#Jk no pressure I know whump isn't for everyone

[wildkimiko]

But It's No Longer You (Chapter 1)

Summary: Hakkai has been kidnapped by a hag. Astarion and Halsin learn more about their supposedly fearless leader, including how to care for him when he is given an impossible task.

Set between Acts 2 and 3.

M!Tav x Astarion x Halsin

Rating: Mature (may turn to Explicit in later chapters)

CW: Imprisonment, shackles, starvation, physical harm, panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, general whump

Word Count: 5104

TL;Dr this is a Tav whump fic, because there's not enough of those. This was based on a couple of comic pages I drew last December as a test, and then kind of evolved into "Let's explore Hakkai's complicated feelings and his relationship with his patron. Also let's torture him." It's part of his personal quest, but there was no way I was going to be able to fit this into my game novelization fic lol

Hakkai is an Archfey/Great Old One Warlock / Wild Magic sorcerer! You can see his profile and art I've commissioned on his toyhou.se page!

(the actual comic pages will be posted along with the chapter, which is chapter 4 iirc 👀)

Read on AO3

Snippet below:

Astarion is alone in his tent when he awakens from his trance, and the tadpole in his skull itches.

He and Hakkai share Astarion's tent, a development partially born out of Hakkai's hoarding tendencies, and partially out of the establishment of their boundaries. Astarion often comes out of his trance with Hakkai sprawled out, his arms wrapped around him, but on the rare occasion, Hakkai is awake earlier than he is, and is off making preparations for the day, or getting in an early morning sparring match with Lae'zel, or gossiping with Shadowheart while he does her hair, or smoking with Halsin.

Normally, the lack of his presence would not bother him–the warlock is prone to wandering, always looking for something that needs doing, or someone that needs saving–but something about the way the tadpole wiggles against the flesh of his brain, combined with the chill that runs down his spine and settles heavily in his gut, bothers him.

He leaves the tent, his eyes scanning the clearing where they have made camp for the night. Hakkai's weapons are still resting next to his own tent, along with his cape and hat; it is likely he never left camp. He always takes a weapon with him if he leaves, even for a moment.

Astarion paces around the perimeter of the camp. The itch worsens, dread settling in his stomach as well, churning until he thinks he might retch if he is not mindful. But why? He is not worried. Hakkai can handle himself.

He repeats the lie until he can almost believe it, if only to quell the nerves building inside of him.