#I wanted to make clear that this is supposed to be baldurs gate just in the future

[spielzeugkaiser]

That idea didn't let me be... I got some ideas for the background from the lovely @a-kind-of-merry-war! This was fun to draw.

[tethys-the-aquatic-sea-godness]

One other thing that bothers me in the Bhaal plot of BG3 is that they made it sound like Bhaal created his Bhaalspawns as... servants? Puppets? And that's never been the purpose of the Bhaalpsawns? Ever? Every new Bhaalspawn he created in BG3 is counterproductive to his plan.

Bhaal knew in advance he would die, so he divided his divine essense into many mortal vessels. Then he charged his faithful (cough) high priestess Amelyssan to ensure every Bhaalspawn was killed after his passing, so that his power could be returned to him and he could be reborn.

Thats' the plan. A plan that's impeded, not helped, by more Bhaalspawns. It means splitting more of his essence.

Bhaal never wanted those spawns, he never intended to keep them, he never wanted a 'perfect child', they were fuel, born to be consumed for his return.

And that Larian has to make their dark urge the one true most *specialest* Bhaalspawn is just... pathetic. Can't find another word for it. They're trying to push aside Gorion's ward entire storyline, two incredible previous games, just to shove in their perfect, most special Bhaalspawn of all Bhaalspawns. And what flesh and blood of Bhaal is the Dark Urge made of? When Cyric killed him, he didn't have a mortal body, he was possessing one. Is the Dark Urge made of the dead flesh and blood of the guy he was possessing? Doesn't feel that special, but sure, go ahead.

I'm not saying their main charatcers shouldn't have been special somehow, it's part of the salt, but they should've have made it special with their own story. Not by trying too hard, and failing, to match the previous two games. I don't know, make the main character special reguarding something Illithid? You know, the supposed main focus of this game?

And yes, they do fail. The original game gives you the opportunity to become a god, in this one, your great evil achievement would be to be to work for a god. Congratulation, you've got a job. The one where you control the brain would be the only one where you truly achieve your evil overlord dreams. Surprise, surprise, that's the one connected to Illithid plot, not the Bhaal plot. They can do good work when they're not trying to one up their predecessors.

[missexiled]

How do you think Gale would try to initiate intimacy? In any act of the game / post elder brain. Like throughout the stage of his and Tav’s relationship. Their relationship dynamic changing through the game is so sweet and interesting!

This is such a cool topic! I love the awkward wizard man.

Warnings - Implied sexual content Act 2 and down / Spoilers for Gale’s romance and Acts

Act 1 (The Wild)

Gale still has the orb and won’t truly initiate sexual intimacy. However, I think this would be more of a domestic thing. Like cuddles.

This man is touchy. Once you two are fully established, he won’t let you go. Either he’s holding your hand or has an arm around you or his legs over your lap. Anything.

But, after Mystra, I don’t think he’d be that touchy right off the bat. He’s not used to it.

So, as any awkward wizard would, he’ll casually try to get closer and closer, waiting for you to hold his hand.

He thought he was being sly

He really did

But he was slowly, and very obviously, inching closer to you

You were sharpening your blade as you sat on the log you both shared

And he was nearly an inch away

And then he stopped

You felt his eyes on you, as if trying to tell you to close the gap he left

He shifted and fidgeted, glancing at your blade, then you, then the blade, then the fire

“You know,” he cleared his throat, “it’s rather cold tonight.”

It wasn’t

“You can go to sleep if you’d like.”

You could hear his pout

“Oh, no. I’m quite alright. But, I mean, I was wondering if… if you were cold.”

You spared him glance, grinning, “If I was cold?”

“Yes. Can’t have our leader getting sick, of course.”

You hummed, “Of course.”

“And, you know, there’s nothing better than shared body heat.”

“Is that right?” You absently answered

“Why, yes. I could prove it to you.”

You thought about it. Should you tease the poor man?

Absolutely you should

“I’ll believe you.”

…

“Oh,” you could hear the disappointment, “okay, well,” he cleared his throat again, “thank you, I suppose.”

…

“If you want a hug, you could just ask.”

…

He hesitated, shuffling, “May I?”

Act 2 (Shadowlands)

He’s still pretty awkward about affection, but he definitely asks for it a lot. Especially now that he’s been tasked with destroying himself and the Elder Brain.

He’s really conflicted about how to feel. Before you, he would do whatever Mystra asked, if only to please her. But now he has someone to live for.

In his romance, he sends his simulacrum to show you the illusion he made. Then you can choose whether you want the ‘soul binding’ or the ‘romp in the woods’

“You know, I, uh,” he shifted, “read a rather interesting novel on how fighting has a rather profound impact on one’s libido.”

You loved how flustered he got when he was asking for… anything. From hand holding to sloppy toppy (I’m not sorry), he would always fidget and fluster

“Oh?” You grinned, “How so?”

He was about to speak before your arms wrapped around his waist, “I- Well, the adrenaline. And,” he relaxed as your hands threaded through his hair, “the movements. And the way your body shines from sweat, leaving behind your musk, that is just so…”

And… he’s gone

“Musky?” You tease

He simply laughed, cupping your cheek, “Delicious. And I’d love to show you how edible you truly are, my love.”

Act 3 (Baldur’s Gate)

I’ll do three for this: Soon To Be God Gale, Soon To Be Dust Gale, and Soon To Be Professor Gale

Gale is very self assured. He’s going to be able to be everything you deserve and more. He’ll be thinking about how everything is going to be better once he gets the crown. How he’ll be better.

Gale is going to be either needy or reserved depending on the day. He wants to soak up however much of you that he can. He wants to make you smile. He wishes that he could’ve been better for you. Maybe then he could’ve stuck around. Maybe he’d have a life with you. One where you were both happy.

Gale is beyond grateful he has you and he’s going to show it.

We all know how kinky this man is. Regardless of what route you take, there’s going to be something going on. Gale would be having you say his name instead of any gods you worshipped before. Gale would be on his knees, willing to do anything to satisfy you. Gale would be happily exploring whatever kink you were interested in.

Gale would be rather handsy with you

A hand on your lower back, arms around upper waist, hand occasionally at the back of your neck

He’s possessive

He’s already a God in his eyes

And you’re going to be one, too

He’ll pull you aside, roughly kissing you, groping you, tugging at you

You’re his now, afterall

Gale is going to follow you like a lost puppy

Always holding your hand, if not, pinkies linked

He’s hugging you every time like it’s his last day (because, in his mind, it is)

His kisses are desperate, needy, and whiny

It quickly moves to him pawing at you, begging you to let him make you happy

He’s never been enough, and he never will be, so he’ll allow himself to be selfish and take as much of you as you’ll allow

He’ll be on his hands and knees just for you to give him a glance

Please, just look at him. Tell him you love him, even if it’s a lie. Then he can die on peace.

Gale is always looking at you with that soft smile

Hands intertwined, thumb rubbing the back of your hand, kisses to your cheek

You saved him

You saved him from the rock

You saved him from his orb

You saved him from himself

And he’s going to thank you

Again and again

Soft kisses turn to sweet lovemaking

He doesn’t fuck you (not unless you ask nicely)

His kisses are so soft yet firm that they leave you breathless

God Gale - He’s decided that he’s going to take the crown, harness it, and take you with.

Dust Gale - He’s decided that he can’t win. He has to destroy the orb, whether you want him to or not.

Professor Gale - He’s going to give the crown to Mystra and be rid of the orb. He’ll be free.

A.N. I love Pathetic Gale so much 😔 He means the world to me. I want to focus on Dust Gale now bc I love the characterization of him.

[edenmemes]

baldur's gate 3 starters (part 2)

part 2 / ? .

❝ i’m also worried about me, but i somehow seem to be worried about you more. ❞ ❝ you put the stars to shame. let’s sit here a little while - i want to drink you in. ❞ ❝ i’d tell you not to get in trouble, but i suspect it will find you whether you like it or not. ❞ ❝ well, this seems as good a time as any for me to stop babbling on. ❞ ❝ i just….need some air…clear my head. ❞ ❝ it’s been a long time since i shed a tear. i don’t even know how long. ❞ ❝ i had a feeling you’d show up. it’s sort of our thing. like it’s fate or something. ❞ ❝ i do appreciate your enthusiasm, but let's try to restrain ourselves a little. ❞ ❝ if that was an attempt at flirting, i should let you know i prefer the strong, silent type. ❞ ❝ no matter how far you come, you’re still on the road to ruin. ❞ ❝ i thought you a hunter. wrong. you’re prey - small. snivelling. pathetic. ❞ ❝ and what am i owed? what about the injustices i’ve suffered - am i not entitled to anything? ❞ ❝ i can’t help but feel the strangest twinge of disgust as i look upon you. ❞ ❝ i trust that you will continue to remember who is really on your side. ❞ ❝ better a short life built on truth than immortality woven of lies. ❞ ❝ i won’t make excuses. i can’t make amends. but i want to help, if you’ll let me. ❞ ❝ gods, it’s horrifying…and a touch fascinating. ❞ ❝ there are many names for you --- and all of them inspire dread. ❞ ❝ destiny is at your door; won’t you at least twitch the curtain? ❞ ❝ the gravest crimes committed in this world are committed for love. a hunger crueller than bloodlust. ❞ ❝ you’ve got a backbone, and the makings of a leader. ❞ ❝ revenge sounds so sweet until you’ve taken it. then all you have is…no one left to blame. ❞ ❝ some mistakes can’t be resolved with an apology. some mistakes, you have to carry with you, forever. ❞ ❝ you’re plotting something, aren’t you? come on then - out with it. ❞ ❝ this is not good, if i may state the obvious. ❞ ❝ think of all we’ve been through just to get to this moment. that wasn’t luck. that was us. ❞ ❝ feel like i should laugh but i’m just too godsdamned tired. ❞ ❝ there is something i lost…no, had taken from me. i want it all back. ❞ ❝ careful - you’re in very real danger of hurting my feelings. ❞ ❝ one thing i’ve learned - real saviours never label themselves as such. ❞ ❝ less thinking of bad thoughts, and more breaking of bad bones. ❞ ❝ i rather like interfering. it’s kind of my thing. ❞ ❝ evil is evil, even if it once was innocent. ❞ ❝ you know, i've been catching myself smiling more lately. i think that's your fault.. ❞ ❝ oh, i’m no innocent. but evil? you tell me. ❞ ❝ i still want to believe you’re better than that. but even i am having my doubts. ❞ ❝ i can’t afford to lose my nerve. safer to just not think, and keep forging ahead. ❞ ❝ when all this is over, will you stay with me? for good? ❞ ❝ this is not good, if i may state the obvious. ❞ ❝ is there a reason you're always such an utter drip? do you have some sort of condition? honestly, it's like you hate good news. ❞ ❝ all of nature’s beauty pales in comparison to you. ❞ ❝ i can’t save you from yourself. it hurts terribly, but i can’t. ❞ ❝ if i seem suddenly flush with hope and soft feeling, you have only yourself to blame. ❞ ❝ is there good and evil within us all? ❞

❝ i’ve been watching you fight. your skills are improving. ❞ ❝ you know, for all the sense of dread and horror seeping through this place, i really feel quite at home here. ❞ ❝ and you? you’re wholly without vice or sin or the occasional lapse in judgement? ❞ ❝ i wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you truly are. but i do. ❞ ❝ one might say you’re paragon of luck. i’ll be there when it runs out. ❞ ❝ i've always had a soft spot for the confident ones…they always disappoint though. ❞ ❝ i concealed nothing from you. i simply left out the details that were not pertinent. ❞ ❝ you’re an odd friend. but, i suppose, a friend still. ❞ ❝ i won’t let you do this. i won’t let you win. ❞ ❝ you are my puppet. make no mistake. without me, you have no value. ❞ ❝ well, this seems like a lovely little spot. the sense of impending doom aside. ❞ ❝ whoever your enemies are, they have good reason to fear you. ❞ ❝ this place is astonishing, a bard’s tale made real. ❞ ❝ i may not regret my actions, but i do regret that they were necessary. ❞ ❝ experience has taught me that no matter how bleak things look, there’s always hope. ❞ ❝ if this adventure has taught me anything, it’s that there are things in this world more valuable than power. ❞ ❝ a wise man learns from his mistakes, and strives not to repeat them. ❞ ❝ no more hiding things from me. agreed? ❞ ❝ my friend. my companion. i adore you. ❞ ❝ your face is sour. by all means leave, if i am so distasteful. ❞ ❝ careful, it’s dark around here. would be a terrible shame to lose you forever. ❞ ❝ you startled me. i…i was miles away. ❞ ❝ you have to know who i was. you have to know who i really am. ❞ ❝ nothing special, of course. you’re only the first person who i truly care for. ❞ ❝ you’ve got a backbone, and the makings of a leader. ❞ ❝ anything you ask, i’ll answer as honestly as i can. ❞

[bloodlust-1]

.·:*¨ Night Affairs ¨*:·.

Astarion x fem Tav — Explicit 18+

Summary: Oops! Tav accidentally ate a mushroom that causes her to completely lose her mind. Astarion finds her in this state and enjoy each other’s company, A little too much.

T/W: smut!

Notes: this is Pre- Astarion telling Tav his feelings for her. Also, this takes place in the under dark! Happy reading~

Tav’s body felt a subtle change that began to take hold on her. At first, she felt a gentle warmth spreading through her veins, accompanied by a tingling sensation that danced across her skin. Colors seemed to intensify, becoming more vivid and vibrant with every passing moment. Gods, she was feeling the consequences of mistaking a mushroom for something safely edible. Damn it, these mushrooms in the under dark are all confusing to her. How was she supposed to know it’d make her delusional?

It was already time for everyone to settle in their tents. Tav would have been trying to catch some Z’s like everyone else, but As time passed, Tav’s perception of reality became distorted. The world around her transformed into a kaleidoscope of swirling patterns and shifting shapes. Sounds became amplified, echoing through her ears with an otherworldly clarity. Her senses were heightened to an extraordinary degree.

She wondered outside her tent, away from the camp unknowingly, and stumbled her way around the underdark. It was beautiful with its luminous plants of all kinds. Tav’s thoughts took on a dreamlike quality as her mind wandered through uncharted territories. She experienced a profound sense of euphoria and introspection, as if she had been granted access to hidden realms of consciousness. Time lost its meaning as minutes stretched into hours and hours into what felt like an eternity.

From a short distance sat Astarion, admiring the access he had to life again. He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved the adventure away from home no matter how much he missed Baldurs Gate. He was in deep thought about his situation until he heard dragging noises. He reached for his knife as he saw Tav, clumsily dragging her feet around. Her eyes were widened, almost sparkling from reflections from all the glow of the mushrooms. There was definitely something off about her.

Tav's eyes caught Astarion, by his lonesome in deep thought. She noticed his odd stare at her, "Oooh, Astarion! My favorite person in camp. Isn't it soOooOoo beautiful tonight?" She drunkenly plopped her body onto the ground, now sitting next to him.

Astarion's eyebrows crocked, and he noticed her pupils were dilated. "Oh dear, I see what's going on here. What did you eat?"

In this altered state, Tav's emotions fluctuated wildly. Waves of laughter washed over her as she found humor in the simplest things. Tears welled up in her eyes, not from sadness but from an overwhelming sense of beauty and interconnectedness with the world around her. "I didn't knoooow, please don't be mad at me. I just want to see the pretty plants tonight." Tav wiped away her unjustified tears, her mind was going insane. She could only cling to what little hold she had on reality.

Astarion tilted his head and stared at her. He was unable to take his eyes off her, often staring directly into her eyes or admiring her physical features. He adjusted his posture to face her. Admittingly, Astarion was already catching feelings for Tav the night they indulged in each other's bodies. It was just a part of his plan to manipulate her, something he knew how to do all too well. He just didn't expect to enjoy himself more than usual. It actually felt— good?

Astarion cleared his throat, "You must be losing your fucking mind. I bet anything we talk about now you won't even remember by tomorrow."

Tav slouched her head on his shoulder, her body twitching every so often, "I reaallyy don't want this to end. I lovE traveling w-with you guys, so much fun. I'm scared to go back home..." She spoke with slurs and all kinds of messiness. However, due to the fault of the mushroom she ate, the truth comes spilling out of her mouth uncontrollably.

Astarion perked up, "Scared? Darling what in the hells do you have to be scared of?" It wasn't like she had Cazador hovering over her shoulder. She couldn't possibly feel what he felt.

Tav's face ingrained with sadness. She clutched her trembling hands together, trying to steady herself. The fear that gripped her was suffocating, threatening to consume her entirely and the high didn't help her cope either. Home for her was anywhere but home. She wanted to run as far away as possible from this place that held nothing but darkness for her. "It's hard t-to talk about...You know that feeling that power someone has over you. It's hard to escape something that happened for soooo loonnngg." She rubbed her wide tired eyes. The area around her started to feel like it was melting with colors.

Astarion furrowed his brows, oddly, yes, he knew that feeling. But why did she know that feeling, "I do. But why—“

Tav cut Astarion off quickly, "I LOVE making bread. I have a hidden talent for it...Although now it isn't a secret anymore, so now you know." Tav cracked up a laugh, the little random bursts of confessions entertained her. It was hilarious to her. For no reason of course other than the mushroom effect.

"Uhh, right..." Astarion chuckled softly. She's ridiculous. It's actually entertaining to him how obliviously out of her mind she was. This was great blackmail fuel, or perhaps something he could poke fun at her for.

"Y-you are my favorite camp friend." She smiled goofily.

"Friend? What about our late-night tryst, Did you not enjoy yourself?" Astarion felt offended at her comment. Favorite, sure, but friend? This 'friend' comment did not fit into his plans. Although, lately he has been catching himself smiling at Tav more. He started to notice himself staring at her longer, maybe even lustfully? His heart raced whenever she got close to him, this was unfamiliar territory for Astarion. He leaned closer to her ear and whispered, "Would it make you happy to try again?"

"Oh! Yes, yes. Something in me tells me that'd make me very happy. But hold on! You dont reallyyy mean that do you?" Tav leaned away from him, and crossed her arms doubtfully.

"I— actually don't know. It doesn't really matter what I say now, you'll wake up tomorrow with not a zero clue." His mind wondered. Even if he confessed maybe having feelings for her, she would be oblivious. But it could also be a good moment to test the waters. If Astarion got a bad reaction from Tav, she'd forget all about it the next day. This could be an advantage for him.

"What if I told you you're incredible? That my plan to easily course you didn't work. That my master plan fell apart and every little thing we did together felt— meaningful…That in the midst of this mess I actually find myself caring for you?" He softly pushes away a strand of hair that swayed over Tav's face. His heart started to race to see her reaction.

To his surprise, Tav fell quiet and stared up at him. Her face flushed red and her eyes went a little watery. "You do..?" She spoke softly. Her breathing became heavy. Tav went and wrapped her arms around him in a warm and comforting embrace. The world around them seemed to fade away as they held each other tightly.

At that moment, all of Astarion's doubts melted away as he felt genuine affection and acceptance from Tav. He couldn’t believe that she reciprocated his feelings, and it filled him with an overwhelming sense of joy and relief. As they sat there embracing each other, time seemed to stand still.

The hug spoke volumes without the need for words. It conveyed a deep connection between them, finally acknowledging their feelings for each other. It was a moment of vulnerability and trust, where they could let down their guards and allow themselves to be open to the possibility of love. After all, Tav was Astarion's first consensual sex affair where he didn't worry about Cazador. He could not ever imagine taking her to him. She actually made Astarion feel love. This made him only want to protect her from any harm.

"I promise I'll make this sound better when you're not out of your damn mind." Astarion held her close. It was such a refreshing feeling to love someone instead of loathing someone. He felt the heat of his cheeks flush, and Tav tugged on his sleeve.

"C-Can I kiss you, Astarion?" The way she looked at him with those eyes of hers. Big, full of lust. He saw this same look the night they had sex.

He chuckled cockily, "You couldn't help yourself? I would like that." No one ever asked for his permission, it was admired greatly by him. His lips covered hers in a swift motion, and a soft smooch was placed on her lower lip. Her skin was so warm compared to his, and it only made him yearn more for that warmth.

There they were, in an atmosphere lushed with glowing plants as they held each other tightly in its nature. They kissed each other until it got sloppy, their breaths going in haste. Astarion pushed his body over hers, forcing her back onto the soft moss.

Astarion gazed down at Tav. It took him back to that night, how beautiful she looked under the moonlight, and how beautiful she still looked now. He felt lucky to have met such a beauty, she had a charm he only saw from royalty. The kind that has people swooning over her hand, begging to make her their beloved. Not many people could say they bestowed these kinds of looks.

"Astarion?" a whisper left her lips, cutely yet— begging. Her eyes averted from his and she felt her body tense. No mushroom could mask her lust for Astarion's touch, it was written all over her face. Her little trembles of excitement gave it away.

"Just say the words, love. You know I can give you all the pleasures, Your wish is my command." His hands traveled up and down her thigh, caressing her skin tenderly.

Tav nodded as a shiver ran up her spine from his touch. She spoke with a soft tone, one that begged for him tenderly, "I need your touch."

"As do I." He hovered over her small stature, placing his lips gently on hers. A soft kiss it was. It was different from their last kiss because that one was just lust. This kiss had a heart in it, so naturally it felt so much better. Especially when the warmth of her blood heated his cold lips.

Astarion shut his eyes tightly, and a tingle ran up his spine. The passion from the kiss scrambled his mind because why did love feel this good? Love never felt good. Cazador claimed all of his spawns were a family, something to love. That was no love. But Tav, however, felt completely different. Even regular sex felt amazing, which was also just bland for him.

Astarion kissed her lips until they couldn't no more. Both gasped for air as their adrenaline ran threw their bodies. Astarion's shaft pushed hard into the seam of his pants, and it poked her inner thigh. He then adjusted himself so that he wasn't poking at Tav anymore.

"I want to save that for later, my dear. A day when you can wake up and remember it. So you can come to me in the morning with flushed cheeks and a racing heart." Astarion didn't want to sour a moment where he could make love and not just have sex. He'd rather wait for Tav to be completely aware of herself.

Tav nodded in agreement. Her body felt like she was floating on a cloud. Her high still clouded her mind, and her body still yearned for him. "Could you suppose still spoil me...?"

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Cheeky aren't we?" His hand raced down her curves, exploring the warmth of her skin, "I suppose I can, pet." Without a thought, Astarion swiftly tugged down Tav's pants. He pulled her legs apart so that her core was to full access to him.

His lips planted kisses all over her neck. The heat of his rough breaths hit Tav's skin, causing her goosebumps to crawl all over. All the while Astarion's hand was caressing over her folds. His fingers moistened as it stroked over her slit. Tav let out small moans as his fingers rubbed her clit. His motions were skilled, almost like a second nature to him.

“M-mphh…” Tav clutched onto the cloth of his shirt. His kisses grazed over her neck tenderly, and he nibbled on the lobe of her ear, “How does that feel?” He spoke in a breathy tone.

“Amazing.” She purred. Her legs twitched from Astarion’s touch. She became sensitive and more wet as he circled around her clit. He seemed pleased with the performance Tav was giving, the moans were a validation for him. But he wanted feel more of her.

With two fingers, he slipped it into her entrance. Tav gasped out of pleasure, the feeling was all too much and she spreader her legs more for him. He bucked his hand in and out of her. The warmth of her walls encased around his fingers, begging for more.

Tav cupped Astarion’s face, pulling him into a kiss that was muffled between her moans. His tongue danced with hers, a sweet taste he’s been thinking about the day they first kissed. Her back arched for him more, and it was granted, a third finger slipped into her and she pulled away from the kiss. A pleasurable wince left her lips and Astarion looked at her with red piercing eyes. He enjoyed watching her crumble under him. It made him feel powerful.

Tav’s head hung back as moans and groans left her mouth like a lyric to a song only Astarion could produce. Her wet core made it easier for him to fuck her with his fingers fast and swiftly. His arm burned as it continuously fucked her, he didn’t break his motion while beads of sweat formed on his temples.

Astarion suddenly lowered his head, he kept his fingers in her, and now his tongue was over her clit. His saliva trailed down between her inner thighs as her moans grew more intense. Her hand gripped a chunk of his hair, forcing his face closer into her core.

His tongue played with her clit, rubbing it in circles as his fingers thrusted in and out of her. An intensity swelled in her lower stomach, she gripped Astarion hair tighter as her finish comes to a near.

“F-fuck! Ahh— S-starion..” her back arched more and more against his face, like a two magnets attracting each other. His steamy breath huffed against her sex, awarding him with more groans. It was absolute bliss for Astarion. It was his first time spoiling someone like this. It felt so intimate and so passionate. If this is what sex felt like with a lover, he wanted to do it over and over again.

Tav yelled out a final moan of pleasure before releasing onto Astarion’s face. His tongue dragged along her folds, licking up any wetness he could as if he was drinking blood. He kissed her moistened core, he then picked up his head from between her legs.

Astarion used the back of his hand to wipe the cum off his mouth, his eye contact was like daggers. “Mmm…That taste of yours. It’s amazing.” He wrapped his fingers around the band of her pants, and pulled them up. Cleaning her up was a love language for him. To destroy someone sexually and then cleaning up the mess he caused, it was so liberating. Especially since it was Tav.

Tav sat up, her skin moistened red on her cheeks, “you’re too good at that. Do it again.” Tav teased him. She liked to have fun with Astarion even at the most tense of times.

“Cheeky pup. You might get tired of me if I keep spoiling you like this, however I couldn’t imagine ever getting bored of that taste of yours. You’re magnificent.” His finger stroked the side of her face softly. “Shall we get some rest? You’ll be needing it tomorrow when you’re sore.”

💤

The next morning Tav woke up with an aching head and also…a soreness between her legs? She brushed off the feeling and greeted her fellow camp members. Gods was she never touching another mushroom ever again. She pretty much went blank but she remembered a faint memory of Astarion face. But, she couldn’t tell if it was a wet dream or not.

She yawned and went to stroll around the camp to chat. When she made her rounds to Astarion he flashed her a welcoming smile, waaay nicer than he usually was, “Well look who we have here. How’d you sleep my dear?”

Tav pleasantly nodded her head to his kind words. “It was strange…but much needed. How did you sleep?”

“Wonderful. I wanted to say thank you for last night. It was…an experience I won’t forget.” He clicked his tongue softly. His face was smug and he walked away from Tav, who fell silent.

Her heart dropped in her chest and it all clicked together. The soreness, the stickiness she felt in her pants, and Astarion being extra nice. A moment she had alone with him and she could barely remember what was said. Tav was mentally cursing herself in her head. She was very fond of him and honestly, she wanted to figure out their dynamic. Only Astarion could tell the tale of their late night affair, but for now, Tav wondered all about her wet dream. Or so she thought.

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage !

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

oh my god there are so many good choice on the touching prompt list for Ace!Tav and Astarion. But since it’s first numerically may I please request 3?

Summary: You finally arrive in Baldur's Gate and you can't sleep. Normally this would mean taking the nearest instrument and playing until your hands are raw. Luckily for your fingers, Astarion is there to listen.

Prompt: hiding face in neck

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

A/N: Hey! Sorry it took me so long to get to this. I swear to god I wrote like five different versions of this thing. Let's give it up for over writing! Enjoy.

Word Count: 1.8K

The night felt oddly still for Baldur’s Gate. You’d traveled so far, done and seen so much and you were finally here.  It should have brought you relief; instead, all you could think about was all you had left to do. There were still the tadpoles to deal with and devils and gods and frankly all the things you’d never given a second thought to the last time you stepped through the gates. Perhaps the city felt it as well, collectively holding its breath for whatever was coming next. 

You let out a deep sigh, staring up at the darkened ceiling. There would be no hope of sleep tonight. The best you could do was find a way to pass the hours without going mad.  

As carefully as you could, you slipped out of bed, mindful of Astarion resting soundly next to you. For all your troubles, they were nothing compared to the horrors coming for him.  You wouldn’t disturb his rare moment of peace for the world. 

In easy strides you grabbed your lute and made your way to the balcony where a comfortable enough chaise awaited you. 

No lamps were needed. Between the moon and the street lamps below, you could see well enough to play for an audience of one. 

You started with something easy, plucking out a handful of scales to warm up your hands. It didn’t take long after that for a melody to form, pushing your worries further and further away. Lyrics slipped their way past your lips in whispers and half remembered hums. You were here. Air moved in and out of your lungs. Your heart still beat. You had control over your body and the sounds pulled from the instrument in your hands. There was still time. The morning hadn’t found you yet.

Soft footsteps approached from behind you; the obvious padding of bare feet on wooden floor boards given just enough extra weight so as not to startle you.  Astarion could be very considerate at times. 

You paused your hands, turning to face him. 

“Sorry, was I playing too loud?” 

“Not at all,” he assured. “How else was I supposed to find you after waking to a cold, empty bed?”

You had to at least smile at his dramatics, which seemed to please him as he stepped further onto the balcony. 

The light of the moon gave his already pale skin and iridescent glow. His silver curls were just a little ruffled from their perfect coif as his eyes held you with a tired softness that made you ache. It was in moments like this you remembered why poetry existed; paints, canvas, marble, clay, they were too clumsy of tools to capture all of him.  

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, pulling you from your musings. 

“Just needed to clear my head,” you said. “Didn’t want to bother anyone with my plucking.”

“Perish the thought. I rather enjoy your plucking.” He nodded to the empty spot next to you. “May I?” 

You couldn’t think of a reason to argue, so you didn’t try. Astarion had proved himself one of the few people you could enjoy a peaceful silence with. So long as he didn’t expect you to entertain him, there was no harm done. 

You scooted over to allow him room. 

He took it, only to pull you against him, caging you between his legs. 

You gave a small yelp of surprise, only just managing to keep hold of your lute. “What are you doing?” 

“Making myself comfortable.” His hands found your waist, pulling you closer so your back rested against his chest while his chin made a home on your shoulder. “Go on dearest, start plucking.”

You snorted out a laugh. Gods above, he really was a cat sometimes. He didn’t ask for attention so much as demand it and in a way only the most heartless could be upset by. 

“It’s rather difficult for me to perform with my back to the audience,” you said as some attempt at protest. 

He gave a noncommittal hum. “I’m inclined to disagree. But if it does bother you, consider me a humble patron observing a rehearsal.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  

Settling back as best you could, you began again, humming a tune to yourself as you worked out the cords. 

A different kind of peace settled over you as he held you. You had come here to be alone, something you had gotten used to over the years. Astarion didn’t have to be here with you, but he was. He chose to sit here in the dark and listen as you played your troubles into the air. It was an alien comfort, one that still left you a little unsure, but it was a comfort nonetheless. 

“I don’t think I’ve heard this one before,” Astarion observed, gently breaking the silence. 

“I would think not, seeing how it’s only been in my head for the last few months,” you teased. 

He nodded as you felt him shift awkwardly beneath you. “Far be it for me to speak on your artistic vision, but is it meant to be so repetitive?”

You stopped your playing as a flush of warmth came to your cheeks. There was a reason why rehearsals were usually kept private. “Sorry, can’t seem to find the ending.”

“Might be easier if you wrote it down,” he suggested. 

“That would require me knowing how.” 

“You don’t know how to write music?” He sounded so genuinely surprised, you had to laugh. 

“Love, I don’t even know how to read it.”

“Really?” 

You shrugged. “Just not how I learned. They weren’t exactly letting riff raff like me into the conservatory.”

You could all but feel the furrow of his brow as his chin pressed against your shoulder. “So every song you’ve ever played, original or otherwise, you taught yourself, by ear, and stored away in that head of yours?”

“You make it sound more impressive than it actually is. Plenty of bards do the exact same thing,” you dismissed.  

He hummed in thought. “Perhaps. It does explain why so many of them don’t seem to have anything going on behind the eyes.”

“I’ll try not to be insulted.” 

“Present company excluded,” he amended, pressing a kiss to the back of your ear for good measure. “Why do you think I’m so impressed? Beauty, talent and brains are such a rare combination.” 

You gave a small huff, earning you another kiss on the temple.

“I’m sure we could find somebody in the city to teach you,” he offered. 

You shook your head. “Not interested. Besides, I’ve found it an effective filtration method. If I can’t remember the tune the next day, it probably wasn’t worth learning in the first place.” 

“Oh darling, who knew you could be so cruel to your fellow artists,” he said, full of approval. “But, what about when a song of yours is done? Surely then it would be worth preserving.” 

“If I’ve done my job well, then the memories of those who have heard it will be preservation enough,” you said. “It’s how all the best songs are passed on anyway. The specifics of who wrote it and when get lost, but the melody remains. It stays in the world because people want it to stay in the world. I think there’s a kind of poetry in that.” 

He let out a long exasperated sigh. “How nauseatingly romantic of you. One little problem though, people’s memories are shit. Give it a few centuries and it will barely resemble the original. At least if you write it down they can’t muck it up.”

“It’s obvious you haven’t met many musicians,” you said, dryly. “People are always going to have their own interpretations. Putting it down on paper doesn’t make it any less a memory. Personally, I’d rather keep it living in the mind than in a stagnant drawer somewhere.” 

“Or I can just make sure nothing happens to the original.” 

He tried to keep his voice light, but there was promise beneath that tingled at the back of your neck. His arms held you a little more tightly. His body tensed. It was as if he was trying to guard you from something, but who or what you could only guess at. 

“Astarion–”

“Don’t,” he said, sharply. “I know you want to say something comforting and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear you go on about memory or legacy or things to remember after you’re gone, because you’re not gone. You’re here. You’re here with me, and I don’t care who I have to kill or what bargains I need to make, but I’m not letting you go.”  

He turned his face into your neck, pressing his lips against your pulse. To your surprise, no teeth accompanied the gesture. He just breathed, inhaling your scent deep into his lungs. His touch lingered on your skin as some of the tension left his body; the steady beating of your heart calming him. 

“I don’t want memories,” he whispered. “I just want you.”

Your lips parted to speak, but quickly closed. You knew there was a correct thing to say. Letting go was a part of life, whether you liked it or not. Sooner or later, everyone became a memory; but, that wasn’t what he wanted to hear and that wasn’t what you felt. 

The promise he made wasn’t some collection of meaningless words, but a desperate, blood soaked plea. For the first time in so long, you knew somebody would be upset if you died, not for the loss of income or poetry, but because you would be gone. 

You wanted to tell him you loved him. You wanted to tell him you didn’t just want memories either. You wanted to make the same promise and then hide away somewhere safe where the world wouldn’t dare touch either of you; but, you didn’t say that either. 

Instead you placed your hand over his, squeezing his fingers. 

“You have me,” you said, softly. “I’m right here.”

A shuddering breath left his body, as if all the emotion he had been containing was suddenly pushed from his lungs. His arms stayed around you, but his whole body relaxed as his head found a new place to live buried in your neck. 

“Keep playing, my heart,” he said. “Don’t stop.” 

How could anyone say no to such a request? 

Your hands found a melody, different from the one before; something complete and familiar. As soon as the song finished you transitioned to another and then another, never stopping until Astarion’s hold became slack and his breathing turned deep and steady, signaling his trace. Only then did you set down your lute and curled into his arms to finally sleep. 

You would finish your composition another night. The morning would find you, but you had time. Air moved in and out of your lungs. Your heart still beat. You were here and you were going to stay. 

[mllemaenad]

Listening to Wyll's backstory in context of all the details we're acquiring on devil's contracts and soul selling is fascinating.

See - I listened to Lann Tarv's three tales to get my soul coins. I felt bad for making Karlach listen to that, obviously, but to be honest I didn't even want the coins that much. I actually wanted the stories. I wanted a better understanding of how this works.

And what I'm learning is - for the gods (and godlike beings) of this world, cruelty seems to be the point. I mean - it's possible there's a god in this world I wouldn't want to stab to death with a rusty fork, but if so I have not met them yet.

These beings have the power to save people and places, to change lives, to do anything. And when someone asks them to - they demand a terrible price. But they don't just demand a price. They subvert the original request in such a way that they utterly fail to deliver on the original promise.

An abused woman wishes to be loved - and her true love appears, but dies instantly. A man wishes to save his children from starvation, and ends up personally growing masses of meat on his own body - not only painful for him, but forcing his children into survival cannibalism, which they were trying to avoid.

Auntie Ethel works the same way. Every one of her customers is left in a tortured state, while Ethel still takes her payment.

The idea is that the person must come to regret their wish long before the payment comes due. Every cry for help must be met with a boot to the face. Or else the mortals will get uppity? Or something.

What is interesting is how consciously Wyll defies that. And how much Mizora is dancing around, trying to force him into that state of miserable regret.

Wyll was manipulated into selling his soul. He was a kid, and he was summoned into a terrible situation - and in that moment, he could see no other way to save the city. Mizora did need to save Baldur's Gate to serve her boss's purposes, so she couldn't take that victory from him - but she did everything she could to take the joy of it.

He didn't get respect, or admiration, or his father's pride for saving the city. He lost his home and his family. He was assumed to have done something monstrous because he was denied an opportunity to defend himself.

That was supposed to fill him with bitterness and regret - but he got to work building his own life instead. By the time you run into him, the Blade of Frontiers is a hero of some renown. He's remade himself, and found a way to enjoy what his powers can do, however he came by them.

So that didn't work.

Then Mizora sent him after Karlach, and that was a mission tailored to break him. Karlach is kind and heroic herself, and that the start she has been sold into slavery, mutilated and forced to fight in a war against her will. If Wyll killed her, and then found out who she really was, then he betrayed everything the Blade of Frontiers is supposed to stand for - and he would lose the life he made for himself.

But he didn't, and that didn't work either. He's got a friend, now, who at least knows part of what he's dealing with.

So Mizora gave him demonic features. That would destroy the life he's made for himself, because no one would trust him to help them.

Except now Wyll basically goes nowhere on his own, and a small army of people can attest that he got those horns and eyes as punishment for being a good man. Mizora might be able to shut his mouth, but she can't silence his friends - and the group absolutely have shouting sessions about everything. Wyll's horns become a battle scar, like his missing eye, and nothing more.

And beyond that, if you are playing as a heroic character, a significant throughline in the game's story is the journey of the tiefling refugees. The story makes it clear that these people experience a constant barrage of racism, due to their appearance and "demonic" heritage. It also makes it abundantly clear that this prejudice is entirely undeserved - they're just people, with virtues and flaws like everyone else, and what is happening to them is terrible. So Wyll turns up to assist a bunch of people whom he now at least somewhat resembles - and with Karlach along, you have two people in the group who technically count as "infernal", but haven't got an evil bone in either of their bodies.

Mizora created solidarity. Oops.

Wyll is deeply suspicious of gods and higher powers. He doesn't want to make more deals with devils. When Elminster arrives to tell Gale what Mystra demands of him, he explicitly says he does not do religion. When you get Mizora to agree to let his contract expire in six months, he starts by casually invoking the gods - but switches to thanking the player character instead, because he knows who helped, and who did not.

But he utterly refuses to regret the pact he made. That can be a struggle. He clearly misses his dad, and would like that relationship repaired. The fact that he was transformed very much against his will is clearly a source of distress from him.

But if he regrets, then Mizora wins. That's it. Game over. She gets what she wanted all along. So he doesn't.

The main companion characters all have this kind of problem, and naturally have different ways of dealing with it. You have characters like Shadowheart and Lae'zel, who were indoctrinated as children, or Gale, who was literally seduced by one of these nightmare deities - and with them you have to start out by convincing them they they were the wronged party in the first place.

But Wyll knows exactly what game he's playing, and he's been screaming defiance the whole time. It's just that, in his case, the "defiance" is grinning and carrying on every time Mizora inflicts some more bullshit on him.

[tragedybunny]

I really enjoyed your Consensual Non-Consent fic. I really want to read something like that written by you!

Well, this isn't CNC, but it is in the realm of kink! Thanks to @bhaalbaaby for the beta! To my tag list, totally cool if this isn't your thing, no pressure.

༺Sweet Relief - Astarion x F!Reader ༻

༺Summary༻ Reader is stressed and nervous. Astarion knows just what they need to relieve it.

༺Warnings༻ Spanking/Impact Play, D/s dynamics, PiV sex

༺Word Count༻ 1523

The common room at the Elfsong was empty, a rarity. The rest of your group was downstairs, celebrating your latest victory over Orin by letting off some steam. A well deserve respite after all that had happened since you’d arrived in Baldur’s Gate. You couldn’t match their excitement, looking ahead to the last hurdle to overcome before confronting the Absolute for good: Enver Gortash and his Steel Watch. Thinking of it coiled your muscles into tense springs and turned breathing from instinct to labor. 

You excused yourself from the impromptu festivities and headed back upstairs, Astarion following you without having been asked, a sweet gesture on his part. You didn’t want to ruin his evening as well. He was right at your heels, shutting the door behind the two of you. Arm wrap around you, pulling your back to his chest. “Everything alright, love?” He purrs against your ear. 

The feel of his words playing across your skin made you shiver and squirm, and you nodded in answer. “Just…anxious, I suppose,” you add. 

“Well, I know a way to take care of that.” You could hear the suggestive grin that was no doubt plastered on his face. 

“Astarion,” You started to protest, but he guided you across the room to the set of beds the two of you share, tucked in a corner, a makeshift private space, arms still firmly around your waist. “I don’t know if this is really a great solution.” Since you had ended Cazador, Astarion had been increasingly amorous with you. 

“I think it’s the perfect one. Pull your pants down.” The words were firm without being sharp, but they were unmistakably an order. Another development of his newfound erotic interest: control. 

“But what if the others come back,” You protested, legs already pinned against the edge of the mattress and Astarion. 

“That sounds like backtalk, my pet,” His lips caressed your ear, teasing the point of it. As a half-elf, it’s not nearly as sensitive as his, but it still provoked a soft moan. Searing kisses burned their way down your throat, his hands remained locked on your waist, waiting for you to obey. 

Heat burned underneath your skin from arousal and the potential embarrassment of being discovered. “They could see,” You whispered meekly, heat flowing from your skin to your core. 

“Definitely backtalk,” He affirmed, “what am I going to do with you?” His hand abandoned your waist, digging in the drawer. You swallowed hard when a black strip of leather struck the mattress in front of you. 

The belt had come from a crate of goods Figaro Facemaker had sent as a thank you. Astarion immediately grabbed it, giving you a look that had left your small clothes damp. You noted he hadn't worn it once, making his intended use of it extremely clear. “Pants down, and if you have any further protests, I have a scroll of silence I’ve been dying to use on you.” You trembled but in a way that felt divine as your will submitted to his. 

Backing off, he gave you space, and you hurried to comply this time, fumbling with your laces and letting the pants fall to the ground. Taking you by the shoulders, Astarion bent you over, face pressed into the mattress. It’s almost shamefully lewd, the only thing bared to him were holes, bent over and waiting to be fucked. He hummed appreciatively, nails skimming over the curve of your ass. “There’s a good girl,” Your thighs were becoming slick at this point. “But I can’t overlook how long it took you to comply with one simple request. I think you need a little lesson, wouldn’t you agree, darling?” Languidly he retrieved the belt from the bed, letting you get a good look at it. 

Behind you, he fiddled with the buckle, making a purposeful amount of noise for you to hear. This was a new dimension to the escalating play between you. You swallowed thickly. “Yes, love.” 

His body covered yours, pressing down on you, how much he was enjoying this was readily evident. He rutted his hips against yours, erection straining through the fabric, teasing your soaked folds, making sure you knew how much he wanted this, and you whimpered. “Very wise of you,” His voice tickled your ear. 

Then his weight disappeared, and you're left with the emptiness of anticipation. 

The sting of leather was utterly different from the barehanded smacks you received in the past, sharp, concentrated. You hissed, and the first tears gathered in your eyes, but your mind floated away. A gentle hand stroked your hair. “Bearable, pet?”

You struggled back to reality for a moment. “Mhmm.”

“Words, sweetheart,” He insisted, and you knew if you didn’t answer, the game would come to an end. 

“Sunrise.” You managed, and the grip on your hair tightened as the next strike came, a singing line of pain on your skin. 

Face buried in the mattress, you yelped, no longer concerned with what your companions would think if they stumbled in right now. The struggles and fears faded away, and your body relaxed into a pliant plaything. There’s nothing but Astarion, the pain, the ecstasy, and the promise of release. 

You don’t count the strikes, instead reveling in every one as a single heady moment. They left behind little echoes of burning skin, marks that would remind you later when you try to sit. You must be making noise, but you’re not sure, the mattress under your face moistened with tears. The emptiness between your legs was painful, yearning to be filled by the one you’ve given control of yourself to. 

Then there was stillness. “You did so well,” Astarion praised, and your heart fluttered. “You’ll listen to me the next time I tell you to let me take care of you, right?”

“I will,” You promised, not daring to try to look at him. 

Fingers caressed the welts along your ass reverently before dipping down to your aching slit. A single digit slid inside you, and you rocked back, instinctively craving friction. “You’re all worked up, you poor little thing. Let’s get you some relief.” 

You whined at the loss when he removed his finger and he gently scolded you. “Be patient. You don’t want another lesson tonight.” 

Silently suffering, you waited as you heard him open his pants. Finally, you felt the tip of his cock teasing your hole. “Please,” you begged. 

He answered with a thrust and a groan as he pushed inside. “Gods, you’re soaked. So ready to be a good girl for me.” 

His hips ground against yours, setting the marks on your skin deliciously on fire. You’ve forgotten what words are as you moaned desperately. Pace quickening, he slid one hand between you and the mattress, fingers searching out your clit, leaving you panting. 

Fingers mercilessly worked you until you were right at the edge, the other hand playfully smacking you. You whimpered from the myriad sensations overwhelming you. “Come for me, beautiful.” 

You didn’t hesitate after his permission, clenching around him with a mewling cry. He continued to play with you as he chased his own release, slamming into you with wild abandon, rougher each passing second. Until at last, he stilled and with a throaty growl, spilled himself into you. 

There was no time, there was no space. Arms lifted you onto the bed, lying you on your side, lips kissing your cheek. “Sunrise,” You’re exhausted, but you knew he’d want to hear it. 

Nimble fingers gently pulled your clothes off as you shifted around to assist. His icy touch made you shiver and giggle slightly when it brushed your skin. “Sorry love, the water isn’t much better.” He kissed you as the touch of a marginally warmer rag began to clean your skin. 

What you wanted to say was that it didn’t matter because it was him touching and taking care of you, but you sighed happily instead. You almost lamented the loss of the evidence of your coupling, but the marks remained, you insist if it should happen, no magic would be used to heal them. “Can you sit?” 

The haze dissipated, and you managed to sit up enough, feeling the sweet sting of your marked skin. He pulled a nightshirt over your head, another soft kiss as a reward. “What would you like now, my love?” 

Leaning your forehead against him, you breathed him in, companion, lover, friend, ally, that piece of you that was missing and finally found. “Snuggle me, read to me.” Rarely did you ask for that, as much as you loved his voice, it seemed like a drain on his time. Only when your day had been particularly rough, but it felt like the perfect thing for the moment. 

“Of course my sweet.” Before long, he’s slipped off his clothes and joined you under the covers, reading softly as you curled up on his chest. 

When your companions eventually returned, they were blissfully unaware of what occurred. All they found was their tired leader, asleep next to a vampire who was glaring at them and mouthing to be quiet. 

tag list:

@micropoe10  @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

 @tallymonster  @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin

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@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@satanicspinosaurus @darlingxdragon

[save-a-forest-ride-a-bear]

🗒꒰⸝⸝₊ Masochism Tango ❛ ✧

Featuring: Gortash x Durge! Reader

Not proofread!

# Notes: cw for descriptions of violence and gortash being a freak. also as usual with my drabbles, no use of "y/n" and I try to describe the reader's dialogue and actions as little as possible

He'd be lying if he said he didn't decide to throw a ball only for the slim possibility of them showing up.

They hated him. That much was obvious. He could see it in their eyes during the coronation — that burning wrath and bloodlust that always made him weak in the knees. He couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking of. Maybe slashing his throat open, only to lap up the blood with their tongue. He hoped so. He revels in their aggression, even when it's directed towards him. Especially when it is.

The first hour of the ball was excruciating — having to pretend he cared about whatever the rest of Baldur's Gate's bourgeoisie were yapping about while apprehensively looking around, searching for the only thing in the world that mattered to him at that moment.

Just when he was starting to lose hope, he spotted them in a corner. The sight alone almost made him groan. Gods, how could they look even more beautiful, all dolled up just to see him. Or so he hoped, at least. He had to fight back the urge to just shove everyone out of his way, to go over to them and...

The band began to play before he could finish his thoughts, and he took that as the perfect opportunity. He sauntered over with confidence and elegance, ignoring the other guests with his eyes focused solely on them. Their little friends were nowhere to be seen, either. Even better.

They seemed uncomfortable, restless even, their fingers twitching slightly. Probably aching for their blade, he thought, and a grin formed on his lips. It's been so long, but they haven't changed a bit. He reached out, gently wrapping his fingers around their wrist and pulling them towards him before they even noticed his presence to slim the chances of being rejected.

"Good evening, my dear. I was starting to think you wouldn't come. Care for a dance?" It was supposed to be a question, but he didn't make it sound like one. He knew they'd say no, so he had to make it clear they didn't have a choice — just the way they were looking at him right now made it clear they were currently fantasizing about bashing his head into his neck. He smirked at that, dragging them firmly but not forcefully with him towards the dance floor. He wanted them angry — wanted them to want to hurt him.

He placed a hand on their waist, the other intertwined with theirs as he waltzed with them to the soft ballad playing in the background. "I rather missed this, you know. You used to be a most splendid dance partner, my treasure." He whispered, gazing deeply into those beautiful, livid eyes of theirs that seemed to bewitch him all the same as they did in the past. He didn't tell them the exact nature of their old relationship, but it was very much implied. He knew they could put two and two together.

Losing them hadn't been as easy as he desperately tried to pretend it was. He tried to pretend it didn't bother him, that it was just business as usual, that his heart didn't ache at the thought of never seeing them again — but whatever happened between the two flourished into something much deeper than he'd care to admit. And then, just when things were going well, they vanished. Just like that. They vanished and left him behind, alone, with Orin of all bloody people supposed to replace them. As if she could even hold a candle to them.

He tried his best to lie to himself — it was a good thing they were gone. They were making him soft, weak. He couldn't afford any distractions. And he actually believed those lies for a while. You can convince your mind of almost anything if you repeat it enough times.

But no amount of self-inflicted dishonesty could help ignore the flutter in his chest when they walked into the coronation room. He was almost giddy — even while trying his best to act professional, anyone could see that if he had a tail, it would be wagging at that moment. But after confirming they had lost their memories, a rush of conflicting emotions washed over him. On one hand, they didn't remember him. Didn't remember what they shared together, didn't remember his touch. On the other, this was his chance to finally try again — to make things right. World domination be dammed, it's not worth ruling over without them to share the throne with him, and it took losing them to realize that. They left the coronation without giving him a clear answer to his proposition to kill Orin, and that was that.

But now they were here — in his arms once again. Well, technically not yet, not entirely at least, but it was just the beginning. And he wouldn't stop until they were his again, body, mind and soul.

A small cackle escaped him as they purposefully stepped harshly on his foot, clearly trying to confront him without causing a scene. "You look awfully tense, my dearest. Almost as if you want to dismember me. You'd rather like that, I wager." He mused, spinning them to the rhythm of the song before pulling them back against him. "If you managed to, I imagine it would be quite the spectacle. A thrill, really. But you can't live without your tyrant, can you?" He taunted, the smirk on his face never fading.

"You still have that fire in you. I missed it." He admitted, leaning in to whisper so that his words were for their ears alone. "But we both know I'm not afraid of you, dearest. If anything, you're the one that should be concerned." He motioned around vaguely, eyes never leaving theirs. "I control this city. One wrong move, and I'll have my Steel Watch take care of you. That would truly be a shame, would it not?"

The threat was empty, of course. He had no plans of harming them, no matter what they said or did, but he always quite enjoyed pushing their buttons, seeing what makes them tick, how much it takes for them to break.

He pulled them closer, pressing them flush against his chest, lips grazing their ear. "So why don't you try that again? Threaten me. Hurt me. Say you'll kill me if I don't do as you say. I promise I won't run away." He breathed out, his hand reaching up to caress their cheek gently, pulling their face towards his. "I'll beg for it. Crave it. Just as I always did. Show me how much you hate me, my treasure. Remind me of our history."

There was an unmistakable twinge of desperation in his voice. He needed this in ways he never needed anything else in his life — needed them to crave him, to hurt him all over again, to make him bleed. It was a yearning so strong he was sure it would swallow him whole. Which is why he pressed his lips against theirs despite his better judgement to keep teasing, keep pushing. He couldn't wait any longer.

What he wasn't expecting was the reciprocation and much less the harsh bite on his lower lip, strong enough he could taste his blood on their tongue. He moaned into their mouth, hands settling on their hips to pull them even closer. He did miss this.

It was hungry, sloppy, open-mouthed, but he still found it perfect. One hand rose to cup their cheek, and when they finally parted, gasping softly for air, he brushed it against their lower lip, smearing the remains of blood before slipping it inside their mouth. "That's better." He whispered, his voice husky. He felt their tongue against his digit before their teeth once again sank down on his flesh, and he groaned with a grin.

"Let's find somewhere more private, my pet. I believe we have some catching up to do."

[the-reader-insert-gazette]

Wilted Offerings - F!Reader x Kar'niss

Featured Column - Baldurs Gate 3

Reader never expected to find anything worth keeping in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Kar’niss never expected anyone to see him as anything but a monster. Yet, both find exceptions in these matters.

[Name] walked briskly through the Shadow-Cursed Lands, her torch casting a faint glow over the uneven ground. The air was heavy, clinging to her skin with a damp chill that seeped into her bones. She hated this place. Every corner felt like it was watching her, waiting to swallow her whole. But this was where the money was, and money always dictated where she went.

Her path was clear—deliver the rare herbs she had gathered to the client waiting in Moonrise Towers. Simple, straightforward, and lucrative. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of being followed. It wasn’t paranoia, she’d learned to trust her instincts long ago. A presence lingered in the shadows, always just out of sight. She had seen signs: faint tracks, faint traces of webs, and the eerie sense of something watching from beyond her torch's light.

It wasn’t until she found the first bundle of herbs—wrapped crudely and left where she’d camped—that she began to feel unsettled. Someone—or something—was following her. And they weren’t just watching. They were interfering. Helping.

Tonight was no different. As she crouched to examine her surroundings, she caught the faintest whisper of movement. Not the wind. Not the rustling of leaves. Something deliberate. She straightened, her hand drifting to the hilt of her scimitar.

“Come out,” she called, her voice sharp but steady. “I know you’re there.”

Silence.

[Name]'s eyes scanned the darkness beyond her lantern. “I don’t like games,” she warned. “So either show yourself, or I’ll make this very unpleasant for you.”

The response was immediate. A rustling in the distance grew louder, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of stone being scraped against. Slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows, monstrous and imposing.

A drider.

[Name]'s breath caught as the creature stepped into the faint glow of her torch's light. His upper half was drow—angular, sharp-featured, with white hair that framed his unnervingly calm face. But his lower half was a massive spider’s body, its dark chitin glinting faintly in the light. Seven eyes blinked at her, their movements disjointed and unnatural. He carried a longsword, and in his other hand, he clutched a Moonlantern of his own. A pixie flitted inside it, her light casting unsettling shadows on the drider’s form.

“We are Kar’niss,” he rasped, his voice a haunting mixture of lyrical cadence and guttural growls. “Light of the Absolute.”

[Name] didn’t lower her guard. “And why have you been following me, Kar’niss?”

His many eyes blinked asynchronously, an unnerving sight. “You… intrigue us.”

“Not an answer,” she snapped. “What do you want?”

He tilted his head, his gaze fixed on her with unnerving intensity. “To watch. To protect. To… ensure you remain.”

Her stomach turned at his words. “Ensure I remain? What is that supposed to mean?”

Kar’niss shifted closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “The shadows wish to devour you, yet you walk untouched. We… cannot look away.”

The statement sent a shiver down her spine, but she refused to show weakness. “You’ve been interfering,” she accused. “Leaving things for me. Watching me. Why?”

His lips curved into what could barely be called a smile. “Because you are ours.”

[Name]'s blood ran cold. “I’m no one’s,” she said firmly, her hand tightening on her scimitar.

Kar’niss’s expression darkened, his voice lowering to a near growl. “You do not see it yet. But you will. You walk this cursed land, and we ensure you do not fall. Without us, you would be nothing but dust.”

Her anger flared at his audacity. “I’ve survived just fine without you.”

“Have you?” he countered, his tone mocking. “The herbs. The tracks we erased. The cursed beasts we slew before they could reach you. Do not pretend you do not know.”

[Name] swallowed hard, unwilling to admit that his words rang true. She had wondered why her journey had been strangely devoid of the usual dangers. She had chalked it up to luck or skill, but now she knew better. It wasn’t luck. It was him.

“Why?” she demanded, her voice shaking with equal parts fury and unease. “Why are you doing this?”

Kar’niss leaned closer, his many eyes gleaming in the lantern light. “Because you are ours,” he repeated, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “You shine in the darkness, and we… we cannot bear to lose that.”

[Name]'s jaw clenched. “You don’t own me.”

Kar’niss tilted his head, a strange mixture of confusion and amusement crossing his face. “Perhaps not yet. But we will not stop. You will see. In time, you will understand.”

The weight of his words settled heavily on her chest, and for the first time, [Name] felt truly trapped. This creature—this drider—had made her his obsession, and she didn’t know how to untangle herself from his web.

But one thing was certain, she would not let him control her. Not now. Not ever.

“Stay out of my way,” she warned, her voice icy. “Or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Kar’niss didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped back, his gaze never leaving hers. “We will see,” he murmured, his tone almost wistful. “For now, we watch.”

And with that, he retreated into the shadows, his Moonlantern’s light fading until she was alone once more.

[Name] exhaled shakily, her grip on her scimitar loosening but not releasing. The land around her was silent again, but she knew better than to feel safe. Kar’niss was out there, lurking, watching, waiting.

And somehow, she knew this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross.

[Name] pressed on, her steps quick and deliberate as she left the unsettling encounter with Kar’niss behind her. But the drider’s words lingered, prickling at the edge of her thoughts. His strange declarations, the obsessive intensity in his many eyes—it unsettled her. But as the miles passed beneath her boots and the oppressive shadows pressed closer, she couldn’t deny the truth of what he’d said. She had noticed the absence of danger. She had wondered why the beasts that roamed these cursed lands never seemed to find her.

Her jaw tightened. He had been protecting her, in his own bizarre, intrusive way. She didn’t like the idea of being watched—or worse, being seen as someone’s “possession.” But was it truly malice? Or was it something else entirely?

As night fell, [Name] set up camp beneath the shelter of a crumbling stone outcropping. Her torch set up cast its soft glow over her surroundings, keeping the encroaching darkness at bay. She built a small fire, the flickering flames a welcome comfort against the chill of the Shadow-Cursed Lands.

She had barely settled in when she felt it again—that familiar prickle at the back of her neck. She sighed, the sound weary rather than fearful.

“I know you’re there, Kar’niss,” she said without looking up. “You might as well come out.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the faint sound of legs scraping against stone reached her ears. Slowly, the drider emerged from the shadows, his form looming and angular, but his movements hesitant. He stopped a few paces away, his many eyes fixed on her.

“We… did not mean to intrude,” he said, his voice quieter than before, almost uncertain.

[Name] arched an eyebrow. “Really? Because following someone across cursed lands and hovering at the edge of their camp kind of screams ‘intrusion.’”

Kar’niss shifted uncomfortably, his spider legs clicking softly against the ground. “We… do not know how else to… be.”

The admission caught her off guard. She studied him for a moment, her irritation tempered by a flicker of curiosity. He wasn’t threatening her—not really. He seemed more unsure than anything else, like someone who had been thrown into a role they didn’t understand.

“You don’t talk to people much, do you?” she asked, her tone more neutral now.

Kar’niss tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “People… fear us. They see what we are and flee. Or they… attack.”

[Name] nodded slowly. That, at least, she could understand. A drider wasn’t exactly the kind of creature anyone would want to sit down and share a drink with. “And you don’t think stalking someone through cursed lands might, I don’t know, make things worse?”

Kar’niss’s gaze flickered, his many eyes blinking in an unsettling rhythm. “We did not mean harm. We… only wished to… watch. To ensure you were safe.”

There it was again—that strange mix of protectiveness and obsession. But now, hearing the uncertainty in his voice, it felt less sinister. He wasn’t trying to control her. He was just… deeply awkward. And clearly unused to interacting with anyone in a normal way.

[Name] sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I get it. You’re not used to people, and you’ve got… whatever this thing is about me. But if you want to help, maybe try talking to me instead of lurking in the shadows like some kind of cryptic guardian angel.”

Kar’niss hesitated, his body shifting slightly as though the idea unsettled him. “We… do not know how.”

“Well,” she said, leaning back against the rock, “you’re doing it right now. Conversation’s not that hard. You talk, I talk. No lurking. No weird proclamations about how I’m ‘yours.’ Got it?”

He blinked at her, his expression almost comically confused. “But… you are ours.”

[Name] groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay, rule number one: stop saying that. It’s creepy.”

Kar’niss tilted his head again, his voice thoughtful. “It… was not meant to be.”

“I know,” she said, her tone softening despite herself. “But it is. So, let’s start over. You want to help me? Fine. But you’re going to have to work on not being so… well, you.”

His many eyes blinked in unison this time, and for a moment, he almost looked sheepish. “We will… try.”

[Name] nodded, satisfied for now. “Good. Now, sit down or do whatever it is you do, but stop hovering. If you’re going to be here, you might as well make yourself useful.”

To her surprise, Kar’niss actually obeyed. He folded his spider legs beneath him, lowering himself to the ground a short distance away. The sight was still unnerving, but there was something almost… endearing about how awkwardly he positioned himself, as though he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to be.

As the fire crackled between them, [Name] found herself relaxing, if only slightly. Kar’niss was still a mystery, and she wasn’t sure she trusted him entirely. But for now, he seemed harmless. Awkward, unsettling, and more than a little obsessive—but harmless.

And maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the monster everyone else seemed to see.

A few days passed as [Name] continued her journey through the Shadow-Cursed Lands. To her reluctant surprise, Kar’niss remained true to his word, no longer lurking in the shadows or declaring cryptic ownership of her existence. Instead, he followed her openly—still awkward, still unnerving, but trying.

And he was trying. She could see it in the way he listened to her instructions, the way he caught himself before reverting to his odd proclamations. His speech was halting, disjointed, but the longer they traveled together, the more fluid his words became. It wasn’t just the language, though—it was the way he carried himself. There was less of the looming menace, less of the unnerving unpredictability. Instead, there was an earnestness that [Name] found… almost endearing.

One evening, as they set up camp near the crumbled remains of an ancient shrine, Kar’niss returned from one of his patrols with something clutched awkwardly in his hands. [Name] had been sitting by the fire, tending to her gear, when she noticed him standing a few paces away, his expression unusually hesitant.

“What is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kar’niss shifted his weight, the chitin of his legs clicking softly. “We… brought you this.”

He extended his hands, revealing a small, withered bouquet of plants. The flowers were wilted, their colors muted by the oppressive environment, but they were unmistakably non-lethal—soft lavender petals, tiny white blooms, and a few sprigs of green that had managed to survive in the cursed soil.

[Name] stared at it, her expression unreadable. “You… picked flowers?”

Kar’niss nodded, his many eyes blinking in what she had come to recognize as nervousness. “They are not much. The curse… takes much from the land. But we… thought you might… like them.”

For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. The bouquet was sad, bedraggled, and barely holding together, but the thought behind it was unmistakable. Kar’niss, the drider who had once unnerved her with his obsession, had gone out of his way to find something he thought she’d appreciate. It was awkward, clumsy, and entirely unexpected.

“Thank you,” she said finally, her voice soft. She reached out and took the bouquet from his hands, careful not to let her fingers brush against his. “It’s… thoughtful.”

Kar’niss tilted his head, his expression flickering with something that might have been relief. “You are… welcome.”

She set the bouquet down beside her pack, glancing up at him with a faint smile. “You know, this is a lot better than sneaking around and scaring me half to death.”

“We… have learned,” he said, his voice steadier than she expected. “You do not like shadows. You like… honesty.”

[Name] blinked, caught off guard by the simple truth of his words. “I suppose I do.”

Kar’niss settled down near the edge of the firelight, his spider legs folding beneath him in an almost catlike manner. “You… do not fear us now.”

“Not as much,” she admitted. “You’re still creepy as hell, but at least I know you’re not trying to kill me.”

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “We… would never.”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’ve come a long way, Kar’niss. A month ago, I wouldn’t have believed you were capable of this.”

“We… want to be better,” he said, his tone earnest. “For you.”

[Name]'s heart gave an unexpected flutter, and she quickly looked away, focusing on the fire. “Well, you’re doing fine,” she said, her voice a little too brisk. “Keep it up.”

For the rest of the evening, the two of them sat in companionable silence. Kar’niss stayed near the edge of the firelight, his presence no longer as imposing as it had once been. [Name] found herself glancing at the bouquet every so often, a strange warmth settling in her chest. It was ridiculous, really—an awkward drider presenting her with wilted flowers—but somehow, it meant more than she cared to admit.

Over the following weeks, their strange partnership began to shift. Kar’niss’ speech grew more natural, his words less stilted and his tone more expressive. He still struggled with nuance, but there were moments when his sentences flowed almost smoothly, as though some part of him was remembering what it was like to be drow before the drider curse had twisted him into what he was now.

[Name] noticed other changes, too. He no longer referred to himself as “we” as often, slipping into singular pronouns without realizing it. His protective instincts hadn’t waned, but they felt less obsessive and more genuine—an effort to keep her safe, rather than to control her.

And then there were the little gestures. The withered bouquet was just the beginning. He began gathering small tokens during their travels—a piece of oddly shaped driftwood, a fragment of polished stone, even a small, crude charm carved from bone. Each time, he presented them to her with the same hesitant sincerity, as though unsure whether his offerings would be welcome.

At first, [Name] found it strange. But over time, she began to see it for what it was: his way of expressing something he couldn’t quite put into words. She didn’t know if it was gratitude, admiration, or something deeper, but whatever it was, it felt… nice.

The days continued to pass, and [Name] found herself thinking less about her contract and more about the strange, unexpected dynamic she had developed with Kar’niss. He was still awkward, still more spider than man in his movements and habits, but his gestures were undeniably wholesome in nature. There was something in the way he spoke to her now, in the careful thought he put into his words, that made her realize just how far he’d come. And, in turn, how much she’d come to rely on him—not just as a protector but as… something more.

As Moonrise Towers came into view on the horizon, shrouded in the perpetual gloom of the Shadow-Cursed Lands, [Name]'s pace slowed. The end of her journey was close, and with it, the completion of her contract. She should have been relieved. She should have been looking forward to the payout and the promise of leaving this cursed place behind. But instead, her chest felt heavy, and her thoughts lingered on the drider walking silently at her side.

Kar’niss had noticed her slowing pace, his many eyes glancing toward her with a flicker of concern. “You hesitate,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “The towers are near. Is that not your goal?”

“It is,” she replied, her voice carefully neutral. “It’s what I came here for.”

Kar’niss tilted his head, his gaze lingering on her. “And yet, you do not seem eager to reach it.”

[Name] glanced at him, her lips curving into a faint, wry smile. “I guess I’m not in a hurry to say goodbye.”

His many eyes blinked asynchronously, and for a moment, he looked almost startled. “Goodbye?”

She stopped walking, turning to face him fully. The torch hanging at her side cast a soft glow over his features, illuminating the way his expression flickered between confusion and something far deeper—something almost like fear.

“When my contract is done,” she said carefully, “I won’t have a reason to stay in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. At least, not for now.”

Kar’niss’s body shifted uncomfortably, his spider legs clicking softly against the ground. “You… will leave.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, heavy with the weight of understanding. For all his progress, for all his attempts to be better, he was still a creature bound to this cursed land, unable to follow her beyond its borders. He was tethered to the darkness, while she could leave it behind.

[Name]'s chest tightened at the sight of him—so imposing and monstrous, yet so visibly uncertain. “Kar’niss,” she began, her voice softer now. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

His many eyes focused on her, unblinking. “We… I… will not stop you,” he said, his words halting as though they physically pained him. “You… are not ours to keep.”

The admission caught her off guard, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t trying to hold onto her, wasn’t trying to make her stay. Instead, he was preparing himself for her absence, even as it clearly tore at him.

She stepped closer, close enough that she could see the faint shimmer of his many eyes and the tension in his posture. “You don’t have to let me go,” she said quietly. “Because I’m coming back.”

Kar’niss’s head tilted sharply, his expression a mixture of hope and disbelief. “You… would return?”

“Of course I would,” she said, her tone firm. “This place may be cursed and miserable, but it has you. And you’re reason enough.”

For a moment, he was completely still, as though her words had frozen him in place. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a hesitant, lopsided smile. It wasn’t the smile of a man who knew how to express joy, but it was enough. It was genuine.

“We… I… do not know what to say,” he admitted, his voice trembling faintly. “You would come back… for us?”

“For you,” she corrected, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Not for the cursed land. Not for the contract. Just you.”

Kar’niss lowered his gaze briefly, his many eyes blinking out of sync as though he were trying to process her words. When he looked back up, there was something raw in his expression—something that made [Name]'s chest tighten again, though for a different reason.

“You are…” He paused, struggling to find the words. “You are… light. In this darkness. I… will wait.”

“You won’t have to wait long,” she promised. “Just don’t go sneaking around in the shadows without me, alright?”

His lips twitched again, a faint approximation of a laugh escaping him. “We… will try.”

[Name] nodded, stepping back and resuming her path toward Moonrise Towers. This time, Kar’niss walked beside her, his presence no longer looming or unsettling but steady and grounding. She didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like she was walking alone.

And when her contract was done and the Shadow-Cursed Lands were behind her, she knew she’d keep her promise. Because Kar’niss, awkward and monstrous as he was, had become something more to her. Something worth returning for.

[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn into BG3: Chapter 11

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 11: It's time to visit Auntie Ethel and thank her for helping you out with your hand. It's only polite. Hangovers, redcaps and monster hunters won't stop Tav from thanking a kind old lady!

Word count: 4.1K

A/N: The word count really got away from me on this one.

The next morning you can’t remember too many specifics about the night.  You have the blurry picture of Karlach laughing, sitting by the water with Wyll, and someone laying in a pool of blood.  You shiver at the incomplete memory.

Despite your hangover you’re chosen to go out with Tav, Astarion, and Wyll to go visit Auntie Ethel.  No amount of protests are able to keep you at camp, because Tav assured you there was no fighting and you were just going to thank a kind old lady for her help!  It’s only polite!

Halsin still had things to clear up at the grove so rather than wait around for him you were volun-told to make the trip.  And since you couldn’t say what Auntie Ethel truly is, nor warn them about the Gur bounty hunter…you went along.

As you walk down the hill beside the blighted village you’re expecting to see the hag on the road with Mayrina’s brothers.  But they’re not there, and neither is the basket of poison apples.

The illusion of a beautiful sunny land isn’t there, either.  Instead you find yourselves in the swamp, the smell of stagnant water and algae strong, as well as blood.  It would be easy to miss, you’re not sure how you can tell the scents apart yourself, but it’s there.

“Not quite what I pictured when she said to visit her teahouse,” Wyll says.  He’s looking at the dilapidated bridge and debris spread around. 

“Seems like a good point to turn around,” Astarion suggests.  “I’d prefer not to get my boots wet.”

“It’s just water.”  Tav starts moving through the deeper water that flows through the swamp before the  broken bridge that leads to the island.   Begrudgingly, the vampire follows.  

Wyll steps into the water and offers you his hand to help you across.  You take it gingerly and step forward, only to be met with solid resistance from what should be liquid.  You both look down, your foot atop the water.

You put more weight on it, adding your other leg and letting go of Wyll’s hand.  “I guess Gale was right about the enchanted boots.”

Walking on water seems excessive for someone from a city like Baldur’s Gate.  But after a couple more careful steps and a few jumps you laughed.   For a brief moment your worries and hangover are gone as you hop around on top of the little creek, fascinated by the murky gap between you and the earth.  You spin in a circle then quickly steady yourself, dizzy, but also because you notice the three men you’re travelling with are grinning at you.

You clear your throat and cross your arms, heading to dry land.   “Sorry, that’s just…cool.”

There’s a certain sparkle in Tav’s eyes that tells you he desperately wants to do the same.   You tell him, “I’ve seen your feet, they won’t fit.”

His sparkle fades at the same time his tail dips towards the ground.

“Braaaaagh.”

The sound makes you flinch.  On the little island are the redcaps, apparently still thinking they’re disguised as sheep.  Two are atop the rocky hill in the middle, while a third wanders near the water.  It makes another strange sound that’s supposed to be a “baaaaah”.

Tav approaches it, squats down, and with complete seriousness lets out a loud, “Baaaaah!”

Wyll hides a snicker behind one hand and that’s when you finally notice it.  He has horns and a red eye.

“You have horns!” you shout thoughtlessly.

“Well, you were properly thrashed last night, weren’t you?” Astarion questions.  “And even this morning?  Or are you just blind?”

“I, uh, sorry Wyll…”  You’re about to ask when Mizora showed up but think better of it.  “What…”

“I wondered why you didn’t ask last night,” Wyll says.  There’s a hint of a laugh in his voice, but the sadness over his change is still there.  “I was tasked with killing Karlach, and since I haven’t, I’ve paid the price.  My patron Mizora…”

You’re given a quick rundown of Mizora visiting him when he was with Lae’zel and Shadowheart.  

At the end of his story you ask, “So last night you had…”

You gesture at his face, and maybe the innocence of the question is what makes him smile.  “I’m afraid so.”

“I am so sorry,” you repeat.  At least you had an excuse for not noticing last night, but you were so used to seeing him in game you didn’t give it a second thought this morning.

“It’s not your fault.  It was my decision.”

“No, I mean—well I’m sorry for that, too—but I’m sorry I didn’t notice.  I’m so selfish, I was moping over nothing while you were—are—in pain.”  You bite down on your thumb nail and try to remember talking to him by the water but it’s so blurry now.  Not only were you moping over imaginary problems, he went out of his way to make you feel better when he had very real, life altering things to deal with.

“I appreciate that,” Wyll tells you. 

“But—“

Wyll holds up a hand.  “I have seen enough to know that you truly didn’t notice.  Not because you were too selfish but because you…”

“Because I…?” you ask. 

Wyll shifts uncomfortably.  

“Because you’re naive,” Astarion says.  “And I say this with love, darling, a little—oblivious.”

“Astarion,” Wyll warns.

“I didn’t say dim this time.”

“Astarion!”

“I am not stupid!” you shout.  The redcap startles, hollow eyes on you. “I just don’t…I don’t know things about…things.”

You frown.  They’re talking about you when you’re not around?  You hadn’t considered that.  Of course they did—they talked about each other, too, so why not you?

“To clarify,” Tav adds, “only Astarion called your dim.”

“You did jump in front of a loaded crossbow for a goblin.”  Astarion arches a brow at you, probably thinking how you had called yourself stupid at the time.

Your frown turns to a pout.  You grumble something about moving on from the subject in hopes of never having to discuss it again.  You begin to walk around the redcap with a wide gap, eyeing it warily.

“Now you’re afraid of sheep?” Astarion asks.

“No,” you reply.  You look at the vampire quizzically.  “But that’s clearly not a sheep.”

The men exchange confused glances.  You’re very tired of getting those looks.  

“It’s a redcap?” you say to them.  “Isn’t it?  I’m pretty sure that’s what they’re called.”

Wyll studies the redcap—or sheep as he sees it—as it moves towards you.  It lets out an awkward sound between a growl and a bray, but when you don’t reply it’s sneer deepens.  There’s a shift in the air, a static shock that stretches around the area in what you can only guess is magic.

“Ohhhh, a redcap,” Tav says.  He takes two steps forward, pulls his right leg back then thrusts it forward to kick at the creature.  His boot connects with its middle and despite the weight of the redcap it soars through the air.  

It goes so far you only hear a distant splash of water.  Astarion claps at the distance.

The other redcaps are not quite as entertained by Tav’s actions.  They screech from the hilltop, one jumping down while the other moves its hands in the air.  Roots tangle around yours and Tav’s legs, locking you in place.  The one now on your level charges towards you only to be sent flying by a red bolt from Wyll—eldritch blast.

Astarion lazily throws his dagger at the one on the hill and when the blade lands in its eye socket the vines around you shrivel and die.  You step out, shaking each leg of any remaining debris.

“So you saw through the illusion,” Wyll states. 

You survey the area, that static ring gone.  All you can offer is a shrug—you passed the perception check you guess.  But you can’t tell them that.

Tav loots the bodies of a small amount of gold and alchemical ingredients while Astarion retrieves his dagger.  Wyll offers theories as to how you were able to see the redcaps, but it all comes back to the enchantment on your clothes.  Whatever protection they gave you from harm could be linked to the fact you haven’t had to clean them yet—they still appear pristine despite the blood and dirt you’ve lain in.  In fact, you haven’t felt the need to even wash the sweat from your skin.  Powerful enchantments indeed.

Tav leads the group forward to Auntie Ethel’s house, all of them a little more suspicious of the old woman now that the swamp is no longer disguised.  After the elation of walking on water you’d forgotten about the Gur waiting around the corner.  As you approach the bottom of the hill he’s waiting on, you grab Astarion’s sleeve between your index finger and thumb.  “Maybe we should wait here.”

“What’s wrong?” Wyll asks.  You don’t let go of Astarion’s sleeve even when he tries to pull away.  You wet your lips, eyes darting between the vampire and the direction of the Gur.  Just a few more steps and he’d be able to see you; he can probably already hear you.  

You tug on the sleeve again.  “Ast—you should stay here.”

He finally yanks out of your grip and smooths the sleeve where you’d been holding.  “And why should I do that?”

Because there’s a hunter around the corner looking for you and he might actually recognize you.  Because things are slightly different than in the video game I remember in my past life where you’re a character and not a person. 

Because I don’t want you to have to remember how you died and that you can’t escape Cazador, not yet anyway.

You can’t find a reasonable answer.  

Astarion huffs out a sigh.  “Is this one of your weird feelings Karlach was going on about?  Am I about to die if I take another step?”

You flinch back.  “What?  No, I just…what are you talking about?”

“You seem to know when death is coming,” Astarion explains.  “The goblin, then Arka—who confessed her suicidal plan in a drunken stupor last night by the way, to her friend right outside my tent.  Ugh, I had to send them away just so I could get some sleep.”

You look at Tav and Wyll, the vague image of Arka laying in a pool of blood coming to mind.  

Astarion adds, “You sniff out death like a bloodhound.”

“I just have a bad feeling,” you finally mumble.  

“It’s okay,” Tav says.  “If anything tries to hurt Astarion I’ll take care of it.”

You smile as he gives you a thumbs up, wishing you could believe him invincible.  

“Let’s go see if we get to kill something, now,” Astarion says excitedly.

“Perhaps some precaution is in order,” Wyll suggests.  “Tav and I will take a look first and signal if it’s safe.  Agreed?”

Astarion rolls his eyes but nods.  “Don’t have all the fun without me.”

Tav and Wyll move ahead and around the corner.  You hear their voices as they speak with the Gur, but can’t make out the words.  Then, Tav’s head appears around a rock and he waves you over.  He’s smiling at least, which probably means he wasn’t told anything about what the man is hunting.

You keep yourself a step ahead of Astarion as you follow Tav.  Once at the top of the hill the Gur hunter nods to you as greeting.

“He’s a monster hunter,” Wyll says to you.  Like that is going to somehow comfort you, even if you didn’t know what you know.  

Astarion questions what terrible creature he’s hunting and the scene is triggered.  You gulp as the Gur says he’s hunting a vampire spawn named Astarion, and you can’t help but notice the look Wyll sends you.  It’s a mix of apologetic, confusion, and concern.  Concern for you or Astarion, you aren’t sure.

The hunter mentions he needs Astarion alive. 

“Well here he is,” Tav says, waving a hand at the vampire beside you.  “This is Astarion.”

“What?”  You and Astarion shout the word at the same time, gawking at Tav.  You step to the left and in front of Astarion.

“What are you doing?” you question.  

“Yes,” Astarion agrees, “what in the hells do you think you’re doing?”

“It can’t be…?” the Gur says.

“But he is looking for you,” Tav says innocently.  “And he wants you alive.”

“That doesn’t make it better!” you shout.  You grip your staff with both hands, ready to hit someone—and that someone might be Tav.  

Your fury at the tiefling in that moment almost overshadows the phantom limb as it reaches out into the swamp behind you.  Almost.  Something…twitches.  It’s not you, nor that strange feeling in your head, but something moves.  You can feel it, slow at first but getting faster as feet drag through mud.  You feel grimy water on your skin, the need to follow orders—your orders.  It’s not you feeling this, someone else is, not unlike the connection the tadpole gave you.  

The Gur pulls his crossbow from his back and tries to aim at you, or Astarion behind you, but he isn’t given the chance when something launches over your head and onto him.  He screams as the creature bites his jugular, blood squirting—squirting!!—from the wound.  You shout and jump back only to collide with Astarion.  He sets his hands on your arms to balance you, and then pushes you out of the way as he watches the Gur get killed by—

“Didn’t we kill those little things?” Astarion asks, pointing at the redcap that tears into the hunter's body.  It’s moved on from his neck, now clawing at his stomach.  You watch on, eyes wide and unblinking, breath held in your chest.  Another redcap, this one missing an eye, hobbles past you and joins his companion. 

“We did,” Wyll confirms. 

You’re holding your staff in front of you, still ready to whack someone until the Gur stops struggling.  You let out the breath you were holding.  When you finally blink you see that the eyes on your staff are glowing a lovely violet.

The redcaps grunt, facing you now that their task is complete.  Your eyes dart between the staff and them, and back again.  “Please tell me I didn’t do that.”

“I think you may have,” Wyll says.  “And it seems you may be a necromancer of some sort; you didn’t even need to utter a word to bring the redcaps here and do your bidding.”

“That,” you say, pointing to the corpse, “is not my bidding.”

But you can’t deny that you feel a string of connection to the redcaps now—puppet strings.  Your strings, using them like marionettes. And you can’t deny the way the redcaps watch you like they’re waiting for your next command.  You want to drop the staff, but your body won’t listen.  Because it has to be the staff, right?  It’s cursed or enchanted to let you raise the dead!  Finally you let go of the wood and let it fall to the ground with a clatter.

But the redcaps stare on. 

“It’s okay.”  Wyll tries to comfort you but you’re having none of it.

“No, it’s not okay!” you yell.  You point at the body again.  “I just killed that guy!”

“And for Astarion, no less,” Tav chimes in.  His voice brings you back, somewhat grounding you from your hysteria.

“And you!”  You point to the tiefling.  He flinches back at your fury, having the gall to look innocent with his wide eyes and tail tucked.  “Why did you tell him about Astarion?”

Tav doesn’t get to answer when one of the redcaps launches itself at him.  He’s quicker to react than the Gur and grabs it before it can claw or bite out his throat, and uses the momentum to swing around and throw it about as far as he kicked the first one. 

You picture a string between you and the redcaps, and then a pair of scissors snipping them away.  There’s a moment of hesitation in the remaining redcap, but it soon falls over.  Dead, again.

You sniffle, holding back the burning tears that begin to line your lower lashes.  “He was going to hurt Astarion.”

Maybe Tav had a plan and that was why he told the truth.  Or maybe he just can’t help but be honest, thinking he could bargain with the Gur into leaving Astarion alone.  But you can’t wrap your head around it.  And rather than focusing on the glowing eyes of the staff, that have now faded, the fact you just killed a man with two undead redcaps, you focus on your anger at Tav.  It’s so much easier to be angry than sad.

You step towards him, pull back your foot, and kick him in the shins with all your might.  He has leather boots on, and he’s a barbarian, so he probably doesn’t feel it much, but you kick him again. 

He hops away on one foot, grabbing at his minor injury.  “I’m sorry!”

“He was gonna take Astarion!” you shout. You step towards him only to feel two hands on your shoulders, keeping you in place.  

“Perhaps this argument can wait,” Wyll says.  He doesn’t let you go when he looks at Astarion.  “Why did he want to capture you, not kill you?  He said it was a sacred duty from his people—that’s no small task to be given.”

You shrug Wyll off and cross your arms, facing away from Tav.  Tears slip down your cheeks  as you regain control of your breathing.  You rub at your face with one sleeve.

“How should I know?” Astarion asks.  He’s putting on a front, you think.  “He was most likely sent by my old master, Cazador, to bring me back to Baldur’s Gate.”

They discuss the possibilities—why a Gur was sent, what Cazador would want with him rather than just kill him.  You keep your arms crossed, determined to hang onto the anger as fear creeps along the edge of your senses.

“Weren’t we here to thank a little old lady or something?” Astarion questions, hurriedly changing the subject.  “Perhaps we should move on, before any more hunters show up?”

You are more than happy to get away from the corpse, but the closer you get to Ethel’s the more your anger ebbs away and is replaced by fear.  There are so many things that contribute to that fear, so you hold onto the fury as tightly as possible and refuse to even look Tav in the eye, despite his many attempts at getting your attention.  He flits around you, begging you to say anything to him, sic another redcap on him even, but you’ve quickly come to realize that the silent treatment is the best punishment.

That anger takes you all the way to Ethel’s door, where Wyll knocks before entering.

Though the tea house is a little decrepit and sitting in the middle of a swamp, it doesn’t smell like it.  There’s a scent of a spicy tea in the air, and when you enter you find Ethel sitting where Mayrina is in game, sipping on a cup. 

“Petal!” she says, a smile crossing her features when she sees who’s visiting.  “I was worried you might not find the place.”

Ethel stands and approaches the bottom of the stairs, waving the group farther inside.  “Come in, come, would you like some tea?”

You do your best to hide the fear that creeps along your spine.  In the game Ethel could be a difficult battle, but that was only triggered based on the actions against Mayrina and her brothers.  With none of them there you couldn’t predict how things would go. 

From the corner of your eye you can see Astarion watching you.  He doesn’t stray too far from the group, but he’s never more than a foot away from you.  Maybe killing his hunter endeared him to you?  You should have gotten a few Astarion Approves from letting him drink your blood alone.

While your eyes had wandered around the tea house Ethel and Tav had begun their conversation.  He was also only a foot in front of you, and when you came back into the conversation Ethel was offering her deal. 

“That sounds like a poor deal,” Tav says.  He thrusts his thumb over his shoulder towards you.  “Apparently they can fall out after getting hit in the head hard enough.”

“I don’t think that’s what happened,” Wyll says.  He steps a little closer to you.  You’re starting to feel claustrophobic with all of them keeping so close to you so you take a step back.  

Ethel eyes the men and then you.  There’s recognition in her features but it doesn’t feel quite the same as when Raphael had stared you down.  “Your god must really love you to get rid of that little wriggler.”

You perk up, maybe too much and give away your eagerness.  “My god?”

Wyll casts a warning glance in your direction.  Don’t act desperate, it reads.  You wet your lips.  “How do you know it was my god and it didn’t just die?”

Ethel laughs.  “Let’s just say you’ve got a glow about you.  You all do.  You Chosen.”

The air freezes.  Everything slows…slows…stops.

Necromancer.  

Chosen.  

Control over the dead.  

Necromancer-Chosen-dead three-Myrkul-

You whirl on your heel, fall to your knees, and throw up the fruit that had been forced on you earlier.  You manage to get it into a nearby basket, but the purge doesn’t stop your stomach from turning.  Those words—chosen, dead three, necromancer—keep swirling in your mind.  You hiccup and release more into the basket.  

You tremble.  You’d never thrown up from fear before.  Motion sickness, sure, flue, totally.  But fear?  The shaking doesn’t stop, nor does the urge to keep vomiting.  All you can do is sit there on your knees, breathing heavily as the small dot that is your vision spins round and round and round.

Your head starts shaking.  “No, I’m not—I’m nothing.  Nobody!  I don’t matter.  I’m—”

You can’t be anyone connected to the main plot.  No.  You can’t be one of the dead three or a chosen, because you did have a worm in your brain for a while, and you were on the ship and—and—

“Take a breath,” Wyll says.  He kneels beside you, hands out and ready to wrap around you but only hovering above your jacket.

“I’m not…”

“Just take a breath,” he repeats.  “We don’t know anything for sure.”

He seems so sure, you think.  So solid, just like last night at the party.  How he can be so certain of anything right now is beyond you, and you know what’s coming.

You do as he instructs, your next few breaths are shaky but calming.  You wipe at your mouth with your sleeve, watching as the spittle soaks into the fabric then disappears completely.  “I need to—go somewhere.  Not be…here.”

You stand quickly, ignoring Tav as he calls to you.  You’re on the front porch when you feel something wrap around your ankle and nearly topple you forward.  You come to a stop and turn.  Tav’s tail is wrapped around your ankle and even when you stop it doesn’t loosen. 

“Please, wait.”  

You try to take a step forward but his grip is too strong.  “I need to go.”

“I’ll go with you.”  His tail tightens, desperate to keep you there. It pulls, trying to bring you closer to him even though it’s barely two feet between you.

“I want to be alone.”

“I’ll…I’ll be quiet.”  Gods, he’s giving you that look that makes it feel like you just kicked a puppy.  As much as you try to stay mad it’s fading into nothing but anxiety and fear, and a desperate desire to let him comfort you.  But you need to think, somewhere without distractions and far away from a literal hag.  Even if she hasn’t shown her true form.

“Tav,” you begin, pleading just as he is.  You look at him.  Really look at him.  You take in the black scleras that surround the dark blue of his eyes, the beginnings of wrinkles around his mouth from where he’s always smiling, the slight indent of crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes.   His white-gray hair shifts with the breeze, but his horns stop anything from getting into his eyes.  You wish it would cover his eyes–they’re far too teary for the light-hearted man.

Wyll sets a hand on Tav’s shoulder.  “Let go, Tav.  It’ll be fine.”

The tieflings lips press together, his tail unmoving.

“Tav.”  Wyll isn’t making a suggestion.  With one last desperate look at you Tav finally releases his hold on your ankle.  

You take the steps down into the dirt.  “I’m just going back to camp.  I’ll…see you there.”

Tav opens his mouth then thinks better of it.  Whatever he was going to ask goes unspoken.  Most likely another plea to get you to stay, or to allow him to follow.  

You turn and start walking through the swamp. 

Taglist:

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[galedekarios]

Hey! You're my go-to blog when it comes to Gale. I love your meta about him, your insight and your knowledge of his character. This being said, I'd like to know your opinion of this line in his romance:

“To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command... None have loved me so purely before.”

Do you think he's talking about romantic love here? Because his mother and Tara clearly love him for the person he is, too. Or are his insecurities and the idea of himself so strong that he can't see this? Thank you in advance, have a great evening!

thank you so much! 🖤

personally, i do think that he does mean this in a romantic context.

HOWEVER, having said that, i do think there are different insecurities woven into his perception of relationships that venture outside of his worth due to magic, and into his worth as a person who is in need of help and support - yet considering the core of why that is, they are also connected.

what i mean by that is that there are moments in particular that make me believe he feels a burden to people, because he is in need of help and - from his perception - makes others 'work' to help him, he asks a "sacrifice" of people (needing magical artefact so he consume the weave inside to stabilise the netherese orb) that is so great in his eyes that he feels the need to convince them that said sacrifice is worth the "investment".

i realise this is sort of going in two directions, but i don't think i can answer this differently so i hope you'll bear with me for a bit:

i'll try to look at the relationships you mentioned in your ask separately to illustrate what exactly i mean.

1. from what little we do know about morena, nearly every time she is mentioned it's made clear that she truly and unequivocally loves gale, and i do believe gale is aware that she loves him, too - and really, truly just for him.

we have these two convos with tara that highlight how that love (both are from gale's origin playthrough):

Tara the Tressym: Well, if it isn't my favourite fellow himself. Gale: How are things back in Waterdeep? Tara the Tressym: More or less the same - though news of some mad faction calling themselves 'Absolutists' is starting to trickle in. Tara the Tressym: I told your mother not to worry. That if they were anything to worry about, Baldur's Gate would handle things quick-sharp. Keep them from spreading their tendrils north. She still wants to know when she'll see you again, sir. I avoid giving any answers. But she misses you. Gale: I miss her too. Tara the Tressym: I'll tell her. With my Cat Flap of Displacement, I can afford the occasional visit. I'd bring you along, if I could. Perhaps some day. - Gale: I can't risk putting her in danger. Tara the Tressym: I know that, but she doesn't. She'd keel over if she knew just how you'd tried to manipulate the Weave. Or maybe she'd just say something like, 'My Gale always was one to make the impossible possible.' Oh, but she adores you.

and this one from act ii:

Gale: Will you love me when I'm a mind flayer? Tara the Tressym: Depends. Are mind flayers warm-blooded? If so, my prize napping spot on your lap won't be compromised. In which case, I suppose we could find an accord. And, of course, your mother would still think you a prince, no matter how many tentacles you had. And with a nautiloid, you may even manage to visit her more often.

from the one tiny snippet (that is still bugged) in which gale mentions his mother to the player character, he seems quite assured in that love his mother has for him as well:

Player: So your last name is Dekarios? Gale: It is. Courtesy of my mother, the inimitable, dare I say it sometimes unavoidable, Morena Dekarios. It's been so long since I've used it. 'Gale Dekarios' cut a poor figure next to the wizard prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep'. [...] - Player: Doesn't your matter mind? Gale: Oh, she's happy if I'm happy. Morena couldn't care one jot what I call myself. Tara's the real stickler for using it. Has done since I summoned her. I'd prefer you not follow her exmaple, if that's all the same to you. 'Gale' is more than sufficient.

she's happy if he's happy.

i think the only thing that detrimental to the relationship with his mother is the orb, the shame he feels over what has happened and fearing he may put her in danger. which, sadly, is a valid concern to have. these fears aren't only echoed in the conversations with tara. we have this bit from the same conversation as well:

Player: You’re right. Just 'Gale’ is better. Gale: I agree. And on the plus side, if I get myself into any truly cataclysmic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

his family name will go untarnished and with that, his mother's name.

this is more speculative, but in another meta i mentioned that i do believe that gale's father left the family at some point, abandoning morena and gale. his father also is not mentioned in the letter from elminster in god!gale's ending:

this could of course be meaningless and his father simply may not have been there at this point in time, but i think this overall goes with the theme of an absent father and it may have brought gale and morena even closer.

2. tara herself doesn't let gale doubt her love him when the game allows her to be there.

she is extremely quick to try and beat any and all self-deprecating remarks gale may make. she is aghast at mystra's demands to the point of saying that she is considering picking up a crossbow to "put the gods" out of "our business." she's always been there for him, and she always will be. she's his longest friend and companion, as well as colleague.

i've picked a another example here to illustrate what i mean:

this very sadly appears to be cut content (tara was supposed to be there for a companion gale as well), but:

Gale: You seem to have fared well enough without me, Tara. You look positively prosperous. Gale: Or should I say, positively proser-puss! Ha! Tara the Tressym: No, you should not say that ever again. Gale: Apologies! Couldn't help myself. Tara the Tressym: True enough. That's why I came looking - to help, if I could. Gale: I have not failed to notice. I truly do not deserve such loyal companionship. Tara the Tressym: Yes, you do.

unfortunately, like i said, tara as gale's familiar and companion was cut from the final version of the game, so while we do know that gale is aware of all that tara has done for him (considering the conversation from the tiefling party, helping him through his isolation, finding out what his condition needs to be treated, getting magical artefacts for him, etc.), we have act iii companion gale saying this:

Gale: Tara remains as wilfull as ever, but I'm glad you've finally made her acquaintance. Given the length of my time away, I feared she might have given up on me. I should have known better - she'd never do such a thing.

while this is not gale thinking tara doesn't love him for who he is, it is very much gale thinking that tara may have given up on him because of their time apart.

there are definitely insecurities lurking there in the vein of "i cost her so much effort and so much work, so maybe now that i've been away for so long, she's finally had enough."

it's very sad to see.

3. when gale talks about previous lovers he has this to say:

Player: Gale, am I the first... mortal being you've been with? Gale: What a question... Gale: No, you are not the first. Though you are the first since my relationship with Mystra came to its ignominous end. Gale: When the true danger posed by my condition became apparent, I had no choice but to sequester myself away from civilised society. A reclusive wizard - who'd have thought? Gale: After so long with Mystra, I have to say the pleasures of mortal love are much sweeter than I remember. Though perhaps that's simply because it's with you.

this tells us that he must have had at least one lover before. yet, and that is where the quote in your ask is from, he also says this:

Player: What does our relationship mean to you? Gale: You must know, our relationship is the brightest spot in our otherwise bleak endeavour. Gale: To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command... None have loved me so purely before. Gale: You are everything to me, and yet our relationship is only a nascent fraction of what it will become. You give me hope, and I've not had that in some time.

i think we can extrapolate from that that not only his relationship with mystra made him feel these insecurities, but that the relationships he had previous may have also fed into this perception of his worth as a romantic partner is tied to his magical abilities.

it's not hard to imagine: waterdeep is very much a city of intrigue. gale was not only a graduate of blackstaff academy, but a powerful archwizard and a chosen of mystra.

4. lastly, i want to talk a bit more about what i said in the beginning and when i talked about tara and companion!gale: that gale feels he is a burden / an investment.

it's already reflected a bit in the way that he believes his relationship with tara has deteriorated in act iii simply because of the distance between them now that he has been away from waterdeep for a prolonged amount of time.

the first time you can get a sense for this aspect of gale is when you agree right away to help him with his condition. there's a prolonged amount of silence and it's clear on his face that he didn't expect you to agree so quickly and without needing to be persuaded.

Gale: Thank you. I see my trust in you was not misplaced! Gale: I'm sure we won't have to look very far to find what I need: Faerûn overflows with magic-infused treasure. Gale: As do our packs, as a matter of fact. We've such an item already in our possession, primed for the moment the need arises. Gale: I know the allure magic artefacts hold. I understand their value and their power. All this to say: I understand the sacrifice I ask of you.

Player: No. If you aren't willing to tell me the truth, I'm not helping you. Gale: I understand that I'm asking for a lot, but I can't tell you everything.

he makes sure to thank the player deeply every time they do give him an artefact, bowing to them, citing their "boundless kindness" and it's also why he is also quick to reassure them that there will be an upside for them, making this "sacrifice" for his sake.

gale's power and knowledge and skills as a wizard.

he is useful and he can make himself useful.

your "investment" in him now will be "worth" the return later.

in conclusion, i hope now it's clearer why i felt like i had to bring these two things together. i believe they are clearly interwoven with each other.

also sorry for rambling! this got away from me a bit. 🖤

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 12

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Tav talks with Astarion about everything that has happened during her imprisonment. She decides that she needs closure and goes to Sharess' Caress.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of Sexual Trauma

A month went by. Tav was still waiting, though her hope was waning. She decided that it was time for her to return to her ‘unremarkable’ life once again, as Raphael had once described it. She started going outside again instead of hiding from the world.

She was lucky that the library that she had worked at before the whole tadpole business still wanted her back. She supposed that they felt they could not turn away one of the heroes of the city. That was another thing she hated by being back in Baldur’s Gate: being treated like a hero.

Her time with Raphael had made it abundantly clear that she was nothing of the sort. Heroes did not have the twisted sense of morality that she did, and they certainly did not sleep with devils.

She also began talking to her friends again. She chose to confide in Astarion, as he seemed like the one least likely to judge her about the whole thing. They were drinking in a secluded corner of the Elfsong as she told him everything, or at least almost everything.

She could not get herself to tell him the moments where Raphael had shown her vulnerability. She did not tell Astarion about how worried he had seemed when he almost killed her, how he had told her he had once been in love, or how he had looked at her just before he let her go.

She did however tell him about their little game. How they had slept together and how they had played house during her imprisonment. The sex was especially shameful to talk about, but she had to talk to someone about it. She felt the need to confess, and she did not even understand why.

“Darling, it is not your fault,” Astarion said and leaned over the table to look her in the eyes. “You did what you felt that you had to do in the moment.”

“But I…” she sighed. “I liked it.”

The revelation did not shake Astarion in the least.

“The body does strange things to survive, you know?” Astarion countered. “Whether you liked it or not, it does not make it any less wrong.”

“No, you don’t understand,” she said. “It was consensual. He never did anything that I did not agree to.”

Astarion looked at her with a sense of pity.

“My knowledge on literal devils might be limited,” he admitted. “But I have known my share of metaphorical devils. They want you to believe in that. It strengthens their power over you even further if they can make you believe that you are doing it out of your own free will, when in reality you are just as trapped as you have always been.”

Tav listened to what he was saying. She took a sip of her wine and stared emptily at the table between them. He studied her expression.

“You still are, aren’t you?” Astarion asked.

“What?”

“Trapped,” he said quietly. “Your body has left the House of Hope, but your mind hasn’t. Am I wrong?”

“I…”

She could not finish the sentence and tears started welling up in her eyes again. She was so sick and tired of crying. Astarion held out his hand to her and she took it. She sighed and pushed back her tears as she held his hand.

“I miss him…” she admitted quietly, as if whispering it made it less real.

Astarion looked at her with sadness and pity. Though, all of a sudden, his expression changed. His brow furrowed and he looked around where they were sitting. It was enough to shake her from the feelings she had just felt.

“What is it?”

“Apologies, it’s just…” Astarion said and looked around again. “I just had this odd feeling for a moment. As if someone was breathing down my neck and I was being watched…”

Tav looked around the room as well. None of the other patrons were paying them any attention. She looked back at Astarion again and let go of his hand.

Now it was her turn to look at him with pity. She regretted telling him. Selfishly, she had not considered that talking about her experience might bring Astarion back to a time he would rather forget. A moment later he returned to himself and looked at her.

“It disappeared,” he said and shrugged it off. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what just happened.”

“It’s alright,” she said and shook her head. “And I’m really sorry. I understand if this all brings back memories of the past for you, and it is really selfish of me to unload all of this onto you of all people. I shouldn’t have, but I guess I just wanted to talk to someone who might understand.”

“No, no, it’s quite alright,” he said and smiled at her. “You have done more for me than anyone has in centuries. It is the very least I can do. You are not alone, darling.”

She smiled at him and nodded.

“Now,” he said and returned to his more playful self. “Drink up and I will walk you home.”

She held Astarions arm as they walked. Tav was one of the few people that he allowed to touch him. It made sense. The two of them had a short fling at the beginning of their adventure and she let him feed on her for the majority of their journey. They were pretty familiar with each other and Tav had always respected his boundaries once made aware of them.

They arrived at her doorstep, and she turned to him.

“Do you want to come in for a bite?” she asked casually. “It’s getting pretty late, and I’ve been talking your ear off all evening, so you won’t have much time to go out and hunt before the sun comes up.”

He gave her a crooked smile.

“How could I say no?” he said and followed her inside.

They walked inside her living room. It looked as if a bomb had gone off in there, as she had not had much energy to tidy up.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“I suppose it is to be expected when you’ve been hiding away in here for so long,” he said and looked around the room.  

She laid down on the couch and made herself comfortable. When Astarion fed, it always made her slightly dizzy. She had learned to always lay down after one embarrassing incident where they both had ended up on their asses because she had grabbed onto Astarion as she was blacking out.

Astarion sat down beside her and looked down at her.

“Ah, this takes me back,” he said with a teasing smile. “The good old days when I could feel the sun on my skin and death was around every corner. I can almost smell the smoke from the fire and Gale’s awful cooking.”

“You didn’t even eat,” she said. “I miss Gale’s cooking.”

“I was forced to pretend to for a couple of days, remember?” Astarion countered. “Until you revealed my true nature and so generously offered your neck instead.”

“Which is still silly,” she said with a chuckle. “You are the most vampire-looking vampire there is.”

“Still fooled you, didn’t I?” he said and smiled. “At least for a little while.”

He leaned down closer to her neck, but suddenly paused his movements to look around the room.

“There it is again…” he said.

“What is?”

“That feeling of being watched,” he mumbled. “Odd.”

He shook his head and leaned down again to bite her. He fed on her until he was satisfied and let her go. She held her neck as to not bleed on her sofa and slowly sat up. Astarion wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked around the room again.

“Is it still there?” she asked.

He nodded. He was quiet for a moment as he looked around and then shrugged. He got up from where he was sitting and walked towards the door, where he paused again.

“And now it disappeared again…” he said and then shook his head. “Well…goodnight, darling. If you want to talk again, you always know where to find me.”

Tav rubbed her neck and nodded. He smiled at her and left.

She thought about the things that Astarion had said to her. He was right, of course. Everything that had happened to her had been intentional from Raphael, and so was the feelings she still had.

It did not make them easier to deal with however, because a part of her still hopelessly still wanted to believe that her situation was different. Admitting that it wasn’t, was to admit that she was a lot more gullible than she thought she was. Though perhaps it was beginning to finally be the time to stop being in denial, so she could finally deal with her feelings and move on.

The next day she was on the way home from the library. She had a bit of a hangover from the day before, but she had gotten through the day. It had been routine work, anyway. She had just been stacking and sorting books all day. She was tired and the familiar fatigue of having been fed on was also taking its toll on her.

Her brain was not working properly. She barely even noticed that she had taken a bit of a detour on her way home. She passed Sharess’s Caress, and she realized what had been in her subconscious to lead her there: him. She had barely thought about him throughout the day for once, but he was still haunting the back of her mind.

She stood there in front of the brothel with a stack of books in her arms, staring at it. To her annoyance, there was a sense of excitement inside her at the thought he might be in there. It was stupid and she should leave, but her legs didn’t let her. She just kept staring at the building.

Her curiosity got the better of her, so she went inside to talk with the madame. It couldn’t hurt, right? Just to ask if he was there. Mamzell’s face lit up when she recognized her.

“If it isn’t the hero of the gate,” she drawled with a smile.

“Shhh, keep your voice down please,” Tav said and held a finger to her lips with a strained smile. “If anyone asks, I was never here.”

“Oh, discretion is always key in this establishment, dear,” Mamzell said. “What can I do for you?”

“Is Raphael here?” Tav asked.

“I’m afraid you’ve unfortunately just missed him.”

She felt an annoying flutter of butterflies in her stomach at the thought that he had been there not long ago. Gods, she was hopeless.

“Though between us, he hasn’t been here for work for quite some time,” Mamzell added in a lowered voice.

Tav blinked in confusion. She had just missed him, but he hadn’t been there for work? That did not make sense.

“Why was he here then?” she asked.

Mamzell smiled. Tav rolled her eyes and discreetly put her coin purse on the counter. Mamzell took it and leaned closer to her.

“He has been here as a customer, if you would believe it,” she said as if it was the juiciest piece of gossip ever. “He came in here and asked for a night with the twins. Very unlike him, if you ask me. Gods, what I would have done to be a fly on the wall. I would gladly have paid him just to see that handsome face in the throes of passion, and that voice, I—”

“I get the picture…” Tav interrupted and gave her a forced polite smile.

So much for the ‘discretion’ of the establishment. For some reason it was very hard for her to imagine Raphael ever stooping so low as to pay for sex. Then again, Haarlep was dead, and she was no longer in the house to sate his needs.

Perhaps, he was getting desperate. There was an odd sense of satisfaction at the thought of it and the fact that he had not found a replacement for her, but Tav quickly pushed the feeling away.

“And this was when?” Tav asked.

“Late last night,” Mamzell explained. “He was in quite the mood too. He dismissed the twins fairly quickly and slept in the Devil’s Den. Very odd, if you ask me.”

Tav nodded.

“But he’s not there now, right?” she asked. “And he won’t be any time soon?”

“The Den is vacant currently, yes,” Mamzell answered.

Tav hesitated for a moment.

“I’d like the room just for an hour,” Tav said. “I don’t need any eh…company…just the room.”

Mamzell handed her the key with a smile.

“And don’t tell anyone about this,” Tav said firmly. “Especially Raphael.”

“Of course,” she said. “My lips are sealed.”

Tav did not believe her for a second, but it was too late now to backtrack anyway.

Tav was not even sure what she was trying to achieve. She just knew that she had to go there. She entered the room and immediately she could smell the faint hint of sulphur. The room still smelled like him. She closed the door behind her and then closed her eyes for a moment.

It was as if she was in his boudoir again. The same smell of his soaps and scents. The scent of cherries, palmarosa, pepper and that indescribable smell of just him. She took it all in. It smelled like…home.

Tav decided to rid herself of her stubbornness, and just for the next hour she had the room, she would allow herself to miss him without hating herself for it. She opened her eyes and walked to the bed.

She laid down on the side he usually slept on. He was a creature of habit, and just as she expected, the pillow on that side smelled of him. She hugged it close to her face and breathed in the scent. She could smell that oil he put in his hair that smelled like something between fruit and leather.

Had she been a normal person, she thought, then this would all have given her anxiety. It would have reminded her of her imprisonment and the fear she had occasionally felt throughout it. Instead, it made her feel warm inside and safe. She teared up and cried into the pillow.

When the hour was over, she left. She somehow felt even more dirty and ashamed when she left, than she would if she had paid for company and had the most depraved sex of her life.

She needed to move on, and she would. She decided that her visit to the Devil’s Den would be a suitable way to try and close that chapter of her life. She did not want to be trapped any longer

Raphael was working. The house was quiet, and he found very little to do besides making Cassius’ life a living hell, now that both Hope and Tav were no longer there. Though the quietness had been good for business, and he threw himself over his work.

He was at his desk, writing contracts, when he heard Korrilla enter. He briefly looked up from the contract to mumble a greeting to her. His loyal warlock looked exhausted.

“Anything to report?” he asked and kept writing, his focus on the scroll in front of him.

“She visited your room at Sharess’,” Korrilla said and stifled a yawn. “She is also back to working at the library again, but she still looks somewhat miserable.”

Raphael looked up at Korrilla with a scowl.

“I don’t care for how she is doing,” he hissed. “You are simply there to make sure she is safe.”

Korrilla held her hands up defensively.

“Sorry boss,” she mumbled.

He did not like the sound of her visiting Sharess’. He wondered if Mamzell would be stupid enough to open her mouth about the little incident that had happened a couple of days ago. He had gotten word that she was spending time with the vampire and in a moment of weakness, his possessiveness had gotten the better of him.

He had used a scrying spell on Astarion, as he knew that Tav was smart enough to figure it out if he had used it on her. He had seen their moments of closeness. How she held his hand and how he later was leaned over her, feeding on her. It angered him.

Raphael was not some young boy who felt fits of jealousy over his sweetheart holding hands with someone else. It should not had rattled him, though for some reason it did. It took him to Sharess’. He could have chosen any brothel in the realms, but perhaps he hoped somewhere deep down that Tav would know. It had been illogical, irrational, and he regretted steeping so low immediately.

He looked at Korilla and took a deep breath.

“Don’t apologize. Just do better,” he said with a tinge of irritation. “Have you heard from your sister by any chance?”

She shook her head.

“Still hiding it seems,” she said.

“Good…Who would have known that she does have some sense of self-preservation after all?”

Raphael had needed to get rid of Hope, though he loathed to. He knew that if he kept her, it would only drive Tav back to the House of Hope to free her. He needed to remove any excuses that could make her fall back into his claws, because he was not sure he would be able to let her go a second time.

“Get some rest, Korrilla,” he ordered. “You are back on duty tonight.”

Korrilla stifled another yawn and nodded. She left the office.

Raphael had a bit of a warlock shortage. There was only Korrilla left to keep an eye on Tav. The rest of the time, he had paid off mercenaries to keep an eye on her house and follow her wherever she went, though he did not entirely trust any of them. It kept Korrilla extremely busy.

Had Tav not been so foolish as to use sending spells, none of it would have been necessary. The Archdevils could hear when sending spells came and went in the Hells, and Raphael knew that if she was seen as one of his weaknesses, that could be used against him. It had happened before.  

Tav was on her way to bed when she heard a distant rumbling sound. She stood still and listened. She walked around her living room trying to discern where it was coming from. When she came near her window, she could hear that it came from outside. She opened it and listened. It sounded like snoring.

Tav did not live in the most hospitable neighborhood. It was most likely a refugee without a home or some poor urchin who had made their bed somewhere outside her house. She felt in a sentimental mood, so she found a spare blanket and gathered some food from her kitchen to lay beside them for when they woke up. She followed the noise to some bushes behind her home.

She was surprised to see who it was, but she could not help but smile. There was Korrilla, sleeping while sitting up. She was leaned up against the wall of her house, snoring loudly because of the awkward position.

“Sleeping on the job, Korrilla?” Tav asked loudly. “Thought you never did that sort of thing.”

Korrilla jumped at her voice and looked panicked as she opened her eyes wide to look at Tav. She groaned and rubbed her face with her hands. She mumbled something into her hands that sounded an awful lot like ‘he’s going to kill me’.

“Want to come inside instead?” Tav asked. “I’ve got some tea that will wake you right up.”

Korrilla sighed and looked around.

“I can’t convince you that this was a complete coincidence, can I?” Korrilla asked.

“No,” Tav said with a smile and held a hand out to her.

Korrilla took her hand and got up from where she was sitting. She dusted the dirt off her robes.

“Lead the way then,” she said

[fantasyheroine]

Written in the Stars - Chapter 3

Pairings: Astarion x Tav

Rating: Explicit

Summary: For months Astarion and Tav have been growing closer and both of them would consider the other a good friend at this point. But is friendship really what either of them truly want? One night has the potential to change their relationship forever. Will the two of them be able to overcome the hurdles a new romance throws their way while they navigate the impending threat of the Netherbrain? Or will past trauma's come back to haunt them permanently? Get swept up in this whirlwind of passion, love, and fear as the characters of Baldur's Gate 3 take on the Cult of the Absolute.

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Chapter 3: Orders are for Slaves

Word Count: 11,391

Warnings: Lots of dialogue. Heavy angst. Some gruesome imagery. Crack. Gale.

Song: P!nk - Please Don't Leave Me

A/N: I am so sorry that this chapter took 3 weeks to publish! Life got a little crazy there for a bit and I was kept quite busy. I hope that the length and quality of this chapter can make up for its delay. If you haven't been doing so already, I suggest listening to the song before reading the chapter and then directly after. I put a lot of thought and effort into picking the right piece and it serves as both a preview and summary. Anyway enjoy the excessively long chapter!

Tav was left staring after Astarion as he departed the small clearing. She let her longbow clatter to the ground before kneeling on the forest floor. She pounded the earth with her fists, causing little pieces of dry, brown dirt to come flying up around her. *Damn him…! Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!* She wanted to hate him. Wanted to hunt him down and make him feel her pain! She hated the way he had so easily turned her anger into sorrow. Hated the way he had just left her here! Alone… Confused… Heartbroken… Nothing made sense anymore… What was she supposed to do…? Familiar feelings came creeping back into her mind and she considered them. It would be easy. She could let herself slip back into old habits. She knew how to keep them concealed. No one would be any the wiser. *No Tav! You've come this far. You don't have to do that anymore.* She shook her head trying to clear the thoughts from her mind. *Come on. Pick yourself up. You can do it.* Tav pushed her palms further into the dirt. *Feel the earth around you. What can you hear? What can you smell?* The forest held the scent of ash but the air itself smelt like lavender. The tell tale signs of wild magic crackled like electricity. Little pops could be heard on the wind as Thaniel worked at healing the lands. If she had any hair on her arms, it would have been standing up as the weave sent jolts down her spine. Far above the trees, the cry of a falcon echoed. Tav’s head lifted up in surprise.

“Fenrir!”

She lifted her arm to the sky and the fearsome bird dived. Its descent was fast. The kind of speed you’d expect to see from the quickest bird of prey. The speckled creature extended its talons as it approached and landed on the proffered perch. The bracers she donned as part of her armor kept her skin protected from the sharp points now firmly planted into the leather. Tav reached a hand up to the raptor’s head and gave the blueish-black feathers a little scratch. The avian let out a quick chirp and leaned into her touch. She continued to comb through its feathers as she spoke, using the language of animals.

“You're a good boy Fenrir. I suppose Ursa sent you to come bring me back to camp?”

Fenrir clicked his tongue in response. Tav withdrew her hand and gave him her full attention. His voice was deep and carried the classic accent of Baldurian animals. It had always fascinated her how an animal's voice reflected their place of origin. Fenrir had come from the Cloak Wood forest. She herself had come from the High Forest. And while she had been the one to hatch him and teach him speech, he had still ended up with the inflections of Baldur’s Gate. The bird gazed at her with his black beady eyes.

“She is concerned. You have been gone all day.”

Tav sighed. Leave it to her animal companions to be the ones to check up on her first. They had the tendency of being nosy and often missed the subtleties of when she didn’t want to be disturbed. She looked away from her familiar.

“Yeah, I know… I just… had some things I had to work through.”

Fenrir tilted his head to the side in consideration of her words. He had seen his elf approach the pale one the night before. And while that wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, the distress he’d picked up on the following morning was unusual. His next words were meant to test the waters.

“The fanged elf consumes your mind often.”

Tav let out a small chuckle. It seemed Fenrir had her figured out. She lifted a finger to boop his beak.

“You always were the most observant out of all of us.”

The avian playfully nipped at her finger.

“You know as well as I, that it is my nature to notice that which others do not.”

Tav shook her head, lips curling up into her first true smile of the day.

“I suppose it is. Tell me then, what would you do if your chosen mate did not wish to be with you?”

Fenrir’s tail fanned out behind him in displeasure. The way his eyes narrowed looked like how a person’s brow did when it was furrowed.

“He rejected your mating display?”

Tav picked up on the change in body language immediately. *Oh boy. Here we go again.* Fenrir had made it clear through many a conversation that he did not approve of Astarion. She had tried to convince her friend that the elf really was who she wanted, but Fenrir always took the stance that she could find a better partner than the rogue. Her smile turned sheepish as she attempted to soothe some of his agitation.

“Kind of…”

A series of angry beak clicks sounded at the answer and Fenrir fanned his tail wider. He lifted one foot off of Tav’s arm and stretched his neck up high.

“I do not understand. You are a most excellent hunter. Why would he reject you?”

He paused and assessed the female in front of him. A sort of knowing look sparked in his glassy orbs.

“Did you make sure to bow to him before displaying your prowess?”

Tav wanted to laugh but bit back the sound. Of course he would think elf relationships worked like falcon ones. He had only been with her for five years after all, and during that time Tav had never attempted flirting with anybody. It was childish of her to ever think that Fenrir would actually understand the dynamics between her and Astarion. She barely understood them herself. There was no way a young and inexperienced bird would get it. Despite holding back her giggles, she couldn't help the teasing that came out in her tone as she indulged in the silly line of questioning.

“Ah, that must have been what it was. I forgot the bow.”

Fenrir clicked his beak again and ruffled his feathers.

“How many times have we spoken on this, hatch mother? Without the bow, he has no way of knowing your intentions are to mate. Do it again. This time, remember the bow. He will not reject you.”

It was growing harder to not laugh. Her falcon was attempting to instruct her on how to win Astarion’s heart. The whole situation was ridiculous. Gods, how she wished it could be as easy as Fenrir was making it seem. If all it took for Astarion to accept her advances was a bow, she would have given him the most elaborate bow in all of history. Hells, she might have even attempted a low curtsy. But it wasn’t even close to that simple. And after the last twenty four hours, the two of them were currently standing on cracking ice. She tried not to let her sadness show. All animals were empaths, and exposing her emotions to her companion would only serve to make him more agitated. She did her best to keep the hurt out of her voice as she asked her next question. Fenrir had so confidently stated that should she try a second time, with the proper procedure, Astarion would not reject her. The notion was worth asking about.

“And how can you be so sure he’ll accept me if I try again?”

There was a very real possibility that her bird had picked up on something she hadn’t. At his core, Fenrir was incredibly observant. It’s what made him an excellent predator and familiar. There was every chance that he had noticed something about Astarion that would give indicators that the man liked her back. The animal took a moment to smooth out a misplaced feather before he responded.

“The fool has been performing courtship attempts since the moment we met him, but has been going about them in poor fashion.”

Tav’s smile morphed to confusion. What had Fenrir seen that gave him that impression?

“What do you mean? What courtship displays has he been attempting?”

He looked back up at her.

“For one, he constantly preens around you. I once watched him delicately lay every feather on his head piece by piece for over an hour of time, before he approached you. You did not notice his attempts.”

Astarion had painstakingly arranged his hair just so before engaging with her? She had always thought his messy curls simply existed in such a state of constant perfection. It had never crossed her mind that he did it on purpose. Shit. What else had Fenrir noticed? The raptor seemed to pick up on her unasked question because he offered up another of his observations.

“He dances for you. Granted, it is not a very good dance, but he does try.”

Ok that one had her puzzled. What in the Hells did he mean by dancing?

“Care to elaborate on that one, friend?”

More beak clicking hit her ears and she watched as Fenrir shifted from foot to foot.

“The gestures he makes with his hands when he speaks, and the way he walks. They look like a bad dance. He does it to try and get your attention. The buffoon hasn’t seemed to realize, though, that he always has your attention. Honestly, I do not understand what you see in him, hatch mother. He does not seem to be the brightest or most confident bird.”

That observation was curious too. Astarion had forever maintained this air of flamboyance to him, but it hadn’t occurred to her that maybe he dialed it up a few notches when in her presence. *Why would he do that?* Surely he knew that she found him interesting regardless of the dramatics. Maybe Fenrir was right and the confidence he portrayed was actually false. She had caught glimpses of his insecurities in the past. Most frequently when they were still getting to know each other. But it had been months since those early days spent travelling. She had hoped that he’d feel comfortable enough around her by now to not have to mask as much… But maybe his mask had just gotten better and those moments of genuineness she had thought she’d seen were simply a new act he’d been putting on. Or maybe he was performing in a vie for her attention. There were certainly plenty of people at camp who prevented her from spending all of her time with him. She shook her head again. She would have to think on all of this later. Right now there was a falcon waiting for her response. She gave Fenrir a joking smile again.

“He would make a pretty lousy falcon wouldn’t he?”

“Yes. His mating displays are abysmal. It is a wonder he ever gained your attention. Most females would not have looked twice at him.”

Instantly, a memory popped into her head. She was talking to Arron, the druid trader from the Emerald Grove. It was right after the fight with the goblins at the gate. The fight where she, Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart had conveniently stumbled across Aradin and his band trying to regain access into the druidic sanctuary. They had been warily welcomed into the Grove ,and she had been selling some of the unnecessary things their adventuring party had come across in the few days since crashing onto the ravaged beach, when her eyes caught a motion behind the Halfling merchant. Her gaze had met Astarion’s as the seller appraised an agate she’d found along the shoreline. He’d given her a sly smirk and a cheeky wink, then slipped the trader’s pouch of gold into his pocket off the table it had been sitting upon. His boldness had made her heart flutter and the deftness in which he had swiped the coin made her want to learn more about him. Covertly she’d made a glance at the enchanted longbow leaning against the broken stone obelisk where Arron had set up shop before enthusiastically engaging the short man in a barter for a pair of missile snaring gloves.

She had intentionally looked away as her companion took advantage of her skilled distraction and was pleasantly surprised when Astarion had presented her with the ranged weapon that night at camp. She had assumed he would keep it for himself considering he had proficiency in the item as well, but he had revealed it to her with a flourish and some off handed comment about how she had good taste. The unexpected generosity had found her searching beyond the rogue’s blatant good looks and disarming charm. She glanced to the side where that same bow lay discarded after her fight with him earlier in the day. It wasn’t the strongest armament in her arsenal by any means and she barely used it nowadays, but for some reason she had chosen to use it today out of her entire collection. Sigh. Another thing to think about later. Her head turned back to Fenrir. The falcon was watching her with calculating eyes.

“Perhaps I see something in him that you don’t.”

The avian once again ruffled his feathers and turned up his beak in disdain.

“Hmph. I still think him a fool and poor choice.”

This time a little laugh did escape her at the statement. She reached her fingers up again to scratch the back of his neck.

“I know, buddy. But it’s my choice, and I like him. I suggest you learn to like him too.”

Fenrir did the bird equivalent of rolling his eyes and pecked at her gloved hand. She playfully grabbed his beak between her thumb and pointer finger and lightly shook his head from side to side.

“Why don’t you go tell Ursa I’ll be back in a bit. As soon as I have collected all of my arrows I’ll start heading that way.”

Fenrir recovered from the good-natured assault and lowered his head as his body pitched forward, preparing for flight. He gave a few test flaps of his wings before offering Tav a final warning.

“Very well. Do not linger or I shall come find you again.”

Tav’s face wrinkled in amusement as she raised her arm into the sky, giving Fenrir a better position to take off.

“Go. I’ll return before you know it.”

The answer seemed to satisfy him and with a big flap of his strong wings, Fenrir shot up towards the clouds. Tav watched him for a moment as he soared through the air before letting her body slump heavily. The falcon had successfully disrupted her negative thoughts but now with him gone again she was left to face the aftermath of her fight with Astarion. All around the clearing were scattered arrows that she had fired at him during their faux dance. High up in the trees were more arrows that she had shot in practice before he had snuck up on her. And then there was the arrow she had fired into the brush where he’d been watching her. Ugh. Collecting all of them was going to be a pain. Under normal circumstances she might have just left them lying around and come back for them the next day, but part of her plan for when she returned to camp was to start packing up her things in preparation for the trip to Baldur’s Gate. With more stress in her body than she’d had in days, Tav climbed to her feet.

It took roughly thirty minutes to gather up every stray missile and by the time she was done the sun had well and truly set. She estimated that there was roughly an hour of light left before the sky turned completely dark. From what she could recall from the morning, it had taken her longer than an hour to find this copse of trees and she still had no idea which direction she had taken to get here. Her head lifted to where Fenrir had disappeared. He had come from the west and slightly south of her current position. There was nothing around her that she recognized, but maybe if she moved in the trajectory that her familiar had come from something would eventually stick out. It was her best bet. With a dejected heart and dragging feet, she began the trek back to camp.

Astarion’s head was spinning as he sauntered away. All of what had just occurred had been completely confusing. Never before had he seen Tav so angry. In the entirety of their time together this was the first instance in which she had gotten truly mad at him. It had frightened him to a new level. That part of his brain still stuck in survival mode after years of torture, had been screaming that she was going to kill him. She could have if she’d wanted to. While Tav may not have ever claimed to be a monster hunter, there was no doubt that she was a deadly huntress of a different kind. The kind that could have shot an arrow straight through his heart before he could even blink. Yes, she could have killed him. And it was a surprise she hadn’t. He wondered, then, if he would have killed her, should the roles have been reversed… *No.* He didn’t think he could kill her even if she turned into a Mindflayer… The answer as to why, however, continued to elude him. He bit his lip, fangs pricking flesh, but the sensation went unnoticed. There was something here that he wasn’t grasping. Something that he was failing to understand. But for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what that missing piece was.

He chewed on his bottom lip as he racked his brain, trying to hold onto whatever slivers of enlightenment he could grasp. But like silken thread, those potentially eye-opening thoughts slipped through his fingers. Astarion let out a huff of frustration. Why did everything with her have to be so damn confusing!? It was his job to be able to decode people. Understand their motives so he could manipulate them. He was good at it. But then she came into his life and now nothing made sense anymore. All those years of building skills in seduction and perception, tossed to the side, out of reach, when anything concerning her came up. It was truly infuriating. He had wanted his relationship with her to be simple. Sex for protection. She was strong, and he’d been in need of that strength. Getting her to fall for him should have been easy. A basic matter of deceptive romancing that left him in complete control over everything. But she had changed the script. Used lines he wasn’t familiar with, and taken actions that went against all he thought he knew… And now…? They were stuck; her angry, him stumped. There was no playbook he could reference for going forward. No persona he could portray to try and get things back on track. She was resistant to it all. 

So far his life with her went bounds beyond uncharted territory. It was like he was a child again. Experiencing the world for the first time. How many things had she opened his eyes to? How many incorrect notions had she dispelled? His forehead crinkled, a solid crease forming between his brows. It was awful and uncomfortable, and he wished again that things between them could just be easy. Slowly, his mind began drifting to thoughts of ‘what now’. They had fought. Their first ever actual fight in all of the long months spent travelling together. The only kind of fights he’d been in before were those for survival. The kind where it was kill or be killed. He had never experienced a domestic fight. What was supposed to happen when two companions fought? She hadn’t killed him, and he hadn’t killed her. What move would she make next? She could tell him to leave and never come back. Dismiss him from the party for ever daring to defy her. Or worse, she could leave him. Had she gone back to camp the moment he left her standing in that clearing, packed up her things, and called it quits? Astarion’s feet faltered. She wouldn’t do that, would she? Just leave him after everything they had been through…? His body started to ache. Each ridgid muscle turning taut as they begged him to turn around and run back to her. Was she still there? Was she waiting for him…? Or had he lost her forever?

Something cold and wet hit his cheek. It traced the outline of his chiseled face, then dripped off his chin. It made the softest splash as it hit his old, worn shoe. Only the ears of an elf could have caught the noise. His head turned down and he stared at the damp spot it had made. Then another one fell. It also landed with the tiniest splash. How long had it been since he’d last cried? It had to have occurred somewhere around the same time Cazador had made the last revision to the scars adorning his back. But those tears weren’t like these. Then, they were from physical pain. Now…? They were from agony. He hadn’t felt such anguish since the night he’d dug himself out of his own grave. The night he had become a slave… More cold tears dripped onto his shoes and he dropped to his knees. His body shook with the weight of the emotions he felt. Tav was going to leave him. One way or another he was going to lose Tav. *Oh Gods!* He was going to have to go the rest of the way to Baldur’s Gate alone. Find a cure for the tadpole alone. Face Cazador ab-so-lutely alone. His face hit the dirt as his body collapsed from under him. Dry earth turned to mud from the sheer amount of liquid pooling from his eyes. He was alone. Again! This was worse than dying. Worse than being turned. Worse than the tadpole in his head. He was going to have to figure things out by himself. Manage on his own like he always had. He might as well go crawling back to his old master. It’s not like that would feel any different than this.

It felt like time was frozen as he lay face down on the ground. It took many long minutes, but he willed himself to stop crying. He didn’t want to think about any of this anymore. If she left, he’d deal with it. If she cast him out, he would deal with it. Carefully, Astarion climbed back to his feet. That little spark of life that had resided inside of him his entire life as a spawn kept him moving forwards. He would not fail. He would not fall. Not over some insignificant woman. He was a free man now. A free man had endless opportunities. And if he could kill Cazador? Take his master’s place in the ascension? Well, he could do anything he wanted then. He didn’t need Tav. He was better off without her. She had only been holding him back. Making him weak by forcing him to play hero. He would be fine without her… Wouldn't he?

That feeling in his chest was hurting even more than before. Again, he lifted his hand to rub over the spot where he felt the pain. And again, his palm landed over his undying heart. It was strange; to experience sensation underneath his left pectoral after a lifetime of nothing ever being there. He briefly wondered if the effects of the tadpole had made their way into his body. He wouldn’t put it past the little parasite to start causing more issues. Perhaps these things he was experiencing in his chest were the start of ceremorphosis. He supposed he’d have to ask Halsin to take a look at him when he made it back to camp. That is, if he didn’t turn overnight… Speaking of night, he figured he would have to find a place to settle down. He had decided that he wasn’t going to return until at least morning. There was too big of a possibility that he’d get back and find Tav’s tent packed up and gone. The sight would likely break him again, and he would need time to prepare for the act of indifference he would be forced to perform for the others should his fears be true.

However, wandering the healing shadow-cursed lands would do him no good. He needed to find someplace to bed down. Some location where he could think, where he could plan. A safe spot where no one could see him trying to pick up the pieces of his shattered world. Astarion considered his possibilities. There was always the House of Healing and various other buildings in the destroyed town of Reithwin. But minus the old hospital, all of those places were rotten. His nose wrinkled. He didn’t much fancy the idea of resting among the smell of decaying wood. And the safety of those locations were severely lacking. He would be exposed. So where could he go then? A brief glance at his current surroundings gave him his answer. The towers at Moonrise weren’t too far off. And the structural integrity of the fortress was intact. Plus should any cultists be lingering about, they’d likely not be in the area where their leader had fallen. *The towers it is then.* Astarion shook off the dirt that had collected on his clothes and wiped away the mud caked on his cheeks. His eyes were still wet but he tried not to pay attention to them. He was fine. He was going to be fine. A quick adjustment to the direction in which he had been walking found him making his way to the towers where mere days ago the party had defeated one of the three leaders of the Absolute.

Tav made it back to camp right as everyone was finishing their dinner. Her stomach growled at the smell of food. She hadn’t eaten all day. Hadn’t even thought to pack a snack before charging out of camp like a Deep Rothé. She approached the blazing fire that was strategically positioned in the center of the temporary home. Gale offered her a hesitant smile when she was within range of his sight. It seemed Karlach had shared a warning about her previous iciness and he was the only one who hadn’t scattered at her reappearance. She did her best to return the wizard’s smile as she plopped herself into the seat beside him.

“You’re back?”

His tone was cautious. She couldn’t exactly blame him for it either. Gale, despite what he would have people believe, was relatively tenderhearted. Whenever a confrontation broke out in camp he’d casually avoid getting involved unless necessary. She removed the quiver and longbow from the notch on her back and set them to the side of the homemade bench the two of them sat on. She let out a long, drawn out sigh before responding.

“Yeah… I’m back.”

Gale quizzically inspected her. Nothing about her appearance seemed amis and at the very least she had left camp protected. Tav was suddenly grateful that humans didn’t have dark vision; for she was sure that if they did, her companion would have spotted her bloodshot eyes. She tried to change the subject away from the looming questions that clearly sat at the tip of the man’s tongue.

“Is there any dinner left?”

Luckily her redirection worked as Gale was now getting up and making his way towards the cooking pot on the main table set up near the fire. He took the container over to the cooking irons staked into the ground near a less fire intense portion of the conflagration and hung the pot on one of the various hooks. He summoned a mage hand to begin stirring whatever the receptacle contained and took up the seat to her left again.

“You’ll be happy to know that I saved some specifically for you. It wasn’t easy. Lae’zel was particularly ravenous tonight and I had to beat her off with a wooden spoon, but I figured, after your long day in the woods, you’d come back with an empty stomach and an eagerness to consume the first thing put in front of you. If you’re wondering, tonight’s dinner is a fragrant stew comprised of glowcap mushrooms, bluecap mushrooms, peas, and grilled goat. All things we had here at camp. I don’t want you thinking I went and spent our money without your valued input. Besides, we have collected more than enough supplies to last us until we get to the city. I’ll have you know, I took stock today and structured our rations into a finely detailed list. It is organized by food group with the amounts of each item cataloged in the classic tally stick inventory management systematization that is known amongst all shopkeeps. I even added a note to the level of freshness for our provisions through the use of…”

Tav interrupted whatever useless detail he planned to inform her of next. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind today to be invested in Gale’s peculiarities. She just wanted to eat and get on with the group meeting she had planned. She attempted to put on an air of appreciation as she spoke, not wanting her friend to pick up on the fact that she really didn’t give a damn about his list.

“Thank you Gale. I’m sure your list is very comprehensive.”

Her placating smile barely reached her cheeks and the wizard seemed to pick up on the fact that she was merely attempting to appease him. His smile took on a more apologetic look than his typical cheery one and he started waggling a finger in her direction.

“Right. Food first. I’ll acquiesce, I get carried away sometimes, but we can always go over the list later, so one bowl of stew, seeeeeeeerved promptly.”

He stood from his seat again and gathered up a modestly sized wooden bowl and iron spoon. The mage hand used the serving spoon it was stirring with to scoop up a glob of the stew and dump it into the dinnerware in Gale’s hands. The human once again returned to her side, offering up the meal.

“Careful, my friend. I should warn you, it is quite hot. Last thing you need today is to be burning your tongue on your supper.”

Tav gratefully took the bowl, blowing on its contents. The food smelled fantastic, which led to her stomach growling again. She supposed their party had been pretty spoiled recently with all of Gale’s elaborate homemade cooking. Most nights everyone was too exhausted after a day full of fighting and adventuring for much effort to be put into dinner. But since winning the battle at Moonrise, the wizard had been going all out on what he prepared. The night before he had provided everyone with a three course meal that Tav was sure had left her armor fastening a bit too tightly. Now he had made a hearty stew from scratch. She took a tentative spoonful, testing the temperature, before diving in for more. There was no debate that Gale was an incredible chef. Immense gratitude settled into her chest at the fact that he had taken up the duty of cooking so willingly back during those early days of adventuring together. Had meal planning been left up to her, everyone would have been eating cheese and dried meats every night. The thick liquid warmed some of the coolness in her heart and she turned back to her companion with more willingness to engage with him.

“So… What did everyone do today while I was gone?”

It wasn’t often that she left the other’s to their own devices. A bit of a micromanaging tendency she had, but everyone seemed to value the fact that she made the majority of the decisions. They all came from such different places and backgrounds that her ability to remain level-headed in whatever situation the group found themselves in, had caused everyone to unanimously appoint her their leader. Since then, she had been calling the shots and giving directions. Most of the time she didn’t mind the responsibility, but days like today were the few instances where the multitude of expectations sent her way became overwhelming. Still, it would be interesting to know if anything had gone completely horribly wrong in her absence. Gale tapped his chin at her question.

“Let’s see… Ah! Halsin spent the day talking to the plants. To my ears, it sounded reminiscent of a motivational speech one would give shy children. I’m not sure exactly how the conversation went, but I did see the most lovely of violets today. They are typically not native to this area, as you likely well know, so I am sure his hand had a play in helping it bloom. Did you know that the citizens of Waterdeep regard violets with the highest of prestige? There is an entire holiday celebrated annually in which violets are planted. It is known as Ahghairon’s Day, who, you may not know, was Waterdeep’s first Lord. Truly fascinating stuff, I assure you.”

Tav pinched the bridge of her nose. That was not the kind of information she had been looking for. The beginnings of a headache started to throb in her temples. She moved her hand to run her fingers through her hair. That stubborn strand that liked to stick to her forehead moved at the motion then flittered back down into its preferred spot. Her tone was sarcastic as she tried again to get anything useful out of her friend.

“Did anyone else do anything of note? Or did you all gather to watch Halsin talk to his plants?”

Gale let out a small chuckle at the snipe.

“Not up for discussing the intricacies of Waterdeep holidays I see. Not to worry, there is plenty more to conversate about that may be of more interest to you. Wyll and Shadowheart engaged in quite the debate today. Shadowheart was of the mind that proper penmanship is conducted with a limited amount of ink on the quill. Wyll however, felt that a decent amount of ink is needed to ensure the legibility of one’s writing. I intervened, and being the resident academic, suggested that they both write the same lines, on a spare piece of parchment, side by side, and allow the rest of the camp to be the judge. Overall, more people agreed that Wyll’s handwriting was neater than Shadowheart’s, implying that more ink is indeed the favorable option. Admittedly, I fear, I am going to have to more elaborately investigate the particulars of this matter, as today’s experiment was a rather pitibale trial in the grand scheme of scientific discovery.”

Gods. Now she did have a headache. With the last bit of mental effort she could muster, Tav sent out a tadpole SOS to all of her companions.

“Someone please come save me from Gale.”

The wizard was still chattering on about the proper ways in which to employ the scientific method but she had wholeheartedly turned her ears off by this point. Her brain tingled at the incoming message sent her way, and Shadowheart’s voice washed over her mind.

“I had to put up with him all day. The very least you could do after running away this morning is take one for the team.”

She shot back the image of a raised middle finger and felt Shadowheart’s laughter. She opened her mind back up to the rest of those infected.

“Fine then. Don’t come over here to save me, come because I have something important to discuss.”

The noise of rustling tent flaps could be heard and soon all of her friends, save Astarion, were gathering around her. Gale cut off his monologuing in a sudden wheeze of air as Karlach affectionately thunked him on the back of his head.

“Hush up sparkle hands. Tav’s got something she wants to tell us.”

Tav stood up so that everyone could see her. Wyll had been kind enough to grab Halsin who was unable to receive tadpole communications due to not having been infected with a Mindflayer parasite. She looked at all of her friends who had followed her this far. Each one of them had fought by her side time and time again, defending her, risking their lives for her. Once again she would have to ask them to join her in an almost undoubtedly life threatening quest. Instinctually, her eyes searched for Astarion. He had become her partner in crime, the one she looked to for confidence when she felt unsure or insecure. He gave her the comfort she needed to be brave as she knew that despite what the other’s might say or do, he was always on her side. Her seeking came up short. He was not here. She scanned the treeline in hopes that he’d come swaggering out of them with his typical smirk. Had he heard her tadpole request? The psionic powers only worked within a certain range. Was he too far to hear her or had he simply chosen not to come? She spent another moment keeping her eyes trained on the horizon but a cough had her reluctantly turning back to the group. With a deep breath, she mustered up the courage to start her speech.

“We have been through so much together. It’s hard to imagine that our journey has taken us this far. Many of us had hoped we’d have found a cure by now. Moonrise was the promise we were all holding onto. I’m sorry that it did not turn out the way we wanted. But we’ve learned valuable information. We now know that somewhere in Baldur’s Gate lies a Netherbrain in wait. We also know how to potentially defeat it. Three netherstones, for three chosen. Combined they will kill the brain. Or make it possible to kill it. The hope is, that with its death, the tadpoles will cease to function and we will be cured while ultimately saving The Sword Coast from a full on Mindflayer invasion.”

Tav took another deep breath. This was the part she’d been dreading her whole walk back to camp. The part where she would have to ask each of them to come with her. To join her in facing an ancient illithid god. They would most likely die. The odds of walking away from that final battle practically nonexistent. Part of her wished she could face the horror alone. She had come to care for her companions deeply. She didn’t want to have to watch her friends die. But to capture even the slightest chance of success, she would need them. Her chin lifted with deep determination and she looked at all of them in turn. Karlach, the fiery barbarian with a heart of gold. Shadowheart, the recently converted Selûnite with so much life still to live. Gale, the most intelligent academic she’d ever come across who deserved the chance to find the woman of his dreams. One by one she gazed into their eyes. Lae’zel the warrior. Halsin the wise. Wyll the noble. Her voice was resolute as the question finally formed on her lips.

“Who will come with me?”

The air went still with the weight of the task ahead of them. Karlach was the first to move. Without breaking eye contact she stepped up to put herself directly in front of Tav. Her large, red hand came to rest on the smaller woman’s shoulder.

“I’ll follow you to the end of the road, soldier.”

Some of the anxiety in her stomach dissolved and she pulled her ferocious best friend into a hug. Karlach was with her. Tav pulled away and glanced at the rest of her compatriots. Lae’zel stepped up next. The Githyanki woman sneered, her small, upturned nose flaring.

“This creature is enemy number one of my kind. I would be a coward if I were to turn away now.”

Despite her harsh response, Tav smiled. The green female’s mannerisms were a hard pill to swallow at first, but the ranger had found herself beginning to enjoy the unique qualities of the fighter’s personality. Plus she felt a bit of pride in the role she had played in helping the young Gith grow from judgemental, astral soldier to the more nuanced woman she now was. Tav held out a hand for Lae’zel to take and the two of them clasped wrists in a firm sort of handshake. Halsin spoke third and he too moved to put a heavy hand on her shoulder.

“Tav, you helped me cure the blight that has haunted my mind for one hundred years. You have brought life back to a land without any, and provided me the opportunity to save my childhood friend. I promised you my aid back in the Grove, and I have no plans of retracting it, no matter how difficult the road ahead may prove to be. My skills are yours to wield”

Tears began pricking behind her lids. Three out of her seven allies had sworn their allegiance to her for a second time. It was overwhelming to be trusted so wholeheartedly. To have so much weight resting upon her small frame. She quickly wiped at the drop of liquid escaping down the bridge of her nose.

“And the rest of you? What do you say?”

Wyll brought a closed fist across his chest in salute to her.

“The Blade is at your service.”

Gale summoned a spark of magic into his hand.

“What’s an adventure without a wizard by your side.”

Shadowheart gave her a snide smile.

“We’ve all come this far. It would be silly to not see it through to the end.”

Tav laughed, flashing her teeth in a wide smile.

“Then pack your things. We head for the city in three days.”

Astarion was pacing around the circular floor of the prison warden’s office. The sound of his tasteful boots scraping against the stone tiling echoed throughout the chamber, making it the only noise to be heard in the raided tower. His back was stiff and his feet were sore. He felt hungry, cranky, and beyond tired. He hadn’t slept last night. Nor did he expect to get any rest this night either. Damn. He picked up a loose stone by his toe and tossed it across the room. It went clattering, creating the grating sound of stone against stone.

“I don’t understand it. First she wants sex, then she wants me. Only for hours later to be shooting arrows at my head! What is a man supposed to think!?”

His shrill, ostentatious voice pierced the veil of quiet that had settled over the space at Moonrise when its ruler had fallen. Spiders retreated back into their webbed cracks and a cockroach skiddled in front of him. He crushed it with a swift stomp. He hated cockroaches. That and rats had been the only things Cazador had ever allowed him to eat. Tav had been the first humanoid being he had ever drank from. Before that fateful night where his hunger had driven him to try and sneakily feast on her, he had been slipping into the wilderness, when he could, to hunt down any animals he could get his claws on. After accidentally revealing himself as a vampire, he and Tav had struck up their every other day arrangement. It still took him off guard that she had so willingly accepted his condition. He grit his teeth.

“I swear to all of the gods within the Nine Hells that I have never met a woman as confounding as her! It’s like the sweet thing doesn’t even know what she actually wants. One moment she is fine with the way things are, and then the next she is telling me she wants our relationship to mean something! I thought it did mean something!”

The speed of his pacing increased and his voice took on a rougher, more angry edge. One of his hands was gesticulating wildly in the air as he continued to process out loud, while the other fiddled with the strings of his ruffled camp shirt.

“I could have given her experiences beyond her wildest imagination, but noooo. She just had to go and make things complicated! Now what am I to do!? Agh! I need input people! I have been mulling over this for hours. Someone please give me something to go off of here so that I can try and make sense of everything.”

Astarion paused in his grumbling speech and tilted his head to the side as if he was listening to a faint voice. Displeasure pooled within his features and he let out an elven slur.

“Timothy, your opinions are absolutely worthless! She hasn’t gone mad! I would have picked up on something like that. The warning signs are always evident months in advance. After all, I’ve seen my fair share of people lose the battle to insanity while locked in Cazador’s prison and I know for a fact that she is not one of them! So somebody else say something…please!”

A cajoling smile settled onto his lips as he spun on his heel and put the back of his hand on his jutted out hip. His opposite knee took on a slight bend as he leaned forwards in a slight bow. His free hand was raised, the last three fingers of the appendage curled inwards while his index and thumb pointed outwards and to the side, respectively.

“Griselleda, darling, what do you think? Am I the one in the wrong here?”

Once again his head tilted as he listened for a response. His hand snapped back to his side at whatever answer he received. He made a dismissive flourish over his shoulder as he swung his body back around to return to his pacing.

“Ugh! You Humans are so medieval. She does not have the plague!”

The sound of sole against floor returned and Astarion completed five laps of the room before shouting irritably at the slumped body of a dead, incredibly hairy, dwarven man that he had placed carefully against one of the walls.

“Helvar, for the love of Gods! Chew with your mouth closed! I am trying to think!”

He glared at the stout corpse then surveyed the other four positioned to sit next to ‘Helvar’. Griselleda, the plump Human woman, wore a bloodied apron that was starting to attract flies. Beside her, Timothy the Deep Gnome, sat slack jawed with a mouthful of maggots. With a sneer, he approached the body of what used to be a good-looking high elven woman and lifted a finger to her bottom lip. He pulled the useless muscle down, then wiggled it in a mock semblance of speech. His voice morphed into a haughty falsetto as he mimed speaking as the woman.

“Well, Astarion. I think you might have hurt her feelings and that’s why she shot at you. She has always been a bit brash and strong headed. Perhaps spending so much time around Karlach has taken her already wild tendencies and turned her into a barbarian of sorts.”

He released the corpse from his grasp and the woman’s head lolled against a stone brick with an audible thump. He strode back across the room and picked up a discarded lock that had already been picked. It was old and about the size of a kiwi. He twiddled the item between his palms as he considered the new idea.

“You make a good point, Margaret. I clearly hurt her. Maybe I have had a part in this whole debacle… Ugh, but that still doesn’t leave me with any answers on what to do about it.”

Suddenly Astarion’s body tensed and he whirled around chucking the lock he’d been holding at the greying head of an older, and very dead, human man. The swinging shackle of the mechanism lodged itself right into the meat of the man’s left eye with a sickening squelch.

“I don’t want to fucking hear it Bernard! Just because you married a wretch, doesn’t make every woman one! I’ll have you know that Tav is lovely to be around! Her wit and charm are more than alluring! And the sound of her voice is that of a siren’s song! I could spend all day listening to her. She wouldn’t even have to talk about anything remotely interesting and I’d be completely engaged…”

His eyes took on a semblance of wistfulness. Dejectedly, he put his face into his hands and massaged the fleshy divots underneath his brows, directly behind his eyes. He let his body sink to the floor against a tall bookcase. There were so many emotions warring inside his mind. Anger. Fear. Confusion. Those were the ones he could identify. But there were infinitely more that remained unnamed. For once, he wished that he’d been afforded the opportunity to learn magic. Surely there was a spell that could sort all of this out for him. A scroll of Enhance Ability would do him wonders right now. Gods. How had everything between him and Tav gone so wrong? He’d thought they had had a mutual understanding. He outrageously propositions her, she turns him down. It was fun and entertaining. It made him strive harder for new and creative ways to try and get her to sleep with him… It kept the years worth of foul memories spent as Cazador’s toy at bay… And now she had gone and ruined the whole dynamic. Leaning into his anger was the only way he could see himself getting through the night. Those other two pesky emotions were better served smothered. He didn’t like the feeling of being afraid or confused. Didn’t like the litany of unknown sentiments that had him wanting to tear his hair out. So he chose to stay mad. Mad at Tav. Mad at the world. And maybe, even a smidgen, mad at himself.

The sun was high in the sky by the time Astarion forced himself to leave the tower. He bid farewell to the bodies that had kept him company throughout the witching hours, specifically deciding to leave ‘Timothy’ with a mustache of blood drawn on him. It took longer than expected to return to camp, his body frequently bumping into trees and tripping over obstacles along his path. He was so tired. Two days without rest would leave anyone exhausted, even an elf who only needed four hours of trancing a night. All he wanted to do was return to his red, rectangular tent and collapse upon his bedroll. Maybe lose himself in a shitty book with unfathomably bad romance. *That sounds nice.* Unfortunately, Tav spotted him the instant he made it over the crest of the passage that tied their campsite to Last Light Inn. She came stomping up to him with a wholly unbecoming expression plastered on her usually breathtaking face.

“Where have you been!?”

She was not pleased. All night Tav had sat up by the fire watching for his return. What initially had started as worry, slowly distorted into anger the longer the hours dragged on with no sign of him. She had nearly lost her mind at the swirl of concern and indignance fired up inside her chest. He had stayed out all night! In enemy territory no less! It was stupid and immature. The kind of juvenile venture she would have expected from somebody half his age. The whole thing was making her blood boil, so when his figure finally appeared over the hill, she leapt to her feet and stalked towards him. She crossed her arms over her chest when she was close enough to see the faint beauty mark that existed upon his left cheek. Her leg bounced involuntarily as she glared at him.

“Do you know how foolish that was!? Staying out on your own right after the battle at Moonrise!?”

She was still dressed in her armor from the day before. Apparently she hadn’t taken the time to change when she’d arrived back at camp. Which meant she had been neglecting self-care just like he was. Irritation crept into his bones. He didn’t want the responsibility of being the reason she refused to take care of herself. The blame was entirely hers. She was choosing to be difficult to get a rise out of him. An attempt to make him feel bad for their fight. Well, he had no intentions of playing along. Astarion turned up his nose at her. She was looking at him expectantly. The audacity! The damn woman wanted him to explain himself! Explain where he’d been! He shouldn’t have to explain himself! He was an adult man! If he wanted to stay out past the party’s bedtime he had every right to do so! He bared his fangs in her direction with an irate huff.

“Didn't I tell you not to wait up? I thought I had made myself clear that I was not planning to return until today. Besides, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you.”

Tav rolled her eyes, her arms becoming tighter across her chest. If her breasts hadn’t already been covered and compressed by the scalemail she wore, they would have been showing more cleavage than a busty barmaid as she squeezed herself. What a stupid, stupid man. Astarion was strong but not ‘take on an army of scorned cultists’ strong. Had there been any Absolute followers still lingering about, they could have taken full advantage of the fact that he was in the woods without a single weapon or any piece of armor. Plus, what if the shadow-cursed hadn't been completely irradiated? He wouldn't have stood a chance should the slew of corpses they had left in their wake these past few weeks suddenly become reanimated. Any form of fight would have left him in a very difficult position. Sarcasm dripped like venom from the tip of her tongue as she sassed him while maintaining her harsh glare.

“Right, because if an entire horde of cultists decided they wanted revenge, you'd have been more than adept at handling them.”

Astarion scoffed. Was she actually serious? He had faced far worse than a few measly cultists. A vampire spawn was still a deadly creature to encounter in the dark despite it not having the full extent of powers a true vampire possessed. He could have dealt with a fight. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t taken precautions while away. Camping out at the towers had been a strategic move. Picking the prison warden’s office in the basement of said towers had even added to the natural defences the structure provided him. He had been perfectly safe. It was incredibly insulting for her to have simply assumed he wasn’t. He was a vampire for fuck’s sake. Not some lowly peasant with the constitution of a mole and the average intelligence of a newt. He knew how to be careful. Knew how to defend himself. He had fully taken the threats of night into account. It was ludicrous she even dared to suggest otherwise. He matched her sarcastic tone with one of his own.

“Do my ears deceive me, or are they really hearing you doubt my abilities? I’m a vampire spawn, darling. I’m the thing people warn their children about. The nightmare everyone hopes they don’t encounter in the dark. Any amount of cultists wouldn’t have stood a chance against me.”

Tav cracked her neck with a quick jerk of her head. This man and his ego. What she wouldn’t give to watch his egregiously large skull deflate. She sneered at him.

“I don't doubt your abilities, Astarion, but that was a stupid move. You were unarmed and unarmored. Should someone have wanted to turn your insides into ribbons they could have.”

A touch of desperation seeped into her agitated voice.

“I need you, so make sure you come back to camp from now on.”

The sarcasm dropped from his demeanor. ‘I need you.’ The words bounced around his mind with an out of control chattering. ‘I need you. I need you.’ She needed him… What did she need from him? Was she referring to the assistance he provided in battle? Or maybe she meant his ability to pick any lock. Those would be the logical reasons as to why she might need him. His throat tightened. What if she was actually referring to the pleasure of his company? That was why he needed her. She was the first friend he could remember having in over two centuries. The first person to make him feel… *No!* He didn’t want to feel! Feeling made him weak! It made him a target! Fuck her for making him feel! Instinctually he lashed out. Hurt her before she hurt him.

“Well I don’t need you! And I most definitely don’t need you policing what I do!”

White hot fury blazed inside of Tav. Two words gritted from her teeth.

“Shut. Up.”

A direct order. Spoken like he was some kind of insubordinate in need of chastising. He lifted his chin high and looked down at her from above the top of his angular nose.

“There you go again trying to tell me what I can and cannot do! Who died and made you king?”

Tav closed her eyes and balled her hands into fists. *Breathe. Remember to breathe. If you turn him into a skewer, this whole thing will turn out much worse than it already is.* She knew she shouldn’t snap back. They were both tired and emotionally drained. Another fight would not do either of them any good. Her mouth had a different idea, though, and the words that came tumbling out were provocative.

“Might I remind you, that you all appointed me as leader of this group, and it is currently my word you are supposed to follow. If I want you to be back in camp, you will come back to camp! If I want you to shut up, you will shut the fuck up!”

That did it. There was no more ‘Mr. Nice’ Astarion. All that was left was seething rage.

“Ah yes. Our fearless leader with all her ducks requiring rows. Shall I bow down to your clear superiority?”

Tav willed her body to keep still. Hitting people she cared about was never the right way to go about things. How many times had her fists gotten her into trouble? She didn’t need to add another instant to that list. An enraged, final warning was the best she could muster.

“I swear to Gods, Astarion! If you don't shut your bitch ass mouth…”

But Astarion was on a roll now. It was too late to try and stop the defensive hate spewing past his teeth. He strided closer to her, his voice dropping an octave into a dark, malicious jeer.

“You'll what? Put me in the corner for being a bad boy? Am I going to get spankings too?”

She couldn’t take it anymore. This petty back and forth. The endless taunting. She was too tired for his shit. Too vulnerable. Too raw. Her emotions burst out of her with a roar.

“That's enough! I've had enough of you! If you are going to be a stupid, pompous asshole, then go do it somewhere else!”

There it was. The truth. She was done with him. Declared by her very own lips. Gods, it hurt more than he could have imagined. To be valued and then discarded. It was a fate only intended for the worst the world had to offer; and it came as no shock the world deemed him as such. He was vermin. Less than that. He was the piece of muck stuck to the bottom of a shoe, existing only to be eventually scraped off and left behind. It seemed like now was the time Tav took up the scraping. He didn’t blame her. Not really. There had always been the chance that she’d grow tired of his antics and send him packing. He was honestly surprised it had taken this long. At the start of their journey, he would have bet all of his coin on the prediction that she’d get rid of him within a week. Somehow he had made it just over five months. *This cannot be the end.* They had made it so far. Grown so close. He trusted her. She couldn’t actually be sending him away now of all times. The only piece of hope left in his chest managed to ask the quiet question of conformation.

“Are you telling me to pack up and leave?”

The emotion behind the query was lost to the storm of fire raging inside Tav’s soul. She was too far gone to notice the change in Astarion. She spit out her response with offhanded bluntness. Her mind was still swimming in the puddle of anger he had successfully stirred up.

“What? No. But I am telling you to go bitch by yourself. I don't need this from you today! There's too much to do and your attitude isn't required.”

The notion that she wasn’t kicking him out of the party hit him like a bull bucking a rider loose. It left him floored. He would have cried tears of relief had his pride not reminded him that once again she was bossing him around. His nostrils flared. He repositioned himself. Shoulders back, chin high. More imprudent words flew from his sharp tongue.

“Right, so I'm just supposed to go sit in my tent and whittle the time away until you're no longer throwing a tantrum? How childish of you.”

“You're the one acting childish! If you had just talked to me yesterday like a normal fucking person then maybe we'd both be in better moods right now!”

Her voice carried across the entire span of their camp. It drew the attention of all of their companions who had previously been minding their own business as she’d confronted Astarion. Each of them had noticed his absence the night before and each of them had picked up on the distress it had caused Tav. No one actually knew what had gone down between the two, but they did know that both had disappeared the previous morning the moment the sun had fully risen. Now there was a clear fight brewing and the strongest of them began to prepare to pull Tav and Astarion apart should things turn violent.

Astarion feigned nonchalance. He lifted a hand and inspected the back of his nails.

“Talk to you about what? There was, and still isn't, anything to talk about.”

Tav’s entire face was red. She looked like a balloon ready to pop. Karlach inched closer to her, while Lae’zel snuck up on Astarion.

“Are you fucking serious right now!? Nothing to talk about!? How about we start with the fact that you fucking kissed me! Why don't we start there!? Huh!?”

Every eye in camp went wide. Tav and Astarion had kissed. This was huge… For five months all of them had been watching the pair tiptoe around their feelings for each other. Tav loved Astarion, that was clear. Astarion’s feelings for Tav, however… Some of them had their suspicions. Some of them thought he was insincere. To hear that he was the one who had tipped the proverbial scales? That was unexpected.

Astarion fanned out his fingers in front of him with a ‘tsk’.

“I don't recall anything like that ever happening.”

As his head turned away from her in mock disinterest, she lunged. Karlach caught Tav around the waist and held the livid woman in her grasp. Tav squirmed and clawed at the beefy Tiefling’s forearms. Her teeth were gnashing in dazzling sparks of white and a little bit of foam was collecting in the corner of her mouth.

“Quit it with the gaslighting! We both know what went down! Why are you trying to pretend it never happened!?”

He turned his back to the ranger, fluffy, silver curls dramatically swaying at the movement.

“If something had happened, then it would have been inconsequential. It would have meant nothing.”

Tav’s body went stock still. Tentatively, Karlach set the elf back on her feet. The woman’s tone had gone icy. It was the same tone she had used moments before she and Astarion had physically fought. Devoid. Empty.

“Nothing!? Hah. Fine then. It was nothing. Why would anyone think kissing you meant something anyways? It's all just part of the act you put on isn't it? The suave, seductive vampire following his master's command like a good little spawn. I thought you were free, Astarion. I thought you were better than that.”

It was Lae’zel’s turn to catch Astarion around the waist as he lunged. The Githyanki fighter had no troubles lifting the light 5 '11 man off the ground. Astarion’s legs kicked as he fought against the strong woman’s hold. Spit came flying out of his mouth as he screamed at Tav.

“HOW DARE YOU!!!”

Tav tilted her head in a play for innocence. She put on a sickly sweet smile as she purred.

“What? Is the monster's feelings getting hurt? I didn't think he had any.”

Lae’zel held him tighter as Astarion nearly broke free. He struggled and struggled, but the Gith’s hold remained unbreakable. Tav let out a horrible, cruel, wicked laugh. It sent chills down everyone’s spine.

“While you’re following orders, why don’t you be a good little pet and start gathering your things. We leave in three days. Do try and get rid of whatever you have that isn't absolutely necessary. I’d hate to see you dragging behind because you couldn't part with something useless.”

Each command struck like a shard of exploding ice. His body felt cold. Colder than it normally was. He wanted to cry. But there were too many people watching. They had gathered the attention of the entire camp. Even the four animal companions they traveled with were watching intently. He stopped struggling but Lae’zel did not let him go.

“Stop…”

Tav couldn’t let it rest. She had to win. Had to fight. Make him feel as awful as she did. She kept going.

“You know if you had simply come back last night, none of this would be coming as a shock to you. I made this whole big announcement, and if you had simply acted maturely and worked out our issues when we fought in the woods, then you would know all this. So come morning on the 17th of Flamerule I want you to be completely ready to head to the city. Any attitude, and I might just change my mind about letting you come with.”

His body shook with his unshed tears. It was over. They were over… A tiny squeak came from his throat. A begging of her name.

“Tav…”

She didn’t hear it. She was lost. Lost in anger. In rage. Lost to that overwhelming bundle of hurt tangled deep inside her chest. Everyone waited with bated breath. What would she say next? Would Tav double down and make the worst mistake of her life…?

She did.

“Be a good boy and listen, Astarion.”

Astarion slumped in Lae’zel’s arms. She let him go and he dropped to his knees. He looked up at Tav with more hatred than he had shown this whole adventure.

“I don’t have to take this from you. I am not a slave any longer. And I am not yours. I will never be yours.”

He climbed to his feet. He glanced at each of their companions before rigidly turning and walking out of camp.

The realization of what she’d done caught up with her as his form disappeared into the sun. All the anger faded within seconds. He was gone. She had pushed him too far. With a hollow sinking in her stomach, Tav knew, in that moment, that she had well and truly lost him.

[theunderdarkarchives]

Part 5: A Collision of Worlds

Baldur's Gate was alive with its usual chaos—vendors shouting their wares, the scent of freshly baked bread mingling with the tang of fish from the docks, and the steady hum of footsteps on cobblestones. It was sensory overload, a cacophony of life, but to you, it was white noise. The world blurred around you as you focused on your breathing, your boots pounding rhythmically against the ground.

You didn’t know what you were running from—memories, perhaps, or the gnawing sense of emptiness that had taken root in your chest since the end of the journey. The fights were over, the grand battle won. Baldur’s Gate was free, and yet…

You wiped the back of your hand across your brow, shaking off the creeping thoughts. This was supposed to clear your mind, not fill it with ghosts of the past.

Turning sharply down a quieter street, you ducked into a narrow lane lined with flower stalls and trinket shops. The air here was fresher, perfumed by lavender and roses, and the noise of the main streets was mercifully muted. You let yourself slow, just enough to catch your breath, your thoughts still spiraling.

And then you collided with something—someone.

A gasp escaped your lips as you stumbled back, barely catching yourself before you fell. The other figure was less fazed, a hand shooting out to steady you.

“Apologies, darling,” came a smooth, familiar voice. “I didn’t realize I was standing in the path of a hurricane.”

You froze, your blood turning cold. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Astarion.

Your gaze flickered up to meet his, and there he was, every inch the ascended vampire lord you had left behind. His pale features were flawless, his crimson eyes gleaming with a dangerous light, and his lips curled into a smirk that made your stomach twist. He looked the same as he had in the ballroom that night, but there was something more unguarded about him now, his usual mask of superiority softened by faint curiosity.

“Still running, I see,” he drawled, his hand lingering on your arm for just a moment longer than necessary before letting go. “Although, I must say, I didn’t expect to find you quite so… literally.”

You took a step back, putting distance between you. Your heart was racing, but it wasn’t from the run anymore. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your tone. “What, am I not allowed to roam the streets of my own city?” He gestured to the market stalls with a lazy sweep of his hand. “Even creatures of the night need the occasional diversion, you know.”

You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest. “I thought you’d be holed up in some estate, playing king of the castle.”

Astarion laughed, a sound both bitter and amused. “How charmingly reductive. No, darling, I find the castle life rather… stifling, as it happens. Besides, I have to keep up appearances, don’t I? Remind the common folk who truly rules this city.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but there was no malice in his tone—only a strange, detached amusement. You hated the way he could make your skin crawl and your heart ache at the same time.

“Well,” you said, taking another step back, “I won’t keep you from your… diversions.”

But before you could turn away, his hand shot out, catching your wrist with a grip that was firm but not painful.

“Don’t go,” he said, and for a moment, his voice was almost… soft.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. His crimson eyes searched yours, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw something there—something that felt achingly familiar, like the man you had once known.

“Please,” he added, his tone quieter now. “Just… stay. For a moment.”

Against your better judgment, you stopped.

“What do you want, Astarion?” you asked, your voice quieter now, laced with exhaustion.

His smirk faded, replaced by something more serious. “Is it so hard to believe that I might simply want to talk?” He released your wrist, his hand falling back to his side. “After all we’ve been through, I thought you’d at least humor me.”

You didn’t respond immediately, your thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and confusion. Finally, you sighed. “Fine. Talk.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, and he gestured toward a small garden just beyond the market square. “Shall we?”

You followed him reluctantly, your steps slow and hesitant. The garden was quiet, tucked away from the bustling streets, and the scent of flowers hung heavy in the air. Astarion stopped by a wrought-iron bench, leaning against it with the ease of someone who owned the world.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, he broke it.

“I’ve missed this,” he said softly, his gaze fixed on the flowers rather than you. “The way you challenge me. The way you make me feel…” He paused, as if searching for the right word. “Human.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “You made your choice, Astarion. You left that part of yourself behind.”

He turned to you then, his eyes burning with something you couldn’t quite name. “And yet, here I am,” he said, his voice low. “Standing in front of you, trying to remember what it felt like to be anything other than this.”

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Midwinter Celebration Thoughts

Astarion x Evie, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x OC, some Gale x Evie x Astarion

Warning: pure, self indulgent, give you a toothache, fluff

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

A/N: I'm admittedly not as well versed into the totally not Christmas midwinter festival activities in Faerun so this is pure fluffy indulgence on my part. Must be a day ending in y. Also we're going to have a bit of Gale x Evie x Astarion in here. As a treat.

The holidays are tricky for both Astarion and Evie for a variety of reasons

Astaron obviously has 200 years of torture to contend with seemily rubbed in his face with how happy everyone else is this time of year

Meanwhile Evie sees this as the time to make as much coin as she can before the winter month inevitably make travel harder and work decidedly slower

Niether of them have family traditions or especially fond memories of that time of year; if Astarion ever did he certainly doens't remember them

So after the Netherbrain has fallen, they find themselves at this familiar time of year wholey unsure of what in the hells they're supposed to do

They at least get the ball rolling when Evie's anxieties start acting up

Astarion won't have this and assures her that they're the heores of Baldur's Gate, she doens't need to spend the winter in customer service

Evie then asks what do they do and Astarion is like, "see...friends? I think?"

So they both decide to go to Waterdeep, where Gale is waiting and absolutely delighted to see both of them

He can and will overwhelm them with a laundry list of holiday activities they absolutely *need* to do; it take Morena pulling him aside to maybe pull it back a bit

Evie is all but drooling at all the food Gale makes and basically lives in the kitchen sneaking small bites where she can

I'm thinking this would be before they all get togther, so Astarion still has some of his jealousies at Gale stealing so much of Evie's attention; but he can't deny how good it is to see her happy and fed, not to mention her blood tastes like indulgence itself like this

Astarion has *opinions* on aethetics and not afraid to voice them

Can and will roast the neighbors for their decor and Gale is not safe from this criticism

The pair of them can and will argue about decorations

Gale puts a lot of effort into the illusions to make them just so while Astarion claims he has no sense of color coordination

It really comes down to the most inane detail, but Astarion will make a passive aggressive comment about it

When all is said and done though, their combined efforts are down right breath taking

There are other traditions that are certainly a mixed bag

Mistletoe is a bit touchy for both Astarion and Evie

Getting cornered under the mistletoe by somebody they don't want to be stuck with can bring up some bad memories. (I imagine Astarion used it once or twice to lure potential victims in)

On the other hand, I can see Astarion carrying some around and sneaking it over a doorway and being like, "oh my love, will you look at that, tradition is tradition after all". Of course, Evie knows he just put it there, but she lets it slide

Now if this is pre all of them getting together, imagine for a moment Astarion finds himself under the doorway with Gale. Gale, knowing Astarion's aversion to unwanted touch decides to kiss his hands despite the ragging from his family and leaving Astarion just a little flustered

Alternatively, imagine Gale finding himself under it with Evie. Gale becomes a bit of a stuttering mess because that was not his intention AT ALL. In fact he'd been actively keeping clear of doorways because of this exact scenario. Evie takes it in stride though, and gives him a kiss on the cheek. Hopefully that's enough not to curse them. Gale then feels himself stuck there looking at her walk away with tender eyes.

But turning back to Astarion and Evie, and the perhaps one of the biggest traditions of the season; gift giving

Astarion loves it

Finally, he can get Evie something and she has to sit there and take it. 'Tis the season after all. And if he gets himself a little something while he's at it, all the better.

Receiving gifts without the expectation of payment later is something he's still getting used to, but he's never been one to turn one down.

Evie is certainly a mixed bag

Giving gifts is a borderline panic enducing process; between not wanting to break the bank and also wanting to make sure it's something the person she cares for actually wants, she can get herself into a tizzy

She doesn't get a lot of gifts but one big gift that is very thoughtful

One year she wrote Astarion a sonata and even found someone to help her transcribe it onto the page so she could give him the sheet music

Astarion didn't know happiness could ache, but he felt it into his soul when she gave it to him

Receiving gifts is also something she is trying very hard to accept

Astarion has absolutely no regard to how much he's spending so receiving a pile of gifts from him when she has only one thing wrapped for him makes her feel so guilty even if Astarion keeps promising her he's doing it because he wants to

He thinks he's found a work around by spreading out the gifts over the course of the season

Just little things here and there; not always wrapped

Hell he won't even give it to her outright, just slip it into her pocket and walk away before she can protest

One of their favorite traditions though, isn't so much a tradition as it is a feeling

It's around this time of year, when the weather turns they find themselves curled up together some place warm and quiet

There's no rush to go anywhere, not in this weather and really with all this food they could hold up for the whole winter

The cold used to be something to be feared. Now, not so much.