seldom cross into sexual territory, and sexual attraction to astarion and halsin thats more of an undefined grey area between romantic and platonic. she is also the group nicknamer; she will call you things and they will stick. shadowheart is shaddy or princess, astarion is fangs or stars, halsin is big guy or boss, wyll is prince charming, gale is teach

gale my absolute autistic legend does not even realize he’s included in whatever this is until it’s far too late. he can flirt yes, but being flirted with almost always goes over his head. gotta push my bladeweave agenda here by saying he’s ultimately closest to wyll, they’ve got some real friends to lovers/same trauma let’s kiss about it dynamic going on. as for the others i think he’s down horrific for shadowheart and halsin. has some weird sexually charged rivalry with astarion that’s mostly one-sided on astarion’s part. and karlach is just a solid bro

wyll is the group goody two-shoes without a doubt. he gets so easily flustered especially when it comes to astarion, karlach, and shadowheart. astarion flirts with him and poor wyll is a trainwreck, karlach is majorly physical once she’s able to be and it makes wyll’s heart race every time she hugs him, and shadowheart is so pretty it leaves him tongue tied. wyll’s a gentleman about everything too, he’ll give gale his coat as soon as he notices the wizard is shivering, insists that halsin take a rest and let him finish up chopping their firewood, etc.

halsin is the poly expert!!! he would absolutely be the one to give everyone else they language they need to discuss their relationships and boundaries. he’s the most sexually open of them all and doesn’t have any particular setbacks when it comes to sex; he’s happy to indulge anyone who wants him and let them indulge in whoever else they’d like. with halsin everything is super casual but intimate at the same time, all about pleasure and connection and enjoying life as nature intended. he’s the group service top and has definitely been called daddy at least once by everyone.

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charmandabear · 5 months ago

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Office Hours - Chapter Thirteen

Summary:

Astarion's reaction to your confession isn't at all what you expect.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7.3k Tags/Warnings: slightly rough sex, piv, kink dynamics (honestly nothing new)

T_T When I tell y'all how emotional this has made me. Yes, this is the last chapter (for now.) I will almost immediately be starting on the sequel, a more slice-of-life exploration of their new relationship. I have far too many things planned to not keep going. Also, I know some people have mentioned that they appreciate the fact that Tav hasn't had any specific descriptions, and I do apologize, that will change. But on the bright side, it means I'm going to be able to continue to release my screenshots of the Professor and Rosalind.

Your support during all of this has meant so much to me, you have no idea. Any time I think that I feel like garbage, either about my writing or anything else, your comments really brighten my entire demeanor. So thank you, and thank you for your patience during this time. Now, onto the next one!

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

You keep your eyes glued to the screen for the last 14 minutes of Heathers without absorbing a second of it. You can feel Astarion stealing glances at you, but you steadfastly keep your head forward. When the show ends, you give Karlach and Shadowheart halfhearted goodbyes, purposefully avoiding Shadowheart’s suspicious stare. You busy yourself with picking up wine glasses and bringing them into the kitchen.

“You know, it was admittedly better than I thought it would be,” you say, trying to fill the awkward silence as you gather dishes. “It definitely made more of a pointed statement than I would have expected, and it’s thematically stronger than I initially realized.” You’re fully aware of the fact that you’re babbling but you can’t stop yourself.

“Say it again,” you hear Astarion say behind you quietly. You freeze and slowly turn back to where he’s sitting on the couch. His expression is completely inscrutable.

“What?” Your mouth goes dry and a prickling heat crawls up the back of your neck.

He stands and approaches you slowly, and you’ve never felt more like a trapped animal under his penetrating gaze.

“Say it again.” His voice is smooth as velvet and cold as ice.

“Say what?” You know that your feigned innocence is unconvincing. He backs you up until you can feel the counter pressing into your spine. He stands close to you and tilts up your chin with his finger.

“You know what,” he whispers, and you feel like his eyes have never looked so red. You swallow thickly, working your jaw to try to regain use of your voice.

“I- I love you,” you choke out the words which ring hollow and almost meaningless in your ears. Astarion grabs your face, kissing you suddenly and roughly. You cling to him, your confusion doing nothing to abate the desperation and hunger with which you return his kiss. He twists his hands into your hair, almost bringing you up onto your toes with how forcefully he assaults your lips.

“Again,” he growls between breathless kisses, and your fists ball up into his shirt.

“I love you,” you gasp, and his hands tighten in your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. He scoops you up into his arms and your legs wrap tightly around his waist. He moves his lips to your jaw as he carries you to your bedroom.

“Again.” His voice is husky in your ear and suddenly the dam breaks, the words pouring out of you in a rush.

“I love you, Astarion,” you whimper into his neck as the two of you fall backwards onto your bed. “I love you so fucking much. I love you so much it hurts.” He peppers your neck and jaw with sloppy kisses as you cling to the back of his head.

“Again,” he groans, the word falling somewhere between a demand and a plea. He tears your tank top off you, making it the second piece of clothing today alone he’s destroyed. But you can hardly bring yourself to care – all that matters is your connection with him, his skin against yours, his breath in your ear.

“I l-love you.” The words are breathy and uneven as you fumble at the button of your jeans, the wretched things only serving as a barrier between you. You paw hungrily at his waistband, unable to articulate your want. He pulls up onto his knees, eyes bright and wild as he unbuttons his pants.

“Say that you’re mine,” he snarls, and the possessive tone of his voice alone is enough to make you mewl like an animal in heat.

“I’m yours, Astarion.” Your body writhes out of your control, a shiver running up your spine from the cool air caressing the slick lips of your pussy. “I’m your plaything, I belong to you.”

He dives back down onto you, his hungry kisses only increasing in fervor as the growing length of his cock presses against your cunt. You claw at his shoulders, desperate to feel every part of him, and his arms slide under your back, pulling you in even closer.

“Good, yes, again.” He pushes your legs apart with his knee, grinding his cock against your cunt and your hips involuntarily buck up into him.

“I’m yours, I belong to you, I love you,” you babble, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as your heart beats loudly in your ears. He kisses your neck and you hold his head close, your fingers sliding through his silver curls.

“Don’t stop,” he grunts as he slides his cock into you and you cry out, the sting of the stretch elevated slightly from the lack of foreplay.

“I love you.” You barely recognize the sound of your own voice anymore, you feel like a woman possessed. “Please, Astarion, please, I need you. I love you. I’m yours.”

“Fuck, yes, more, please,” he pleads, barely bothering to hide his desperation. He begins to fuck into you, slow and steady, and you pull his chest into yours. You wrap your arms around his back, across his scars, pressing the flat planes of his chest into your soft stomach and tits.

“I love you.” Your voice cracks as sensations overwhelm your body. Astarion presses his forehead to yours and you grip the back of his neck, your two bodies moving in tandem. His cock drags along your walls as he presses your thighs up against your belly.

“Yes, Tav, say it again,” he huffs, picking up the pace and you let out a particularly high pitched whine at the sound of your name falling from his lips.

“I love you, Star. I love you, please don’t stop.” Your eyes well up with very real tears as your chest grows tight and you can feel your orgasm building in the depths of your core. You grind your hips up into him as he thrusts in and out of you, the wet sound of slapping skin almost drowning out your breathy repeated confessions. You pull him into you, your nails digging into his shoulders as you kiss him deeply, teetering on the edge.

“Tav, I–” He breaks the kiss just in time for a few final broken juts of his hips and he’s coming, setting off your own climax not long after. The pleasure ripples through your body as he clutches you close to him, your walls throbbing around the pulsing of his cock as he spills inside of you.

The two of you stay connected, barely moving save for your heavy breathing as the waves of your orgasm finally settle. After what feels like both an eternity and far too soon, he pulls out of you and sits up, giving you the first chance to properly look at him. His hair is disheveled, and he had taken off his glasses at some point so you’re looking into those bright red eyes directly. He’s uncharacteristically flushed, something that usually only happens right after feeding, but you’re surprised to realize that he didn’t even try to bite you.

“Are you good?” you ask breathlessly, a little concerned by the slightly unhinged look in his eye. He pulls the mask back on quickly, but not before you’ve seen him without it.

“Yes darling, of course,” he flashes you a practiced smile and pulls you into a soft kiss. There’s still something gnawing at the back of your mind, but it quickly dissolves at the familiar feeling of his lips against yours. You melt into him, putty in his hands, his fingers in your hair giving you comfort and protection. “I’ll clean up. You sleep,” he murmurs into your skin. Your eyelids grow heavy almost against your will, and he kisses the top of your head. Your arm trails feebly after him as he stands and walks out of your bedroom.

You crawl under the covers, too emotionally exhausted to even bother with brushing your teeth. You feel comforted by the casual domestic sounds of Astarion cleaning up outside your bedroom door. You’re almost fully asleep when you feel him slide into bed next to you. You snuggle back into him as he slips an arm around your waist and plants a soft kiss on your bare shoulder.

***

The sound of your alarm the next morning rattles through your skull, setting off your mild wine hangover. You swipe the alarm off and turn over to reach for Astarion only to find empty space. You sit up and blink yourself awake, listening closely to the ambient sounds in your apartment to see if he’s in the shower or making you breakfast, but all you can hear is the soft hum of your air filter.

You try to quell your disappointment by reminding yourself that he spent the last 36 hours in your apartment and probably just needed to slip out before sunrise. Besides, he has class today, and he came to your apartment two days ago with absolutely nothing on him. It’s totally reasonable that he needed to leave early, and he probably just didn’t want to wake you.

The disappointment creeps up on you regardless.

You’re still not entirely sure how to process what happened last night. Did you really tell him that you love him? Did you mean it? His response was borderline feral. You weren’t particularly ready to say it, and he didn’t really seem ready to hear it.

You shake your head and try to let the insecurity pass. Maybe it’s just a game he was playing again, like the night of Taming. Maybe when you see him today, you can just pretend it never happened.

It’s times like this that you really wish you had a pet. Your apartment isn’t very big, but it feels positively cavernous right now. At least if you had a dog, you’d be able to distract yourself with taking care of it. You throw on a robe and shoot Karlach a quick text as you head into the kitchen.

-Hey, where did you adopt Clive?

You see Astarion’s glasses on the kitchen counter and frown. Doesn’t he need those to see? You walk over and pick them up, noticing just how smudged they are. You clean them on the sleeve of your robe and hold them up to the light, and you’re surprised to realize that you can see right through them perfectly fine. You put them on and your vision doesn’t change at all.

He doesn’t need them to see, they’re completely cosmetic.

You burst out laughing, almost shocked that it took you this long to find out. You suspected it before you started dating, but you had chalked that up to your unreasonable bitterness towards him.

You take a selfie while wearing the glasses and sticking out your tongue. You look at the picture, delete it, take your hair out of its messy bun and tousle it around your face, then take the picture again. Good, much cuter. You send it to him along with the text:

-Caught you, you fucking liar.

Nice and casual, right? This will show him that nothing needs to change after last night, that it was just a scene that neither of you need to take too seriously. You take off Astarion’s glasses and fill the kettle with water for your coffee. You instinctively reach for the instant Folgers before remembering the fancy new stuff that he got for you. You had watched him make it, but frankly, you didn’t pay attention at all. How much are you supposed to grind? For how long? How much water?

You decide to just guess, grinding a tablespoon of beans until it looks like the instant coffee that you’re used to drinking. You pour the grinds into the French press and fill it about halfway with water. You sit on a barstool while it brews, staring at it impatiently.

Suddenly your phone buzzes, and your heart leaps thinking it’s a response to your glasses selfie. Instead, it’s from Karlach.

-omgggggggggggg soldier r u getting a dog? can i come????

Her enthusiasm makes you laugh. You lean forward on the kitchen island and reply.

-I’m thinking about it. You have tech at the end of this tenday, right?

-ah fuck. yea. what about the next fiveday break? we have a dark day before opening

-That’s perfect. I’ll text Shadowheart to see if she’s available.

Karlach’s response is instantaneous.

-she is

-🐶🦴🐾❤️‍🔥🎉🙌

Right, they’re practically living together at this point. You wonder vaguely if they’ve said it yet and your heart sinks. You might not be able to play it off as nonchalantly as you thought.

You distract yourself by pouring your coffee. It’s a little more transparent than you’re used to seeing, but you figure that’s because they’re, like, golden beans or something. You could probably stand to learn more about coffee, especially if you’re going to start drinking the fancy stuff for Astarion, but that sounds like so much work. You pour a dollop of milk into your mug, trying to mimic the color of the coffee he made for you yesterday. You scoop in two teaspoons of sugar, stir it until it dissolves, and then take a sip.

It’s… not as good.

There are so many factors that you’re not sure which step you messed up. You compensate for the weak flavor with more milk, which makes it only slightly more tolerable. Regardless, it’s still better than the instant stuff, so you continue drinking it as you assemble a quick breakfast, making a mental note to get more specific instructions from Astarion.

When you get to work, you pass his office in the hallway on the way to yours, and you’re surprised to find the door closed. You press your ear to the wood paneling, trying to hear if he’s talking to a student, but you’re met with silence on the other side. You knock, and there’s no answer.

You frown to yourself. He’s probably just at a department meeting elsewhere in the building, right? Totally normal thing for ten o’clock in the morning. You check your texts with him, and it says that your message was sent, but not delivered. Maybe his phone died from spending so much time in your apartment, it’s not like he charged it or anything.

Yeah, that’s probably it.

You drop off your things at your desk and head to the main office to check your mail. You wonder if you’ll maybe see him in there, but it’s just Grace, clicking away at her computer.

“Morning, Grace,” you say to her as you head to your mailbox. She waves at you cheerily.

“Morning Tav! Have you all decided on a season yet?” She leans forward in her chair, clearly fishing for gossip. You feel the heat rising in your neck as you remember Astarion’s suggestion of Romeo and Juliet.

“Uh, not quite, no. But fingers crossed that we’re close!” You smile at her awkwardly. Your eyes dart to the office door, hoping that he’ll just stroll in, but the doorway remains painfully empty. “Hey, uh, Grace, have you seen Ast– Dr. Ancunín yet today?”

She looks up as she tries to recall. “I don’t think so… But if he comes by, I can let you know you’re looking for him.”

“No, it’s fine,” you blurt quickly. Then, trying to play it cool, you add, “It’s not important, I’ll just tell him the next time we cross paths.” You don’t think you’d get in any sort of trouble with HR if people found out that the two of you are dating since you’re in different departments, but you’d still rather not deal with the rumor mill that is academia. You grab the fliers out of your mailbox, glancing at them briefly before tossing them in the trash and returning to your office.

You lose yourself for a few hours in answering emails, organizing your notes on student scenes, and reading over your updated syllabus for the fall section of Classical Acting I. You almost jump in surprise when you hear a quiet knock on your open door. You look up to see an older tiefling gentleman hovering in the doorframe.

“Dr. Maier, hello!” you greet the chair of the English department politely. You’ve definitely seen him around, but you haven’t had much interaction with him other than a friendly wave in the hallway.

“Please, Zevlor is fine,” he says pleasantly. You breathe an internal sigh of relief – everyone in the theatre department just goes by their first name, and you find it impossible to keep up with the politics of honorifics in other departments.

“Zevlor, yes, how can I help?” You close your laptop and gesture to the teal armchair across from your desk. He silently waves his hand as if to say, no, this will be quick.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but is there any chance you’re free to cover English 340? Dr. Ancunín is nowhere to be found and his students are preparing for their final exam.” He wrings his hands nervously and you blink as you process what he’s telling you.

“Wait, what do you mean Dr. Ancunín is nowhere to be found?”

“No one has seen him since before the fiveday break, and none of his students received an email from him canceling class. He’s not answering any messages and his mobile is going straight to voicemail.” Zevlor rattles off the list on his fingers, unable to keep some of the snippiness out of his voice. You don’t blame him, honestly – Astarion isn’t exactly a team player, so it’s easy to imagine that he’s not the most pleasant colleague to work with.

“Um, sure, yeah. It’s in 110 downstairs, correct?” You pick up your laptop and your copy of the Bevington before briefly reconsidering and then pulling the Norton off your bookshelf.

“Yes, it is. Thank you, you’re a lifesaver.” Zevlor clasps his hands and gives you a small bow before exiting your office. You jog downstairs and head towards 110. As you approach the door, you hear Mol’s brassy voice in the hallway.

“No, I swear, it’s in the department handbook and everything. If the teach’ don’t show up for fifteen minutes, you can leave!”

You laugh as you walk into the classroom. “Are students really still peddling that myth?”

“Oh hey, miss, you teachin’ us today? Where’s Ank-yunín?” She’s sitting backwards atop her desk with her feet on the chair.

“Dr. Ancunín had something come up.” You emphasize his name to correct her pronunciation. “And sit,” you add, pointing to the seat of her chair.

“Will he be back before the final?” The girl you remember to be named Yenna asks anxiously. You hesitate, unsure how to answer.

“That… is the plan, yes,” you finally say, and she looks visibly relieved. Where the fuck did he go? And… this has nothing to do with last night, right?

Right?

***

The longer you don’t hear from him, the more worried you get. You keep checking the message with the selfie, but it still just reads ‘sent.’ Which means either his phone is off, or he’s gone somewhere that has no service.

Or he’s blocked you.

You shake off the thought, trying desperately to reassure yourself about his feelings for you, but the little insecurity gremlin grows louder with each passing day. And it keeps shouting one question louder than the rest.

“He didn’t say it back?” Karlach looks at you, mouth agape. You fiddle with the sleeves of your cardigan self consciously while Shadowheart just seethes. The three of you are walking down the street towards the Sword Coast Cafe, a pet cafe just outside the city. It’s been almost a tenday since you’ve seen or heard from Astarion, and seemingly no one in the English department has seen him, either.

“I didn’t realize it at first,” you admit sheepishly, “everything just happened so fast. Afterwards, I kept replaying what happened over and over and suddenly I realized that he didn’t say it.”

You open the door to the cafe and are greeted by a cheery-looking gnome with a mop of fiery red hair.

“Hello! Welcome to the Sword Coast Cafe! My name is Dringo, and I’ll be your docent,” he chuckles at his own joke. “Have you been here before, or is this your first time?”

“I have,” Karlach pipes up, then jabs her thumb over towards you. “My mate over here is the one looking for a new furry friend.” You give an awkward little wave.

“Fantastic! Why don’t you go ahead and fill out this questionnaire so we can try to match you with the perfect pet. Here are your potions of animal speaking,” he hands you a tray with three little shot glasses with a semi-viscous green liquid. “Those should last about an hour. Feel free to have a seat, the other animals might come up to you, they might not.” He gets very serious suddenly. “Please don’t approach any of the animals without their express consent. Sword Coast Cafe is not liable for any injuries that you may incur.”

You listen to his instructions, nodding along but only absorbing some of it. You look down at the questionnaire, and it’s filled with questions that you might find on a dating site.

What are you looking for in a pet? Are you a morning or night person? Do you have any children? Are you outdoorsy or a homebody? Describe your perfect day off.

You down the shot of potion, and it tastes exactly the way a farm smells. You contort your face in disgust and Dringo looks at you sympathetically. But before long, the cacophony of meows, barks, and chirps slowly morphs into the sound of chatter, not unlike what it sounds like in a regular busy cafe. You make your way over to a cushy beanbag chair while Karlach plops herself on the floor and Shadowheart perches delicately on a pink wooden stool. They continue to pepper you with questions about Astarion while you fill out the form.

“So he repeatedly demanded that you say it, but he never said it back,” Shadowheart deadpans, her eyes narrowing into a glare. “And then he disappears for a tenday without so much as a note?”

“He left his glasses,” you defend him in a very small voice.

“That he doesn’t really need to see!” she hisses, and a nearby calico gives her an indignant stare.

“Soldier, you sure that him disappearing even has anything to do with you? Maybe a family thing came up,” Karlach offers helpfully. You finish the questionnaire and hand it to Dringo to avoid answering her question.

“What family?” Shadowheart sneers. “There’s no way he has anyone left.”

Without the pen and paper to keep your hands busy, you start to fidget with your sweater again. “I only just started learning about his past, but I don’t get the sense that he’s in touch with any of his blood relatives, or even if they’re still alive,” you say quietly. You’re suddenly far more worried about his well-being than his feelings for you. “What if he’s hurt? What if his old master had some unknown ally and he’s been captured and–”

“Breathe, soldier. I’m sure nothing so drastic has happened,” Karlach reassures you with a hand on your knee, and you can feel her warmth through your tights.

“A good dog will always find his way back home,” a voice from behind Karlach pipes up. You look over her shoulder and see a white dog with big brown eyes looking back at you. Karlach turns her head and gasps with delight.

“Well aren’t you just the most handsome fella?” she coos, and his tail starts wagging enthusiastically.

“Hey buddy, what’s your name?” you ask, grateful for a distraction from the conversation about Astarion.

“They call me Scratch, here. You can call me that, too, friend,” he responds, and it’s only slightly jarring to hear his voice without his lips moving. But frankly, you’re pretty sure it would be more off putting if they did.

“Hiya, Scratch, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Tav, and these are my friends Shadowheart and Karlach,” you say, gesturing to each one in turn. He dips his head in a polite greeting.

“Did you have another good boy who ran away?” he asks, and Shadowheart snorts.

“I wouldn’t exactly call him a good boy,” she scoffs just as Karlach clarifies, “He didn’t exactly run away,” in the same cadence.

“Sort of,” you explain, “it’s a bit complicated.” He sniffs the air around you curiously.

“Well you smell very nice to me, so I’m sure he’ll come back soon,” he says with confidence. It’s only when your eyes start to well up that you realize just how much of a rollercoaster the past tenday has been.

“Scratch, may I pet you?” you ask, unable to keep your voice from cracking. His tail starts wagging again, and he bobs his head in an approximation of a nod. You reach out and give him scritches behind his ears as his head presses into your palm. You’re suddenly hit with a rush of emotions and your carefully built dam breaks, allowing the tears to flow freely. Scratch licks your face, making you laugh.

“Would you like me to keep you company while you’re waiting for your good boy to return?” he asks, and you press your forehead against his.

“I’d like that a lot, buddy, thanks,” you say with only a mild tremor in your voice. You dabyour eyes on your sleeve to keep from smudging your makeup just as Dringo approaches you with a beautiful longhaired ginger cat.

“I think Malta here would be a great fit for you!” Dringo says excitedly, and the cat narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“The slightly less tall one had misunderstood the winds of fate. The cat and the taller one were not destined to become companions this day,” Malta narrates mysteriously, and you have to admit that you’re completely taken with this little weirdo.

“Wait, what?” Dringo looks at Malta, then back at you, before his eyes finally fall onto Scratch. “Oh! I didn’t realize that you were already in conversation with someone. I don’t think she’s the right choice for you, Scratch, she lives in a little apartment. You need a big house with a backyard, don’t you?”

Scratch looks at you expectantly. “Will you take me to the park?”

“Of course! As often as I can,” you assure him, and his tail wags again.

“Then I would like to go with Mistress,” he tells Dringo excitedly.

“The large, excitable white cat has already bonded with the tall one,” Malta notes. “Perhaps the tall one and the cat will meet in the future, but until that day comes, they were merely two ships passing in the night. When is that fateful day? Only Destiny could say.”

“Oh. My. Gods. I love him.” Karlach claps her hands over her mouth in excitement, and Malta looks at her appraisingly.

“The very, very warm one smelled of cinders and the musk of a stranger. The cat was far too cautious to make such a foolhardy mistake,” he says, turning his nose up at her. She nods along very seriously.

“The very warm one learned her lesson and decided to merely admire the cat from afar,” she narrates back to him, and his tail flicks in approval before he saunters off. Dringo blinks as though he’s trying to figure out how he got outsmarted by a cat.

“Well then,” he says, shaking his head, “I suppose I’ll draw up the paperwork for Scratch.” The dog dances on his front paws, his nails making happy little clacking noises on the wood floor.

You leave the cafe with an armful of supplies and Scratch padding happily behind you. You can feel the potion of animal speaking wearing off as his excited stream of consciousness fades into a series of quiet boofs and snuffs.

You walk into the lobby of your building and Withers looks at you, then at Scratch, with narrowed eyes. He and the dog make eye contact for an uncomfortably long time, and you’re not sure if Withers is able to communicate telepathically. He finally looks back at you and nods solemnly.

“The dog may stay,” he says in his gravelly voice. You’re fairly certain that your lease allows for up to two pets, but you appreciate getting his blessing regardless.

Once in your apartment, Scratch bounds happily around your living room as you put his food in the cabinet under the sink. You toss the bed Dringo gave you onto the floor under the window. You furrow your brow, trying to figure out the rules – you’ve never had a dog before.

“Am I supposed to… not let you on the couch or something?” you ask him hesitantly. He looks at you, his warm brown eyes sparkling. You look at your black faux-leather sofa, something you got for free off Craigslist, and shrug. It’s not like you’re super attached to it anyway. Besides, you don’t really mind cleaning, so if some of his white fur gets on it, you can just wipe it off.

Scratch continues to look at you, seemingly waiting for an answer. You look back at him, already missing the effects of the speak with animals potion. You’ll have to ask Astarion where he gets his.

Astarion.

It all comes crashing down on you at once. Accidentally saying ‘I love you,’ the deeply intense and overwhelming sex, and then him just… disappearing without a trace. Did he really run away? Just uproot himself and leave because… because what? Moved too fast? Revealed your past with Aradin? Probed too deep into his trauma?

Or maybe it’s something else entirely. Maybe he’s dead in a ditch with a stake through his heart, or burnt to a crisp somewhere off the highway. Maybe he’s trapped in a dungeon somewhere being tortured at this very moment.

You try to take deep breaths, acknowledge your feelings without judgment, compartmentalize to deal with them later, reassure your various parts… but none of Jaheira’s techniques are working right now, and you collapse onto the couch, crying. Scratch hops up beside you and licks the tears from your face. You laugh in spite of yourself, an uncomfortable feeling as it mixes with the choking sobs. You pet him behind the ears and he drops his chin on your shoulder, almost like a dog version of a hug. You wrap your arms around his neck and continue to cry into his fur.

***

You’re curled up on your couch with your feet tucked underneath you, reading Dance Nation on your tablet while Scratch snoozes peacefully. The soft patter of rain on the window creates a pleasant ambient noise.

You’re startled out of your reverie when the intercom by your front door buzzes. You stare at it, confused because that almost never happens. Withers has some mysterious system for allowing visitors in that rarely requires any input from you. He just sort of knows who to let in and who not to.

You walk over to the intercom, not even a hundred percent sure how it works, but you press a button that you hope will allow him to hear you and say, “...yes?”

“Thou hast a visitor,” Withers’ voice crackles through the speaker, and your heart stops. “He is very wet,” he adds, and you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing.

“I– Who is he? And why won’t you let him in?” You pause for a second before adding, “Is it… because he’s wet?”

“No, that is not my concern,” Withers clarifies. Then he pauses for a long moment. “His intentions… they are unclear,” he finally says.

“Will you please just let me in to see her, you batty old man!”

The voice is faint over the speaker, but it’s undeniably him. You scramble to press down the button to speak.

“Yes, Withers, please let him in, thank you,” you say in a rush. Your heart pounds as you quickly adjust your appearance, fixing your limp hair in the mirror next to your door. Then you wait. Is he taking the elevator or the stairs? How long would either option take? You grow antsy and you finally open the door to check the hallway only to find him standing on your welcome mat, fist raised mid-knock.

Without thinking, you grab his lapel and kiss him hard. Withers wasn’t lying when he said he’s wet. His lips are even colder than usual and the rain falls off his thin jacket in rivulets. You forcefully break the kiss and push him away, fuming.

“Astarion Ancunín, you did not just show up to my doorstep in the fucking rain like we live in some gods damned romcom!” you scold him, and he just stares at you with the most pathetic gleam in his wet, round eyes.

“I don’t… sorry, what?” It seems like he was prepared for you to yell at him, but not about that specifically. You huff and roll your eyes, pulling him into your apartment dramatically.

“You’re getting water everywhere. Give me your jacket, take off your shoes, and tell me what the fuck happened,” you grumble, and his fingers fumble along his jacket buttons as he awkwardly kicks off his sopping shoes. You’re only taking a tiny bit of satisfaction at seeing him this flustered and uncomfortable.

Scratch had hopped off the couch as soon as you opened the door, and now he trots up to Astarion, wagging his tail and lolling his tongue.

“You… got a dog?” he asks blankly, and you yank his jacket off his shoulders with maybe a little more force than necessary.

“Yeah, I got lonely,” you spit, trying to sound angry, but just comes off as sad. He looks away from you, ashamed, and you sigh as you hang up his coat. “Please just… What happened? Did I cross a line, or something?” Your voice is very small, and he whirls on you suddenly.

“No!” he almost shouts, but he catches himself quickly. “No, please, I don’t want you to think that, not for a second. Can we sit?” He gestures to your couch and you follow his lead. Scratch jumps onto the couch between you, excited for double pets. You gently push him off and point to his bed.

“Not now, bud. Go lie down, me and… my good boy need to talk.” You smile to yourself and Astarion’s ears twitch self-consciously. You had planned to let him speak first but the words tumble out of you without any forethought. “Can I just say that I’m so sorry if I freaked you out, I never want to put you in an uncomfortable position like that, and I never even actually meant to say it in the first place.”

Astarion looks ready to interrupt you but stops suddenly. “Oh, you– you didn’t? Well of course, I- obviously–” he splutters uncharacteristically before you clap your hands over your mouth, realizing your mistake.

“I mean, no, I did, like I wanted to say it, I just didn’t want to say it like that,” you clarify quickly, and Astarion visibly relaxes. He takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his wet hair, giving it an unusual slicked back look.

“For two centuries, my body did not belong to me. Not just as a thrall to Cazador,” he spits the name again, in almost the exact same tone as the last time. “But to his victims that I would need to… seduce in order to lure them back to his castle.” His eyes go unfocused and you’re not sure the best way to comfort him. After a moment’s hesitation, you settle your hand on his knee and rub small soothing circles with your thumb. He blinks as he returns to reality, his gaze shifting to you before the corners of his mouth turn up in the smallest hint of a smile.

“Astarion, I… I didn’t know. I’m so sorry,” you finally say, your voice breaking. He takes your hand and shakes his head.

“It’s hardly the worst thing that happened, and also not what I’m trying to say,” he says with a humorless laugh. “No, I mean after I gained my freedom, I grew very selfish. All that mattered was my comfort, my desires, my safety.”

“But that makes sense! You had everything ripped away from you, you deserved a little selfishness.” You get suddenly heated, almost like you’re defending Astarion against someone who isn’t there.

“Perhaps, but it was an easy way to grow lonely and bitter. After all, no one had ever looked out for me, so why should I waste my time caring about anyone else? I could harness my well-honed skills of seduction to get what I wanted with no regard to the consequences it might have on others. It was easy, and I was very good at it.” Astarion looks at you thoughtfully, his eyes roaming over every detail of your face, and you shrink back slightly under the intensity of his gaze.

“But you immediately saw right through me. That was a rare occurrence, and I was infatuated with the novelty. None of my old standbys worked on you. I needed to get creative in my methods to seduce you. Which led to perhaps my most ill-advised scheme yet.” He looks at you meaningfully, and you don’t need more than that to know that he’s talking about the night he took you to see Taming.

“When I realized my mistake, it should have been all too easy to move on, find a new mark. But I… simply didn’t want to. The thought of no longer spending time together felt awful. I felt awful.” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s fighting off a headache. You chew on your lip, trying to figure out where he’s going with all of this. You open your mouth several times to ask a question, but close it as the words die on your tongue. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he continues.

“So when you said… what you said,” he murmurs, still unable to repeat the words, “something in me… broke, I suppose. Maybe it was something that needed to break. But whatever it was, I lost control of it, and I was embarrassed. And, frankly, terrified. So I left.”

You look at him, his brow furrowed, wringing his hands in discomfort, his eyes darting around the room, and suddenly the whole situation strikes you as hysterical. The laughter bubbles out of you before you can stop it, and Astarion looks at you with concern while you cover your mouth with your hand and your shoulders begin to silently shake. When you finally manage to get your giggles under control, you stare at him with wild eyes.

“Astarion, I spent five years of my life with the worst fucking person imaginable. Never once did it feel like he cared about what I wanted. But I told him I loved him anyway, ‘cause I guess, I thought I was supposed to?” You grip his knee as your eyes begin to well with giddy tears. “And here you are, calling yourself selfish, when you care more about what I want than anyone else ever did.” You begin to laugh again, the absurdity overtaking you, and Astarion’s frown deepens. “You understood me so well that you crafted every single aspect of an entire evening and got the exact reaction that you expected. Was it fucked up? Yeah, completely! But it still showed me the lengths you were willing to go to give me something that I wanted. Something that I didn’t even know I wanted.”

You sit back and the tears begin to earnestly fall. Astarion stares at you helplessly as you laugh-cry uncontrollably, everything overtaking you at once. He finally decides to pull you into his lap and you bury your face into his chest, your tears falling onto his already damp shirt.

You have no idea how long he holds you for, but eventually you regain control of your breath and mutter, “You idiot,” before pulling him into a kiss. You tangle your fingers into his wet hair, and his hands, unsteady at first, finally rest on your lower back. You break the kiss and hum against his lips, “You don’t need to say it back. And I’ll say it as much or as little as you want. Oh!” You suddenly leap off the couch and over to the kitchen to grab Astarion’s glasses which are still sitting on the counter, staring at you every morning as you gradually learn how to grind and press your own coffee.

You bring them over to him and straddle his lap as you awkwardly put them on his face, almost poking his eye out in the process. “Now why in the hells would a vampire with perfect vision need glasses?” Your tone is playfully accusatory.

“Would you believe me if I said that they make English academics take me more seriously?” he asks with a bashful grin. You brush your fingers through his hair, styling the front into his more standard swoop.

“I absolutely believe you, they’re weirdos.” You run a finger over the arm of his glasses and to his ear, and he shudders. “You used to wear your wire frame ones a lot more, what happened to those?”

“You told me that you liked these,” he replies like it’s the most obvious answer in the world, and your cheeks flush. “Why, do you like the other ones more?”

You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his, letting your tongue swipe gently across his still chilled skin. “I like you,” you breathe, keeping your faces in close proximity. He rests his hands on your hips and pulls away, studying you carefully. Then, in a low voice, he says, “There’s a box in the lining of my jacket. Can you grab it for me, darling?”

Panic begins to set in. Box? Wait, no, hold on. You’ve barely gotten up the nerve to say I love you, you’re not ready for marriage, is he joking? Does he really think he’s in a romcom?

He watches your face cycle through emotions like a rolodex and he laughs. “It’s not a ring, don’t worry.”

“Gods above, Astarion, you can’t do that to me, I’m very fragile,” you say on a shaky exhale before standing up and retrieving his coat. You reach into the inner pocket and pull out a flat square box, around five or six inches in diameter. He stands and comes up behind you, resting his hands on your waist and peering over your shoulder.

You open the box and nestled in red satin is a thin leather choker with a dangling o-ring. You look back at him over your shoulder and his grin widens.

“Star, is this–” the words catch on your tongue as you turn back around to face him. He gently lifts the collar out of the box and slips it around your neck, his hands sliding into your hair once it’s fastened. He kisses you, softly at first, but soon you pull him into you, kissing him back hard. You deepen the kiss, slipping your tongue past his lips and puncturing it with his fang. A drop of blood mixes into your mouths and he tries to suppress a whimper, his hands tightening in your hair.

Then, almost as quickly as it escalated, he brings the kiss back to tender, cupping the back of your head gently. He turns you back around, facing the mirror for you to see your flushed and well-kissed face, your heavy-lidded eyes, and the thin strip of leather around your neck. You see your hair get brushed from your shoulder by a seemingly invisible force and feel his lips pressed against your ear.

“I love you, too.”

*~*~*

@viowolf @blueguildhunter @blissliz @genderearthquake @arianna-irwynarn @moochiepoo @duskrosecreatesstuff @imjiminiebean @queenofcarrotflowers-s @communistfries @0atcakes @alcidence @pursuitseternal @marlowethebard @preciouslittlebhaalbae @rigorssamsa @marvellover-12 @gylving @beepersteeper @wisteriaofthegraves

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agreeeeeeeeeee · 11 days ago

Text

The Tortured Fangirl Department - How Did it End?

| Gale Dekarios x fem!reader

summary: after weeks of fighting, Gale and y/n have broken up in the middle of the journey, leaving one another, and the party, bereft and reeling.

cw: aaangst, tragic break up, spiders, drinking, mentions of intimacy

an: I made myself sad with this one. Inspired by "How Did it End?" by Taylor Swift.

wc: 2.3k

Dawn broke over the horizon, painting the mist silver and cerulean, and y/n emerged from her tent alone.

Astarion glanced up from fire, towards the ephemeral horizon, then snapped his head back to y/n. Karlach’s bite of jerky fell from her slack jaw.

The last time y/n slept in her own tent…well, no one could remember the last time she slept in her own tent. From the moment she and Gale connected, they'd been inseparable. As entwined as blood and tissue.

“Morning, y/n,” Wyll said, much more couth than the other two waking members of the party.

“Morning,” she said, walking past them and towards the path that led to the lake, a bundle of clothing in her arms.

“You don't think…” Karlach said, nodding towards Gale’s still closed tent.

Astarion shrugged. “Their fighting was growing rather tiresome anyways. I'll be glad for the quiet.”

Wyll rolled his eyes. “We have no idea what happened. Don't presume.”

Ten minutes later, there was shuffling from Gale's tent and finally, the wizard emerged. He was pale-faced and sallow, his hair ruffed and tunic rumpled.

No one spoke as he approached the fire and dropped heavily onto a log. Wyll passed him a pewter mug of ale, and Gale swirled it around, but didn't drink.

“Well, you look like shit,” Astarion said, red eyes narrowed.

Gale didn't look up, didn't even appear to have heard the vampire at all.

Wyll shot Astarion a scathing glare. “Dekarios, what happened?” he asked.

Gale lifted the mug to his lips, taking a tentative sip of the lukewarm brew. His mouth was so dry, he could barely speak, his throat raw. The words nearly choked him, shards of a misery tearing apart his tongue.

“It ended,” he said finally, more breath than language, and a tear rolled down his cheek, soaking into his uncombed beard.

The three of them gasped.

“Over an idiotic fight?” Astarion scoffed.

A ripple of anger broke Gale's stoicism, and he leveled the vampire with a loathsome glare.

“Love is dead!” Karlach wailed, flopping back onto the dirt with her arms flung wide.

“How did it end?” Wyll asked, half concerned for the wellbeing Gale and y/n, half concerned for the future of the party. If this disrupted their dynamic…

“I can't pretend like I understand,” Gale said, resting his forehead on his fingers. “But that doesn't make it hurt less.” The pain was a live thing in his chest, a serpent constricting his heart, tangling his intestines, choking his lungs. No injury sustained in battle compared to the agony of losing her. He would take a thousand stab wounds, a million lashings, over this.

Why was his love never enough?

For most of the night prior, he wondered if it would kill him. The grief. When his eyes opened this morning to see her side of his bedroll empty, he wished it had.

He wished he'd never left the tower. The safety of his books and spells. That was where he belonged, not adventuring with a beautiful dryad, exploring the realm hand in hand, heart to heart.

Now, he was lost.

“I'm sorry, friend—” Rustling from the trees interrupted Wyll, and Gale lowered his head between his knees.

Y/n returned from the lake, her hair hanging in wet tangles down her back. Her damp skin shined in the early morning sunlight, and Gale felt his heart shatter all over again.

Her eyes lingered on him a fraction longer than they should, noting the disarray of his hair, his usually immaculate clothing wrinkled. Her splintered heart gave a painful lurch, the agony stealing her breath.

It took every ounce of resolve to walk past the party, walk past her lost love, and into her sparse tent. So many of her things were still in his. So much of her was tangled with him, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever extract it all. Gale would always have a piece of her.

Tears ran down Gale's face, dripping onto the ground below as he fought to control his breathing, to hide from her, from all of them the depth of his hurt. It was his own fault, after all.

If he had just let the stupid books burn…

But he couldn't, he wouldn't. It was antithetical to who he was, everything he believed in. So what if he risked his hide in the process? That was his risk to make.

Still, he knew how badly his decision hurt y/n. How angry she was that he would risk himself, risk abandoning her in this horrible, merciless world over some paper and ink. And he knew that if she put herself in the same amount of danger he had, it would rock him to his core. He'd never let her out of his sight again.

She said she could no longer trust him or his judgement. Couldn't trust her heart in his flippant hands. And broke his spirit clean in half.

Y/n slipped into her tent, wiping hard at the tears rolling down her cheeks. She wanted so badly to be angry with him, to blame him for the death of them. She wanted to scream, to roar, but their ending was little more than a death rattle.

It was just…over. Ended.

So why was her mind in shambles? A torrent of blame and guilt and fear? Gale had been her anchor, her harbor, and now she was left reeling.

Desperately, viscerally, she wanted him. So much so it hollowed her out inside, tears pouring until she floated like a ghost, bereft and empty.

Her tent flap lifted, and Karlach poked her head in. “Wyll wants us to move out in ten. Astarion is staying behind.” Which meant she and Gale would be going on a mission today. Together.

Y/n slumped back onto her bedroll. “Understood,” she said.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For the two days journey, they barely spoke. It had been a grueling treck up the western mountains though blistering wind and snow.

Y/n had been forced to share a tent with Karlach both nights to ensure she didn't freeze to death.

Gale had also placed a warming spell on her blankets, rousing himself every hour to ensure it didn't lapse. But, y/n didn't need to know that.

She'd probably rather die of hypothermia than accept help from him at the moment, a thought that brought him momentary amusement, then a deep, gnawing sadness.

Countless nights like these had been spent curled up together in his bed roll, warmed to sweltering by the cantrip and searching hands, greedy mouths.

"Gale," she'd gasp, hushed and honeyed as he lapped beads of sweat from the valley of her throat, the plane of her sternum. Her thigh slung over his hip, the hearth of her pressed against him, beckoning him closer as they rocked together, one fluid tide of movement.

The soft heat of her was everything he'd ever dreamed of, everything he'd never dare hope for. He wanted to sink into her depths, into her skin, into her bones. Bury himself like this forsaken worm into the chambers of her heart, the most sacred tomb.

An ache radiated through his entire body, rendering him unable to speak, unable to stand up straight, to eat, for the rest of their journey.

He'd never felt so weak in his life.

When they reached the summit of the mountain, a den of Giant Spiders separated them from the treasure they saught: a long-buried tomb of an ancient wizard, inside one which was allegedly a powerful relic of healing. One they hoped may rid them of their squirming ailment.

The battle with spiders was never-ending, wave after wave of arachnids descending from the web-covered stalagmites. More then once Gale’s carelessness nearly got him poisoned, or worse, flung from the side of the mountain. Y/n, per usual, fought valiantly and with unshakeable focus, a lethal fighting force unto herself. A quality he deeply admired and envied in equal measure.

Lost in his heartache as he watched her fell one of the largest of the pack, a lesser spider managed to knock him off balance, sending his staff skittering across the stone. The beast loomed over him, venom dripping with an acrid hiss onto the stone by his head.

For a horrible, exhilarating moment, he thought it might kill him. End his suffering once and for all. But then a vicious snap echoed across the cavern. A tendril of magic wrapped around the spiders forelimb more inches from his nose, then wrenched it away from him. Y/n and her thorn whip never missed. Another lash, and Y/n bound it's other legs, giving Wyll an opening to deal the death blow.

He held her stare for half a dozen heartbeats, trying to convey the torment of his soul, his gratitude, his anguish. Why didn't you let it kill me?

Y/n’s expression wavered, offering him the briefest glimpse of her heart, and cleaved through his chest like she'd lashed him.

He had done that, had wounded her so mortally. And still, she saved him.

How could ever make this up to her? He didn't deserve forgiveness, but did that mean he shouldn't try?

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Halfway back to camp, during his watch, Gale noticed y/n’s breathing shift over the roar of Karlach's snores. She woke with a start, a cry at the edge of her lips as she often did at the start of their relationship.

Nightmares had always plagued her, but with Gale, they had retreated almost entirely. He'd bundle her in his arms, her ear pressed against the mark of the netherese orb, and he'd start recounting whatever he'd read that day in excruciating, mind-numbing detail, or hum whatever song was top of mind. The words mattered not, just the coordinate drone of his voice was often enough to lull her into a dreamless slumber.

Goaded by the memories, Gale began to hum, a low, throaty song of unknown origin, one he'd picked up somewhere over the last decades.

Y/n slid back under her bedroll, trembling slightly, and tried to focus on the timbre of Gale's voice, let it wash away the gruesome images in her mind. Gale's face half melted from venom. Her parents home engulfed in flame, their bodies charred and husk-like. Curled up like children.

He began to hum another song, a lilting ballad they'd danced to this past Midsummer Festival. She'd been wearing an impractical, gauzy thing, dyed the most gorgeous lavender shade. A color she'd picked just for him. He was rendered speechless when she stepped into the summer sun, and instead offered a devotional of open-mouthed kisses along every stitch of bare skin, blazing a sinful path that she felt the rest of the evening, and for days after.

He had held her so gently while they danced, his forearm bracketed between her shoulder blades, claiming but not commanding. The air smelled of saltwater and citrus, a drowsy heat dulling their worries of tomorrow.

When the song ended, Gale dropped a kiss along her exposed shoulder, up her neck, until his lips found hers, delicate as spun sugar and just as sweet.

The memory warmed her, settled into her bones and sinnew. She nearly caved. Nearly crawled across the rough, frozen ground to him just so he'd make a fuss over her, use his magic, his body, to warm her back up.

But she resisted, covered her ears against the torture of his melody, and did not move until morning.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“How long has it been?” Gale asked Wyll, clapping the tome in his lap shut.

Wyll rolled his eyes. “Twenty more minutes than the last time you asked me.”

Karlach, Astarion, and y/n had gone into town together for dinner and a few celebratory drinks. Normally, Gale would have insisted he accompany them, but he couldn't stomach hours of his drunken party members vying for his vacant spot at her side.

He knew y/n had no interest in the others beyond companionship, but Gale was jealous by nature, and was unwilling to subject himself to further torment.

Voices floated through the trees, drunken and obnoxiously loud, and Karlach and y/n stumbled into camp.

Karlach had y/n by the waist, keeping her upright. And from wandering off and into trouble, from Gale's experience. Astarion was right behind them, blood on his chin and tunic, his hair a wild halo of white.

“Have fun?” Wyll asked, his tone sharper than his expression let on.

“Hyuk—yes!” Y/n shouted, tripping over her boots and nearly collapsing.

Gale gave Karlach a warning glare, and the tiefling scoffed.

“You take care of her then, Mr. Perfect Wizard!” Karlach shoved y/n into his arms, almost knocking them both over with her strength.

“Look! All better!” Astarion cooed, petting Gale’s hair as he sauntered by. “The misery was worse then the fighting. Honestly, how long until you kiss and make up?”

Wyll grabbed the vampire by the hair and shoved him into his tent, but Gale paid them no mind, too busy staring down at the giggling bundle of darling in his arms once more.

“Hi, Gale,” y/n whispered, her eyes wide and watery.

“Hello, sweetling,” he hummed, adjusting her so her head rested more comfortably on his shoulder. It was the first words they'd exchanged in weeks, and they left Gale reeling with hope.

Stupid, feckless, traitorous hope.

She traced a finger over his nose, through his overgrown beard, and across his jaw, the muscle feathering with tension. He grasped her smaller hand gently, brushing a kiss over her inner wrist before placing it back into her lap. A tiny indulgence, a moment of weakness.

“Gale,” she breathed, fisting his violet coat.

They couldn't do this. Not while she was drunk, not while the party stood idly by and watched. Not when he knew she'd regret it as soon as inhibition returned.

He couldn't add another regret to the ledger.

“C’mon, love. Let's get you to bed.” He rose with her cradled in his arms, a gesture that once felt like birthright, but somehow became foreign.

She didn't protest, instead buried her face into the warm crook of his neck, breathing in his scent of parchment and candlesmoke. Her lips moved of their own accord, pressing against the drum of his pulse, and a shiver rolled down his spine.

He set y/n down on her bedroll, carefully removing her boots and weapons before tucking her into it. He thought she'd drifted off, her eyes closed and breathing even, limbs heavy against the ground, but when he turned to leave she caught his wrist.

“How did it end?” she asked.

“This isn't the end,” he murmured, brushing and errant lock from her cheek. “We simply learned the right steps to different dances.”

Her brow furrowed, her head shaking side to side. "I'm a terrible dancer"

For the first time in weeks, Gale felt himself smile. He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead, then another on the corner of her mouth.

“Then, we'll learn again, my love. As many times as it takes.”

Fin. 💜

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Thank you so much for reading!

If you're interested in exploring my published work, you can find my debut novel here.

Much love,

Allie

#gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios x tav #gale dekarios x you #gale dekarios x fem!reader #balders gate 3 #bd3 #fanfiction #gale dekarios fanfic #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #astarion #karlach #bg3 wyll #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #dnd #dnd fanfiction #Spotify

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cymk8 · 11 months ago

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Love your karlach and shadowheart art <3 do you have any headcannons about their relationship? Specific details on what their dynamic might be like? Who holds the boombox outside the other's window?

Sits down, cracks my knuckles: FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK

A Few Things: (I say this but.......LOLLL)

The art I drew is the first time they met, at a match where she was performing half-time; (she did not, in fact, give her a chance)

They met again at an ungodly hour at the same rink - Shadowheart bc her coach gave her the keys to practice whenever she wants...and Karlach's family owns the actual rink

Shadowheart was recovering from an injury then, so you can imagine how short her fuse would have been

Karlach is the most laid-back of the two; she often excels in things no one could have anticipated, which pisses Shadowheart off to the hells and back (i.e. Karlach can make the world's best omelet and Shadowheart's eggs look like roadkill)

Both of them are freakishly competitive. Anything is fair game - even after their relationship turned friendly; pranks galore

Shadowheart eats burgers with a fork and knife; Karlach is forever mortified

Karlach likes to dip her fries in milkshakes; Shadowheart is forever mortified

Neither of them holds the boombox to the window - Karlach sleeps like a log and Shadowheart sleeps with earplugs and black-out curtains

They do, however, enjoy doing grand and cheesy gestures of affection - but only because they get a kick out of embarrassing the other; it escalates very quickly

Shadowheart and Astarion are figure skating buddies (and have done some pair skating together!) and often talk smack about the other skaters or about goings on in the rink; he absolutely gets on Shadowheart's case for being in denial of any and all attraction to the 'Annoying Big Buff Tiefling'

Karlach has the energy of one of those laid-back emperor penguins from Surf's Up; Shadowheart is an angry little trumpeter swan cygnet

I have so much more I am constantly vibrating thank you for coming to my ted talk -

#bg3 #karlach #shadowheart #shadowlach #GOD I AM SO INVESTED IN THEM IN ALL UNIVERSES #*slaps the top of the ship* this baby can fit all the biggest fic tropes #i will single-handedly scream into the void until shadowlach gets the attention it deservessss

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oops-all-concrete · 8 months ago

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I was wondering if I could get headcanons for a younger(late teens-early twenties) tav who views the companions as more of older siblings/mentors, personally my tav is inspired off the tiefling kids in the emerald Grove because I thought it would be very cool if Mol a street kid became the savior of baldurs gate, absolutely adore your writing thank you so much if you decide to do this!

Sorry it took me so long to get to this, I went on an enexpected hiatus but I am back and have a few lists in the works, so keep an eye out for that!

But yeah, I LOVE this idea??? This is so cute and if you have pictures of your Tav, please share them, I NEED to know what they're like, they sound so cool and I love the idea behind them!

Anyway without further adieu;

Companions react to: Younger Tav who sees them as an older sibling/mentor!

No spoilers, just some lovely lil headcanons, enjoy♡

Lae'zel - It depends on (your) Tavs dynamic with her. She was taught to follow when there was a leader, and lead when there was none. If Tav is intent on following, she's strict, sharp and a little intimidating, but always looking out for Tav, ordering them to the back of the group and allowing them cool moments in fights too. "Finish them off, teethling" She says proudly. But if Tav takes a leader role, she's happy to follow without question, and will shape everyone else in line with tavs orders, once she trusts their judgement. A kind leader and devoted follower. That's what you get from Lae'zel.

Shadowheart - She could never explain why, but having a kind teifling friend who's quite like this Tav is so...familiar? It's nice in any case. She feels at ease and way off her guard around Tav and is grateful to them for it. Of course she feels bad hiding things, but has gotten pretty good at making sure Tav is distracted and having fun on the adventure. She's always sneaking them snacks, turning a blind eye to any pranks they play on the others and keeping them in arms range at all times. They make her feel young again.

Wyll - He's like a guardian angel sent from above. He's happy to teach, but not above learning from Tav too, seeing them as an equal, even if he's kind of the "big brother." He's perfect for stories, indulging in Tavs silly ideas, good or bad, and the man you want in a crisis. No matter how bad it gets, he's staying calm for Tav, witty even, to keep them distracted or focused. It's hard to not be relaxed around Wyll and it's ever so intentional. If Tav is happy, so is he, and he says as much all the time.

Karlach - A young tiefling troublemaker who's just trying to do their best? She absolutely adores them, seeing her young self in them at every turn. It's healing for her to take care of who is basically her younger self, and she takes a genuine pride in looking out for them. Keeping them safe. Teaching them not to make the same mistakes she did. She'll do anything to keep them safe even at her own detriment.

Gale - Gale always wanted to be a teacher, and seeing how passionate Tav is, he just has to teach them. He sees potential in everything they do and goes out of his way to ensure they harness their abilities to their fullest. He's happy to answer any and all questions, and will look for answers if he doesn't have them. He's never short on praise either, always telling them how proud he is and how wonderful it is to watch them become the person they are.

Astarion - He's the bully older brother you never realised you wanted, probably because you didn't and still don't. He's got a thousand mean nicknames and if Tav slips up, he never let's them forget it. Tav and him will bicker to the end of time, but when all is said and done, if someone so much as grazes Tavs skin- he will drain the life out of them as painful and slow as possible. He might laugh, but only when he knows Tav is actually okay, and if someone else laughs, he'll make them regret it. He'd never say it out loud, but having a sibling he can protect is very nice.

Bonus, the older folks!

Halsin - He immediately takes up the dad role. He's always wanted children of his own, once he finds the right person, but they make him.okay with just doing it alone. Bear rides, whittled trinkets, spell lessons, he's all for it. There's just about nothing Tav could possibly say to make him unhappy to hear from them. He's indulged in everything they say and prideful in everything they do. He gets into the habit of calling them fawn, fledgling, lamb, whatever Tav likes sticks.

Jaheira - She doesn't realise it, but she does go full mother mode, even in front of the Harpers. Tav has messy hair? She's fixing it immediately. She sees elbows on the table, Tav is getting the mom look. Tav has dirt on their face, she's licking her thumb to rub it out. It's so subconscious, but she can't help it. And by God's, if anyone talks ill of Tav to their face, she's ready to throw down. Even if it's just questioning.

Harper: "I don't get it, they're a kid, how are they going to-"

Jaheira: "If I hear one more word out of that idiot mouth, I'm going to sew it shut and have you clear out the barn of all the ox shit, so you have no choice but to smell it"

Minsc - He's just happy to be admired for what he is; a warrior! Lead by a miniature giant space hamster. He won't question most things Tav does, trusting their own kind of warrior style and knowing they're doing everything for righteous reason. He admires them at every turn, even if he has no idea what their deal is or how to explain it to other people. Boo knows. And thats all that matters.

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ollypopwrites · 7 months ago

Text

From Depths Unknown; Part 2

Part 1 here ; You can also read on Ao3.

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: E

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Language, Canon-typical violence, drinking, sexual content (male masturbation, dom/sub undertones, switch dynamics, choking is briefly mentioned), slow burn, slightly enemies to lovers but not quite, background Bloodweave, the use of ‘idiot’ as a term of endearment, domestic violence and past child abuse, jealousy.

Series Summary:

Rolan couldn’t figure out what he did wrong. He thought he had been better, had held his tongue when a particularly harsh remark inevitably wanted to make it out, he had called her a friend, given her party free reign of the tower. But Tav seemed distant.

Notes: We are getting a little spicy! I love these two, we should have another update soon-ish. Maybe not this weekend, but soon.

Baldur’s Gate was busy.

After so long in the Underdark and then the Shadowcursed lands, Tav felt strangely crowded by the amount of people in the streets. And her mental list of tasks was getting longer by the minute. There was so much to do, and time was not on their side given the regular psionic earthquakes shaking the city. As she got them all settled in a room at the Elfsong (discounted thanks to a nasty murder in the room just next door) she wanted one night to get her wits about her.

Most everyone went their separate ways for the night: Shadowheart teamed up with Lae’zel to go speak with Voss, Halsin felt the need to shut himself up in the room, Jaheira had Harper business to attend to, while Wyll and Karlach went searching some old haunts for any friends that may still have been in the city. Gale and Astarion accompanied Tav downstairs to the pub, where they all delightfully wanted to share some quality drinks rather than the beggar's choices they had been drinking on the road. A familiar voice rang out amongst the crowd, singing a jaunty tune that had some nearby patrons singing along.

“That’s Alfira!” Tav said excitedly.

The bard had her audience’s gleeful attention, and nearby Tav spotted Lakrissa watching on. Her eyes flitted around the room, hoping to find another familiar face. The tieflings had set off for Baldur’s Gate shortly after the battle, ready to finally get to their destination now that the road was clear. The party had only crossed paths with them again just before entering Rivington. Rolan, Cal, Lia, Alfira and Lakrissa had joined them for a night of drinking to celebrate.

It was no party as they had after the Grove, but it was a much needed night of relief after the constant threat of the curse. Tav found herself wandering over to talk to him as often as she could. He was like a new person: excitement palpable at the prospect of finally making it to Ramazith’s Tower. She’d never seen him smile so much, and while she would never call him giddy — he was as close as Rolan could possibly be to such a state.

The next night the tieflings left, and with them the rosy glow of victory dissipated. The tadpole crew had been attacked by Githyanki and had to run to their Dream Guardians aid. only to find out that the mysterious entity in the prism was in fact a mindflayer called The Emperor.

The idea that the one thing saving her was the very creature which she was actively trying not to change into felt poetic somehow. Fucked up to be sure, but poetic.

Tav’s eyes danced along the crowd, looking for horns and flashes of red skin. Her excitement spiked, “look! It’s Cal and Lia.”

Astarion groaned, “here we go.”

“What?”

“The tieflings are a charming group but everytime we cross them they need saving,” he said. “We really don’t have time for more heroics, darling, we got them to the city. Let them fend for themselves.”

“They’re friends, Astarion,” Gale scolded lightly.

“Needy friends.”

“I know all about those,” she gave him a pointed look.

Astarion made a show of pouting, and batting his eyelashes which made Gale chuckle slightly into his cup. Their resident vampire couldn’t quite blush, but she saw his lips twitch in a sweet smile as he looked at Gale.

“I’m going to say hello,” Tav said promptly, standing and grabbing her glass. “You two stay here and canoodle or whatever it is you get up to.”

“Canoodle,” Astarion gagged the word. “You’re rubbing off on her now, Wizard.”

“Expanding one’s vocabulary is nothing to scoff at!”

“Having one walking encyclopedia is more than enough,” Astarion blithely retorted, “two would be intolerable.”

Tav was already making her way across the room as the two started bickering, her presence forgotten quickly as they started in on what she had to believe was their own special form of foreplay. As she came up, Lakrissa spotted her with a happy wave and she plopped down on the seat next to Cal.

“It’s you!” He said happily. “When did you get here?”

“Just got into the city today. We crashed Gortash’s coronation and then nabbed the suite upstairs.”

“Do you ever stop?” Lia asked aghast. “Less than a week ago you were infiltrating Moonrise.”

“I wish I could stop,” Tav took a long drink. “It’s one thing after the other.”

“Being a hero is a full time job then?” Lia smirked.

“More than full time,” Tav said. “And the pay is shit.”

Lia laughed, “in that case, I’ll buy you a drink.”

As Lia stood to head to the bar, Tav turned to Cal. “You lot made it in okay? No trouble?”

“Smoothest part of the journey. We got here just before they closed off the gate,” he said. “Lia’s already got work, and we’ve got a shoddy little place around here.”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Tav touched his shoulder. “Rolan must be so happy.”

At the mention of his brother, Cal’s smile fell for a moment, but he quickly said, “he’s been working hard.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” She smiled, “is he staying with you?”

“No, he stays at the tower,” Cal said. “We… we haven’t seen much of him since we arrived.”

“Oh,” Tav said dumbly. Something felt off.

“He writes though, just today he sent us some of his earnings,” Cal said. “We go to the shop to see him, but he makes us leave. Doesn’t want anyone to think he’s mucking about.”

Tav’s frown deepened. “I’ve got to head to Sorcerer's Sundries, maybe I can get him to come out for a drink.”

“We’d like that,” Cal smiled.

The first time he can remember his father hitting his mother was because she took the blame for a broken glass. Rolan hadn’t meant to, he was toying with the weave, practicing from a book he was borrowing and the spell went wrong. It shattered the glass into a million shards.

He and his mother had looked at each other for split moment before she grabbed the biggest pieces and put them in the sink. When his father stormed in, she apologized, showing a bloody hand from the glass. Her apology hadn’t mattered, nor had tears or begging. They never did. After she died there was no one else to take the blame or the beatings. Rolan had always been tall, taller than all of his friends, but he was lanky and awkward. His hands were never comfortable in the shape of a fist, his arm never created the momentum to do any damage. He tried; every time his father’s fist made contact all Rolan felt was hot fury, his arms flailing and seeming to slide off of his target. It wasn’t until the hot fury turned into a witchbolt that he ever felt on even ground with his father. Rolan had left the house leaving him in as bad of shape as he always left his son, for once.

He never went back into that house after that night.

The bruises currently on his face felt nostalgic in a way that turned his stomach. Lorroakan and his father were similar in a sense that everything and nothing turned their moods, but his new master had the unfortunate upper hand of also having magic at his disposal. He had worked too hard to get where he was to up and leave the apprenticeship. Too much suffering, too much sacrifice; there would be no running to Cal and Lia’s doorstep as in his youth. He had to stick it out until he was in a position to claim something better.

His mind had justified the beatings as a test, perhaps on keeping the mind focused even under threat. If he let the inkling that he had been duped linger too long he felt a shame and rage that was unbearable. So he put his head down, he worked hard, he took the beatings and he learned. Not from Lorrokan, but from other tellers around the shop. From the books Tolna suggested with her whispers becoming more conspiratorial and her eyes sympathetic. He hadn’t been to see Cal and Lia in days.

He knew how they would react. His plan was to wait until the bruising went down and then face them again. Rolan’s position at the front was never boring, there was no way Sorcerer’s Sundries could ever be boring, he was convinced. It was incredibly busy, people coming in for protections against the threat of the cult that was at the doorstep of the city. He didn’t think twice when an armored group of four walked through the doors, just continued making sure the stock requisition forms were correct.

“Rolan!”

That voice. For a moment he forgot that he had been beaten to a pulp the night before, too distracted by excitement when he looked up and saw her. Gale, Astarion and the Archdruid fell behind as Tav bound up to the front desk.

“Tav,” he greeted, unable to keep the warmth out of his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Her smile fell a bit and her eyes flicked over his face. “Rolan, you - you look a little… worse for wear.” She frowned, “what happened to your face?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” The stinging of the cut on his lip splitting with his forced smile made him aware of how badly he looked again. And Tav looked unconvinced.

“Hardly a place to learn, working behind a desk,” Halsin commented.

“This is my… apprenticeship.” He shrugged. “It has not been what I expected. Master Lorroakan is a… difficult man.”

There was a crackle of static, the light shining from behind Tav’s eyes. He saw her take a deep breath, and place an easy smile on her face. Saving him his dignity, he’d presume.

“He’s consumed by this pursuit of the Nightsong. I haven’t learnt a thing, and I fear it will stay that way.”

“A lucky escape,” Gale chimed in, “given Lorroakan’s reputation. He’d have little of value to teach you.”

Rolan smiled in thanks. “But never mind that. What can I do for you?”

Tav looked like she wanted to say something, even opened her mouth to start but she hesitated. Finally, she said, “funny you mention it, we actually have information about the Nightsong.”

Rolan leveled her with a serious look. A pit forming in his stomach. “Be very sure before you make a visit to Lorroakan,” he warned, “he’s got a beastly temper.” At her raised eyebrow at the comment, he quickly added, “but if you really do know something, he’ll want to see you. Head upstairs, you can find the way into his tower up there.”

“We will,” she nodded.

“Before we speak with your… beastly master,” Gale chimed in, “might you direct us in the direction of where we can find tomes of a rare nature?”

“Tolna handles tomes,” he said, “just around this pillar.”

“Wonderful, thank you,” Gale said, then leaned in, “if you want a real teacher, the Elfsong is our home for the duration of our stay.” He winked before he walked away, ushering Astarion and Halsin away with him.

“Rolan,” Tav said.

“Don’t,” he said, a bit more brusquely than he wanted to. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“Has that ever stopped me before?”

“I mean it,” his temper flared, he closed his eyes, breathed deeply and then, “your party will be waiting for you.”

“Come by tonight,” she said quickly. “We don’t have to talk about it, but I owe you a bottle of Arabellan Dry.”

She walked away then. He tried not to let his gaze follow her, but it did anyway, interrupted by a customer coming up to the desk. And then another. Incapable of controlling the desire to look at her, he turned to Tolna’a corner of the shop. Tav was looking at him, a darker look than he had seen before. She looked away quickly when she was caught, speaking with Tolna until they decided to make their way up the stairs.

If Lorroakan laid a finger on her, Rolan was not sure he could contain himself. She could handle herself, she had her friends by her side even if she couldn't, but he would never forgive himself if she came down those steps with a single mark from his bastard master.

He wasn’t sure how long they were up there, speaking to his master. But when they came down she was storming towards the entrance, not looking back, with her party following as they always did. At the very least she looked unharmed, if not furious. He opened his mouth to call after her, but someone came up to the counter and he had to keep himself from chasing after her.

After his shift, he withstood the usual line of questions watching Lorroakan closer than ever. The man seemed unharmed, a little angrier than usual, but so distracted he waved Rolan off after one sharp smack across his face. It was not too late, and the walk to the Elfsong was not terribly long.

Rolan made it to the door of the inn, people were gathered outside speaking, the doors open and letting the sounds of revelry spill into the street. There was no initial sight of anyone he knew from his spot on the threshold of the door. The idea of pretending everything was fine made his stomach churn, in fact, he was not sure he was capable of it.

Every negative emotion he ever harbored only ever warped into an anger he was still learning to temper. He was angry and ashamed and the pub was too loud so he turned around. Cowardly of him, he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her or know if she had confronted Lorroakan on his behalf. Ever since she had come back from Moonrise separate from the freed prisoners, an uncomfortable parallel had drawn itself in his mind.

Seeing her bruised and bloody always reminded him of his mother bearing wounds and blame that were meant for him.

When Rolan didn’t show up at the Elfsong, it had stung. She tried not to take it personally, she tried not to think too much on it, but there she was alone with an unopened bottle of his favorite wine. She was sat dejectedly around the unused pipe the room came with, sitting on some of the pillows that littered the floor.

“Well, no point in letting it go to waste,” Astarion sighed, feigning actual sympathy for her situation as he sat with her, “may as well crack it open.”

She tugged it closer to her protectively. “I owe him this bottle, I’ll bring it to him when we go back.”

Astarion gave her a look that not even the tadpole needed to decipher: it screamed ‘you can’t be serious.’ She felt her face heat up, and looked away.

“If I knew you liked your sweethearts a little mean I would have gone about my seduction much differently,” he finally teased.

“And you think you were what? Sweet?”

“Not sweet,” he conceded, “more… sultry.”

“Well it seemed to work on Gale,” she muttered.

Astarion leveled her with a half-hearted glare. “I thought you weren’t interested. I could always ask him if he’s up for a third.”

“No, thank you,” she shuddered dramatically. “That’s too much ego for me.”

“Afraid you couldn’t keep up, darling?”

“I’m afraid I won’t fit into the bed,” she scoffed, “it’s remarkable enough that the pair of your giant heads fit into one room.”

Astarion chuckled a little. “It’s not just our heads that are big, my dear.”

Tav launched a pillow at him, and his true laugh, high pitched and unrehearsed echoed making her smile. “I suppose we ought to tell Dame Aylin about Lorroakan.”

Astarion hummed. “I do want to see her rip him in half, but we just settled in for the night. Perhaps in the morning.”

“The morning sounds good,” Tav nodded, trying to hide her disappointment.

When she had discovered Lorroakans goals for Aylin, Tav found an opportunity present itself. While he had his own head up his ass, and was a cruel bastard, she could feel his power even by just standing in the room. She had more than enough reasons to blast him out of the window; he wanted to imprison Aylin, he had been rather rude to Gale, and then there was the state of Rolan’s face.

Gods, she could have sent a fireball in his face for that alone.

But he was powerful. And having Dame Aylin at their side to rid the world of his wretched smirking face would probably be a good idea. And Tav supposed it would mean a lot to Aylin to take down another megalomaniac that wanted to use her for immortality. After hundreds of years of imprisonment she could offer her new ally that.

“He’s very proud,” Astarion said suddenly.

“Lorroakan? Proud is putting it lightly.”

“Rolan,” Astarion emphasized.

“Oh.”

“When we found you by the lake I thought he might hit you,” Astarion was not looking at her, but his tone had a rare tinge of sincerity.

“Oh, no, Astarion, no,” Tav said immediately. “He was angry, but he had just saved me. Pulled me out of the lake and I — I said some unkind things.”

“I’m only saying,” Astarion seemed to bolster every genuine fiber of his being to say, “you ought not sit around sullenly for a man who is only ever angry at you for helping him. There’s plenty of people whose eye you’ve caught, you hardly have to settle for someone who can’t be bothered to show up.”

It hurt to hear, but there may have been a tinge of truth to it. Still, Astarion had not been there by the lake when he shared his last bottle with her. She’d seen something in him that night, something that plagued her thoughts when the rest of camp went quiet and she was alone. It was some unknown depth she had yet to reach, and desperately wanted to.

She shook her head. “You still can’t have this bottle. I’m a woman of my word.”

“Spoilsport,” he pouted.

The moment passed, and they went about the night without mentioning Rolan. Except when Gale came to sit with them and inquired after him to which Astarion elbowed him hard enough to make the Wizard wheeze. For the rest of the night it was business as usual with her friends and as she fell asleep she found herself wondering if Astarion was right to be warning her off of these feelings that had bloomed.

An ungodly crash shook the building, raining down glass upon the patrons and stopped only by some quick thinking on Tonlu’s behalf. Shortly after Tav and her crew came storming through the door and without even a passing glance they ran up the stairs towards the top of the tower.

“Hey! What are you —“

When none of them were stopped by his exclamation, he jumped over the desk to follow them up. As he followed them into their portal of choice, Lorroakan stood confronting an incredibly tall otherworldly looking winged woman.

Tav stood a decent distance behind, her arms folded over her chest and her stance sturdy. He had rarely seen her in action, and the one time he had it was a dark chaotic whirl when she saved him from the Shadow Curse. Gale stood at her side, even his demeanor in the face of confrontation had changed from its normal welcoming smile to a stern focus. Karlach was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement, and the Archdruid stood still but there was something about his demeanor which resembled a creature about to pounce. In all honesty, they were terrifying.

“What are you so scared of magus? Not the Nightsong, surely, she’s nothing but a relic to be purchased and pursued.” The winged woman seethed.

Rolan was brought out of his awe at Tav and her companions. He stared at the winged woman. “My gods, the Nightsong is a person?”

“Boy! At the ready,” Lorroakan commanded, “once I’ve taken control of the aasimar she must go directly into the caging runes.”

Everything in him rejected the idea. He felt Tav’s eyes on him, leaving him bolstered by righteousness “No, Master Lorroakan,” he said firmly, “I would never have assisted you if I knew you planned such horrors.” He would not be cowed by the rage that slipped onto Lorroakan’s face. “You lied to get the Nightsong here. Made us all believe she was nothing but a relic.” He turned to Tav, “I have seen what true leadership can accomplish — “ and finally to his master, “but never under your tutelage.”

“Watch your tongue, you child,” Lorroakan hissed, “I could make it such that no wizard in the realm will touch you.”

“If they’re all like you, I think that sounds like an excellent bargain,” Rolan shot back.

This pleased the aasimar, who rallied a truly hateful laugh, “face us, charlatan! We who detest you so.”

Then it was a blur of violence.

Rolan kept his focus on Lorroakan as did the Nightsong. Tav and her friends kept the myrmidon’s he had summoned at bay after making quick work of his assistant. Tav was a storm of magic, untamed and rawly powerful. She moved in perfect tandem with her companions, they knew how to leave room for attacks, when to parry and duck.

Rolan had to focus. Keeping Lorroakan from blocking or containing the Nightsong was no easy feat. He threw counter spell after counter spell, surprising himself every time his will overpowered his former master’s. The fire myrmidon sent a blaze of fire toward him — not enough to truly hurt him but it broke his focus. With a yell, he saw Tav fly to get in position and then call down a chain of lightning which stuttered the movements of the myrmidon and rained down on its allies. Even Lorroakan was hit.

Finding an opening, Rolan deployed an onslaught of magic missiles which hit him in instant succession. Lorroakan fell to his knees in a daze. Behind them, he saw Gale finish off one of the myrmidon’s and Karlach made quick work of another. The Archdruid had taken the shape of a bear, claws shredding the armor of the third. Tav very nearly pushed him out of the way as another hail of fire fell on them, the smell of burning hair and flesh filling the room. She gave an angry yell, thunder boomed and the construct of fire hit the wall before turning to ash.

Just as he was going to ask if she was okay, Lorroakan howled. They watched as the Nightsong lifted the famed master of Razamith’s Tower and snapped his spine in half over her armored knee.

It was cathartic, and quite the relief when she tossed him onto the floor as if he were nothing.

He watched as she left, wordlessly, in a haze of feathers and silver light.

“Lorroakan is dead,” he said, in disbelief. “The Bastard is dead.”

“Are you alright?” Tav asked.

“I am, now that the bastard is in bits,” he smiled a little. “Lorrokan was a cruel and vicious man. By day, I’d tend the shop. By night, he’d fire the most nonsensical questions at me. And for every one I’d answered wrong he’d beat me.”

Flashes of the nights spent in the tower flickered by, Lorrokan’s pale skin in his memories sometimes replaced by red skin and eyes that matched his own. He looked away from Tav’s intent stare.

“I could have killed him with my own two hands,” he breathed, “but I kept thinking it was all a test. It had to be.” At her patient gaze, her friends, maybe their friends, standing by just as understanding he found himself unfurling. “I thought it was the price to pay to become a true wizard. I realize now he was just a sick, sick man.”

“I’m sorry, Rolan,” Tav said. “You were so looking forward to your apprenticeship.”

“I see things clearly now,” he shook his head, “if I wish to master the weave, I must do it myself.” She didn’t look convinced. “Thankfully I have everything I need, right here.”

“More than everything,” Gale said. “You’ll make a fine wizard, Rolan.”

“Thank you.”

“You should go to Lia and Cal. They’re worried sick, mate.” Karlach piped up.

“I’ll move them in right away,” he assured her. “Lorroakan refused to let them stay here. They are gonna love the tower.”

“I’m sure they will,” Tav smiled, but it was weak and somewhat forced.

She was singed by the fire myrmidon. A few of her hairs were singed, she had ash on her face and an angry burn just below her chin. Tav had looked worse, he knew, but again he understood the gravity of what she had done for him. Even inadvertently.

Instead of anger, he felt deep gratitude and finally the means to pay her back.

“I wouldn’t have all this — the tower, my family — if it weren’t for you.” At once Tav’s face shifted to something softer, the storm in her eyes quelled. “What can I do to thank you?”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she assured him.

Before he could respond, Gale cleared his throat. “Certainly, Tav’s generosity is to be commended but,” he said, “we could make use in the way of supplies and… access to some of the rarer tomes.”

Tav winced slightly. “Supplies would be helpful,” she admitted. “And Gale has tunnel vision about a book that’s hidden in the tower.”

“I’d be happy to assist,” he nodded his head. “I’ve yet to journey into the vaults, we can figure them out together.”

“An excellent idea,” Gale nodded with a slight bow. “Perhaps we may also employ Astarion’s assistance, he’s the pilfering sort.”

“He may have stolen some material components when we were here last,” Tav seemed mortified but Karlach was cackling behind her.

“You can have whatever you like,” Rolan said quickly. “Leave only the scrolls and tomes.”

“Thank you,” she breathed in relief. “We’ll — erm — let you settle in.”

“Before you go, know this,” Rolan quickly gathered his courage, “Ramazith’s tower and its master, are now your friends. And when the time comes, we will stand with you as allies.”

“Enjoy your new digs!” Karlach called as they turned to leave.

“We will be back soon,” Gale assured him.

Tav had nothing else to say to him as she left.

It was a bit awkward as Tav, Gale, Astarion and Rolan ventured into the vaults.

Rolan and Gale were getting along swimmingly, volleying knowledge and theories off of each other. Astarion hung back with Tav, unlocking doors as needed, but lingering behind the two wizards gushing over the hidden collection of Ramazith’s. The tiefling was rather charming, she found, when he was matched in wit and interest. Perhaps it was Gale’s own warm nature that brought it out of him, but regardless, Tav found herself watching the two of them interact so easily with an uncomfortable prickle under her skin.

She’d never been so annoyed at Gale before, not even when he nearly blew them all up in the name of forgiveness for his ex. He also thought he would be saving the world, but even so — the fact he even considered it worth mentioning had made her want to smack him. Now she just wished he’d shut up.

“I think one wizard is more than enough,” Astarion said blithely. “You needn’t bring this one back to our rooms.”

“He has a big fancy tower now,” Tav replied. “Our suite at the Elfsong looks like a hovel in comparison.”

“Do you think they’d even notice if we left?”

“Probably not.”

Astarion sighed dramatically. Tav felt his eyes slinking toward her. “Shall we take off without them?”

“That sounds like a terrible idea. I’m in.”

It was a terrible idea and they had quite a few burns to show for it. They had stumbled upon an armory, full to the brim with enchanted armors and weapons. Of course, the room had vaulted a fireball at them at Astarion’s initial failure to pick a magical lock. But a column of alabaster had saved them from being incinerated, only the immeasurable heat had gotten them. Tav was, as Gale had so diplomatically put it at the start of their journey, not studied in magic. She just was magic, always had been.

Her knowledge of the arcane only went so far beyond what she felt. She knew spells, knew the names of them, but she mostly just went with her gut at what to throw around and found its name later. When faced with a room full of enchanted objects, she only could pick them up to see what they did. Some of it came with tags that had details of the magical abilities they held, but at some point Lorroakan had taken to hoarding rather than cataloging.

Tav slipped on a ring, basic in appearance, a simple gold band with writing engraved around its circumference and felt herself thrust into a state of unbeing. She could see Astarion, but around him was a whirl of chaos. Energies of different colors collided and roared, in a cacophony that felt somehow familiar but overwhelming. Her hand reached out and a trail of lightning wrapped around her arm. She knew the tingling zap of it well, the rumble of thunder taking the place of her heart beat and the soft spray of rain. But it became too much, the sear of the lightning overtaking her and she wrenched the ring off.

“Tav where the hells did you go?” Astarion asked.

“Did I go somewhere?”

“You disappeared!” He said. “Is that a ring of invisibility?”

“Definitely not,” Tav said, quickly taking off her vambraces where her skin still tingled.

“Oh, my,” Astarion looked down at her arm. “Have you always had that?”

Her forearm was covered in white divuts that spidered out and glowed slightly. As if lightning lived there in her arms. It didn’t hurt, but it felt as if the remnants of a touch were electrically charged. Her and Astarion were still enraptured by the marks when the door flew open.

“There you two are,” Gale said. “By Mystra’s eyelids, you can’t go wandering off in a highly guarded wizard’s tower!”

“By who’s eyelids, darling?”

Even without knowing all the details of their relationship, Tav could see the coldness in Astarion’s eyes and the flood of tension that took over the room. Gale looked as if he had fallen into a frozen lake. Something was transpiring between her friends and she felt as if she was not supposed to see it.

“Look what we found!” Tav said to Rolan who stood back with arms folded and looking unamused. “An armory!”

“Is that so?”

She bounded up to him, if only to get away from the unspoken conversation happening between Gale and Astarion.

“What happened to your arm?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

Rolan leveled her with a look.

“I put on this ring, and Astarion said I disappeared — “ Rolan’s eye actually twitched, so she barreled on before he could yell, “but I could see him it was just like I don’t know, everything around was just energy. And something reached out to grab my hand and it felt like my magic, like my own magic was holding my hand!” She was excited despite the unusual state of her arm. “And when I took it off I had this.”

He grabbed her arm, fingers running over the divots and inspecting it. Turning it over, his nails dragged along the sensitive flesh of the inside and dragged over her palm. A pleasurable shudder rippled down her spine.

“Did that hurt?”

“Uh,” she felt her brain zap, “no.”

It felt very good.

“They’re fading.”

Now that she looked at it, the glow was siphoning away very slowly. “Huh.”

Rolan brought her arm closer for him to inspect. His hands were incredibly warm. As he asked her questions about what she saw, she found herself answering almost dazedly. It was only after he seemed to have asked all the questions he could and was simply holding her arm in quiet contemplation that she realized he was rubbing his thumb along her skin.

“Rolan,” she said quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Can I have my arm back?”

He dropped it as if it flooded him with an electric shock. “You seem fine. Please refrain from playing with magical artifacts you have no idea how to properly use.”

“That’s no fun.”

His eye twitched again.

“Erm,” she said, “did you find Karsus’ book?”

Rolan’s eyes slid over her shoulder, back where Astarion and Gale were. He motioned for her to follow him, and around the same pillar of stone which had saved her and Astarion, he led her out of the room.

“We found the book.”

“Oh, good,” she said. “Gale says it’s integral for figuring out how to deal with the Elder Brain.”

“Yes,” Rolan said quietly. “What do you know of Karsus?”

“Only what Gale has told me,” she replied. “Fall of netheril, tried to become a god, - just the juicy stuff.”

“Then you know how it ended last time someone played with that kind of power.”

“I do.”

“Gale is an immensely talented and knowledgeable wizard,” Rolan prefaced.

“Got a crush, do you?”

The tone of her voice was a little more pointed than she liked. An ugly thing inside of her scratching at her chest at his praise of Gale. Which was unreasonable. Gale was everything he said; Gale was one of her best friends. There was no reason for her to be acting this way.

Rolan frowned. “I’m not trying to argue with you nor insult him, I’m only letting you know there was something about the way he talked about the crown, and the book. Please, keep an eye on him.”

Tav remembered how Gale had reacted to first seeing the crown, and then to the way he had near badgered her about finding the book. He had to correct himself when he talked about what the crown would do for him — the quick addition of for us that he added as an afterthought.

Tav nodded.

“I don’t mean to intrude,” he said. “You’ve helped my family a hundred times over. I owe it to you to do the same.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” She corrected. She hated how transactional it sounded.

“Are you angry with me?” He asked, an edge to his voice that she knew spelled trouble.

“Angry? No.”

Yes. No? She wasn’t sure. She almost wanted to pick a fight. It seemed to be the only time he ever gave her any mind. She didn’t know arcane history, couldn’t gush over magical theory with him — and he had never shown up for that bottle of wine. He only paid attention to her when he was upset with her. She wanted to needle at him, to make herself the focus of that blazing amber gaze even if he was snarling at her.

Astarion was walking out of the room, jolting them out of the staring contest they were having. “Send him back when you’re done with him,” Astarion waved at Rolan. “He wants to identify some of those objects.”

He walked off, an air of finality about his path. Something had happened. Her role of leadership reared its head, if there was dissent amongst the camp it was her job to temper it.

“You have to go,” he said.

“Duty calls.” She sighed. “Thank you for the warning. We will drop by again, I’m sure.”

Rolan only nodded in reply and she set off.

Only in crowds would she thaw. He’d been making his way to the Eflsong with Lia and Cal, under the guise of watching Alfira perform or to see Lakrissa. The team of heroes often joined them, sometimes looking worse for wear but never bringing whatever challenges they were facing with them. Tav talked when everyone was around, talked to him and was friendly enough. But they never had a moment alone.

Even if they did he was not sure what he would say. Being the new owner of Ramazith’s was a full time endeavor; if he wasn’t experimenting he was busy trying to manage the shop. More and more people were turning up for protective measures against the string of events which threatened the city. Cal and Lia helped, happy to have a place to live and a job. It was becoming a rather fluid family business.

But when the day slowed down or at night when laid in bed in Lorroakan’s reclaimed room, his mind drifted always to her. If he saw her at the bar that night he had committed to memory what she wore, any new cuts and bruises, and how the old ones were healing. His hand would drift under his trousers, gently massaging his length as it swelled with interest at the thought of her.

Every peak of cleavage where that damned pearl pendant dangled so teasingly where he wanted to kiss was seared into his mind. Each glance at her leaning over the bar to speak with Alan and order a round of drinks for everyone had him begging to grab at the swell of her bottom. Her eyes when she had stared Lorroakan down before she erupted in a flurry of magic. The calm before the storm of her wrath. How they would soften for her friends, and even him when she glanced over.

Rolan would stroke himself to different imaginings of her. His gallant hero riding him, hands on his chest and glorious as she chased her pleasure. Or beneath him, soft and pliant for once, only for him. Teasing but humbled as he was a benevolent but stern authority, until she finally allowed him to experience the bliss of her submission. To let him take care of her for once.

He could even be the submissive, he thought despite never having considered it before, imagining cooing praise as he gave her whatever she wanted. Gods, he knew she would take him apart in ways he could never recreate with anyone else. He would trust her to hold her hand around his throat, to lovingly claw at his skin, to whisper words of adoration in contrast to the way she had control of his very breath in her grip.He would spill over into his own hand with visions of her eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. She was, so far unwittingly, boring her way into his mind the same way the illithids had done to her.

But that very tadpole had kept her very busy. The trouble in Baldur’s Gate only grew more intense. Everyone had seen less of her crew as the days went on, only Alfira or Lakrissa getting glimpses of them racing to and fro at the inn day in and out. Everything was coming to a catalyst, he could feel it in the air. It was bad enough that his family had viewed Baldur’s Gate as a haven only to find it on the verge of chaos, now the very object of his desires was at the very center of it all. Storybooks often spoke about the plight of heroes, rarely did they touch upon the abject misery of the ones who loved them.

Watching them destroy their bodies, minds and hearts to be brave enough to save the day. Unable to do anything but offer mere pittances. And Tav wouldn’t even allow him to do that.

In the midst of his musings on her one night as they closed the shop, a violent earthquake shook the city. They were more common these days but this one felt different, it lasted longer, the tremor nearly knocked potion bottles off the wall and the whole city seemed to freeze moments after it passed.

“Do you think it’s them?” Cal had asked, breaking the terrified silence.

“It always is.”

They had gone to the Elfsong after the shop was locked up. All agreeing that their friends might need them, even if just to buy them a drink. When he arrived, the place was packed. Voices loud as people theorized and panicked over drinks, not even Alfira’s songs could carry over the din.

Their heroes were nowhere to be seen.

They found Lakrissa, who was attempting to be a one woman crowd for Alfira. “Have they returned? Do they know what’s going on?”

Lakrissa looked grim. “We saw the Archdruid carrying someone small — maybe a halfling or a gnome or something — up the stairs. They looked bad.”

Rolan felt his stomach plummet through the wood floor.

“Tav came down to grab wine, Alfira said she was heading up to the roof when she came down to perform.”

Rolan was turning for the stairs before Lakrissa finished the sentence. Something was off. He passed by the suite which he knew her party was in, voices were low but they were in there. He saw the open hatch and climbed up with a grunt.

The roof was not lit up, but the city lights allowed for a low glow that partially blotted out the stars. The crescent moon above was not much helpful but it was out clear as day. He spotted a figure, alone, slumped over at the far end of the roof. Even in the dark he knew it was her.

He approached only to be met with her calling, in slurred together words, “‘ready told you, Karlach. I don’ wanna watch you arm wrestle Minsc.”

“They should sell tickets to that,” he said in response. “You’d all be rich.”

She turned around sharply. “S’ you.”

“It’s me,” he replied. “May I join you?”

“M’pissed, and miserable,” she slurred. “Not good,” she belched, “company.”

It was oddly charming, despite her drooping eyes and the way she dryly licked her lips after. He was so used to her being a force of unflappable willpower and leadership, seeing her just be a person who gets piss drunk to drown her sorrows was novel. Rolan sat next to her, amongst a small nest of pillows and blankets Alfira and Lakrissa had put up there when they first got to the city. Tav looked out at the water.

“I wanna go swimming.”

“I think the Chionthar is only slightly safer than a cursed lake,” he replied. “Best stay on land.”

“No fun.”

Despite her attempts at lightning the mood everything felt off. She leaned her chin on the stone wall that she sat in front of. The bottle in her hand precariously tipped.

“I felt that quake earlier, your doing?”

“killed a Bhaalspawn.” She said plainly. “Stole a netherstone. Brain is getting restless.”

If anyone else had strung those words together it would have been utter nonsense.

“Thats good, isn’t it? You ought to be celebrating.”

“No,” she shook her head slowly. “No celebrating.”

“What happened?”

“Bhaalspawn bitch took Yenna,” she sniffed.

The little girl they had picked up in Rivington. Rolan had yet to meet her, but she had been their newest addition. Rolan recalled being horrified that they allowed a child in their camp, given their circumstances. He thought it might not be a good idea to bring that up, just then.

“Is she alright?”

“Physically? Sure.”

It was quiet again. He heard her breathing pick up, a wet swallow.

“They made her eat her fucking cat.” She spat, voice cracking. “She’s ten years old. Lost her mother, and all she had was Grub. They took her from right under my nose. Killed the damn cat and made her eat it.”

When he looked over he saw tears, his heart stuttering. Half unsure what to do in the face of such a horrifying thing to imagine and half desperate to hold her.

“Everywhere I go,” she said distractedly, “there’s just blood and horror.” She pulled a long drink of wine from the bottle. “And everyone’s fucking lost it in this city. Gale wants to become a God, and we all know it’s just to get back at Mystra — they ought to call her the bitch queen — and just two days ago I had to talk Astarion out of the right of ascension — 2000 people he was going to sacrifice!” She was ranting, hiccups and sobs breaking through every once in a while. “Karlach’s given up. Shadowheart’s parents — we looked for them and she fought so hard and they’re just gone. Lae’zel wants me to make a deal with a devil, and poor Wyll,” she sniffled. “His dad — he — and Mizora that cunt! We have to find his dad.” She had her head in her hands. “There’s still one more netherstone, we have to get the hammer, then there’s the brain.”

“You need to breathe,” he reached out.

“I’m not meant to do this!” She yelled suddenly. “I’m not — I’m supposed to take over my mum and dad’s stupid pub, I’m supposed to be at home, with my little sister and my mother.”

“Tav,” he tried to interrupt.”

“Instead I’m here, and I’ve got this thing in my head and they want time to lead them — and I don’t know why! I’m nothing — no one — I don’t know what to do —“

“Sweetheart, stop,” he pleaded, reaching out to her. “You’re alright.”

“I’m not,” she choked. “I can’t, Rolan. I can’t do this.”

“You can,” he said firmly. He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him, “you’re going to sleep this off, and tomorrow you will infuriate me by accomplishing the impossible — as you always do.”

She was at least calming down, breathing coming easier even if fresh warm tears spilled out of her eyes onto his hands. His thumb gently wiped them away, careful of his nails.

“You didn’t see what I saw out there in the cursed lands, or even in the tower. You may be an idiot but you’re a capable idiot. If anyone can save the city, it’s you and your freak show of friends.”

She smiled, a soft laugh nothing more than a breath escaping her lips. Rolan had a sinking feeling he was in over his head, with the way she still looked so lovely to him; face puffy, drunk and still covered in gore he thought she was the most beautiful person in the world. His thumb gently rubbed the skin of her cheek, and she closed her eyes, seeming to have rid herself of all the tears she could and now seeming calmer.

They sat like that for a while. She breathed and came back to herself, he contemplated how awful he had been to her before. Tav was larger than life, but even she was only flesh and blood. The weight on her shoulders was more than he could even imagine. He’d never been more sure about his decision to offer his help when the time came, anything to lighten her load.

For a moment he thought she might have passed out until she spoke.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Rolan felt struck by lightning by the change of subject. “You — do you want me to kiss you?”

Tav opened her eyes, albeit somewhat blearily she smiled mischievously. “Don’t be dumb,” she said, “you know I do.”

“I do not know that,” he said defensively.

“Well now you do,” she leaned forward, her hands still curled into his robes. Her eyes slid shut again and Rolan tilted his head and leaned in, unable to resist the magnetic force that she seemed to emanate as their lips came closer.

Her breath smelt so strongly of wine, he suddenly outstretched his arms to keep her at a safe distance. “You’re drunk,” he scolded. Whether it was her or himself he was scolding, was unclear.

“Yes.” She nodded and then seemed to get dizzy from the motion

“We should get you to bed.”

“Oh?”

“Stop it,” he tried not to laugh, but it didn’t work. “You’re going to bed to sleep.”

“That isn’t fun.”

“I’m not fun,” he reminded her. “I’m a prick with a stick up my arse, as my sister so kindly put it.”

“Sorry, Rolan,” Tav said seriously, “wasn’t paying attention. Whose prick is going in whose arse? Because m’not equipped — I guess we could buy one but at this hour?“

“Bed!” Rolan said immediately.

“No,” she whined, “I’m sleeping up here.”

“You are not.”

“I am,” she said, draining the last of her bottle only to have it yanked away from her. “You can’t carry me down the ladder.”

It was said petulantly, with a singsong voice and a cackle of laughter afterwards, but she was right. Rolan grabbed at the pillows and blankets Alfira had snuck up and threw together a makeshift bed. He shoved at her shoulder until she laid back and she sighed happily, turning onto her side.

“I like when we get along.” She said in a quiet voice.

“Me too.”

After a while he laid on the ground. His feet faced her head and there was a safe amount of distance, in case anyone found them. He didn’t need her friends getting the wrong idea if they found them, he was already sure Astarion wanted to kill him.

He felt something pulling at one of his horns and his eyes slid open. Tav was over him, trying to lift his head.

“What are you doing?”

“Pillow,” she said plainly. “Head up.”

He allowed her to place one under his head, and then rested back. When she laid back down, her fingers brushed against him. Barely noticeable, only The back of her knuckles pressed against his. He curled one finger around hers and she did the same. As he looked down, even in the darkness her arms still had marks from whatever had happened when she put on that ring in the tower.

After a few days with no other side effects, they had all assumed it had been some kind of magic attachment that hadn’t taken full hold. The lines were thin, barely there, but he considered what it could have been. After all the work that had to be done at the shop, it had slipped his mind to research it. At least now he had something to do to keep his mind off of her running to infiltrate the new archduke’s home and murder him.

“Why didn’t you come?” Her voice interrupted his thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“Gale wanted to teach you,” she mumbled, “and I… have that bottle for you.”

Things had happened so fast, getting Cal and Lia settled, being thrust into owning not just a massive home but a very popular magical goods shop had made him forget that night entirely. He had made it all the way to the door of the Elfsong, skin still stinging from Lorroakan’s ‘training’ just the hour before.

“I got as far as the front door,” he said, “and turned around.”

“Why?”

“I was… overwhelmed.”

“Oh.”

He said nothing in response and after a few moments he heard her start to snore. With a sigh he settled in and closed his eyes. The stone roof was a poor substitute for his new large, exceedingly comfortable bed in the tower. Leaving her side seemed far from worth it to sleep in his own bed, even if she did snore.

Thank you so much for reading!

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#rolan fic #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #bg3 fanfiction #olly writes

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